Faith

Audacity

Posted on by Lauren

It’s finally sinking in. 

My first born is off to high school tomorrow. 

It seemed so far away until it was just around the corner. 

I recognize that Emmett and I are approaching the phase of parenting where everything suddenly speeds up. She’s home and then she’s gone. 

And we’re left wondering, did we treasure it enough?

Did we pause and let it soak through our soul?

Is she going to be ok? Is she ready? Did we parent her well?

I’m overcome with emotion because I know the answers are YES. 

She, nor any of us, may ever feel ready but she’s going to be ok (come what may) because Aurora is a child of great faith. 

I’m the public school teacher but my first born has taught me more than I may have ever taught my students. 

She has humbled me and delighted me. She has made me laugh and cry. But more than anything she has blown me away with her audacity. 

As the first born, she’s had the unfortunate task of paving the way for her sisters. First to grapple with social norms, bus rides and mature friendships. First for us to parent through cell phones, sleepovers and curfews. Onward she trudged through middle school, despite longing for the comfort of her teachers in elementary. And when her three sisters had gymnastics in common, Aurora found her place in volleyball. 

Last year, she picked up the acoustic guitar and taught herself dozens of popular songs, spending hours playing and singing. She joined chorus at school and when the track music suddenly stopped during her first solo on stage in front of hundreds, she laughed and carried on, finishing strong. 

Most impressively, Aurora has brought our family to faith. 

For years, Aurora went to church with neighbors who picked her up on their way. Alone, she showed up, joining the youth group, slowly but surely finding her footing. Emmett and I witnessed this beautiful child blossom into a confident young teen. Her joy was infectious. Her songs became worship.

After a while, we started to wonder what this church was all about. How had it taken such a hold of our child?

So we started to attend. Cautiously, skeptically toes in the water we’re finding our way back to church with our first born to thank. 

Her fearlessness. Her boldness. Her audacity to pave the way is how I know she will be ok. 

My talented, intelligent, gorgeous first born is off to high school tomorrow and while it feels monumental, I have nothing but great faith in her.

Camille Vaughan Photography 2016

Work-in-Progress

Posted on by Lauren

Anyone else listening to “The Let Them Theory” by Mel Robbins right now?

It’s been nothing short of validating and eye-opening and I haven’t even finished.

I’ve learned a lot.

The greatest lesson is the acceptance that I am, that we all are, a living work-in-progress. 

Although I wish this book had been available to me years ago, I’m so grateful to read it now. 

I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist healing sore wounds but absorbing the lessons in this book feels like starting fresh.

As Mel says, “Let me”.

Choice

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my thirties examining my past to better understand my present.

Now in my forties, I feel like I’ve got a solid understanding of how I came to be who I am. 

I understand that while I will never be able to fill the gaps for that lonely, lost little girl of my past, I sure can provide my own girls with a solid foundation. 

And instead of wallowing in what happened, I can forgive myself for my missteps, buckle up my shoes and keep walking, eyes forward. 

My childhood friends and I always mimicked my mom’s “You have a choice, Lauren.” speech. But my mom gets the final laugh because, she was right!

There are always going to be people we’d rather not be around or challenging, unavoidable life events.

We can’t choose those people or those events but we can choose how we handle them. 

It’s how we respond that matters.

I have quite a few friends enduring some major life changes this holiday season- deaths of loved ones, divorce and general heartache. 

To them and to all of you reading, I reach out my hand to hold yours and to remind you that in this holy season, you can also put those hands together in prayer to ask for God’s help. 

You’re not alone. 

We never are. 

That’s one choice we can’t make. 

Wishing you love, peace and joy this holiday season. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Liberated

Posted on by Lauren

Saturday, November 30th is officially my 6 months sober date but I’m not superstitious about announcing it early because I have no doubt I’ll make it.  

I plan to share my full testimony on my one-year anniversary but for now, I’ll say this: 

I’ve been liberated.

Alcohol stole my time and health while fooling me into believing it was my deserving escape. 

I don’t look back because it’s a place I never want to return to. 

I frolic forward, free from its tight embrace, stronger and more sound-of-mind than ever. 

If you’re reading this and on the fence, I just want to tell you, I’m here holding your hand if you need one. 

But what if you can. 

“But What if You Can?” is from the book, The Whatif Monster. He’s a character created by author Michelle Nelson-Schmidt whose empowering children’s books about overcoming fear have not only impacted my children’s lives, but mine, too. Check her out: https://www.facebook.com/MNScreative/

My God

Posted on by Lauren

There are no sick days for mothers. 

A day of rest guarantees a day’s worth of extra work for the future. 

Never was this any clearer than when Elizabeth was six months old. 

My body had given up. 

I had spent the summer with all four girls at home while Emmett was at work. 

They were ages 6, 4, 2 and newborn. 

Elizabeth was “failure-to-thrive”. Not gaining weight, vomiting and crying constantly with eczema covering her body and we couldn’t figure out why. 

I was down twenty pounds, eliminating foods in a desperate attempt to continue breast feeding my last baby, only to find out later that the avocado I was surviving on was one of her FPIES (Food Protein-Induced Entercolitis) triggers. 

My back completely gave out and I was incapacitated in a chair watching friends and family trying to substitute for me: Laundry, meals, diapers, playtime, housework. 

It was laughable to think I had attempted to manage all of that on my own. 

I finally agreed to hire the help my husband had been encouraging me to get for months. 

I felt foolish staying at home and hiring someone to help complete my unpaid job but once she arrived, I was free to be a more present mother and enjoy my children rather than just survive them. 

Six years have passed and the nanny days are long over but mothering isn’t and I’m realizing, never will be. 

What happens when mom gets sick? 

It’s a lonely feeling. 

As a mom, I’m always anticipating my family’s needs but when sick, I’m still having to direct the show from bed. Appointment reminders, meal tips, boo-boo kisses and bedtime tuck-ins. 

Things only a mom knows of her own kids. 

I suppose that is what led me to pray to my heavenly father tonight. 

To ask him to take care of me when I’m feeling overwhelmed and neglected. 

No, there are no sick days for mothers. 

But it’s nice to know there’s someone always ready to embrace me. 

My God. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Captain

Posted on by Lauren

They were my island. 

My safe haven from the rushing waters. 

In time, the shoreline shrank, leaving me grasping for olive branches. 

I had a choice to make. 

Do I stay, hoping and praying for the island to return?

Instead, I let go. 

Allowing the current to take me. 

I built my own boat from the surrounding pieces of my life. 

And found myself stronger than ever. 

The Captain. 

Dee Akright Photography

Far

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my first forty years desperate for others to understand how far I’ve come from where I started. 

Surely, they’d respect and understand me more?

But now I know, we all have stories, untold. 

And it’s best to approach all with the grace we’ve always wished upon ourselves. 

Hold my hand. 

Lean in. 

We’ve come so far. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Helpers

Posted on by Lauren

The teacher asked us to take notes.

I had no idea what she meant by that. 

Pauli saw the panic. 

She met me where I was. 

She calmed me down and step-by-step, taught me how.

I will never, ever forget her kindness. 

“Look for the helpers.”  Mr. Rogers said. 

I did. 

And I still am.  

In fact, I’ve become one. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Share

Posted on by Lauren

I was in the room when the doctor announced “There appears to be a mass behind your aorta.”  

My father is an intelligent man and although we spent the rest of the week in the hospital for the biopsy and a week more for results, we both knew. 

Fucking cancer. 

I wish I had words for the experience of breath leaving your body. 

It’s as if time stops.  

Short enough for no one else to notice but long enough to recognize when it begins again. 

She left the room. 

And we just stared at one another, half smiling. 

“So this is how it ends.”  He almost chuckled.  

Even when you’re 91, you never expect it. 

And ignorantly, neither did I.  

Weeks later we were having breakfast together, discussing death (as one does when upon death’s door) when he did one of my favorite things:

He spoke in poetry. 

“Death, be no proud, though some have called thee . . .”

I asked him if he had a copy of the poem and he described the color, size and feel of the book I should look for on the wall-to-wall bookshelf.

I found it, along with many of his other favorite poems and (as one does when upon death’s door), I asked him to share. 

Because at the end, isn’t that what we all seek?

Time to share. 

Time.

Let us share. 

Written by John Donne. This poem essentially laughs at death.
Death thinks he wins but in the end, we live eternally in the after-life.