Testimony

It's been a long couple months, ya'll.

I've been going back and forth on starting up blogging again, and after my last post, a mental health hiatus seemed especially necessary.  I had to give myself permission to take a break, from a ton of areas of my life that used to take priority.  I didn't write, I didn't take photos, and most days, any outfit beyond a 'nice' top and jeans was a little too much effort.

And, yet, it's been a time of growth, and rebuilding some habits, both old and new.  It's been hard, and good, and sometimes fulfilling and often exhausting.  But that break made room in my life for some really great things as well.  I've gotten to refocus my energy on new creative endeavors, found time on the weekends to pour into my kids, and had a literal ton of soul-searching to strengthen my faith.

Genuine

It's been a while since I've written anything.  I have recently picked up my journal and sporadically filled out some pages with answers to some journal prompts I've discovered on Pinterest, but most of my writing, blogging, and posting in general has seemed to diminish in recent months.

To be honest, my mind needed a break.  I needed time to take stock of some adjustments in my attitude towards myself, and take much better care of my mental health.  'Mental Health' has been a buzzword recently in the online forums, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it does seem to make my own post about my mental health journey seem a bit bandwagon-y.  But doesn't the fact that it's such a popular topic lately also show how needed the conversation is, and how universal the struggles of anxiety disorders and depression really are?  Doesn't it also highlight how silly and ignorant the stigma still surrounding mental health really is?

Because I've been dealing with depression in the last few months, and haven't had the slightest idea of where to start asking for help.  I've prayed, asked for prayer from some friends, taken anti-anxiety medications, started eating better and exercising, cried, changed my birth control, prayed even more... while still dealing with a mental imbalance that affects my hormonal levels and steals the joy from my day to day.  And I don't say this for all you readers to feel guilty, and say "oh, Grace, we didn't know!" and wring your hands and feel awful about not spotting the signs.

Because most people are really good at hiding it, myself included.  I'm guilty of the same trap so many people seem to fall in, the trap of "not wanting to be the needy friend."  Alongside that, there's the carefully curated "living your best life" newsfeeds that gloss over the messy, boring, and mundane sides of daily life, in favor of pretty pictures and saccharine captions.  I'm at the head of the 'happy smiley' instagram secret club, by the way, with posts that look like this:

 "so glad me and my girl "Lucille" get to match in red today! #jeeplife #wingsfordayz"

Enough

I want to apologize for my negative tone in my previous post.  The truth is, that outfit had nothing to do with my mood.  I've had a hard time mentally recovering from the latest school shooting in our country.  Every one of these attacks are a tragedy, but this one has stayed in my, and undoubtedly others', minds constantly.  There's posts and YouTube videos being reposted on everyone's Facebook, a cacophony of opinions just like with every past national tragedy.  On most of those events, I purposefully stayed silent and refused to add to the riot of online opinion-sharing and political back and forths that ensue.

And on this occasion, I don't necessarily have a new opinion to share.  My words will probably be the same ones that the countless other mothers, fathers, teachers, friends and bloggers have already said and shared.

And that's the point.

Pondered

Hello friends!  I promise I haven't forgotten about you.  I just wanted to share a link to a guest post I recently wrote for our local church family.

Enjoy! http://www.gracechurchnwa.org/single-post/2016/12/22/Pondered

If you need me, I'll be watching kitty videos on Youtube until the election news blows over.  I promise to have a 'Life Lately' post soon, it's long overdue!

Don't Read The Comments

Normally, I try and write with a level head.  I take a step back from the heat of a moment, calm my emotions, and present what I have to say in a calm and rational manner.  Today is not that day.

You might remember a post I wrote about a year ago, with just a few of my tangled-up thoughts about the Syrian refugee crisis.  Right after that, the horrible attacks in Paris happened, and I'm sorry to say that I stopped speaking out on the matter.  The fear in the world was too volatile, and my own fear of backlash towards my speaking out was too great.  But sometimes faith has to be greater than fear, "for God gave us not a spirit of fearfulness; but of power and love and discipline." (2 Tim. 1:7)

There is a local organization, called Canopy Northwest Arkansas, that was founded with the purpose of helping displaced refugees that come to our area to receive support as they acclimate to their new homes.  As the first group of refugees are preparing to move to Northwest Arkansas, the organization and resettlement efforts have gained some publicity, mostly through local news networks.  I know this, not because I watch the news (since we don't have cable, we survive on Netflix and Hulu), but because of the reactions, comments, and shares from friends on the online soapbox known as Facebook.  For every story on my newsfeed saying "so-and-so liked this article," there was another one following up with "so-and-so (whom I still love and respect) reacted to this article."  With an angry face.

Curiosity got the better of me, of course, so I clicked through to the comments to see what the local climate was towards these refugees.  The dark underbelly of the internet did not disappoint.

"Why are we helping them when there's still homeless people here that need help?"

"What about the hundreds of foster kids?  Don't they deserve to be placed first?"

"I hope these do-gooders are willing to let these parasites live with them, I bet after a week they'll be changing their tune."

"Why is this our problem?  They caused their own war, let them bomb themselves into oblivion."

The truth is, if you want to find out where the scared, xenophobic, petty people are hiding, all you have to do is put an article on Facebook about "scary foreign people" (italics added for sarcasm).  I'm fortunate enough to be surrounded by a group of amazing, loving people, so when I read words steeped in fear and hysteria, it honestly shocks me.  I forget how hateful we can be to each other sometimes.

I decided to post here, rather than 'feeding the trolls' online, so if you're someone who holds any of those opinions, consider this my open letter as a response.

If you genuinely want to help the homeless in our community, volunteer here:

http://7hillscenter.org/

If you want to help veterans wounded in the line of duty, start here:

https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/

If you want to find out more about how to welcome foster kids into your home, this organization is an amazing resource:

http://thecallinarkansas.org/nwa/

If you are a Christian who thinks that our love should only be extended to people in our community, who share the same beliefs, traditions, and birthplaces, I'm not going to respond with my own words.  I'll leave you with these instead:

43 “You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’[a] and hate your enemy. 44 But I say, love your enemies![b] Pray for those who persecute you! 45 In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven. For he gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike. 46 If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much. 47 If you are kind only to your friends,[c] how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that. 48 But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect."
(Matthew 5:43-48)

I can understand being afraid.  I spend all my time with my kids at the park counting to three, just so I know they haven't been abducted in the two seconds when I looked away.  I park next to the cart corral at Wal-Mart, so I can plunk two of my three kids immediately into a cart so they can't wander off in a dangerous parking lot.  I walk to my car after dark with my keys between my knuckles, just in case I'm attacked.  Whether I would actually be able to stab someone if necessary remains to be seen.  My point is, I understand wanting to be on alert, but at the end of the day, I'm not really in charge of my own or my family's safety.  God is.  And even if you're worried about living next to someone of a different religion, is it really the gospel if you spend your time and energy hating them?  If you say, "Muslims have killed so many Christians, so I hate you by association," are those the words of Christ, or your fear?

What if we acknowledged that most people don't leave their homes and families to travel via unsafe means to a strange culture because of a good situation?  If the U.S were to break out in a massive civil war, would we say that American citizens deserve to stay and die because their government caused a war?  Would you want to be the one who manages to move their family to safety, only to be greeted by hatred and racist slurs in your new home?

What could happen if these people, coming to our country out of their own desperation and fear, were showered with love?  What could happen if a group of people who might have been taught that Westerners were their enemy, were instead greeted with respect?  "Do I not destroy my enemies when  I make them my friends?" (Abraham Lincoln)

If you want to learn more about Canopy NWA's efforts, and how you can get involved in the refugee resettlement process, come hear from Emily Linn, director of Canopy NWA, during the Grace Collective Coffeehouse, this Sunday at 5:30 pm, at Grace Church NWA (2828 Crossover Rd. in Fayetteville).

Realizations for $200

“Things you say to your husband that you might also say to God.”

Answer: “What is ‘the extended name of this blog post?’”

Let me preface that title with a disclaimer: My husband is not God. Should be an obvious statement, sure, but I just wanted to get that out there! He and I are both flawed humans kept together by God’s grace, which is exactly the way I’d want things to be. Really, if we were a marriage of one flawed person and one perfect, it would be a very unhappy and short-lived one.

With that being said, I made a realization one recent weekend after the hubs and I enjoyed a post-date late-night drink while two of our three kiddos were at a sleepover. We were able to hold a conversation without the constant, beautiful interruption that is named KIDS. One of the things I treasure about Andrew is that he has a habit of professing his love to me (like, A LOT) when his inhibitions are lowered. I mean, really, who wouldn’t love that?

I realized, though, that what went through my head as he said all this didn’t match what I said in response.

For example:

He says: “I love you so much.”

I think, I am so undeserving of that, and it scares me to think of what losing that love would feel like. I love you too, but please don’t ever take that away.

But I say: “I love you too.”

You know that video/article that was shared on Facebook by, like, EVERYONE I KNOW a few weeks ago about the Japanese “Cube” personality test? If not, here’s your spoiler alert. I won’t share all of it, but in the first part of the test, you close your eyes and imagine yourself walking through a desert. You come across a cube. Now, how big is the cube, and what is it made out of? There are a few more questions after that, but that’s the beginning and the general gist. The size of your cube is the size of your ego, and the material represents how open you are with other people.

My cube is made of stone.

I would guess my husband’s biggest complaint about me is that I don’t share things. Unless I’m under extreme duress or I’m venting ALL THE EMOTIONS that have been bottled up for longer than I’d care to admit, I don’t share. At least, not verbally. He has gotten some carefully-worded letters in the past, but deep heart-to-hearts? Not an area that’s comfortable for me. And, even though God is the one who knows my every thought, I try to do the same things to Him.

He says: “I love you so much.”

I think, I am so undeserving of that, and it scares me to think of what losing that love would feel like. I love you too, but please don’t ever take that away.

But I say: “I love you too.”

He says: “You’re doing a great job as a wife and mother.”

I think, You’re kidding, right? Don’t you see the dirty dishes in the sink? If only I had the time and energy to do more, to serve you better. Then I would deserve that compliment.

But I say: “Thank you.”

He says: “My love is forever.”

I think, I know you think that now, but I’m waiting for the day that I screw up too badly, or do something to hurt you. Then you’d have no choice but to turn away from me. I hope that never happens.

But I say: “I’m so glad you love me.”

I almost didn’t make it to church the following Sunday. I was hungover, we stayed up too late, and if I didn’t have to pick up kiddos I probably would have stayed in bed. Sometimes, I think it’s okay to spend Sunday at home as a day of rest, but this was not that day. Every song from that morning’s worship set held the response to my hesitance to accept God’s love. I can mentally affirm that I am loved, and yet still wrestle with actually accepting it. So instead, God had me sing it.

I think, Please be patient with me, and I sing: “You’re rich in love, and you’re slow to anger.” (“10,000 Reasons”)

I think, Eventually I’ll screw up, and I sing: “Take me as you find me, all my fears and failures.” (“Mighty to Save”)

I think, There’s no way I could ever deserve this love, and I sing: “I’ve tasted and seen the sweetest of loves, where my heart becomes free and my shame is undone.” (“Holy Spirit”)

I think, This love is so strong that it scares me, and I sing: “All fear removed, I breathe you in, I lean into your love.” (“Sinking Deep”)

I think, What if I lose myself in serving you? and I sing: “Your love is better than life.” (“Kindness”)

And I think, All I have to give in return is myself, and I sing: “What can I say, and what can I do, but offer this heart … completely to you. … I’ll stand, with arms high and heart abandoned. … All I am is yours.” (“The Stand”)

I can only hope that God continues to chip away at my stone cube, and that there’s a smaller, softer one to be found inside. And I’m so thankful he loves me regardless.

This post was originally posted on Grace Church NWA's blog.  There are so many great posts to read, I'd highly suggest checking them all out!

You Are Loved.

When I was pregnant with Little A, my middle kid, I was preparing for a week-long mission trip to NY, NY to help with a church's summer program for kids in their community.  Just before I left, I had a Sunday where I was helping to sing in our church's praise band, and almost passed out.  It sounds a lot more dramatic than it was, trust me.  Basically, I got overheated, sat down in the middle of a song, and had at least three kind people bring me water all at the same time.  That week, we had a guest pastor who spoke so much truth, even if I've forgotten what exactly he preached on.  All I really remember was that at the end, as he closed out his time of teaching and called us all to a time of reflection, singing, and prayer, I broke down into tears and sought out trusted people to pray with (unlike my normal habit of 'excusing myself' to the bathroom and leaning against the wall in the handicapped stall while I have an emotional breakdown by myself.).  I was terrified of not being changed by this mission experience; scared that I was going to come back and re-start in the same daily routine without experiencing any lasting impact.  It was during this time of prayer that a church elder said, as my mother-in-law, he, and I stood huddled in a group, "God, I don't know exactly what Grace needs, but I know that she needs to know this today: she is loved.  Grace, you are loved."  I nodded and tried to slow the tears from escaping my eyes, and croaked out, "I know.  Thank you."

This is the part where I say, yep, I came back from that trip, and immediately started my own Christian summer camp program for kids here in Arkansas.  Right?  {you can insert any other success story here if you'd like}

Here's the rub: I didn't do that.  I had an incredible time in New York, and if I hadn't been pregnant with a husband and kid waiting for me at home, I would seriously have considered 'missing the bus' and staying in the city that never sleeps.  It was awesome.  But, instead of running off to start some new life in a giant city, I came home.  I settled in to the house we'd moved into that summer. (I say we, Daddy A and some family actually moved in while I was out of town.  Not that I would have been able to help anyways, but I lucked out on that move!)  I prepared to have our second child, and got busy with the lofty yet exhausting task of raising the next generation.  I've done countless loads of dishes, changed even more countless diapers, broken down into tears on the bathroom floor while potty training my oldest, had a third child, made grocery lists, potty trained a second kid without any tears (Mine, not hers.  She still cried about it at times), and basically gone into mommy survival mode.  All the while, though, the phrase "you are loved" has been growing in the back of my mind, waiting for me to embrace its' truth and live it out.

Because really, what could be more basic, and yet more important and impactful, than knowing that you're loved by the God that created everything.  Even on days that you're so busy you can't even acknowledge His existence, you are loved.  Even if you know that He's seen your entire history, good and bad and mundane and exciting and everything you've ever done, you are loved.

Even if there were times that you refused to acknowledge his existence at all, you are loved.

Even if there are days that you still struggle with sin after being redeemed, you are loved.

Even if you've been hurt by people, some of whom might even claim God's name, you are loved.

Last Sunday the same speaker, who prompted my tears by his now-forgotten message four years ago, came to speak at our church again.  Man, it was good!  There's usually a podcast available that I'd direct you to, but technical difficulties have kept it from being posted, although the one that's on the website now is also excellent and deserves a listen.  There's also a link to a book study I'm participating in, and man, it is GOOD!  In one of the early chapters of "The Good and Beautiful God," author James Bryan Smith challenges the idea of God as the 'angry judge' who is sitting and waiting for his tiny human creations to screw up just so he can zap them, a fickle Creator who is only happy with you when you follow all the rules.  Instead, he offers this simple-to-say-harder-to-grasp idea instead: God is Love.  In one exercise, he suggests reading a familiar (to most) passage on love, while swapping the word 'love' with its replacement, 'God.'  Since God is Love, it reads seamlessly and beautifully:

"4 [God] is patient,[God] is kind. [He] does not envy,[He] does not boast, [He] is not proud. 5 [God] does not dishonor others, [He] is not self-seeking, [He] is not easily angered, [He] keeps no record of wrongs. 6 [God] does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7  [He] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 [God] never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:4-8a, edited)

It makes me sad to see how widespread the idea of 'God is an angry judge' really is, both in Christianity and other religions.  I understand it though; the idea that 'God is nothing but the creator of a bunch of tedious rules that all of us sinners are incapable of following anyways' is one of the ideas that prompted me to leave the church.  I wish I had understood sooner the God that Jesus presents in the gospels, the Father in the prodigal son parable expectantly standing day after day in his doorway, his eyes scanning the horizon, hoping beyond hope that today is the day that his beloved son comes home.  I wish I had believed that I was loved.  I wish I had embraced GRACE, God's Riches At Christ's Expense, as Sunday's speaker had said.

Most of all, I wish that everyone I come into contact with could know that they are loved.  Not because of their social status, or waist size, or bank account, or race, or belongings, or symmetrical facial features, but because they exist.  I might only occupy one tiny little corner of the internet, but this corner must scream that truth.  I'll still share outfit posts and the like, but most of all, my little online life needs to point to God, and I hope to share more about His story through my life in the future.  If you're a long-time reader, or a new one, I hope that the only real take-away you get from my blog is this: you are loved.  Reflect on that, absorb it, believe it, write it on your mirror if you need daily reminders. (I did!)  

via Instagram

I welcome discussion, so comments and e-mails are welcome, and I'll do my best to respond in a timely manner.  Tomorrow, I'll be starting a new outfit photo series of sorts, so I hope you enjoy!  Thanks for reading.

Different

(This is written in response to a thought-provoking message given at my church by Matt Mooney of 99 Balloons.  If you have a chance, you should take a listen!  In place of Fair Trade Friday, which I would usually post today, I felt like this needed to be shared.)

The girl in the middle is my sister, Teresa.

There was a time, when I was younger than I am now, that I would not have publicly claimed her as a sibling.  I used to be an angsty teenager that loathed being related to someone so obviously different.  I was focused on that lofty goal of being accepted by my peers, and her disabilities, and the stares and comments that went along with them, were in my way.  Before I accepted Christ’s love and redemption, I was a selfish being.  I still am, but He is continually wreaking havoc on my old nature in order to bring me closer to Himself.  In his love, he gave me an opportunity right after I accepted Him to beg her forgiveness for my unfounded anger when she passed away a few years ago.

My sister came into our family when she was six months old, after being violently shaken by her birth parents.  Her brain had been damaged, and so as her body grew, her brain remained stunted at an infant’s level.  She relied on a wheelchair, as her legs and left side were paralyzed from the trauma.  She couldn’t see or speak, but retained light perception and her hearing.  She needed constant care, which my parents lovingly provided for the two decades of her life.

I wish I could say that despite my childish distaste for growing up as the weird girl with the weird sister, everyone else we met was more understanding.  Quite a few people were, and offered loving support to my family.  However, there were the people that stared.  There were those that wondered very openly whether we were wasting our time.  My dad shared a story once of some elder in one of our churches who asked, in so many words, “Why bother? You could stick her in a home, since she doesn’t even know what’s going on anyways.”  My mother would often stay home from church, since Teresa was apt to make loud, inopportune noises during the service, and mom didn’t want to be a bother.

As Matt mentions in his message, those church services, the meetings where the body reconnects with God and each other, were not complete without Teresa in attendance.  Every part of the body (whether human, or church) is essential.  Take away one part, big or small, and the whole structure fails.  As to whether or not Teresa was aware of her surroundings, I witnessed so many times where her functioning ears would hear my parents’ voices and her face would be almost split open by her giant smile in response.  She knew she was loved.

I write all of this because I had a recent realization, while trying to explain to lovely, curious, big-mouthed, 5-years-old-in-all-her-glory ‘Big A’ about the differences in people.  She’s hit the age where she publicly (and loudly, hence the big-mouthed comment) asks questions when she seems someone ‘different,’ whether it’s skin color, physical ability, or age.  My usual response, said loud enough for surrounding people to hear is, “God made everyone different, because life would be boring if we were all the same.”  Or, “You know that even though we have different outsides, an X-Ray would show that all our insides are the same.”

The thing is, people ARE different.   We all have different attributes. The problem arises when one certain attribute is deemed ‘worthy’ while those that don’t have it are deemed ‘less than.’  I don't know if you follow Humans of New York, but you should.  One of the most impacting series the photographer has done was when he toured poor or war-torn countries on a trip with the UN, chronicling the people he met through quotes and portraits.  He managed to show the similarities in people, removing that idea of 'other' that we so often see in our media's portrayal of other countries. For example, when I think of the Middle East, the images I've seen are almost always turbans, camels, beat-up cars, and sand.  But HONY's photog, Brandon, was sharing photos of parents and children, shopping malls, and daddy's who spoil their kids by bringing them dolls.  He removed the 'other' and just showed people.

The heart-breaking shooting that just happened in Charleston came about from the shooter believing that belonging to his race was superior, therefore anyone that was different wasn’t deserving of life.  As I attempt to raise my babies to be loving individuals in this world full of craziness, I have to figure out for myself what I believe about the rest of the world.  If I don’t process this for myself, how can I impart any teaching to that volatile and impressionable next generation?  Sesame Street did a great job, at least in order to start a discussion, with this clip:

 It may not seem like a big deal, but in this clip, Elmo (the philosopher/monster that he is) comments on race in the most matter of fact way possible.  We have differences, but that doesn’t determine our worth, our character, or our right to life.  Skin is just skin, and the abilities we have or don’t have are all just part of being human.

I’m still learning, but I have made a few realizations.  Most I’ve believed all my life, but have never taken the time to outline for myself or others.

Different isn’t ‘less than.’

Different is human.

Different is beautiful.

A person is not less worthy of respect, less worthy of love, or less than human just because they don’t fit into a social group’s ideas of ‘normal.’  You can’t determine a person’s worth by what category they fit into.  And, if we remove ourselves from anyone simply because they are ‘different’, we render ourselves incomplete.

“So God created mankind in his own image,
    in the image of God he created them;
    male and female he created them.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.”

(Genesis 1:27, 31a, emphasis added)

The #365daysofstuff Challenge!

I, Grace Holt, of the A-Holt clan, have had two epiphanies today.  The first, that Cheetos smell like poots.  Don't get me wrong, they're delicious, but you open a bag and it smells like our always full diaper pail there for a second!  The second epiphany?  I have too much stuff.  Between our overflowing corner of canned goods in the kitchen....

...my stack of cookbooks stashed away in a cupboard, when all my recipes usually come from Pinterest....

...the box o'stuff on the computer desk that I keep saying I'll sort someday (yes, those are our Christmas stockings stuck in there).....

...or the coup de gras, my dresser...

...our little house is busting at the seams with all the stuff we've accumulated over the years of marriage and child-rearing.  And, basically, I'm in the mood where I just want to get rid of everything!

However, before I decide to get rid of all our earthly possessions, I really need to examine my heart. No, I'm not headed to the cardiologist, I'm just talking about my reasons why I feel the need to hang onto all this stuff.  Some of it we need, but a large portion we could live without.  It would most likely simplify our lives if we decided to live more, well, simply.  It would make life easier if I could put all my clothes away in their drawers instead of smashing them on top of the other clothes that I never wear but keep just because someday I might need to wear a short sleeved cropped sparkly blue cardigan even though I've only worn it once (how's that for a run-on sentence?).  But, I keep the cardigan, because what if someday it matches the outfit I want to wear?  I keep all the canned beans that are actually (confession time here) overflow from the pantry because there's too much food already stored in there.  How's that for a first world problem?

As I mulled over our issue of 'stuff,' I realized what the reason is.  It makes me feel safe.  If, for whatever reason, my husband lost his job, or a zombie apocalypse actually occurred, we'd have food stored away to survive.  Never mind the fact that I claim belief in a God that will provide if we ever found ourselves in that situation.  Never mind we have amazing family in the area, both biological and through our church, that would never allow us and the kiddos to starve.  Never mind the fact that Jesus specifically says not to worry about food, or clothes for that matter.  If I'm going to trust Him, part of that is letting go, and being willing to part with the things we don't need.  Because, at the end of the day, they're just things, not a security system.

So, in my effort to lead a simpler life, and in the process, trust God a bit more, I'm challenging myself.  Here it is:

For the next year, until 2016, I'm going to find one thing per day to give away.  I can either go once a week and pick seven items, or just pick one per day, but at the end of the year, 365 items should make their way out of our house.  On top of that, if I buy something new in the next year, I'll stick to the 'one in, one out' rule, in addition to the other items being culled from our midst.  It could be a sweater that never gets worn that could bring a few dollars to a local women's shelter through their thrift store, were I to donate it.  Those cans of beans could be donated to a local food pantry.  I could even make it as simple as going through all the pens on the computer desk (there's so many!) and throwing away the ones that don't work.   Basically, in the words of the cinematic masterpiece my kiddos have been watching non-stop lately, Veggie Tales: Veggies In Space, "if you have enough to spare, you've got enough to share!"

I share this, not to make myself look like this super awesome person, but to keep myself accountable.  I'm not exactly a poster child of sticking with projects until they're finished.  I'll post weekly updates on my Instagram (@lifewithaholts), and also post monthly updates here. Feel free to hassle me if you don't see me posting anything, too!  If you'd like to join me on this year of donating and decluttering, feel free to post the items you're donating on either Instagram, Facebook, or Pinterest, and tag it #365daysofstuff.  Since it's already the 19th, I need to find 19 items to donate, and I'm getting started with these 7 mugs and glasses... only 12 more to go!

Feel free to stop by tomorrow for an outfit post!  Spoiler alert, it involves one dress doing double duty.  Thanks for reading!

OOTD - Black and White, and other musings

I really want to talk about something more than clothes today.  For some reason, my brain has decided that everything important that I'm usually too busy and preoccupied to think about needs to come to the surface right now.  For example: this morning, when woken up by thunderstorms at 4 am, my mind decided to mull over the links between the rape culture that's so prevalent in our world, and especially our country, and how that ties into misogyny, objectification of women, and an article I read about casual sex where one is putting physical wants above that of your partner's needs, along with the human trafficking epidemic.  That's a lot to have swirling around in a noggin in the wee hours of the morning!  Top that off with a conversation with a friend today where we discussed how she has such a hard time believing there's a God when such horrible things are allowed to happen in our world, and my not having any better answer than, "I don't know, even though I believe in a good God, I don't understand that, and struggle with it too.  People can just be evil, and our world is broken."  As amazing as conversations like that are, they leave me exhausted.  I wish I understood why evil exists, but I don't.  I wish I had the answers, energy, and resources that could stop human beings from being sold as a commodity.  I wish for heaven, and for God to restore our world.

Romans 8:20-23New Living Translation (NLT)

"20 Against its will {thanks to Satan's deceiving Adam and Eve (my words)} , all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, 21 the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. 22 For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us."

I don't have all the answers today, and won't until either I reach heaven or Christ comes back (whichever happens first!), but even if I can't make everything clear-cut like I want it to be, I can pick out my clothes. At least one thing today is in black and white.

21 Weeks!

Outfit Details:

Shirt: JC Penney, $5 (clearance)

Blue Tank (underneath): Motherhood Maternity, $8

Skirt: maternity, free via clothing swap

Earrings: gifted

Necklace: free via clothing swap

Shoes: Michael Kors, thrifted, $4

Grand Total: $17

31(squared) Recap

Well, 31 days and 28 outfits, and the month of March '14 is in the past.  My month of remixing my closet, and saving my shopping money to put towards a donation for Love146 is over, and I thought I'd just share a recap of the month's outfits along with a few of my observations along the way.

1. I've become a 'love it or hate it' personality when it comes to trends, but even with that black and white attitude, I need to include caveats to the rules.  i.e. "Leggings are not pants" (except on snow days and Thanksgiving).

2. I should have listened to my gut on whether or not to include certain items in the mix.  Like my burgundy cape/sweater thing.  It's comfy and cute, but I had the feeling that it wouldn't get worn very much because of its loose fit... and I was right.  Is it great for days when I just want a cozy layer?  Yes.  Can it be worn with a large number of other items in my closet (besides jeans and tee shirts)?  Not really.

3. (this one's courtesy of the hubby) My red skirt looks like a giant fruit roll-up.  I'm going to take that to mean that I look deliciously lovely in it. ;)

4.  I really, REALLY love dresses and skirts.  I have a closet full of the two (really.  I counted them when I was starting this challenge, and I have 25 of each... that's too much, even for a shopaholic like me!).  However, they only got occasional wear during this month, and it wasn't necessarily because of the weather.  Because of my full-time mommy/part-time retail life, a combination of jeans/flats/shirt/cardigan is my go-to for about 80% of my getting dressed.  Lesson learned?  I DON'T NEED ANY MORE DRESSES! (unless of course they're just too pretty to live without.)

5. Speaking of shopping, here's my little confession about this month:  I didn't last the whole time without shopping!  I did send the amount I had decided on for Love146 to them halfway through the month, but I also found a pair of Missoni for Target heels for $2 that had to come home with me, plus my JOYN TOMs that I finally get to wear, and a few pieces of jewelry on eBay.  I might have a shopping problem, so after this month I'm cutting my clothing budget down to $20 a month.  Like I said above, I don't NEED anything, so that should be enough to cover any gaps I need to fill.

 6. My husband is awesome.  No, he didn't jump onto the blog and write that about himself, either.  I really mean it.  The fact that he got me that ReImagine Love146 hoodie for my birthday just proves it.

7.  It is okay to put three prints into one outfit.  You might even get complimented by the girl at Jimmy John's for wearing them.

8.  I also had just a little bit of conviction over the course of the month.  Like I said, my closet is FULL, and so I want to be a lot more conscientious about what I purchase.  Also, it seems a little iffy for me to tell all you readers about all these amazing companies I find for the Fair Trade Friday feature on the blog (like that Starfish Project necklace in the photo on the R), and not be willing to actually spend my money on the products they offer.  So, I'm changing my shopping habits.  Fair Trade will be the first choice for my new clothing, thrifting my second, attempting to make it myself a third option, and then I'll re-evaluate whether I actually need that new item if none of those previous options work out.

Also, I think God likes to mess with my internet to drive a point home to my little human brain.  Specifically, I decided to go ahead and order some palazzo pants I had my eye on from eBay (this was after I had my conviction).  I had some extra money from my birthday, the pants were only $14, black and white print, super wide leg, and so I convinced myself to get them.  Even though I'd agreed to start my shopping choices with Fair Trade.  Even though they weren't.  Even though I don't need them.  But, when I put in my order, there was an error with processing my payment, and they were never purchased.  I didn't want to try the order again, in case I accidentally got two pairs, so I decided to find something else to order.  I found this top from Mata Traders instead, and it just arrived yesterday.  I'm so glad I got it, too!  It's even prettier in real life.  Which goes to show: God knows best (obviously!).

9. I talk a lot about all my clothes, and not enough about the amazing friends and family that I have the privilege of interacting with while wearing my clothes.  Whether it's the great friends that attended the clothing swap that brought 7 (I repeat, SEVEN) huge bags' worth of clothes to swap and donate to the local women's shelter thrift store, or the friends that give me handmade necklaces (and that fabulous houndstooth skirt), or the amazing family members that read and Like almost all of these little blog posts on Facebook, the man I married that knows what's important to me and gets me the perfect present, or the kids that decide that my outfits aren't complete without graham cracker crumbs and/or snot, I am so incredibly blessed.  The contents of my closet can't even compare to the love of all these people God has put in our little family's life.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a tissue (can I use the 'there's something in my eye' excuse?), and I have to go wait to see my oldest kiddo's reaction to her first April Fool's prank.

Ah yes, the old "tissue paper across your doorway during naptime so you run into it" trick, perfect for a 4-year old!

See you in a few!