The Sling Diaries Vol. 5: All The Love - "Surprise"

Naptime's over. You hear the quiet humming of a now well-rested child, so you open the door to the bedroom with a clear picture in your mind of how the next several seconds will play out. Instead, there he is, covered head-to-toe in his own excrement, smearing it about the sea of blankets and sheets atop your bed.

...

There's an hour. Maybe 90 minutes. Just a sliver of sunlight left on the last night of your family trip to California because the day got away from you...but you still need to see and feel the ocean one last time before you travel back and become land-locked once more. You type the beach that many locals have recommended into your GPS and off you go. "Your destination is on the left," the voice echoes. But to your left is a string of shops and restaurants....and the sun is quickly fading as kids screech in disapproval, desperately clinging to hope that they will still feel the cool, salty breeze on their faces and the wet sand on their toes.

...

And then there's your senior year of high school. You have your life mapped out in your young, naive mind as end-of-the-year orchestra and choir concerts diminuendo and you close the curtains on your last year as a bonafide youth. College, job, marriage, kids. That's how you do it, right? And then it hits you in the face like a cold, icy headwind. The positive pregnancy test stares up at you from the bathroom sink of your childhood home that you've dwelled within since you were five-years-old.

...

See, here's the thing about surprises. Sometimes they're bad. Sometimes they're so bad they knock the wind straight out of you...and sometimes they are a slow, painful rub like sandpaper against your heart. I've never been one to welcome surprises with open arms; I've always panicked in their wake, trembling in fear and rage before I give the moment a chance to unfold. Because...surprises reroute us. They take the picture that we've already painted in our mind's eye and completely change the color scheme, the whole entire feel of the painting. We are forced to veer to the side and choose an alternate path and it scares us. Surprise means change.

But...here's the other thing about surprises. Sometimes when they unfold to their full potential, they are good. Like, really good. Because sometimes you are worn down to bare bones after a week of non-stop sleepless nights with your teething one-year-old awakening and crying out for you, but when you open the door to a not-so-pleasant surprise, your first reaction is anger, frustration, but...that tired, worn-out toddler finally slept for longer than an hour stretch and two stubborn teeth made the voyage out from beneath his tender gums. Because sometimes after that moment of frustration and after the mess has been cleaned and the dust has settled, the moment moves swiftly to a moment of peace as relief overcomes him and you hold him close without a hint of discomfort after a long, long week.

And when you finally find that beach, the sun is settling into a cradle of soft, vibrant oranges and purples as your children run wild and free through the sand and waves. Your chest rises and falls as the salty sea air kisses your cheeks as if to say 'goodbye, see you soon,' and you are completely enamored with the moment that surrounds you. Your husband's arms engulf you as the sound of crashing waves and sweet laughter fill you up to the brim. The perfect close to the perfect week. More perfect than you'd originally imagined.

And...when your world feels like it is crashing in around you, 18 and pregnant, it's hard to see the moment of calm that lies beyond the moment of chaos. It may feel like your world is collapsing, that there is no way up from such a deep, deep low, but then all at once the smoke clears and there, looking up from the ashes of your whole world that seemed to have burned to the ground is the sweet, sweet face of your newborn son. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, his mere existence revives you and instantaneously rebuilds your brokenness. Sometimes the worst surprises are the best ones.

I will probably always panic when I come face-to-face with surprises that seem unpleasant at first glance; I will probably always brace myself, teeth clenched as they blow through me and shift me to the left and right. But more often than not, these moments of high tide that you would presume to cause a great calamity, leave the sand beneath its chaos smoothed and new. Surprises are just like high tides. They are chaotic and tumultuous, but when it settles and washes away, you are left with a fresh, clean moment of peace. So, even though I will grit my teeth and muddle through the chaos, I will always know that after each life-shaking and not-so-life-shaking surprise, there is calm.

There simply can be no calm without chaos. So, I welcome the chaos in all of its bittersweet surprise.

I'm wearing Dexter in a Sakura Bloom Pure Linen in 'Caribbean'.

The Sling Diaries Vol. 5: All The Love - "Understanding"

It is understood that nature is both fragile and powerful. It is understood that it is both orderly and in complete and constant chaos. Much like the knotted, tangled roots and branches of the trees in the forest, familial bonds can be tumultuous, strange, and warped...very different from the perfect, concise image our minds paints of family lines.

There is something very profound about understanding and being understood that calms and silences the discord that lies beneath the surface of relationships. We quake silently or erupt like volcanoes when we are unheard, misunderstood. Being understanding of the deep strains of each human is easier said than done and is a deep-rooted personal struggle. Family ties stretch and bend, they contort in strange ways, knotted and full of disharmony at times. These ties are sometimes strong, thick tethers but can become weak, delicate strands in an instant. Like a dull edge sawing slowly back and forth against thick cord, familial discord and lack of understanding slowly but surely threatens to sever bonds and family ties, both strong and delicate.

In family trees, branches are added while some dry up and break off as the tree grows and bends and becomes its own entity, unlike its neighboring trees. Much like each tree in the forest, no two families are the same. It is understood that each person is an enigma, a unique, free-thinking, free-feeling human, but to actually show understanding takes great sacrifice at times.

There are times that I don't feel like sacrificing, where I don't feel like stretching myself thin to be understanding and flexible with the people that birth and marriage have placed on the other ends of the many tethers of my family lines. Sometimes I feel so unheard and misunderstood. I feel intense, fiery anger toward family members when my needs are not understood, my wishes fall to way-side, assumptions are made about me, and my motives are questioned. I feel profoundly sad when I feel wronged, mistrusted, disliked. But it takes fresh air and fresh perspective to really, truly understand the views and needs of each delicate, unique person we are both forced and choose to have relationships with. And even if some of the knotty branches of our family trees are hardened, gnarled, and ugly at times, they are a piece of the whole. And sometimes you won't be heard, you won't be understood...and that's where your own deep-seated understanding of nature and your lack of control over it, the passing of time and the healing it can bring, and waves of calm and chaos that inevitably crash upon the shores of your life becomes a paramount key to your own peace and sanity. And sometimes...you just need your space, your own green, mossy patch of earth on which to grow, separate and sacred.

There are some family trees that are still but saplings, woody arms outstretched toward the sun. They are planted by mother trees and their falling seeds. But if a solid, rooted, established oak grows and looms over it, too near to the sapling, the great tree may very well shade the young tree and soak up its nutrients from the earth they both share. In order for young family trees to bloom and to grow and become great, solid oaks as well, they must be allowed to drink from their own roots in their own space, not swallowed up by the sturdy roots of their ancestors. They must reach their arms upward, toward wide open skies and swallow up the sun without being overcome in a shadow of over-burden.

So, to be understanding, to be truly understanding is knowing when to hold on and when to let go. Knowing that trees never grow in the same way. Knowing when your strong, sturdy roots of weathered wisdom are needed and welcomed and when to let young saplings, young people, stretch and bend in the sunshine, growing upward creating their own family branches. No two trees will ever grow and look the exact same, each branch unique. That's the beauty of nature. And it takes a great deal of understanding.

I'm wearing Dexter in a Sakura Bloom Simple Silk in 'Pebble'.

The Sling Diaries Vol. 5: All The Love - "Strength"

The strength of a human soul, of a human heart, cannot be measured in pounds or kilos. It cannot be measured by the physical capability to move mountains in the literal sense. Truly, it cannot be measured at all. For we all have hard battles that weather our skin and callus our hands and hearts. Then what, therefore, is an indicator of the inward strength that we possess? Of the strength that moves mountains in the proverbial sense?

I am strong because I must be. Because I was meant to be. Because of the tiny, chubby-knuckled hands that reach upward toward me. Because, as I trace the soft hills from their arms to their cheeks, I find their eyes, fixed upon mine. Their beautiful, deep blues that beg for acceptance, for guidance, for love. There, in those small, but somehow divine eyes, I find my purpose. All of the struggles, the upsets, the setbacks...they collapse there and wither away. There is power in motherhood. There is a quiet, hushed yet profound quake that calls for strength.

Yet, I am still so very weak. I'm convinced that I would fall to the ground and stay there if it wasn't for my children and my faith in God. But I feel such strength in my weakness. I've overcome so much in my 24 years of life and I've stayed afloat, head above water, through so many storms. When I became a Mother, my life erupted; every piece of me that was broken or scared vaporized as the room was energized and charged with love. Somehow, the girl who grew up hating herself for her "pig nose", for being the "fat kid", for not having perfectly neat, blonde hair, for having coarse hands, for all of the things that everyone else pointed out...searched earnestly in the soft, red faces of her newborn babies for traces of herself. Somehow, in those moments, and every moment since, those things that I despised, that I felt so looked-down-upon for became strengths. They became slivers of love for myself that built me up instead of crashing me down. Finally. Finally, I found my weak spots were hardening, becoming a profound and solid piece of myself as a whole. Because there they were: some of those same features etched into the faces of my boys...and how could I do anything but love those things?

Suddenly, motherhood created within me this whole other person. This stronger person I'd never known before. I am strong because I must be, because I was called to be, because the things I thought were once weaknesses have transformed into immeasurable strengths. On the days where the weight of the past and the weight of the present bear down upon me full-force, when I feel drained of every ounce of wisdom and patience within me, or when I feel the same sneaking distaste for my life or self, I trace the cheeks of my babies softly with my fingertips and see all of the weak spots in my heart melting away as they settle near me, their safe haven...their strong fortress.

Strength is immeasurable when it comes to the strength of our hearts and souls. If you have faced much torment and your surface feels callused, your strength is still not measured by how hardened your heart is or how cold you've become in the face of emotional uprising. You are not strong because you've become unfeeling, but strength can be found in how you break down those solid walls to allow your heart to soften and feel deeply. I am strong because I let my heart soften, allowing love to overflow in abundance for my sons and for myself. I chose to bring forth two boys that surely mended my brokenness by just merely existing and even though it's hard and the struggle to stay afloat is very, very real, I must endure many heart-breaking moments in the years to come because I've allowed pieces of myself into the world in the form of two sweet boys walking and talking and experiencing life eventually on their own...and my heart is left bared, raw and feeling.

...And this type of strength can move many mountains, I'm sure of it.

I'm wearing Dexter in a Sakura Bloom Simple Linen in 'Wheat'.

The 52 Project: An Update.

I'm so embarrassed. Like, this is one of those times where you eat too much dessert before bed and feel really guilty and ashamed, but then instead of calling it quits and moving forward, you cut yourself another slice of cake for breakfast the next morning.

Yeah, like that.

When I fell a few weeks behind on my 52 project I was feeling really ashamed and a bit like a failure. And instead of just posting the catch-up posts and then staying on top of it from there on out, I just kept slicing myself more slices of cake...and I eventually put off the project completely. So, here I am...a whole 7 weeks behind, but still holding on by a thread.

So, I spent the last hour digging through the photo files on my computer, piecing together each week's (or at least close to each week's) photos to post all in one spot. Here's to keeping on top of it now instead of slacking off...

(16/52)

(17/52)

(18/52)

(19/52)

(20-21/52)

(22/52)