Moving on...

I created this blog in September 2005 in Dallas, TX at a time when I needed to find my voice. I remember typing the first words as a young woman in the twinkle-lit loft of my condo. At first, it was simply an outlet to stay connected to friends near and far and share the tidbits of my newly-married life. Soon, it became so much more...a place for me to share my photography and art, regularly practice gratefulness, and process the way my life was moving to a simpler one day by day.

When we uprooted our lives from Dallas to Nashville in the fall of 2015, I had captured 10 years of our lives in words, photos, memories, details. This blog is a treasure, a time capsule of a very important decade of my life where we were young and married, owned our own businesses, and had two children. 

Now, after a long hiatus, I know it's time to close the door on Dreams of Simple Life and start fresh on my new website.

Here's a list of my favorite things I've written here over the years. Enjoy!

Remembering Pria.

"This is my work, my mission."

I'll never forget these words spoken by my dear friend Pria* in India one day, in January 2005.  The words flowed from her mouth boldly yet humbly.  Over the course of 10 days, I watched her go about her home tidying, cooking from scratch for multiple people, mothering two young boys, taking care of her duties as a pastor's wife, hosting a guest from America (me) that spoke a foreign language, and doing it all with joy and a peaceful smile.

Eight years ago this past January, I did one of the scariest and bravest things I've ever done - boarded a plane alone, with a back injury from falling a few days before, and flew 21 hours across the world to Chennai, India.  There, without even a cell phone, I waited to be retrieved by Pria and her husband Pastor Samuel*, both of whom I had only ever seen in photos.  We met and traveled another 5 hours by train to their town, where I stayed for the next 10 days working with the organization Peace Gospel, visiting children in an orphanage, embracing the culture, helping tsunami victims, and making new friends (I wrote about my experience here and here).

When I think about that trip now, I can't believe I did it.  I barely got on the plane.  I remember crying to my then fiancé/now husband the night before on the phone, telling him I was too scared to go.  But the ticket was bought, and I went.  Turns out it was absolutely watershed - a shattering, humbling, encouraging, emotional experience in which I saw for the first time just how much Christ could sustain me, how sinful I was, how much I cling to my luxuries of everyday life, how in the minority I am.  And how far, far-reaching the love of God is, all the way to a concrete single-room church in the tiniest Indian village.

Today is International Women's Day, and as my Instagram feed fills with breathtaking photos of women all over the world, my mind is occupied with memories of Pria, this one woman who changed me forever, whose gentle hands I can almost still feel on my back.

On my last few hours in India, I was tired, homesick, sad to be leaving my new friends but eager to return to my routine and family and friends in Texas.  Pria, Pastor Samuel, and I spent several late night hours in a hotel room watching Indian television and resting before it was time for them to take me to the airport.  I was wearing my sari (which had become familiar garb over the course of the trip), lying face-down on the hotel bed with my head resting sideways on my elbows, drowsily watching TV.  Then, without a word, Pria reached out and touched my dirty, curly, frizzy hair, ran it through her fingers.  She placed her hand on my back and ran it up and down, up and down, gently, sending shivers throughout my body.  She must have done this for a solid hour.  At first it felt strange to be accepting so much physical touch from someone I was supposed to be serving.  But my injured back began to feel like it was healing, and tension and tiredness from this scary, wonderful trip began to leave my body. Her touch was absolutely the touch of Christ to me in that moment, and I felt enveloped in His love, His care.  I didn't want to leave her and my new friends. At the same time I so desperately wanted to return home.  From this point on, a part of my heart would be left among these people in India.  And she would always be my sister.

~ ~ ~

There are many other stunning women I met in a remote Indian village near the coast, where the tsunami had just taken the lives of many of their men who were out fishing for the day.  We delivered food, Bibles, and clothes to the widows.  Their vibrant smiles, the lines on their faces, their colorful garments, their shyness mingled with strength...I couldn't get enough.

~ ~ ~

Today as a mother and a wife, I think of Pria’s words often.  On days (all too often) when I'm anxious and grumbling and overwhelmed by everything that's on my plate, by how many directions I feel pulled, I hear her voice saying, "This is my work, my mission," and I stop in my tracks.  I feel her love and encouragement across the oceans that separate us. If she can do it with joy and a smile, certainly so can I. 

I cannot begin to imagine the daily lives of some of the women I met and these women that Peace Gospel serves today, but I know their smiles and lives have touched me more than they'll ever know.   I'm thankful to be a small part of this tribe of women that traverses the globe and to have held their gazes in my eyes, their hands in mine, even for a short time.

* Names have been changed to protect privacy.

My daddy. (30 days of thankfulness - day 24)

My daddy has championed my cause since day one, supporting and loving me.  I'm so thankful to have a father like him.  His life hasn't been easy - he's worked his fingers to the bone, with calloused hands to prove it.  He's lost both parents and both his siblings, one a few years ago, and one in a tragic car accident when she was only in her 20s.  He survived cancer.  He just keeps truckin' - a true fighter.

I have so many fun memories with my dad, but I especially love these photos...circa 1982 at Virginia Beach where we always vacationed as a family, where his strong hands would hold me in the water and keep me safe from the waves.  And then on my wedding day when he gave me away to the man I would marry...

This past August in New Jersey, I got to have time alone with just my daddy for the first time in a very long time.  I took him on a "date" to his favorite restaurant, Charlie Brown's, and then we took a drive through the country with the windows down.  I loved seeing his eyes twinkle, hearing his voice light up as he drove me through the countryside, reminiscing about his old haunts from childhood.

In a letter my daddy wrote to me my senior year in high school, he said,

"I knew from the day you were born that you will do something special with your life.  I want you to know that I love you very much and am proud to be your father.  Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine."

And that pretty much sums up the way my dad loves me.  Always standing in the wings supporting me, cheering me on.  I'm blessed to be the daughter of a man like that.

~ ~ ~

During the month of November, I'm practicing "30 days of thankfulness" - will you join me?  Use your blog, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram to voice your thankfulness for something every day in November.  My hope is that this daily routine will create in me a heart of thankfulness and gratitude, no matter the day or month or situation.

Lifelong friends. (30 days of thankfulness - day 12)

I've been given the gift of several friends I know will be there for life.  Today, I am specifically thinking about Christy and Angela, my dear college friends from Belmont.  We've been friends ever since the day we met - the first day of freshman year when their rooms were decorated in life-size cardboard cutouts of country music stars, and mine was blasting with gangsta rap and D.C. Talk.  They both still live in the Nashville area, and not a day goes by that I don't wish we lived close again. 

Here we are last year in Nashville with all our babies...

And here we are in college, when overalls were obviously in fashion because we wore them every single day...

I could fill a book with the memories I have with these two women.  Practically peeing on ourselves with laughter?  Check.  Loving each other unconditionally?  Check.  Friends for life?  Check.

~ ~ ~

During the month of November, I'm practicing "30 days of thankfulness" - will you join me?  Use your blog, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram to voice your thankfulness for something every day in November.  My hope is that this daily routine will create in me a heart of thankfulness and gratitude, no matter the day or month or situation.

Ode to Lauren.

Lauren & I at her home in 2006

Today is my dear friend Lauren's birthday.  Lauren is a fellow Jersey girl, but we first met back in '99 when we were both working for Grassroots Music in Houston.  We both soon moved to Nashville and then she returned to the South Jersey area when she got married.  Lauren is a gifted writer, photographer, creative soul, mother, and wife, and I'm thankful to have the opportunity to learn from her.

The last time I saw Lauren was in 2006 when I visited her home on a quiet suburban street in New Jersey just outside Philly.  I still vividly remember the moments we spent together that bright April spring day, sipping strong French press coffee on her screened-in front porch while her toddler daughter Ella played contentedly. 

I had the opportunity to make amends for my failings in our friendship, things that had been weighing heavily on me for years.  Of course, she accepted it graciously, and we started anew. 

When I later wrote about our time together, I said, "Lauren and I also talked a lot about her method of natural mothering, which I would like to model one day."  And I have.  As Lauren shared with me her thoughts on motherhood that day, I felt her words resonate deep in my soul.  It was the first time I had heard of the attachment parenting style and a more natural way of mothering.  What I remember is the respect and love in Lauren's voice as she spoke about parenting her daughter - trusting her gut instincts, seeing her child not as an inconvenience that needed to quickly adjust to her and her husband's world, but as a unique human being who was to be welcomed and celebrated and adjusted to.  Big changes came with motherhood, I could tell, both difficult and wonderful.  Talking with her made me excited about having children one day.  Little did I know how much the Lord would use this conversation in my life, how much I would draw upon it when I actually became a mother four years later.

So this August, I will pack myself and my daughter in my dad's Honda CRV and make the 2-hour-drive to Chester County, PA to be reunited with this sweet friend.  Lauren promises to give me a tour of the Waldorf school where she works and where her daughter attends, which is set on acres and acres of sustainable farmland.  Yes, please.  I'm sure there's also a hot French press and deep mugs of coffee in our near future, and plenty of time to mull over the joys and struggles of this imperfect life as our daughters play together. 

So on her birthday, I can think of no better way to celebrate Lauren than to say, "You have inspired me, my friend. And I love you."

Jersey love: "The Shoo-uh."

Post senior prom, everyone in my senior class - and I mean everyone - drove down to the Jersey shore (pronounced "shoo-uh") for the weekend.  When you graduate from high school in New Jersey, it's just what you do.  On the way to dinner on the boardwalk one night, we even saw our high school principal, Mr. Padian, biking down the main strip in Seaside without a shirt on.  He had muscles?  Who knew?  Anyway, I'll spare you the details of everything that happened on that post-prom weekend, but let's just say it involved Zima, Blackberry Jack, and a deck of cards and leave it at that.

Growing up, families in town would go "down the shore" for the summer (tip: New Jerseyans never EVER say "to the ocean" or "to the beach") and return all brown and leathery.  My parents would take us down to Point Pleasant, our favorite shore point, for the day where we would walk along the boardwalk, play games at Jenkinson's Pavilion, catch sea crabs, and eat vinegar fries to our heart's content.

Many years have passed since I've been to the shore, since we usually visit in the fall, so it was high time to return!  There was no Zima involved this time, though.  Sorry, Snooki.

We decided to drive down to Spring Lake, a small, quiet town right on the water.  For lunch, we ate at The Mill Restaurant, which was lovely...

We walked around the town a bit...

...before heading to the beach so Luci Belle could put her feet into the sand and ocean for the very first time in her life.  It was such a gorgeous day - look at that sky...

What's this stuff??

The waves were pretty rough, and when the first time one came in, she got startled and grabbed my shirt.  Pretty scary if you've never seen one before!

But then she started pointing out seagulls and waving at everyone in sight, as usual...

 ...and was even brave enough to dip her toes in the icy water...

 

All in all, a successful shore excursion!

Birthday gift from India!

This might be one of the best gifts I've ever received...a special, handmade birthday greeting from the children we help support at Hadassah Orphanage in India, which I visited in January 2005. Touching their hands, sharing shy smiles, playing and coloring on the concrete floor...being with those children made a permanent stamp on my life.  I'm thankful that we still have the opportunity to partner with this orphanage through Peace Gospel International.

Look at these little artists and their work of art!

Precious!

Here I am at the orphanage in 2005...

See more of my India photos here.

Read more of my thoughts on India here.

A lake with a dock and a hammock and a boat.

In honor of Memorial Day weekend when summer is unofficially welcomed, I wanted to share one of my favorite summer memories with you...

Five years and what seems like many moons ago, when I lived in Nashville, some friends and I spent time at a place called "Shiloh" on Smith Mountain Lake in Virginia.   This gorgeous place is also where What About Bob? was filmed, although it's called Lake Winnipesaukee in the movie.   More importantly, Smith Mountain Lake is the home of our friend Betty-Ashton's parents - Deke and Boo, two of the most generous people you will ever meet, who are constantly opening their spacious home to their children's friends, to neighbors, to strangers - really anyone who wants to come and enjoy the peace and natural beauty of Shiloh.  To young twenty-somethings living in Nashville, it was a retreat from our daily lives of jobs and schedules, a place where those of us with families in all different states could come together and be taken care of by someone else's mom for the weekend. 

An 8-hour drive away, it was worth every minute as we wound further and further out of the city and into the breathtaking Blue Ridge Mountains.  Finally, around midnight, as we slowly rolled down a tree-lined gravel driveway, we would spot Shiloh's warmly lit windows, beckoning us to come inside and rest.

Shiloh was built for company.  From the multiple sleeping quarters, to the huge L-shaped couches, to the drawers and bowls everywhere stocked with snacks and candy, this was a home used to having people around.  Love was worn into its furniture.  The two amazing weekends I spent at Shiloh, there were about 15 of us from Nashville.  By day, we relaxed in white lawn chairs on the sun-soaked private dock, rode in the speedboat with one of Betty-Ashton's brothers, jumped off the dock in crazy poses, and floated on rafts shaped like palm trees. 

By night, we curled and piled up on those L-shaped couches and watched movies, played guitars and games, sat in a row on the rocking chairs on the backporch, and inhaled the sounds of night in the mountains, a place where time stands still. 

All day long, we ate Boo's delicious cooking - giant salads, scrambled eggs with sausage - one amazing meal after another that she seemed to constantly be preparing, because with so many of us, once one meal was done, it was practically time to start on the next. 

Even with so many guests on a Sunday morning, "church" still happened at Shiloh.  Still hapazardly dressed in PJs and hair matted from swimming the previous day, we all gathered on the carpeted floor in Deke and Boo's bedroom, and Deke preached us a sermon from the treadmill.

One of my best life moments happened at Shiloh.  It was nothing monumental but a single memory where my surroundings were so perfect, and I felt so alive, so free, so in love with life.  It was a heavenly summer day, the kind where it's warm in the sun but not too hot, and a gentle breeze is blowing.  It was early morning at Shiloh, and no one else had yet awakened.  The bright sun glaring through the windows wooed me outside.  I walked down the hill barefoot through the soft grass of the backyard down to the dock and found the hammock under the enormous weeping willow tree.  For a few moments, I just swung in the hammock slowly, the branches of the weeping willow waving above me.  I heard nothing but the sounds of crickets and the lap of water against the boat in the boat dock.  There, I wrote this in my journal:

Could this be any more beautiful?  I can say that this is one of the most peaceful mornings I've ever experienced.  It's about 8:45am...I woke up naturally and tiptoed over to the window and peeked out the blinds.  Glorious sunshine, not a cloud in the sky.  I grabbed my journal and walked down here to the dock.  This is what I saw before me: The lake is glistening under the light of the morning sun.  There is not even the least bit of humidity and the sun shines brilliantly, lighting up the gorgeous green meadow across the lake.  A weeping willow hangs lazily over the water's edge and light shines through the threads on its branches as if through a little blond girl's hair.   This morning is the Sabbath.  I feel closer to You here than I do in a dark, cold church building.  And I'm so thankful you give us these little spots of heaven on earth...

Later that day, another experience I will never forget - Jen and I took out the kayaks for a peaceful paddle through the cove.  I recall the sun beating down on us and that I closed my eyes for a few seconds to feel its warmth as my oar made a hollow sound on the side of the boat.  There was a gentle, smooth resistance to my paddle in the calm lake waters.  As we glided through the cove, we were at the same level with the ducks and birds skimming the water, surrounded by nothing but green.  It was one of the most peaceful times I can remember...

These memories make me realize that I have become more of a "lake" person over the last several years, and I long for a lakehouse of my own one day - one with a firepit and a small dock with a hammock and a willow tree.  A place where summers are warm but not scorching, and autumn leaves begin to flash in the trees come early September.  A place where people feel warm and welcome and enveloped by trees and water.

But I do not have that now.  And that's okay.  So I will treasure my memories of Shiloh and remember the lessons I learned there - that we desperately need moments of peace and fun and rest.  And that we are made for the enjoyment of the things God has created - the community of people, and the beauty of nature.

Past Memorial Day weekend posts:

2009: First Pool Day.

2008: The Welcoming of Summer.

2007: Simple Truth on Memorial Day.