Young and Free

Laying back on a crash pad, dusty white hands behind my head was just what the doctor ordered this week. As I gazed up at my husband who was climbing a high bouldering route, I felt “normal” for the first time in a long while. Climbing was fun, too. I worked through about five easy-ish routes and called it a night because one of my fingers was throbbing from a cut I earlier gained. But I didn’t care, for I felt young and free.

I felt as such because I was enjoying an activity of my “prime.” And I was on a date with my handsomely rugged husband, watching him kill it on the wall. And there were many seemingly young and free individuals surrounding me in the cozy rock gym. I took the stairs to the loft, washed my hands in the giant metal sink and perused the “Resting Place.” A substantial wooden table with its chairs sat in the center of the dimly lit room. One wall housed bookcases of comic books and adventure magazines. I took a seat on a couch opposite the books, letting my thoughts continue to trail.The diapers and rice cereal and spit up and pulled earrings were behind me for now and I was in heaven. It wasn’t but a few minutes before Dave joined me. He often checks in on me and I like it. I appreciate how he constantly derives how he can be helping me and seeks to understand how I am doing. I need it these days.

You see, motherhood hasn’t been a walk in the park. Don’t get me wrong, I adore spending my days with Alisan. She is cute and easy to love, especially with all her new little babbling and baby tricks. Being a new mom has been rough in the aspect of T-I-M-E. I wake up early to her screaming her little lungs out and by the time I gently lay her to sleep at night, there are counters to wipe. By then, I’m more than ready to hit our creaky, government-issued bed. She and I do have a ton of fun in between. I break up the feedings, laundry and errands with long walks around town with the pup, lunch with friends, story time at the library, Bible study… It’s all so very fun, it’s just that I can’t always do what I used to. With a baby attached to me like a kangaroo, I can’t go to a yoga class whenever I’d like. I can’t hike a hill and read a book. I’m not able to do a great many things because…nap time….and nursing. I’m not complaining. Regrettably, I sometimes I do complain because sometimes I get sad. But when it comes down to it, I gladly give up my age old pleasures for the honor of raising a daughter. Gosh, that’s weighty. And God gave me this specific job for this specific time and this specific (little) person.


Back to time. Thursday nights are special. Every other Thursday evening, Dave and I date like we’re still dating. We climb, we coffee shop, we walk the beach. I’m grateful for those three hours and our dedicated babysitter. It’s been remarkable for our marriage and I might could write another post about this another day. On the opposing Thursdays we have alternating personal nights. Those are good too. This weekly routine has been essential for us. It’s just one night a week and doesn’t feel like much sometimes, but I get to look forward to it with so much excited anticipation. I feel young and free. I feel like myself. Extended moments to journal and drink a cold brew is all I sometimes need to rejuvenate my mind and get ready to get back to it.


Yes, I’m a wife and mother. These are my roles. I understand there are seasons and that I’m growing up. I am learning to embrace all this season has to offer. Caring for a little human, cooking healthy meals for my family, clinging to the Lord’s promise of peace during fussy spells, praying dangerous prayers for my family, learning to better love my husband and learning to make bread rise (two takes last week, both failed) only scratch the surface!

My life is beautiful. But it’s wonderful to step aside and reflect, connect with my husband and my Father. I’m grateful to Dave for being my biggest fan when I feel insufficient and overwhelmed. Who said having one kid is easy? 🙂 And I’m grateful to God for walking with me up the stairs to the nursery and down the street to the grocery. Your quiet whispers keep me focused on that which is of true importance.

I may not be getting any younger (the silvers atop prove this), but I can confidently can say I’m becoming more free. Whether I’m out on the town on a Thursday night or trying to squeeze in time with the Lord during morning nap, my soul is exploding all the more, with each passing day. His love is at work in me beckoning me to indulge in and share of His freedom, if only to my babe and pup that day. Before this turns into what looks like one of my journal entries, I’ll call it a night.


6 & 7

The glorious, long-awaited weekend is about underway. I’ve put a bit of thought into how I’d like it to run its course. I hope to relish in these objectives.

SLEEP IN. Sleeping in means 6:30 these days because I’ve officially become a morning person! I have my husband’s early work start and our pup’s beckoning for a walk around the 5 o’clock hour to thank. And I’m thankful, really. I’ve always wanted to be a morning person.


TAKE LOTS OF PICTURES. The Nikon my husband got me for my last birthday has been seriously neglected. Maybe I haven’t been getting out enough. That will change this weekend. I’m going to get out and capture creation. This leads me to the next bullet…

GET OUT. I get out. I take Romero for extensive walks and scoot on over to the beach down the street and run errands and hit up restaurants with my husband. But I’m in serious need of adventure. Dave and I have a plan to make this happen.

MOVE. I exercise….casually. I really do need to exercise more intently. Do you ever have the inkling to scramble up a tree or run as fast as your legs will carry you through wooded trails? This is what I’m talking about.


DON’T CLEAN. At least, I don’t want to stress over cleaning. If things aren’t perfectly in their place, I find myself deeply disturbed. Beginning when I was in junior high, I could not bring myself to do any homework until my room was pristine. Regrettably, this is still a part of me. Admittedly, I find this taking a toll on my time with God. I will clean and organize and straighten for hours before cracking open my Bible or falling to my knees. It’s utterly ridiculous and embarrassing. This is something I’m learning to let go, by the grace of God.


TALK. A spark has begun again. A spark has begun and I can’t let it die. I yearn for it to become a blazing campfire and more. I want people to know of this Love that found me long ago. Living as an example is no longer sufficient. Hoping they see my “happiness” and mostly joyful attitude will not save their souls. How will they know if I do not say? Why wait for a convenient conversation to arise? About all of this I am praying and seeking and fervently. I want to talk. And I want my words to be worth it. And to be that, they must not be mine.

Jotting down my weekend goals has turned into writing of my life ambition! Ultimately, I want to live and move and be one with His Spirit. I want to be grateful always. I want to pray without ceasing. I want to draw closer and closer to who He is and reflect this to the surrounding world. When I’m taking a picture of a magnificent Okinawa sunset, I pray I can see His splendor. When I’m running down a path atop one of the capes, may I deeply know from where that joy derives. More than anything, I want to be willing to do anything for the bringing of His Kingdom. This world is but a shadow.