My Love Language

I read a book many years ago called The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapmen. The premise of the book is that each of us feels loved by experiencing love in one of the following 5 ways:

1. Words of Affirmation
2. Quality Time
3. Receiving Gifts
4. Acts of Service
5. Physical Touch

My "love language" is Quality Time...I feel closest to my friends and loved ones when we are together. We don't even have to talk. In fact I enjoy sitting next to those that are closest to my heart in mass, sharing in the beauty of our faith.

So, it occurred to me today as I was driving home from work that maybe, because my love language is quality time, that it might be the reason why I have become the insecure person that I have turned into these last 10 days.  That I have tried to fill every moment with being with my closest friends and have asked a million times for reassurance that they will stay in touch. The circumstances before me will force my love language of  Quality Time to morph into a new love language of which I am not sure of yet.

So I continued to ponder, meditate, which ever you choose to call it, that maybe this is what the 12 apostles went through as the circumstances with their beloved teacher changed.  That they had to shift their love language as the accessibility to our Lord changed. I am sure that it was a shock to have Jesus in the flesh and then to watch Him ascend into heaven after his death and resurrection, and then He was no longer available in the flesh but in the Spirit. 

I know that we have some friends are for a season, and the thought of that makes my heart hurt. But if the Apostles can adjust the way that the felt loved by their friend and savior Jesus, than surely I can do the same with my friends. I can't say that there won't be more tears or more need for reassurance. But I can say that once again I rely on the example of the saints to give me the courage to be molded by our Father into what He would have me be...even if it hurts.

Naked As a Jay Bird

I have struggled my whole life with my physical appearance. I have been on a diet from the day I was born....when I was skinny, I wasn't skinny and I even celebrated my 20th birthday at fat camp (no I am not kidding). I was teased mercilessly by the kids in elementary school and even through high school. Someone once asked me how I still turned out so "confident" and my only answer was God. You would think my skin would be nice and thick with all of things that people have done and said but praise God I am still as tender hearted as ever.



My mom did a great job teaching me to wear clothes that flattered my assets :) and I have loved makeup since I was a little girl. I would like to think that for the most part I have kept up with what society tells us is beautiful as best I can with what I have. I enjoy clothes and feel I have my own way of expressing myself with my sense of fashion etc.



I say all this because my uniform arrived. For the next 6-9 months my wardrobe will consist of a navy mid calf skirt and a white blouse period... no makeup, no highlights, nothing. Just the canvas that God gave me. Talk about a humbling moment. Never before have I felt more vulnerable then when I looked at myself in the mirror with my mousie brown hair and unapplied face...and I will admit I had a mini melt down.

It was like there was nothing left for me to hide behind. Nothing to distort the way God made me...no Lancome, no Tiffany's, no Nordstrom's...nothing. I felt naked as a Jay Bird.



I know, I know...my beauty lies in Christ. But what a moment it was. To see myself so "different" from what I have seen myself as for the past 20-10 years and such a contrast from what the world calls beautiful.

I look like a Mormon for crying out loud!

I know once I am with the sisters, in their beautiful habits, that I will be encouraged and feel less like "a fish out of water" or at least people will be too scared to laugh at me with a bunch of nuns gathered around.

I look forward to the day that I will wear that beautiful black habit as a sign of my espousal to Christ. Until then...I will have to rely on great shoes!

I'm Starting to Panic

I started to work on my timeline today...

• 4 Months- move to Washington, DC
• 3.5 Months- move to SC to celebrate the holidays with my family
• 1.5 Months-load my possessions into a pod and give my furry children to their new mommys (I burst into tears every time I think about this)

I am starting to panic. My chest is tight and I don't know where to begin to get things done. 

I feel exhausted of all decision making capabilities...

Although I am looking forward to the freedom of owning less, how do you choose what to store and what to take?

Do I take the crochet blanket that my mother made when I was a baby or do I take the quilt that was made for me when I graduated high school? If I take both is that excess? 

Do I take the Marine Corp K-Bar that was given to me when I moved from Beaufort or do I take MOTH 2 (Man of the House) that was given to me by my roommate Brooke to protect me (She has MOTH 1).  If I take both am I a military crazed, big knife carrying lunatic?

How many photos can I take? Can I take some of my Hibel paintings as well as Ode to Sarah made by my dear friend Natalie (taking Ode to Sarah is not a question it is merely can I take Hibels with me too)?

I have been told to come with as little as possible...how do you do that? 

These are the decisions that I just can't make now. 

I know that it may seem trivial but I feel paralyzed right now...somewhere between moderate stress and a panic attack.

I am experiencing a rude awakening of how dependent I am on things...

God is stretching me...pushing me. I am OK with that, it hurts, but I am OK!