My laughter.

My ball of energy and hilarity.

Oh how I love this little man…

I would give myself fully to my kids.  The very best I could do.  100%.  They would eat their veggies.  They would be polite.  They wouldn’t watch TV often…

For a long time, that’s exactly what I did.  Hannah didn’t watch TV until well into her second year of life.  I taught her Spanish and she could count fluently from 1 to 10 in both English and Spanish before she was 2.  I thought I was awesome.

Then Jayden came.  He was pretty well convinced that sleep was an “if I get around to it” kind of thing.  He moved.  A lot.  He wouldn’t do anything I tried to get him to do.  My dream started slipping.

To top it all off, a few months before he turned 2, I found myself unable to walk.  Which kind of gets in the way of being a fully present, 100% ANYTHING…especially when that thing is mom to 2 energetic kids who are 4 and under…  Movies were MY BEST FRIEND.  I started to invent games that centered around mommy laying down on the couch.

But, after a few months, some strong pills and a WHOLE lot of work, I started to feel like soon I might emerge from my Disney/Elmo parenting my children hiatus and engage once again.  I had plans…

And then a little boy started growing within my frail/failing body.  My body fought back.  But this little man fought harder and was born nearly 2 years ago.

These days?  My littlest man barely speaks ENGLISH and he is 2 months away from being 2.  His love language is hitting and so far he is happy to share all that love with ANYONE.  Boy or girl…  And truthfully, you could not pay me enough to take him with me to the grocery store.  EVER.

Those perfectly behaved children who have a fully present mom?  That dream is gone.

It probably got flushed down the toilet when my middle man put his head in the toilet…right after he peed.  (True story.  Even better?  The story of how I found out why his hair was wet right before we went to pick up Sis from school…)

But this is better.  I realize people may look in horror upon some of the events that currently characterize my every day life.  But I’m starting to love it.  This spunky – we SOOOOOOO don’t have it all together, my kids have dance parties EVERYWHERE kind of life.

I’m starting to soften.  To realize what’s important and what’s not.

Which leads me to today…

Yep…in case you didn’t fully see it…that’s my little man with his brother’s undies on over his pants.  It’s his tribute to Quail Man, of course…  (Please ignore the chunks of apple.  Or not.  Either way)

For months he has carried a pair of Thomas undies around every morning.  Today, he tried to put them on.  After a few hours I helped.  He then refused to take them off.  So yes, my child was the one playing outside in the yard with Thomas Underwear over top of his clothes.  The sweet neighborhood kid who came over didn’t even seem to notice.

Welcome to my new way of life.  And to dreams that are starting to get better.

But as I looked through our time together and smiled big smiles accompanied by intermittent laughs and “oohs” and “goodness, I love them” moments, I found myself SO drawn to the moment in time images.  Where they aren’t looking, but you feel their love for one another.  And though there are swoon worthy images where they are looking at the camera and his handsome-ness is obvious and her gorgeousness leaves me breathless – these images held my heart.

Maybe it’s just been one of those weeks.  One where you realize that love is a beautiful thing.  A layered thing.  That when you are given a glimpse of it – you simply must stop everything and celebrate it.  So…I give you love.  From two people near and dear to my heart.

And yes, there are more to come soon.  (PS: these two are getting married in 23 days.  I CANNOT WAIT.)

Caroline…OH MY GOODNESS.  You are beyond beautiful.

Lately, I’ve had a hard time writing.  I think it’s due to a few factors.

One: shame.  I have that negative ugly tape that plays over and over when I mess up.  It tells me that I’m not worthy.  It tells me that I’ll never get it together.  It tells me that I need to stay stuck and hide in shame because it’s just that bad.  So when I don’t make time to write – I feel ashamed and I hide.  I hear that voice that no one reads this.  I long to stay hidden forever and just disappear.

Two: kids.  Mine, specifically.  We’re in that season where often I’m so worn out at the end of the day, I just want to lay down.  My brain feels like mush and I’m lucky if I remember to move the things that had been in the washer over to the dryer.  (This is known to happen when you take all three kids who are 7 and under to pick up your dog at the groomer and watch the oldest 2 try to walk him back to your house while you push your crying toddler who is not himself due to the fact that he woke up 4 TIMES the night before.)

The other?  Some big things that I haven’t known how to share.  Or I’m afraid to share.  Not sure which one.  So here they are in a small list: almost a year ago we were foreclosed upon and it still hurts, once upon a time we were $20,000 in debt and the story of how I found out and the story of all that changed is equal parts beautiful and hard, and sometimes I get scared that because of the mistakes we’ve made, we’re ruined forever.  Now you know.  It’s out there.  So one day I’ll find words and I’ll share the stories.  Now I don’t have to think about your reactions and how to tell it well – because – well…it’s out there.

This morning I was taking some time to write our my conversation and thoughts with God.  I was writing about all these fears I have.  About how I’m so scared that since we’ve been screw ups in many ways, some due to our own choices and some due to unexpected life happenings, that we are forever doomed by the choices we’ve made.

And then I realized – that’s not the Gospel.  (The Gospel would be one of those church terms talking about the good news of Jesus.  That everything changed when Jesus rose again.)  The Gospel lets us know that God is for us in the midst of our bad choices and our ugliness.  He doesn’t forever chain us to the mistakes we’ve made – He breaks those chains.

That’s not completely our story yet.  But this morning I prayed it would be.  That God would write the Gospel, the Good News, into all of our story.  That we wouldn’t be forever struggling.  That distrust in our lives would be dispelled.  That brokenness would be healed and made into a beautiful mosaic more stunning than the original.

For now, I leave you into a glimpse of some of the beauty of my life.  These pictures ground me.  They remind me.  They help me SEE again.  Real life.  I look at these sometimes and I can see how BEAUTIFUL it really is.

To their credit, they knew the kid…but still.

As I was busy telling Ted about the hilarity and how it seemed so very normal to them, he then said,

“Well, at least it’s not like they took the first piece of cake.”

Cue hysterical laughter from me.  Why?

Because that’s EXACTLY what happened.  J took the first piece of cake, while Hannah helped cut it.

AWKWARD.

The ache rushed over me all morning sending me through a tizzy of questions.  Why don’t we seem to have community?  Why is my house never clean?  My kids are watching TV again… am I ruining their minds? Will I EVER get my pre-baby body back?  Are we just awful people because living in the inner-city hasn’t seemed to work for us?  Why do I not seem to have friends here?  (Other than one truly incredible friend, of course)  Is it wrong to be planning a move out to the suburbs?  Why can’t I seem to find a way to put my dreams into action of documenting the stories of orphans?  Do other moms of 3 little ones have real friendship and real conversations still?

I sat there and judged myself into oblivion.  Questioning every last part of me and making sure I felt quite inferior.

Until I stopped.  I decided to ask God to tell me what He wants for my life right now.  That list?

Enjoy your life.
Be loved.  Even (and especially) when you aren’t DOING “anything”.
Have fun.
Trust that I am at work.
Take in the simple.

Keep in mind I call people to different things.  So don’t look at your friend and think, “my goodness, I’m not doing life right because I’m not serving the poor and overlooked like her.”  Keep in mind that EVERY person matters to me.  There is no ranking system.  Look to me and let me show you where I want you to love and serve.  Then enjoy it.  Don’t judge it.

So here I go.  Into the life of diapers and a crying, word-deficient toddler, a little man who could run back and forth through our hallway ALL DAY LONG and a little lady with so much personality held inside a 7 year old body.  I will go.  I will see beauty.  I will place my eyes there – instead of  looking at everyone else’s life.  Because this before me?  Gift.

And this picture?  It’s just a tree I love.  At the top of a mountain.  It’s sprouting leaves now.  I visited it again just last week, so I know.  But I treasure this picture from the midst of winter when blooms and leaves seem like they will never come.  And yet, faithfully…every year – they do.

In just a few days, I’m headed to Wheaton, IL.  And I’ve got an opening for a mini-session while I’m there.

Which means…an opportunity for a special little flash sale.

First, the when and then the flashiness…

Sunday afternoon/evening, April 7
Where:  Herrick Lake in Wheaton, IL
The what: 25 minute session for up to five people.  Basically, it’s 25 minutes laughing, smiling, creating memories and documenting beauty.
The extra awesome-ness: This session will not only include the session, but also the hi-res digital media.  (A $1000 value on it’s own.  Yep.  Cue flash dance, my friends.)

The cost: $475

Email me at amy@amy-paulson.com to set up your session.  I can’t wait to tell your story…

(PS: I love these two pictured below.  They rock.)

I find it so very fitting that of all days they would celebrate their first anniversary – it would be on Easter.  The day when death was defeated.  The day when Jesus did the completely unfathomable and left a whole host of people in joyful tears.  The day when they woke with sorrow and hopelessness only to be greeted by the Hope of the world Himself.

Their story is a resurrection story.  Where the world looked so grim, so hopeless and Jesus continues to bring a story of beauty from the ashes.
Happy anniversary, Nick and Nicole…  I am forever grateful for the two of you and today I wish you time to breathe.  To soak in the beauty of one another.  To treasure the gift the two of you are.

Love you both so very much.  And please hug your kids for me…

Today I wrapped my little girl up in my arms and grieved for you.  My heart ached as I thought of your arms open.  Longing.  Missing.
It hurts far too much to ponder why.  It hurts more than I know for you to put one foot in front of the other.
But today I found comforting moments, because today is so very both.  Today I celebrate and mourn.
I thought of the disciples.  Of the utter hopelessness and pain this day so many years ago represented.
I thought of His mother.  Watching her son, ridiculed, humiliated and now gone.  All the memories.  All the longing.  All the pain.
And I thought of the waiting.  The moment when all they thought He was seemed to crash to the ground.  The moment when they realize they will never hear His voice again.  That longing for one more story.  One more conversation.  One more adventure.  One more anything.  And oh the ache of thinking it would go so very differently.  He would be King.  Just last week He was RIDING on a donkey.  People were cheering.  The pain and agony and the awfulness was going to be over – He was going to overthrow it all and start God’s kingdom here on earth…
And I stay there.  Imagining we’re holding hands with tears in our eyes knowing that all of this perfectly sums up our journey together.  Strangers who became friends who have seen life and lost life and grieve because this was NOT the way it was supposed to go.  We know it in our souls – this just isn’t right.
Though I know the rest of the story – I find it appropriate to stay there with them.  To stare into the face of lost hope and doubt and questions.  Know that I am not, nor have I ever been alone.  I can think about your sweet little girl and I can think about my friend’s sweet little boy who died on Easter Sunday last year, one day after he was born.  And I can question and hurt and cry with you.
Oh how I pray Sunday will continue to come – over and over again in your life.  That death will be beaten.  FOREVER.  Fully here as it is in Heaven.  That your little girl WILL be in your arms once again some day.  That even in these moments – the resurrection would breathe new life into you.  But know that today – I stand in the Friday with you.  Realizing that I could not in my mind, at this point, with wounds so fresh, so painful, imagine something so beautiful as seeing Him again and Him defeating death.
You have my heart.  And today – may God hold your hands that feel far too empty.  May He carry you in His arms the way you long to hold your sweet daughter.  May He remind me of how He carries me as well.  And may the resurrection – the impossible and incredibly beautiful truth be ever so close to us both today.

I close with a picture of the precious birthday girl I love, adore and will now go snuggle and tell the story of this Jesus who gives us hope and is often writing a more beautiful story than we could ever imagine when it seems as though all has been lost…

As we left Chicago, I wondered if we could ever find friends as wonderful as we had there.

About two months later, I met Jessica.  And their entire incredible family.

Though I love this entire family so very much and I could go on for hours about each of them – their genuineness, the way they love, etc., I’m going to bypass that to say this: Jessica, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for you.  Watching you and the way you love your kids has taught me more about the kind of mom I want to be than most any book I’ve ever read.  You’ve taught me patience and love and what it means to be genuine – and the beauty is – you may never have known it.  You were just living life.  Thank you for inspiring me to think more deeply, love with more of me and to embrace being an artist.  Honestly – those brief moments we got to talk in your kitchen amidst a flurry of kid-dom and bicycles and sword-bearing children will forever go down in my heart as a day that changed my life.

Thank you.

Now…let’s all go enjoy how beautiful they are…

Let’s all just take a moment to take in how BEAUTIFUL Jessica is.  And Scott, you’re looking great, too…