Do You Ever

Do you ever at times feel that you are floating somewhere between noticeable and forgotten? It's a rush that leaves you paralyzed. Standing in a busy street wondering when the next nonchalant car will forget your presence and crash into you. The floating does not bother me as much as the unknowing. It is easy to cascade into oblivion, easy to apathetically cast your cares away.... easy to let go of the painful. Arriving is what often leaves us blind, frozen, stiff to our own choices and our own deep woundings. Yes, arriving equates itself to fear. Fear of confronting a choice.

Do you ever feel that you were once a succulent tree? Bearing incredible fruit, overwhelming beauty and thick ripe branches that ache with nourishment. Does that ever feel so long ago? So painfully withered away it takes you closing your eyes to remember that season? Looking now all you see is a depleted parched person who aches to remember the fruit. To taste the overwhelming ripeness of life found in your own being. The heaviness that comes with floating. The irony of it all.

Do you ever feel undeserving? Given a gift more precious than the finest jewels the world can offer. A gift that came screaming into the world and given to a couple of teenagers. A gift that carefully takes his own soft blanket and covers his mommy as she sleeps. A gift that kisses for no other reason but adoration. A gift that waves goodbye and blows kisses for no other reason but love. A gift that whispers sweet nothings, laughs at sweet musings and caresses a mothers heart without even trying. A gift so undeserving tears roll down your face as you caress his face in the dusk of night. A gift that gives without trying. Who teaches without correcting. Who encourages without saying anything.

My gift.

My First Love

I knew someday that I would write what I’m about to write. That there would come a time when I would be married, Cohen would be older and I would become pregnant again.

Truthfully, many years ago, I was not sure if that would be with Zac, if I’d be almost forty desperately trying to conceive a child, or perhaps it would happen as it has. Being almost twenty four, married... cruising along in life.

I knew I would write about this someday because I have thought about it often. It ebbs and flows but truthfully it would rise up in me every moment I thought 

Could this be the month?

Is it happening again for real?

I knew I would write about it someday because finding out I was pregnant with Cohen was a traumatic and dreadful experience. It was two days after Christmas in 06’ that I found I was pregnant with Cohen. I had been black out drunk the night before and confessed to my best friend in almost tears that I thought I was pregnant. I was a week late and I couldn’t bring myself to buy a test.

But I did.

So at barely nineteen, I took a pregnancy test in a stranger’s bathroom. 

And at almost twenty four, I took a pregnancy test in my own bathroom.

In both cases, I bought the same kind of pregnancy test. I placed them on the bathtubs and turned around for a minute. 

Both tests, positive. A little plus sign. 

Yet the first time around, it was anything but positive. Breaking the news first to a best friend who was horrified, then to Zac who was numb and confused, then to my friends who felt sorry for me.

Then to my mom. Who asked me point blank if I was pregnant. I said yes. And with my honest confession she fell to the floor crying hysterically. 

I watched as my mother held her face and rocked herself back and forth. Pained by her own heartache of a messy divorce and now her oldest most responsible child... pregnant...

I hated my pregnancy. I would pray at times that God would just give me a miscarriage so I wouldn’t have to endure anymore stares. Anymore explanations. Anymore fake smiles. Anymore pain.

I never took a prenatal vitamin with Cohen. I would ignore his kicks in the beginning. I spent nine months wishing I was anywhere but in my own body. Crying myself to sleep at night carrying a child I hated and hating myself for feeling that way.

This is what I thought about when I took a pregnancy test a week ago. When I smiled at the result and Cohen knocked on the door wanting to be apart of whatever I was doing. I thought about Cohen the entire time I held that pregnancy test. Feeling ashamed for all the moments I spent cursing his existence as he grew inside of me. I thought about Cohen when I called Zac and declared my jubilant news. 

I thought about Cohen when my mom hugged me and smiled after I conveyed to her about the baby inside. 

I struggled with feeling that I cheated Cohen out of something. That he deserved to be loved even from the moment he was conceived. I obviously can not go back to those moments but I relive them constantly in my mind. The first time I felt Cohen kick was in my dorm room with drunk kids flying in and out of the room. I sat in a corner by myself and felt him move inside of me. There was no one there who could share that moment with me.

It was just me and Cohen for the longest time. I felt this growing entity inside of me and learned how to live and love.

I let Cohen into the bathroom after I put the positive test on the shelf. I looked at him in all seriousness, picked him up and held him. I started to rub his back and he nuzzled into my neck. He pat my back as I rocked him back and forth. I was pregnant with another but I realized how deeply in love I had fallen in love with a child I never knew I could truly love.

Tears ran down my face as I told Cohen over and over of the precious gift he was to me. I told him that I loved being his mommy more than anything in the world.

And I meant it. I would do it all over and endure more pain if I had to for that little boy.

I’ve decided that though I will (and do) love this child growing inside me, Cohen will always have a special place in my heart.

He taught a barely nineteen year old how to grow up, to love herself, embrace responsibility and let go of idealistic expectations of life. 

I rejoice in the coming of my new little one but feel that as I rejoice, I must also remember. Remember a bleak time in my life and the joy that came from it.

Grace has washed over me and engulfed me in it’s waves. Sinking never felt so good.

Here I Am

So in case you didn't know, and in case you were not sure of it already.

Wait for it...

Life never goes the way you plan.

Sure, you already knew that. You rolled your eyes as your read the cliche statement, wondering, why the hell do I even read her blog?

Here is why.

Realness is what I crave consistently. Growing up the way I did, in a circle of good Christian put-together-people, skewed a lot of the way I view myself and the world. Instead of being confident of what I am made of, what I am capable of and who I was born to be... I just reflect on the injustice of the world I live in. Freedoms many are not given, lives that are violently taken away, cruelty toward the innocent...

Do these thoughts ever trickle in your mind as you pick up your preschooler from half day day care?

Because they do mine.

Constantly. If I had the time, energy and more brains I would come up with how I could change the world. But alas, my life has not gone in that direction. It has not moved to that beat of drum. It has not followed some generic life goal. I am completely unsatisfied with the American dream. The pursuit of wealth and the end goal of "get rich or die trying."

Over. It.

I have been trying to get pregnant for 8 months now. Which seems ironic as I was once an unwed, teenage pregnant girl whose hope was to be anything BUT being pregnant. At one time I fantasized of being a city girl in New York City, bar hopping and flirting myself to a great writing internship. Filling my life with clothes, laughter and drinks... escaping what I knew to be a better path.

Then God gave me Cohen. Grace in little boy form.

I am constantly reminded of how I am not in control. For an ENSF like myself, it kills me. Plans dictate my life. I need things on schedule.

What the hell does God know that I don't?

I'm crass. I'm kinda edgy. Not on purpose. I just don't care enough to try to fit the mold of what a perfect blog should look like. What a perfect 23 year old should look like. I need authenticity. And authentic Mackenzie curses at times.

Control is like a little sister that preys at my heels and reminds me that I owe her something. She demands my attention and I crave her approval and constantly try to appease her.

If you keep waiting to feel more "in control" and "more aware" and "more on top of things." Disappoint looms.

So I pursue something else.

I've been praying. Not the "Lord please show me...." but the "Oh, dear God, I have no idea what is  my next prayer...."

God's timing is not my timing. I thought I knew that until I tried to plan something myself. When I pray I don't ask God for stuff, things, possessions or my way...

I ask for his way. I ask for a better way of understanding his way. I crave his way. I crave knowing what he knows and how he loves me enough to force me to wait.

I cleaned and organized and threw more broken toys away than I know what to do with to regain some control tonight. I cried as I shoved a bookcase one way and sorted through GI Joes and trucks. I needed some sort of control. I needed to feel like I had a say in something.

I suppose I have a say in my household decorations.

I imagined my Savior watching, smiling and then shaking his head, longing for me to meet me where he is at... he meets me where I am at constantly...

I met him there tonight. And I let it all go. My expectation. My need for control. My need for answers.

ENSF signing off....

Grateful someone else has the wand. Someone else has the dance. Someone else has the perfect moves.

I don't.

I know.

Yes.

Ok.

Started

I've found myself reading a lot more blogs recently. I have been picking up more books and casually skimming the pages. I've been reading every billboard, bumper sticker and road sign. I carefully listen to the radio and instead of talking around friends... I find myself just wanting to listen.

I am in a season of listening and reflecting. I always have something to say. I am highly opinionated about my passions and with every seething second I can pounce on someone, I do. It's just who I am.

Recently though, not so much.

My mouth stays shut and I find myself yearning for more information. More food for thought. More intrinsic details on everything. Listening, reflecting, hoping, expecting, desiring, waiting...

Waiting.

Yes.

Waiting.

So I suppose I haven't much to write about. I am doubtful of my own progress. Doubtful that I am making a difference in myself. Doubtful that I am confident enough to write a blog post about what I learned, who I am, what I value, what I discern....

I don't really know right now.

It's utterly raw. It's not a typical blog post. It doesn't start with a story, laugh it's way through some ironic discourse and end with a moral.

I'm kind of over that.

Aren't you?

I search for the rawness in life. The nitty gritty. The hopeless and the immoral. For some reason, those for real to me. Suburbia, smiling and a perfected schedule seem so.... lame? fake? unreal? cathartic?

Trying to find the word.

Not coming to me.

Instead, I will listen. And continue to listen. There is something inside of me, deep "soul like" substance that has taken ahold of who I am. It doesn't care for perfection, for laughter, for happiness, for sensitivity, for labels, for perfection, for cares, for perspective, for character...

Just rawness.

A seed that was planted long ago... probably when I was born... stunted by society, by expectation and by my own desire to be who I'm not.

So...

I wait.

I read and reflect. I rummage through my old thought patterns and embrace them. Apart from what I think I should feel or say.

So...

I wait.

I'm not done yet. I haven't even started.

16 Breweries, 3 Days

Not sure if I'm crazy, half crazy or just a little crazy but I'm doing it. Friday morning, I leave Cohen in the care of grandparents who adore him and off we go. Zac and have always believed that alone time is crucial for our family. A nourished marriage is a joyful family. We decided that for the next year or so we would travel all of Colorado. Enjoying the state we live! Next stop? Durango, Colorado!

So our itinerary is as follows:

We are going the LONG way on the way there. I have this "thing" about beauty and surrounding myself with it all the time if I can. I love the way the mountains smell this time of year. I'm probably the only one that can smell it... but I do. The crisp air and sweatshirts are calling my time! Hands blowing out the windows...

Beer tour. Zac and I love beer. We love everything about beer. What I love the most about beer is the aroma. The way it hits my mouth. I swoosh it side to side and gulp it down. It's like a big piece of pie. Zac and I have tried every microbrew we can think of... (or afford, let's get serious)

Never brings Coors... Keystone or whatever into our house. We don't like drinking pee.

While we head on 24 we stop in Gunnison for the first leg of our brew tour.

Gunnison Brewery is our first stop.

Quaint and cowboy like it will be our first stop. At this point, I'll probably be over eager and order something ridiculous and wish I didn't. Then, we'll be on our way.

By the time we hit Montrose it will be lunch time. If you know anything about Zac and I, we are food fiends. The thought of pub food elates me. Something about the "I want to be good food but I'm really pubby greasy food" entices me. Smugglers is the name.

After Smugglers, we'll make our way a few blocks away to Horse Fly Brewing Company. 

I freaking hate horse flies. Brews, eh, I can do.

Leaving Montrose, I will drive the car most likely. Don't get the wrong idea... we are just splitting a sampler at each Brewery. We are responsible.

Hope back in the car and I'm sure at this time I am slightly bloated... does beer do that for anyone else??

We then make a quick pit stop in Ridgeway to check out Colorado Boy Pub and Brewery. This building reminds me of good Mexican food. Not sure why. I must be hungry right now.

I hear their IPA is amazing. So excited. I love as many hops as you can put into a bottle. Delish. We hope to be sitting outside on the table to the far left... perhaps take a quick bike ride around since we'll be so carbohydrated up. A pork chop in every bottle... right?

Ok, ok. Then we're off to Ouray. One of Zac's most favorite places. I have never been but I hear it is fantastic. At this point I'll probably be starving, again. But telling myself I have to save the calories. Do they make fat free, calorie free beef jerky? No?

Ouray Brewery. 

Majestic. Delicious. I am loving the font on the side. Fantastic.

Then, still in Ouray we will bike a few blocks to the Ourayle House.

MMMM. This place looks fun. It's tiny. Super intimate. I'm sure Zac and I will hang out here awhile. People watching in a corner. It's what we do best.

Then our last stop before Durango is in Silverton! Silverton Brewery is the name. 

Looks fun. I'll probably try to get out of this one as quick as possible. I'll be tired and my legs will be crampy but Zac will cheer me up. We'll force our way into Silverton (perhaps get lost) and I'm sure (of course) I'll have the greatest beer ever. I'll laugh and tell Zac he was right for making me go.

Are we in Durango yet?

Friday night. We will get into Durango. Staying in a cheap motel like a couple of teenagers. Go on a bike ride and laugh too hard. I've been told I don't have fun enough. That of course, is for a different more serious blog post. I will, however, drink too much, laugh too hard and explore the unknown with my best friend. Unapologetically so.

Saturday night we are going to a big Ska Brewing festival celebrating their 16th anniversary as a brewery. There will be over 15 other different breweries from around Colorado for us to try.... Some good music and a beautiful big sky. My happiness. 

While in Durano we'll be hitting up a few more breweries. Durango Brewing Company, Carver Brewing Company and Steamworks Brewing Company. 

Did I mention there was a whole ride home? Going a different direction??

Next blog...

Crappy Blogger

I always hate starting out a blog with "I've been a crappy blogger..."

But the truth is, I have. I have been without a computer for nearly a month and frankly, I haven't been in the mood to write. That's the funny thing about writing, I find myself "waiting" for that perfect evening. You know, when the moon sits just right in the sky and all those feelings of angst and anxiety come surfacing to the pores and god knows,

It HAS to come out.

So here I am, on my brand new mac, staring blankly at my screen hoping for some sort of epiphany. A homage to something, someone... someplace.

So instead of searching deep into the depths of who I am (I guess the wine isn't working?), I find it best to simply state the things I am grateful for.

I am grateful for travel. For the incredible ability to go. To move. To enjoy.

We are headed to Durango.

There it is. In all its glory. Zac and I believe that time together away from Cohen is crucial for our marriage. Especially as we have had no time alone together. We were married as a family which means time just the two of us is precious.... and desperately needed. We are taking our bikes. Traveling to 15 different breweries... making an adventure out of it.

Get ready, from Friday-Sunday you will be hearing a lot from me as we comment on all our different brew spots. I am super excited. We are headed to brew fest at Ska Brewery.

If Zac and I do anything well together it is eat and drink. We could sit and laugh hysterically for hours drinking a good brew and laughing. People watching, silly observations and dirty inside jokes. It's what I love about us. It's what I have always loved. We are staying in a little motel on Main. Like, who knows who has stayed there and the last time our comforter was cleaned... but it's us.

Full of drunk tourists but hey, sounds good to us. We brought our bikes to cruise around town. Be eclectic out-of-towners.

I'm loving all these moments.

So look for a video journal of our adventures... there is always some sort of drama on our trips. Um hi, anyone remember Mt. Princeton and the hospital??! Hopefully, my hydration is normal this trip. :)

The Second Stage

I haven't written in days, maybe a month. I haven't checked recently. All I know is that I do check, and I do ponder. Constantly refelecting on my mind the ever present "coming and goings in the mind." For what you may ask? Because of who I am.

Because of how I do life. Eat, drink, sup, breathe... I reflect.

My recent reflecting is on parenting. On the overwhelming desire I have to live for Cohen and the overwhelming desire I have to walk away from it all. From the messes, from the monotonous "doings," screamings, cryings... UGH UGH UGH For what? For a moment of inquisitive understanding? Peace of mind? No. To simply BE.

To BE is terrifying. It hurts, it reaches it's bloody arms down to the depths of my soul and SCREAMS "I've got you."

I want that. I want the pain that comes with discovering who I am as a parent. No matter if it looks like how I grew up or not. Who cares... right? Right? RIGHT?

Right.

Yes. Moments of intricate despair surrounded by immense amound of love. This parenting shit is a serious business. I have no idea what I'm doing. How I'm doing it... where I'm going with it.

I pray for some sort of grace I believe I have... some sort of enlightenment that is promised to me.

Yet there I sit, alone, on a lonely dusty road waiting for someone to sweep up behind my flowing dress to tell me this simple thing:

PEACE

Peace. Give me now. Give me everyday of every second of every moment.

I don't pray for an eye opening experience rather someone who meets me in the harsh winds and the unbearable heats of life.

Take me, break me.

I am yours.