Beachin'

We went to the beach yesterday. I experimented more with my camera but since it is a moldy, oldy 35mm, I cannot post them until I finish a whole roll. I will try and finish the roll soon. Anyway...we only live an hour from the nearest beach, which is pretty great. Yesterday was our first day at the beach since we moved here, which is pretty stupid. But we did finally make a day of it, and it was spectacular.

I love the beach. Really, really. Intensely blue skies. Blindingly white sands speckled with rainbow colored towels and umbrellas and half naked bodies. The sound of the water crashing against the shore, sometimes with great force, sometimes softly lapping, always calming the spirit and clearing the mind.

I finally caught up on the June, July, and August issues of Southern Living. Rocked out my cowboy hat. And worked on beefing up my tan. Beyond that, I enjoyed myself some serious people watching. I love to people watch. I'm an observer - hard core. I'm always amazed that amongst that great diversity of humanity, there is a certain sameness, too. We all really just want someone to relate to. Someone who will validate us, validate what we feel and think and do.

There was this one couple with a little two year old girl sitting in front of us. They hauled all of their stuff in [the dad had to make two trips to the van to get it all] and got settled in. He popped open a can of beer and made me secretly wish for one of those little mini bottled margaritas. You could tell they were one of those "we're really comfortable with each other and not so caught up in our child that we don't have adult conversation anymore" couples. Not that I'm hating on couples who don't have time to have adult conversation anymore. I will not even pretend to know anything about being a good parent AND a good spouse. It kinda makes me tired just to think about it.

Anyway, a little while later, this other dad, a very largely pregnant mom and their 3 kids plop their stuff down on the other side of beer drinking dad and his fam. You can hear their thick Southern drawls immediately. I smile at that sound. Dad and the kiddos run down to the water within about 2.5 seconds. [Speaking of men being one of the kids, Preacher Man spent an hour or so making the perfect sand castle. He makes me laugh.] Mom is left alone to figure out how to get sunscreen on her back. [This whole time I'm laying on my stomach in an effort to even out my tan. I tend to only worry about the front of my body because it's the only part I can see. Stupid, I know, but that is real life for me. All that to say, I was in a prime observing position without anyone knowing I was observing] So you can see this mom contemplating how she was going to get sunscreen on her back, and I'm almost ready to get up and ask her if she needs help when she walks over to the beer drinking dad's wife and says in the thickest of thick southern drawls, "I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, but can you get my back? I just don't think I can waddle all the way down to the water to get my husband to do it." Hahahaha! I wanted to get up and give her a big hug. Turns out they were from Tennessee and their little girl ended up coming back and talking the young couple's ears off...seriously for like 30 minutes. I got so tickled at her thick little accent, asking them all sorts of questions, telling them all about her family's vacation experiences.

If only we could all feel that free and uninhibited. I think life would be a lot more fun :) It was a good day. A really good day.

Warning: Mushy Love Stuff to Follow

I really just need to take a moment to gush about Preacher Man because I don't think I do it out loud to other people enough. I'm really crazy about him. He's my high school sweetheart. We literally grew up together. And still he finds ways to challenge me - rarely in an "in your face" sort of way because he just doesn't work that way and he knows me well enough to know that I REALLY don't work that way. Mostly it's just in the way he lives his life. He is solid. And unwavering. And kind. And yesterday when I was crying over things that really aren't life altering, he didn't downplay my pain. He just loved me and said he was sorry and let me mourn for a little while.


I love to listen to him interacting with his friends. He doesn't give advice unless it's asked for, but the advice he gives is good and solid. He loves them all unconditionally. They love that about him, too.

Right now he's in the kitchen doing the dishes. He does half of the house work since I work full time, and he doesn't complain about it...or he rarely complains about it. He's still human, people. Don't go getting the idea that I married THE perfect man or that I have THE perfect marriage. You would be soooo wrong if you got that idea.

But good grief the man is a beautiful piece of work, with eyes that still give me butterflies and kisses that, even after all these years, I can feel all the way to my toes. In fact, I think I'll go see if I can partake in a little of that right now ;) Talk to you peeps lata.

Big Girl Panties

It's been one of those days. A why me kind of day. So, because this is my blog and I can, I'm going to take the next few lines to talk a little about my why me's.

Why is it that I want a baby so badly but God has not made Preacher Man want one just as badly? I mean, I held a baby today and my heart literally ached as he laid his sweet little head on my shoulder. I have been patient. Or at least I have tried to be patient...for more than a year. And Preacher Man doesn't think a year is a long time to wait for something. I say to him, what if I made you wait a whole year to even attempt to do something that you KNOW you were created to do [be a mom. not make the baby]?

Why is it that some people get to live their whole lives near the people they love the most? I mean, God doesn't always call people to move across the country to a place that doesn't even resemble home. Was it really necessary that I be one of those that he called away? My sister is getting married. And I'm missing everything. And she deserves to have her sister at all her showers. And at her bridal shoot to do her make-up. And just plain there to go with her to Shreveport to find a dress for the rehearsal dinner. Or take care of the flowers because she so desperately doesn't want to have to deal with it. And my Mama should have me there to help her prepare for a gajillion guests to be in her home. And I should be able to get to my best friend's house and take care of her little boy, or take care of her, or both of them for a weekend because being a first time mom is hard. And someday, when Preacher Man finally gives in or [preferably] gets excited about having a baby - they should all be able to be there...without having to spend their life savings just to get to me.

Why is it that, 3 years out of college, I still have to work outside the home doing something that is by no means a miserable job but at the same time doesn't excite me? I mean, I'm trying real hard to find a way to contribute to the income AND stay at home so that I can keep a clean house and cook and just be available to my husband. Still, so far nothing.

Why is it that in less than a year we are back to square one? Not a clue where we'll go or what we'll do? No home. No furniture. No plan. I thrive on plans...one of my coolest traits.

All of that being said...as a follower of Christ, I have been called to higher living. To greater sacrifice.

But you are a CHOSEN RACE, a royal PRIESTHOOD, A HOLY NATION, A PEOPLE FOR GOD'S OWN POSSESSION...why?...that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness in His marvelous light; for you once were NOT A PEOPLE, but now you are THE PEOPLE OF GOD; you had NOT RECEIVED MERCY, but now you have RECEIVED MERCY.

For this find favor, if for the sake of conscience toward God a man bears up under sorrows when suffering unjustly. For what credit is there if, when you sin and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience? But when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God.

1 Peter 2. Read it. So good!

Bottom line. I am definitely a recipient of God's infinite mercy. I am chosen and holy. Why? The why is where it gets a little bit harder, because it's not about me. Why? So that I can proclaim the excellencies of my Jesus. My God. And you know what? When I am suffering because of my obedience to my Father [no matter how small that suffering may seem to others who have, no doubt, endured much more difficult trials than I] AND PATIENTLY enduring that [ick!], I find favor with God.

And you know what else? Today, when my Jesus saw me laying on my bed, crying because sometimes it all just hurts that much, He was/is sitting at the right hand of God praying for me. [Romans 8:34, Hebrews 7:25] I believe that He loves me that much. And I also believe that He fully expects me to live a called out kind of life, even [and maybe even especially] when it hurts to do so.

So this is me wrapping up my whining and putting on my big girl panties. Because no big girl panties = no favor with God. And I seriously want to find all kinds of favor with the Beginning and the End.

For those of you who made it through this entire post, you deserve a prize. Seriously.

The post that needs a disclaimer...

EDIT: Let me apologize for the "cheerleader on crack" comment. I did not mean it to sound hostile or condescending. It was mostly just a joke but really not any nicer than saying that I sound like a dumb idiot. So, that's that. I just wanted to set the record straight.


Disclaimer: This is the post of randomness. Be prepared for an excessively incoherent string of thoughts.

Baby, baby, I'm taken with the notion. To love you with the sweetest of devotion. Baby, baby my tender love will flow from the bluest sky to the deepest ocean. Baby, baby I'm so glad you're mine. -Amy Grant [Currently listening to "Throwback" play list...because sometimes nothing gets it done quite like the oldies]

In this new city I live in, things have been a little wet for the past week. By a little I mean, like woah wet. So, I've been rockin' my AMAZING rain boots. I have gotten a wide array of responses. Everything from strangers saying, "Cute boots. I mean seriously, really great boots!" to no words necessary looks that say, "Girl, I know you didn't," or "You think you are so cool wearing those boots." Here's what I'm noticing about this strange city: It's a crazy hodge podge of cultures, the minority being Deep Southerners. I haven't really been out of the Deep South within the good ole US of A, but as far as I can tell - lots of other parts of the country are not crazy about loud colors or sassy fashion statements. It's like people can't believe I have the nerve to wear something so very attention-getting. Why not? I say. I balanced it out with fairly non-attention-getting clothes, and it's not like I have "Juicy" plastered across my butt. It's just my feet, people! Sheesh!

I also feel that I should wear a T-shirt at all times that says, "Just because I talk slow don't mean I'm stupid." [name that movie] I cannot and do not want to help that I say "ah" instead of "I" or "Mama" instead of "Mom" or that I don't have any one syllable words in my spoken vocabulary. So, don't look at me like I'm crazy when I say "Ha" [as in hat with no "t"]. I don't look at you funny even though I could because you seriously talk like a cheerleader on speed.

A few housekeeping details:
Please offer your thoughts on any and all of these little posts of mine. I want to hear about your life - if something I said spoke to you or if you feel that you might have something to say that would speak to me, or just something quirky or funny to share with me! Occasionally I'll compile my favorite responses and post them for all to read [with your permission of course]. I have now changed the settings so that you can post anonymously if you want to - without creating an entire Google account. Sorry, Georgia Peach! If you want to respond in a more private way, via email, feel free to email me at southerndrawlin@gmail.com. The name that you will see associated with that account is not my real name, just so you know. I have decided that there is freedom [for all of us] in anonymity. The purpose of the blog is to find comfort and solace in knowing that there are other women out there who sometimes feel like they are literally losing their minds. Who sometimes wonder what it would have been like to marry that other guy they dated [which I have done but always end up VERY glad that Preacher Man saved me from that fate]. Who occasionally just want a good strong dose of margs, cigs, and Jesus. Who are trying to figure out how they can maintain their sassiness and still love Jesus the way He has called them to. Who aren't really sure how to cope with and even more importantly, enjoy, the hand they've been dealt. I don't think we need to know my real name to be able to do that. Whether or not you choose to reveal your true identity is totally up to you.

So...that's the deal. Responses pleeeease!! I want to hear from you!

Peace out.
[I thought about erasing that but it really is what I thought even though I'm not nearly cool enough to pull it off. Laugh if you must.]

Perfume, Hair, and Feet

It's funny. A year and a half ago I didn't want anything to do with God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit. Being in church literally nauseated me. Seeing others worshiping in love made me want scream. The Bible was empty and void of all meaning to me. I was living in hopelessness and desolation. I didn't like my husband. I didn't like my job. I didn't like my life in general. Satan had convinced me that God was big and mean and he was beginning to convince me that Christianity was all a big fat show.

It really wasn't funny at all.

Then I found Him. He didn't find me. He didn't have to. He never lost me. First in little pieces. A verse actually touched my heart. Worship here and there wasn't so awful. But the breakthrough came when I began to believe in the power of the very name of Jesus. When I began to believe that He was real and active and moving in my life. When I opened my eyes and saw him hovering around me - protecting me, loving me, seeing all of me, even the most grotesque corners of my soul that no one [not even Preacher Man] was or is to this day aware of, and loving me so completely through it all. When I accepted the power the Holy Spirit offered me to stand up and say, "Enough is enough. This is my home, and my life, and my heart, and my marriage. And I WILL live completely in the power and freedom of Christ because I can...because through it all He has guaranteed me that much."

Then I began to slip again, falling back into my old selfishness - my wallowing. And someone asked me what I was so angry about and maybe I should tell God about it instead of blaming everyone else for it. So I did. I was comfortable enough with Him by then. I yelled and cried and rolled around on my bed and cried for a good 3 hours. I told him all about how sad it made me that my life didn't look anything like I wanted it to. How I didn't want to be a preacher's wife. How I thought it was stupid that He was making me. How I was tired of making sacrifices - of sacrificing everything I wanted. And I was tired of feeling guilty for throwing such a fit about something that seemed so little compared to what others around me were going through.

He spoke softly, gently showing me what He knew I would never see if it was thrown in my face. Reconciliation not condemnation. That's what conviction was for. Bending of the knees...I physically had to get on my knees before Him to really understand the freedom that was granted me in exchange for my submission. Beautiful reconciliation. Then He made me fall in love with Him, made me long to know more about Him, made me want to sleep with His Word because I ached so deeply for the power it secreted. He showed me truths. Truths that I will never again question - because He showed me. And they are real in my heart and in my life.

I am so far from perfect. And I don't read my Bible every day. And I don't pray like I should. And I'm humiliatingly self-consumed. But I love my Jesus. And I have tasted the kindness of the Lord. And someday I will gladly bow at his feet. And I will take my hair and the most beautiful perfume heaven has to offer and wash those beautiful, beautiful feet. Because I really do love my Jesus that much. And I am so excited to know that I will learn to love Him even more.

The Dream

My two favorite Southern movies of all time: Hope Floats and Sweet Home Alabama. Dances and live bands at the town square. Beautiful southern men managing to be manly as heck and at the same time helpin' women find themsleves. Sassy southern women rockin' out cute dresses and totally sexy cowboy boots. I want to live there.

My favorite TV show of all time: FRIENDS. Friends that are more like family than friends. Ya know? Walk into their house without knocking, drink all their Dr. Peppers, have boy/girl sleepovers, play games until 2 in the morning, laugh with, cry with, be a total butt face to and they still like you kind of friends. Is that real life for anyone? Or is it just one of those myths that TV makes you believe?

That's my dream, I think - to have FRIENDS-like friends in a town square dance havin' town and all the while rock out my totally sexy cowboy boots with my even cuter dress...and let my beautiful [becuase he is] Preacher Man help me find myself right into the sunset. Would anyone like to join me?




Afterthought: Do you sometimes think that there will be a time when you look back on certain thoughts, dreams, or wishes and think how silly they were? I think maybe this post will qualify for some of that silliness. It's fun to be silly every once in a while, though, right?

[deep breath. big gulp]

Do you ever just stop and think, "Wow. I am really selfish"? That happened me last night and continued on into today. It's been really fun.

Last night, Preacher Man and myself watched Dan in Real Life. Great movie, by the way. Very quirky. Like me. I think we're all kinda quirky if we really let it all hang out. Anyway, afterwards I was feeling very snuggly, so I scooted over to the other couch to love on Preacher Man. After a few seconds of my cuddling, he said, "You haven't been sweet to me like this in a long time." Talk about punch in the gut. He wasn't trying to make me feel bad...he was just noticing. Well this caused me to fling myself into a "I'm a really poopy wife" thought procecss.

I am so deeply self-consumed. It's embarassing, really. And it's really, really, really hard to fix, because you start thinking about yourself and how you can be better and so when you do what you think will make you better and less selfish, you give yourself an imaginary pat on the back. Wait. Then I'm still thinking about me and how great I am. Vicious cycle, I say. Very vicious. How do I escape the viciousness? Well there it is...I cannot escape it.

God is funny, you know? He's always giving us problems that we can't fix. He can fix them, no biggy, but we haven't got a chance. Pride. Joylessness. Fear. Financial "We're gonna have to live on the street"-ness. Letting go of dreams and expectations. The list goes on forever. We have no hope of fixing any of those things by completing a "To Do" list. That's my favorite thing to do, by the way, finish a To Do list. I'm really cool like that.

So after all of the reflecting on how selfish I am, which really just makes me more selfish, I decided to go to the WORD. That really is the best thing, even though I haven't even opened that spectacular, power-oozing book in a few weeks. Not only do I love cool To Do lists, I'm really smart, too [dripping with sarcasm]. There is wisdom and clarity there when my thoughts are bouncing around in a million different directions. I'm studying 1 Peter. It was supposed to be a 12 week study. I think I've been working on it for like 5 months. Discipline...it's my middle name. Anyway, Ole Pete is pretty great. You should check him out if you never have. I was studying 1 Peter 1:22-25 and then cross referencing it with some stuff in 1 John [it's a Kay Arthur study]. It's talking about being born again and how once you have been born again, the Holy Spirit protects you from your own stupidity and how He fills you with this great amount of love for your brothers - and how when the Spirit dwells within you [post being born again] there will be conviction. You will be made aware of sin, sin that keeps us from growing closer to our Father! Yay Holy Spirit! Yay for being born again! Bottom line...I'm off the hook becuase I have someone dwelling within me who will continuously push me and pursue me and help me move past my selfishness. I have to be cooperative in order for the growth to happen, but He will not just leave me to wallow in my icky self-involvement...whatever that looks like at the moment. So, in the end I'm kinda glad that I am feeling bad about my selfishness. That means the good ole HS is moving and working. So, I say, "Do your thing, HS. [deep breath. big gulp] I'm ready."

I hope this made sense. Sometimes my thought process is hard to follow.

Renaissance Woman...buh buh buh!

Okay, so I'm trying really hard to be a renaissance woman...which, if you get right down to it, I think qualifies all women from all eras. It's like we were made to be good at a gajillion different things...and I think THAT is probably more out of necessity than just because we want to.

I have recently made it through quite the poopy time in my life [i'm sure there will be more details to come] but as part of my healing process, I decided to pursue things. Like, whatever I want. I am like a super-pleaser, over-acheiver kind of gal who disguises herself as a "I don't need you to like me" kind of gal. That sucks. So, I'm trying to find the balance. All that to say, I don't usually try things unless I think I can be really good at them. Again, that sucks. Sooo, I decided to start learning to do whatever I feel like learning to do. I think photography is such a cool hobby. Currently, it's like the super cool, you're artsy and reflective and creative if you do it hobby, which really bugs my sister. We'll call her "Photography Queen [P.Q. for short]" because she is. She makes money taking pictures. She actually is artsy and reflective and creative. "But P.Q.," I say to her, "I really do like pictures. And I really do have a cool camera. And I think that we all like photography so much because we're fascinated with capturing God's fantastic creation."

Anyway, I have this really great camera. Granted, it's a moldy, oldy 35mm, but it's still fancy and takes beautiful pictures. I've had it for like 6 years and have never learned how to use it. I began to feel sorry for it...made for greatness and wasted on mediocre snapshots. Today I researched...learned a little about aperture, tried it out. These are the products. Keep in mind that I'm learning.

This is Belle - as in Southern, but Preacher Man thinks it's as in ...and the Beast. She is the best dog ever. She is my make-shift child. I'm sorry if you think that's pathetic. Truth be known, I think it's a little pathetic, too, but we're trying to be real here. In the first set of Belle photos, I have placed a treat upon the floor and commanded her to stay. Again, best dog ever. It's a low vs. high aperture set. I would say the top is muuuch better, right?


The following are more low vs. high ap Belle pics [I'll bet P.Q. would think I sounded really dorky b/c real photgraphers don't use terms like that]. Isn't she beautiful? The first is low ap, the second is high. Sadly, it's the only high ap that looked even a little displayable. High ap, evidently, is better for capturing details all across the board, FYI.





This is my Nana's ivy. Try and ignore the dead leaf. Actually, all the leaves should look like that. Mostly I ignore it. Anyway, the picture's kinda pretty, I think. Another low ap...sadly I don't really have a wide landscape to put a large ap to good use. Wah, wah. We'll have to save that for another time.

Hey ya'll!

I'm a Louisiana girl with more southern sass than I know what to do with most of the time. I love Jesus and the Deep South. If I could, I would pour them both in a bottle and gulp them down like an ice cold sweet tea on a sweltering summer day. Louisiana has always been home for me, and I'm pretty sure that will never change, even though I don't actually live there anymore. That brings me to Jesus - He's the reason I don't live there anymore. My husband [we'll call him "Preacher Man"] and I followed His guidance half way across the country, and I must say that He has proven faithful amidst the scariness of obedience. I love Him alot, but fall short of showing Him pretty much daily.

That's sort of what this blog is all about. It's an experiment of sorts, for anyone who wants to get right down to being real about life. Broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken people are all welcome. In referene to "keepin' it real", one of my dearest friends once said, "I just want to pack up all of my 'real' friends and take them to the beach where we'll drink margaritas, smoke cigarettes, and talk about Jesus the whole time." That statement inspired me to make every effort to keep it real all the dern time. Here it is...me. Keepin' it down and dirty, make ya' ugly cry...and laugh, make ya want to yell at God and then get down on your knees and praise Jesus, real.

I hope you'll join me in this little experiment of mine.