Land & Sea


The last 4 months have been the most chaotic and stressful months of my adult life. Moving is nuts. Having a baby is nuts. Having a baby with a toddler and moving all at the same time is straight crazy.

My best friend also moved away.

We lived together during our single years, and supported each other through our engagements when we each found a man crazy enough to marry us. She stood right next to me on my wedding day, and two weeks after getting back from my honeymoon I got to do the same for her. We were gigantic and pregnant at the same time, and stood by each other’s hospital beds when we had our babies. Sisters, really.

But we’re no longer in the same space doing life side by side.



Goodbyes and changes and hormone surges and healing and boxes and diapers and naps and house projects and messes and laundry and demands and working and so much new.

Life uprooted.



I’ve realized through all of this that I really am a roots person. I love the feeling of planting myself and digging down deep. I love to be near family and friends, and to drive down the same streets I’ve been driving down for years. I love the familiar and the constant. I like when my home is in order and I find great peace in the quiet.

And for the last couple months life has been none of those things.

Sure, there are some steady things-like my man. You won’t find a steadier rock than the man I married, and for that my little family of all estrogen is eternally grateful.


My parents are also the most gracious people you’ll ever meet, pouring their lives out and filling in the gaps of our crazy to serve us, love us, pull our heads above water and remind us that smoother seas are ahead.




But right now, the seas are rocky. There is not a lot of peaceful calm happening and I long for the steady seas of familiarity and security. I feel vulnerable and run down, like I just can’t catch a break.


I know it’s just a season. I know there will be peaceful days ahead. I know that my house is actually a huge blessing and that it will eventually get settled and I will love every square inch of it. I’m sure we will soon have more of a social life and get to vacation again. I know I will have time for myself some day and I won’t always be covered in baby puke and smears of pb&j. My girls will grow in their independence and we will all transition into new normal’s, but right now, all of the things feel piled sky high and all of the things are just hard. 


I’ve realized in this kind of season you need two types of people in your life: those on land and those out at sea.


You need people out in the waves with you, people going through their own storm–whether similar to yours or entirely different. The ones you can call out to from your boat and say “man, this shit is hard!” And they can yell back, “sure is!” The people who deeply get it and can empathize with how high your waves feel because theirs feel high too. They join your crazy and you join theirs. It’s a messy, beautiful thing.

But you also need steady people. People on land with their feet planted on the ground. They have wisdom and perspective and can help you navigate the waves when you can’t see past the end of your boat let alone how to get to shore. They are good listeners and kind with their words. They don’t tell you you’re crazy even if they think it. They don’t tell you to suck it up even if you need to. Sometimes they just sit in quiet with you, because that’s actually what you need.

I don’t have much advice to give on life with littles other than that-to find your sea people, your land people, and to anchor yourself in the Lord (I’ve got nautical metaphors for dayyys).

It takes a village to raise a child and to shape a Mama. This journey wasn’t meant to be done alone.


I’ve been feeling out of control and fighting my waves with every spare ounce of energy I have left, but quite honestly, it hasn’t done me much good. So I’m making steps to get healthier in my head and in my heart, and I’ve got some great people on land helping me see the shore and calm my anxieties in the midst of the storms. I’ve also got some really fun people out at sea who’s lives are a total circus, too, and we feel better just knowing we’re not alone in it.


It’s okay that it’s not okay for a season. It’s okay to admit it’s really, really hard. It’s okay to ask for help or to say “absolutely” when someone offers it. It’s okay to dream for different and to feel like you’re life is just survival mode because it probably is.



Some day I’ll offer you more stories on the hilarity of parenting, because toddlers are the most ridiculous people you’ll ever meet {like today when my two year old cried after I gave her a sippy cup because she needed “fresh water” in it. HEAVEN HELP ME.}. I’ll also tell you about how fun my little people are, because they really are so great.


But for now I’m catching my breath and learning to find calm in a hectic season where my time is one sacrifice after another. I’m learning  to rest in the changes and the things I cannot control. I’m also learning to manage my emotions, and to say out loud when I’m not okay because it’s so freeing to be honest. And it gives people space to enter in.

Knowing it will get easier doesn’t actually make it easier, but it does mean there’s hope. And hope is an incredible thing.


Praying for you– your peace, your relinquishing of control and that you’d find God out at sea, too. He is up to something good even in the midst of storms, I’m sure of it.






Psalms 13




{ beach photo credit here}



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