This may look like an ordinary field on an ordinary day.
You may see the green grass and the hint of the leaves starting to change with autumn knocking on our door.
This picture may seem ordinary.
However, it is anything but ordinary to this tiny house girl. I paused today to take this picture as a reminder that it’s been over a year since Maggie Marie and I were able to go on a long walk.
Pain had hindered me from doing most things and yet, here we are taking ordinary pictures on an ordinary day with an extraordinary God!
When speaking to a friend today, she asked me how I was doing. I use to dread that question. However, I now love it as it gives an opportunity to explain what God has done!
I really am feeling great physically! My current struggle is staying hydrated. Honestly, I found myself telling her that drinking enough isn’t my favorite thing to do. My friend reminded me to reframe.
This is my new reframe “I am learning new ways to care for my new body.”
And that friends is a phenomenal reframe. God has indeed given me a new body. A body that can walk more than a mile to enjoy God’s beautiful creation.
May we all be reminded, not to get stuck in what may seem ordinary, but rather take time to find the extraordinary.
I’m coming up on the 1 month mark and truthfully, it doesn’t feel that long!
So how’s it going?
Physically, I just can’t believe the difference! Physically, I feel great (just a little sore…healing ya know!).
Mentally, I’m still adjusting. I truthfully feel like I’m getting to know myself again. Not the tiny house girl from 14 years ago, but who am I now and how do I honor this broken body that God is making whole?
I have been finding a lot of Jesus on my beautiful new porch. These crisp (feel like fall) days, the perfect of perfectest weather.
When I saw the completed porch, I knew there was just one thing missing. A rocking chair.
The movement of rocking can help calm the nerves and relax our parasympathetic system. So before I get all therapeutic…look it up 🙂
Rocking chairs can be rather expensive and on a short term disability budget, I knew it was out of the question. I began to pray and ask God for a rocking chair.
Maggie Marie and I have begun to walk a few days a week to begin to rebuild my core and leg strength that has been desecrated.
On one of our lovely end of summer walks this past week, I noticed some rocking chairs in a neighbors yard.
What can it hurt to ask?
I asked.
“I will find you the best!”
He replied.
And that my friends is how God provided a free rocking chair for this anxiety prone tiny house girl.
This beautiful chair shows the weathered signs of days gone by and you know, I think I quite like her that way.
It will serve as a visual reminder that I too am a little weathered worn. And yet, God can still use me to help others soothe their anxiety ridden parasympathetic system.
So how’s it going?
Healing isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon and God continues to show me day in and day out that He is all about the healing.
My beloved sister came out to stay with me several days post op. One morning as she was graciously making my breakfast, she asked me how much butter I would like on my toast.
“Grandma B style please.”
We both laughed because she immediately knew how much butter I meant.
A lot.
And then some.
Grandma B was known for liking some toast with her butter and we have all since fallen in her footsteps, much to our cardiologists dismay.
This morning as I toasted my butter, a smile came across my face as I recall the abundance.
Life hasn’t been easy.
Life wasn’t easy for Grandma B either.
I wonder if butter was her one luxury?
In the ups, the downs and life in the middle, I recall the abundance of God’s faithfulness.
This morning as I study in Ephesians chapter 1, verse 11 popped off the page
He makes everything work out according to His plan.
For those who are suffering that can feel a little harsh.
The question of why God allows suffering, is one for the ages.
I can only share my personal experience.
I will tell you that I know God in ways I never would have known God before. I have changed in ways that I can only attribute to the long wrestling. I have had opportunities that have only opened because of my suffering.
Could God have done it other ways? Sure. Would I have been willing? Honestly, I don’t know.
And so, this morning I recount the abundance. Through lathers of butter, Grandma B still continues to point me to Jesus.
As I approach the two week mark of this new broken body of mine there are so many highs, but I also want to acknowledge the lows.
The highs involve being nearly pain free for all but one or two days. For a girl who has lived in chronic pain, I can’t express what this means.
My beloved sister coming to care for me for several days and doing the dirtiest of dirty work (think Mike Roe would have loved to do an episode dirty work).
Being stronger mentally than I have been in months and the ability to lay on the couch with the sun streaming through my puppy kissed windows, does something deep for the soul.
Enjoying the company of friends and laughing until it hurts…more.
I, however, must continue to acknowledge that my body is broken.
With this broken body, it hates new things. In turn, it tries to reject that which is new. Namely in the form of hives.
I have a large outbreak that I have been battling for about the last five days. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I am convinced that in hell, there will be eternal itching.
Unfortunately the hives are underneath my wafer which has to be worn, or else mount saint stoma spews…EVERYWHERE.
This is my current battle zone.
Speaking of Mt. saint stoma. She does spew, with no warning and no control. She also speaks…a lot! So if you’re coming to visit, get ready for the show!
Regardless of the highs and the lows, God is still faithful. I will never be whole this side of heaven. If God heals me or if He doesn’t. He is still good.
All in all, my heart is full of gratitude. I continue to heal. I continue to learn. I continue to lament. I continue to celebrate. Namely, I feel it all.
Maggie Marie is snoring at the end of the couch. My sister is in the loft working remotely and I sit with coffee in hand overlooking the acres reflecting on the goodness of God.
If you would have asked me a week ago if I thought I would be sitting in my house drinking a coffee today, I would have emphatically answered not likely, and yet, here I am.
Perhaps it was a grace that I didn’t know what to expect this time around. A grace for the work that I needed to do in my own heart.
I believe we all go through levels of surrender, and if we are willing, the Father will take us deeper and deeper.
If I were still in the hospital. If I didn’t pull through like I thought, no matter the what if’s, it would never change the character of God.
I can celebrate the losses along with the wins.
I am still quite sore and VERY nauseous. I’m continuing to learn this new broken and blessed body. This broken and blessed body that is keeping me alive.
I’m currently sitting in a sterile dr’s office that appears to be stuck in an era before I was born.
The dr’s voices outside, the crumbling of the strange tissue paper substance being pulled off of the exam table along with the rumbling of the hvac system is activating my nervous system.
BREATHE.
As I take time to reflect, be present and look ahead to what is to come, I can only describe my feelings with one word.
TRUST.
I had the great privilege last night of hosting my community group at Teaberry Acres. As I was processing what I am feeling, the visual that comes to my mind is that of a trust fall.
If you’ve ever been to camp or have participated in a “team building” exercise, you may already know the visual.
One participant stands on top of a table with their arms folded across their chest and their back facing a team standing on the ground. A few people stand on one side with their arms outstretched, while a few people stand on the other side the same. The object is that the person standing on the table falls backwards “trusting” that the people with the outstretched arms will “catch” their fall.
I did it once when I was in high school. Haven’t done it since for obvious reasons. NOTHING about the experience was enjoyable.
Somewhere, I hear the voice of my camp counselor in my head saying “but did you Die?”
I may or may not have said back “no you idiot, go buy glasses.”
I can neither confirm nor deny.
As I look ahead, I look back and remember.
God CAN be trusted.
He has ALWAYS held me.
He has ALWAYS caught me.
BREATHE.
I feel like I’m on the edge. Ready to fall while remembering it’s not the scrawny high school girls who are going to catch my fall, but the loving arms of my Father.
And just for funsies, enjoy some amazing pics that my friend Nicole took last night of God’s beautiful creation @ Teaberry Acres.
Dusk is one of my favorite times of the day at the acres. The night sky through the woodsThe heavens declare His majesty. And of course the cutest dog who made herself a a home in the ferns to stay cool.
Life can feel a lot like a roller coaster. I don’t love that analogy, mostly because my love of roller coasters has been squashed after digestive tract surgery (I’ll leave the visual up to you…).
Currently I feel like the up tik waiting to cress the first hill. Yesterday marked the 1 month until… mark.
You can imagine the “things” that need to get done. Remember the tiny house hoarder post? In my own mind, there were “things” I wanted to do to get ready. “Things” I think I need or want.
Unbeknownst to me, last night started the purge of me.
The creature of habit I am, I turned on my computer to watch some mindless show to fall asleep when suddenly it wouldn’t turn on…no computer.
Fine.
Today on my way to an onsite visit for work, my gracious co-worker texted me (whilst I was going 60 mph) to notify me that my back tire was “wobbling.”
Fine.
My amazing mechanic met me on site but sadly it couldn’t be fixed on site.
It’ll take a day.
That’s when my spirit said “not fine.”
I was “trying” to stockpile my PTO for surgery.
God has other plans.
With my 4 way flashers on, I prayed my way to my mechanics. Pulling over every so often to let the parade of cars pass me by (I waved politely to their middle fingers).
In my ballet flats with my work bag flung over my shoulder, I began to grumble as I began walking home.
And then…without warning…I heard the Spirit say…
I rounded the corner and crested the drive of Teaberry Acres and looked up to the sun peaking through the tall trees.
My blistered little toe rubbed against my new ballet flats as the gravel crunched beneath my feet.
What did I see?
Packages resting against the front door of THE121.
Packages from you, amazing readers, my friends. Who have blessed me more than I can express!!!
The Lord has a way of stripping us so that we can see Him more clearly. It feels like a lot of stripping of me lately.
The surgery post was probably one of the most vulnerable posts I have posted in a long time. I fought the Spirit hard on that post. My independent self wants to think (believe) I can do it all on my own. I can’t. That is the reality. He is teaching me to surrender. Why?
I have to let go of me, so that I can see HIM.
After I carried my packages up my broken stairs, I wanted to text just one friend, but I could hear the Spirit say, “text your community group?”
All of them?
Yes.
I did.
Almost Immediately the texts came pouring in with offer rides to work, prayer, cars being offered, calls to make sure I was ok.
It’s so easy to focus on what I don’t have. The Lord wants me to focus on what I do have. Community. Sometimes that community looks like you blessing me with your prayers as well as practical gifts even from hundreds of miles away. Sometimes that looks like care in my community right here across the miles I call home.
So does He take away?
Yes.
Does He also give?
Also yes.
Blessed be his name.
So whether in plenty or in want.
I pray that I can say
Blessed be HIS name.
Thank you for journeying with me. For blessing me. For praying.
Have you ever had those days? Where the sad news just doesn’t end?
That’s how today felt for me.
As I drove up the gravel drive of Teaberry Acres my heart welled with both sadness and gratitude. Sadness and Gratitude can co-exist.
My eyes turned upwards as my tires rolled over the gravel and proceeded up the hill. My heart was reminded of the generous provisions the Lord has granted me.
With my sneakers still on, I woke Maggie Marie up from her slumber (yes my cockapoo sleeps alllll day) and we stood outside with the sun beckoning us through the trees to talk and walk.
It’s been a second since I’ve been on the back acres, but nonetheless I felt the trees calling and my Spirit needing some grounding.
I climbed over the first downed tree that had fallen years ago and began to walk. With each crunch of leaves fallen months ago my Spirit settled more and more.
As THE121 began to fade, I paused and recognized so many answered prayers exist at Teaberry Acres.
Remember.
Remembering helps me fix my focus. Remembering also beckons me to dream again. As I stood at the spot where two trees precariously leaned against two others that broke their fall, I imagined what this spot could be. What could it hold for future healing?
Does God always have to break us to heal us?
I don’t think the answer is always yes.
However I do know that brokenness does lead to healing if we allow Him to enter into those hard places.
Sadness and Gratefulness can coexist.
My Spirit is challenged to continue to dig in. To remember.
THE121 @teaberryacres is a place of many answered prayers, one of which includes healing.
And just for smiles…enjoy Maggie Marie’s smile on our hike tonight @teaberryacres.
If you read my last post, you entered into my great dismay about the loss of half of my coffee maker.
It was maddening. Quite literally.
I spent hours which turned into days turning this Tiny House inside out. I began obsessing about where that one piece could have gone.
I’m quite certain that there wasn’t a corner of THE121 that wasn’t touched.
I was so obsessed, that I am also quite certain that if you had any face to face contact with me, you knew my quest for the missing piece.
My co-worker and I were chatting and she suggested the “usual”
RETRACE YOUR STEPS.
Yep. Done.
Or had I?
And so, I grudgingly trudged home, to once again “retrace my steps.”
I stood in the middle of all 250 square feet of THE121 and prayed. True statement.
And as if, there it was the entire time…lights from heaven came down, the angels started to sing and the Hallelujah chorus was in stereo!
That one piece?
WAS IN THE COFFEE MAKER!!!
Now before you start to judge (which, if I were you, I would be doing right now…) the one piece had somehow become conjoined to the other piece. I still have zero idea how the coffee maker worked with the two pieces joined together, but alas, that’s above my pay grade.
So many lessons learned in this short (but what felt like eternity) quest.
Breathe. I have a lot of cortisol.
Cortisol disrupts your nervous system (I’m a trauma therapist)
I was at a workshop today, the kind where you go around the room and do “ice breaker” questions.
One of the many joys of tiny house living is that for a very long time yet to come, I won’t have to think of a “strange fact about myself.”
Turns out living in a tiny house is strange enough.
Out of the many things people say to me when they hear that I live in a tiny house is, “I bet you never lose anything!”
I wish this statement were true.
Oh. How. I wish.
As it turns out, you can still lose things in 250 square feet.
How is that possible?
I have no idea.
But.
It.
Is.
Currently I’m looking for half of my coffee maker.
Half.
I have one of those fancy coffee makers where you can switch out contraptions depending on the amount of coffee you wish to consume.
Thursday night I wished to consume a larger amount.
Friday the desire was less. Therefore, I took out the larger consumption contraption for the more desirable smaller contraption.
And that leads us to today. Where is the larger contraption?
Gone.
THE121 has swallowed it whole.
I have searched EVERYWHERE. All 250 square feet.
I even resorted to looking in the washing machine because I could figure out how to install a dishwasher this past week but turns out I couldn’t figure out that said dishwasher, in-fact , took dishwashing detergent and not soap. THE121 began filling with suds whilst I was on a zoom call (that’s probably another post)…
So maybe, I scooped the larger coffee contraption up in the towels I used to clean up the suds…
It was a hope, but nope. No coffee contraption in the washing machine.
Here I am, perplexed and dismayed at the loss of half of my coffee maker on the eve of the week where my days turn from 8 hour work days to 9 hour work days.
The myth?
Tiny Houses don’t swallow things whole.
The truth?
I’ve lost more than half of coffee makers. Turns out it’s not about the space, it’s about the mental bandwidth of the girl living in the house.
Tiny House Girl 