The Best Year Ever

Oh 2015.....this past year has raised the bar really high - I have no idea how you are going to top it. 

2014 was quite possibly the best year of my life, and I don't mean that dramatically or sarcastically. That doesn't mean it was always the happiest, or things always went the way I wanted them to - but in the end, it's going to be hard to say goodbye to my BFF 2014. 

This year....

We found a church that made us feel truly like family. 

Royal Stage got a brand new studio with everything we prayed for. 

I was more proud of my son than ever before. 

My book was actuly purchased by strangers! Legit! 

Royal Stage was named Best of Sacramento by Sacramento Magazine and also won Top 5 on KCRA A-List. 

I stopped caring what others think. 

Fear melted away. 

I left my heart in India. 

I started loving summer. 

I got to share my heart for arts ministry to over 4,000 people throughout the year. 

I got to check going on a cruise

off of my bucket list. 

I stopped hating snow. 

I went to the hospital. No picture for that one. 

I started to get better. I worked hard to get better. Others worked even  harder alongside me so I could get better. I'm going to have to keep working on getting better in 2015, and that's okay somehow. 

We discovered Sam is going to an incredible school. God has set him on such a wonderful path. 

We also discovered Charlotte so far does not have the dancing bug. She loves the outfits, though. 

Kids got to be supermodels for a day ;) 

We found the world's greatest VBS right by our house! Thank you, Anna! 

    I learned some people really mean it when they say they'll be there. And really mean it when they say they won't gossip. 

I learned to be confident in friendships. 

Sam and I discovered the wonderful fact that "honey nut" cereals do not contain nuts! Wahoo! 

I learned to multitask, but put my kids first. 

I became forever grateful to this elderly stranger that read to my kids in the waiting room. 

We sat through a lot of t-ball games. 

I blew off a lot of obligations to cuddle this little snuggle. 

I totally said the wrong thing on a radio interview. 

I became incredibly grateful for Frank's amazing family. 

The spelling bee. He killed it. 

I managed to get a record number of Frank photos this year. Like....five....! 

Sam got his hearing aids...and all the ladies....

TUESDAYS.......

They stopped sucking. 

I realized how much I really love my sister. 

I saw the most amazing, vibrant rainbows. I never really noticed rainbows before this year. 

I learned to not look back quite so much, quite so often. 

2014 was a year of change, visions, healing, restoration, dreams and learning to recognize and trust truth. The road ahead is still very long- but wow, what a beautiful year this was. 

Thank you, my Jesus. Thank you times a million. 

The Privilege

My sister and I took Sam and Charlotte to the movies on Sunday - something they had been looking forward to all week. 

If you haven't met Charlotte, she is a bounding little three-year-old with a mess of blonde ringlets and big blue eyes. She kills me. 

She is also a cling monster. While her nature is usually stubborn and strong-willed, whenever she is aware of my presence in a room, all of that determination is fueled toward my direction. She constantly needs to be touching me, and is pretty bitter about the fact her ticket out of my womb was one-way only. She clings, she cuddles, the only time she really tantrums is when she doesn't have an all-access pass into my arms. 

Forget my arms full of groceries.

Forget any PDA with husband.

Most of all, forget her brother who rarely needs physical affection but clearly he is permitted none in her "my mind on mommy and mommy on my mind" tunnel vision. 

It kills me. 

So when her fingers got stuck in the armrest cup holder halfway through the movie Sunday, and she howled in misery until I took her out into the lobby, I shouldn't have been surprised that laying on my lap was more thrilling to her than returning to her seat.

We compromised on the side aisle of the theatre, where I could fully snuggle her but still keep an eye on Sam. 

As I sat there on the ground with her contentedly splayed out all over my chest and lap, it made me realize that Charlotte's clingyness is a privilege. 

It's a privilege to have my daughter hopelessly attached to me and believing I am the one that holds the sky up for her. 

It's a privilege to be trusted, adored and considered to be her safe place. 

Sam and Charlotte are not mine. I was chosen to give birth to them, but they are their own little bodies and souls and they both belong to God. 

Some are held prisoner to their family because they feel they owe them the experience their earthly parents hoped to have. They expected them to be a certain way, and when things didn't turn out like that, they are sometimes reminded about how they owe them. How because they did A, B and C; the child  is obligated to respond with X, Y and Z. 

But you know, when you throw a K or a Q at someone, and try to pass it off as your A and B, eventually that person is going to realize they cannot spell out the happy ending you hoped for when they were never handed the correct letters in the first place. 

You might feel sometimes as if you didn't even get full letters. And people can work tirelessly to make you believe that something is one way when it clearly isn't, (and oftentimes succeed at changing your mind) - but at the end of the day, the struggle reaches a point that you need to find a way in life to spell out your own truth. 

You don't belong to where you come from. You hold no loyalties there. Of course, there is a lot to be said about respect, love, peace, patience, understanding and making things work whenever you're able. This is in no way meant to be a message to a hurting person telling them to cut off anyone in life who's difficult or mean to them. 

But, when it comes to where your soul's loyalties lie, remember going into this New Year that knowing you is a privilege. Your parents, spouse or anyone else close to you is not required to earn your love - but you get to decide who pulls the strings. 

You truly belong to what happens after this life, rather than the muck of situations which you may be currently wading through. 

Even Jesus replied once, "Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?" 

Come on, really? That one must've really stung Mary to the core. She gave up a lot for Jesus - her reputation, the hellish repercussions of pregnancy and childbirth before even having a chance to enjoy intimacy, having to raise the son of God....and then having to eventually watch him brutally die. Mary did not have it easy. And here is her kid saying that He belongs to a higher calling. And at the same time, to the entire world. Jesus never intended to give Mary a VIP pass to his middle eastern big tent revival - He loved her and was grateful for her, but He knew in the end He had to do His own thing, because it was the right thing to do. 

I've completely lost my train of thought on this now. It was just an eye-opening revelation for me when I realized that as much as Charlotte's insecurity (and Sam's constant singing, and Frank's dirty socks left all over the house....), knowing these people and having a high place of honor in their life is a privilege, not a right. I need to be thankful for that. 

Who has the high places of honor in your life? Do they deserve to be there? Don't let anyone tell you that they've earned that spot. Only One has earned His place ruling in your heart. Everyone else.....you don't belong to them. Love them. Always love them. But be free in knowing you are beautiful, strong and no individual owns you. 

The Ghost of Christmas Past

This is Sam, dressed as a sheep at his preschool Christmas pageant 4 years ago: 

I thought then (and still do now) that he looked more like vanilla soft serve than a barnyard animal, but whatever. 

He is sitting in our old church, right down the street from his preschool where his teacher borrowed space for their little show, and in background you can see a little portion of a girl who, until 6 months prior to this photo, was my best friend for over 5 years. 

On this day of supporting our happy little nativity lamb, my heart ached. 

We were churchless.

My former pastor "side hugged" me that day. 

I had gone to lunch with aforementioned best friend, fooling myself into believing we were still close. 

I was pregnant with our second child, terrified we would have another preemie with months of NICU visits and multiple surgeries in our future. 

This is Sam at our church's Christmas program this year: 

In 6 months, I will have been away from our old life as long as I've lived our new one. I was so convinced, awkwardly sitting in my very recent past at that little preschool pageant, that my heart would never heal and I would cry every single day for all we lost. 

But now it's nothing more than a vapor of memories that get a little thinner in my mind with every Christmas. 

Sam is six now, and is the most enthusiastic kid alive. 

Charlotte is three-and-a-half and was born 100% healthy and feisty. She still is. 

We have a church again. No, we have a family. 

Our children are surrounded by dozens of kids their age, and we live a life of birthday parties, movie nights and babysitting swaps. Hand-me-downs exchanged between families, and photos of their little cheese smiles shared on Facebook. 

Our pastor and his wife know every dark part within me. And yet they haven't run away, they haven't been concerned with me becoming an embarrassment and they don't tell me where I'm allowed to sit or who I'm allowed to speak to at church. 

In fact, they have gotten in the middle of the ugly and helped me to fight. They always tell me the truth, even when it hurts. They love on our kids like they're their own. 

And with each week that passes, I find long stretches of time have gone by where I've forgotten who I once was, and where I was once at. I don't have to fight to focus on the good in front of me, because the hurt behind me has significantly quieted down. 

I have to really think about it to remember what it feels like to be very afraid. I can barely remember the sound of my best friend's laugh or the smell of the little church dance studio where I spent so much time. 

God has renewed my heart with a life that is pure, noble and lovely. I can be myself, and I'm learning that "myself" is not nearly as terrible, shameful of a thing as I once thought. 

There are still things I miss - exchanging hilarious Christmas gifts with best friend, attending Christmas parties in huge, beautiful houses, not having to worry about ministry finances.....

But this life - the one I'm grateful to now wake up to daily - I would never exchange it for the old. I would never go back. I'm still acutely aware of the fact that I'm safe, I'm loved and I'm free. It's still new enough that I feel it with every beat. 

I think this is what a healthy heart feels like, and I must admit I prefer it. 

Hearts Unknowingly Divided

When I was little, my parents always let me select a wish to support out of this incredible annual local newspaper campaign. As long as I lived in the bay area, I always paid attention to the paper this time of year, and I think it sparked my lifelong love of philanthropy, which I'm forever grateful for.

Directing a non-profit is not easy. There are so many things that are difficult about it, and yet even more that are wonderful. I feel exceptionally blessed that in California, the land of countless failed businesses, God has kept the vision He's given me afloat - and every day I get to combine my loves of faith, the arts and helping others without worry about what tomorrow will bring. Whatever He decides, it's what it's going to be. 

One of the biggest downers of non-profit work is fundraising. "Downer" is not one of the first several words that come to mind, but I have a Christian example to maintain, so we will just go with a six-letter word instead of a four-letter one, and stick with it. 

Unfortunately, the downer goes beyond actual financial funding concerns, and strikes a deeper nerve within me. In evaluating not only where Royal Stage currently struggles, but what I hear are the continual struggles of every single church, ministry and non-profit I've ever been able to observe from afar - I truly took a moment this morning to let myself grieve a bit for this world we live in. 

Our hearts are so unknowingly divided from each other, and I really don't think the majority of us are even partially aware of the damage it has done. 

We are a closed off nation. I've traveled the world, and America is the only place I've ever been where people call before coming over. And honestly, it drives me NUTS when people don't call before dropping by - so clearly I am a perpetrator as much as a complainer. 

And really, how often do we really call? We text, Vox, Facebook post...with the exception of my mother, there isn't a single person I willingly call. 

I work with teenagers, and when I ask them to make phone calls when they have volunteer hours to complete at Royal Stage, their eyes glaze over. They hardly ever leave messages, and if they do, they are so nerve-wracked and swift, the receiving listener likely doesn't catch a word. There is zero phone conversation culture in their lives, and quite honestly as a millennial, there isn't much left in mine either. 

I don't mean to get all profound and melancholy on a blog that gets much more hits and shares when I post lighthearted fare, but I am going to shake off my narcissism for a moment and truly ask this question: 

If the growth and cooperation of this world truly "takes a village," how do we intend to continue moving forward together when we have such reinforced walls around ourselves? 

When it came time for the end-of-year push for Royal Stage fundraising (aka my least favorite time of the year), I sat in my office and was hit by the realization we have absolutely no way to reach people. 

- Craigslist ads are often flagged because we are "religious" 

- Phone calls are ignored because everyone has caller ID and screens out an unknown number

- Voicemails are not returned

- Emails are often deleted without being read, if people even still use their email

- Facebook posts are buried beneath a flood of baby and pet photos, quizzes, memes and event promos.

- People stick No Soliciting signs on their homes and they now come with added words like "violators will be prosecuted" and "you are being filmed." 

- Social media private messages are often ignored - because everyone is too busy to respond. 

- Snail mail rarely reaches the business professional or pastor it's supposed to - it's filtered through a secretary or other hourly-paid fortress. Even in homes, mail is opened by kids or spouses and then tossed aside and forgotten in favor of online billpay, silly e-cards, etc. 

One of the reasons I love Christmas so much is because I am the blessed recipient of many Christmas cards. I LOVE Christmas cards. It's the one time of year I know people are going to put down their phones long enough to stamp and mail a bit of a hello that Google or Twitter played no part in. 

I get criticized a lot for being an open book on my blog. Family members have called me "humiliating" for how transparent I am, or how I ask people for money to support my organization. I've had people delete me on Facebook for talking about Jesus too much, and countless messages have been ignored during my most recent fundraising campaign. People don't even have time to say "no" - instead they just hit delete and leave me wondering. 

Like I said before, my problems are not unique. It's the life of a ministry leader/non-profit owner to have to continually convince everyone why their cause is worthy of sponsorship, or why someone should give up portions of their already very limited free time to volunteer for something. 

I totally get it. God will take care of Royal Stage. He always does, and always will for as long as He wants this - HIS! -  ministry to exist. 

But sometimes I do worry......in this age of screening phone calls, emailing instead of handwriting letters, deleting a virtual presence when we are angry instead of taking the time to resolve things with the very real individual behind the selfies and status updates....where are we going to go when we need help? When we need community? When we need to believe in something bigger than ourselves? 

I suppose my family is going to have to continue to be embarrassed by me for a bit longer. I guess I will continue to take that risk of being transparent if it means it just might help someone else. Even if it's just one person in this great, global "community" in which we live. 

There are enough imitations - I want to commit to be real. To be in the trenches. 

I've been far too busy. I've had friends who need help and don't ask because I seem "so busy." Who don't "bother" me with their prayer requests or desire for help because I "never stop moving." 

What a fool I've been to miss out on great interpersonal time, to love as Jesus truly loved - through face-to-face, voice-to-voice encouragement, prayer and laughter - in favor of my iPhone and a social media facade. 

What you see is what you get, I suppose. But how much have I really given? 

The Choice

I am surrounded by liars, and it's really annoying. 

We all lie - people lie to me every day...from the grocery store clerk that really doesn't give a flying fish as to whether or not I "have a nice day" to people within my ministry who, while I love them with all my heart, sometimes it takes all my strength to not roll my eyes and remind them that I was 18 once too, and that I see right through their crap facades. 

And, if I'm honest with myself, I'm often that kind of liar, too. It's part of the human nature - to lie to protect ourselves from [insert applicable emotional/social threat here]. So whatever. 

But the liars that surround me every day aren't like the supermarket employee or a dancer trying to impress me - these particular liars are 100% mean spirited. Their number one focus is to take me away from God's love and peace. 

They live inside my brain. When they start running their mouths it feels like they grow much bigger and seep into my heart, under my skin and around my neck until I begin to think I'll just get swallowed up and disappear, but no one will help because no one can even see it happening. 

How's that for some shiny, glittery hyperbole? 

Let me put it more simply. Mental illness is an army of angry, terribly mean (and likely offensively hairy) little soldiers that never completely break rank. They are super distracting and impressively bothersome. 

If you have a chemical imbalance or a traumatic past - or the winning combination of both - I know you can hear the sound of their marching right now, and I'm so sorry that you have to. It's very frightening, it isn't right and it isn't fair. 

But here is something I've learned. During one of those rare respites, when you start to hear the marching again - run. 

You see,  even when your brain is filled with static and your reality seems twisted and crunched beyond recognition, you have a choice. 

It's true. You do. 

It's a small window of time, but it's enough. 

When you hear the enemy returning again with soul stabbing spears, waving their banners of darkness, run straight for the still, small quiet door straight ahead. 

Don't look behind you or to either side - you just need to book it like that Alice kid going after her rabbit until you've reached that little door. 

Then knock. He will answer you. Every single time, He will answer. And you'll dive into his strong shelter where no enemy camp can ever reach you. 

It can be tremendously hard to find that door. I've lost my way countless times. But always set your heart on the path to find it again. The more times you arrive, the bolder your knock will become. Eventually, you'll feel comfortable just running right in without any sort of formality. 

Because He's your shelter. Under the strength of His protection, the enemy that violates you daily...is really nothing. 

I know that all you want in this world is to feel sure of something. That through the noise of that unrelenting army of fear that you just want to feel safe, loved and worthy of rescuing. 

But great news - He, the master of the shelter behind that door - he cherishes you. You are his absolute favorite. He is waiting to protect you, love you, save you. 

Every.

Single.

Time. 

You cannot exhaust Him. The door never locks. 

But, it has to be your choice. So choose. 

Get the heck out of bed.

Put the razor blade down.

Toss those pills down the drain. 

Delete that impulsive text message. 

Stop thinking about what's done. 

And run. 

It's a difficult run. You're going to get tired, and you're going to want to quit. 

But don't. 

I know you have experienced things that were not your choice.  So believe me when I say this time you are completely safe and in control. 

We cannot control medical diagnoses, or whether or not someone else chooses to be sorry....but our souls are free. He's preserved the most precious, eternal part of us in the center of the battlefield. 

So run. Even though it's hard and it's easier to quit, don't. Fight to hold sight of that door. 

You always have a choice. 

Christmas Cards 101

I love Christmas cards. So much. The only time I even give a rip about the mail is between Thanksgiving and New Year's. I don't even have a mail key - I wait until Frank gets home from work and then pounce on him for the day's delivery, tossing the bills back at him while shamelessly getting my festive fix. 

Of course, one of the most popular types of holiday greetings are designed online and include printed photos of families more adorable than a puppy in a pool of noodles. It's our one shot a year to fool everyone into believing we truly do live out our Pinterest boards. 

I'm not judging. Our cards this year feature our young children decked out in seasonal duds, cheesy smiles, poorly chosen props and all. Which is why I feel it's safe to say, online photo card companies, you're doing it wrong.

Here are some examples I found tonight while ordering our cards, and I feel I must say something (OK, a lot of things) in defense of our Savior's birth. I mean it's The birthday of the savior of the world! Can we at least be decent enough citizens on earth to pull off this greeting card facade effectively? 

First, we have the Christmas photo cropping disaster of '14. You're not selling it to me, Walgreens.....

What exactly is this gorgeous Latino family doing with this very Caucasian child? And who coordinates their outfits for a "candid" karaoke sesh?

 Unfortunate wording choice when your holiday photo is a bikini-clad you....

She cropped him out of the photo because she specifically asked for the five golden rings for Christmas, not the stupid partridge. 

The man in this photo has never gone ice skating, and didn't start the day this photo was taken, either. 

"I'm single, so I'm going to go with the ambiguous 'Happy Holidays' so as to not discriminate against potential suitors of diverse faith who may discover me on a friend's fridge." 

The monogram thing is great, especially if you have a surname that begins with A. Because that means you're winning. When I got married, I got kicked down to W. Sad story. 

It took me a good while to realize these pics are of a couple with two grown children. At first it looked like one woman with two spouses...but beyond that, what man on earth agrees to pose for the candid romantically-staring-out-into-oblivion photo, the head-to-head cutesy pukey photo and the open-mouthed pretending-to-laugh-at-something photo all in a single day? Find him for me! 

Hey, hey, hey - watch that hand placement, mister. Merry Christmas from the PDAs. 

This family paid extra postage to make room for the Hipster Christmas tree graphic. 

World peace, one religiously-blurred, can't-we-all-just-get-along card at a time. 

Joy means barbecue, kids. In December....

Screw traditional red and green! We're gonna use magenta and apple! Pantone, take note. 

Solution for those family members you stopped speaking to this year, but had already counted on to complete your Christmas card photo layout. Awkward. 

Rejoice! The youngest Taylor family member has experienced her first awkward angle shot. Many more to come, my young female friend. 

She looks like her mother. She looks like her father. She looks like Svergne Script font. 

Frozen Christmas cards?!?! Come on, people! Let. It. Go. 

I really want to send this exact Christmas card this year, just to freak out my friends. She used to have children, didn't she? Wasn't she allergic to cats? What does it meannnnn?

Babe, we never got around to taking those professional holiday photos of little Billy! 

No problem, honey, just go pull one of his selfies off of your overpriced iPhone: 

Daddy left mommy just after Thanksgiving for one of those mall elves. Feliz Navidad.....your face......

So this Christmas, (preferably before you receive ourcherubic, idealistic photo card in the mail), remember to just keep it real. 

The world needs more of you just how you are. 

PS - Here are our Christmas card out takes.......