In reflecting and writing about this period of my life, I’m keenly aware of how I’m choosing to live out the rest of it—the todays and tomorrows of my story. I’m starting to live my “now” with a bit more wit and color and bravery. I can’t rewrite the past, but I can have a serious say in how today and tomorrow will be written.

I don’t know if you’ve ever taken a hard look at pivotal moments of your life, but it’s a great exercise is self awareness. I’d recommend it to anyone.

Because, at the end of those tough chapters, when the plot has reached its resolution, you will see that your “ever after” really is more happy than you thought.

If you were asked to write about a pivotal, life-changing season of your life, which one would you choose?

Those words flew through my brain faster than I could stop them. Ouch. What a low blow, self. I could hear the announcers calling the shot: “Mean-Mandy is picking a fight with herself and it looks like she’s winning.”

Alright, where are my boxing gloves? And where’s the coffee?

He was in the kitchen, all kind-eyed and studying my face. My inner fight had actually been going for a few days now. He was even the victim of a sucker-punch or two. I didn’t want to say the wrong things anymore, so I planned to behave myself during our Family Devotion Time.

Coffee warm, I let the couch hold me up beside him. We talked. We read Buechner’s words about guilt, and my mind wandered through the INTJ personality description that says we expect too much out of other people.

Maybe sometimes I expect too much of myself as well.

I tuck my toes under his leg and I tell him that I’m frustrated. No, I’m not frustrated, I’m just not able to think straight today and I don’t like this because I planned on doing some serious writing and I can’t make my brain move in a straight line for more than three minutes so there’s no way I can spend a handful of hours chipping away at those 4,000 words.

I’d already faced a sad day this week. And a tired day. And a frustrated day. Now I’m in a muddy day and I didn’t plan for this and I’m having a hard time sleeping and I’m trying to work with myself but I’m supposed to be writing.

“You don’t have to write.” He reminds me, “Not today. You can work on your process. You have a process for down days and frustrating days, and now you can make a process for muddy-brain days.”

I groan. If things moved faster in my head, I’d launch into all the reasons why I don’t want to do this.

“Everybody has limitations.”

His careful words made me want to cry.

His advice: “Do things that don’t require much mental exercise. No intense writing sessions. Instead, try walking on the beach for some Vitamin D, or paint journals, or have some time with friends, or do some house-work, or some photography. Do the things you want to do but can’t do because you want to spend your time writing. Today you get to do those things and it can be a great day and you can get stuff done!”

So I wrote this post two hours later as an update on how things are going. Except I refused to tell you how little I’d accomplished in those past two hours. Instead, I thought real hard about forgetting the to-do list or the clock on the wall. I gave myself permission to wander through this muddy-brain day and as an exercise in self-exploration.

And I reminded myself that when I was little, my favorite thing to do was play in the puddles and make mud pies.

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

I’ve been sitting with Ann Voskamp and Mary Oliver for quite some time. And I’ve recently had a moment with Emerson. And I’m still slowly strolling along with Madeleine L’Engle.

I read their words slowly and deliberately, letting the warmth of their words roll down into my soul. No gulping or gorging. Just sipping.

Our time is honorable, like a Japanese tea ceremony. I have to carefully place the settings. I have to clear and quiet my mental space, make room for their words. Make room for their revelations. Make room for their light.

I take their words in slowly, savoring the moment. I sit with them and interact with their words and honor their words by giving them the proper space and time.

When tea is made with water drawn from the depths of mind

Whose bottom is beyond measure,

We really have what is called cha-no-yu.

Toyotomi Hideyoshi

I think that’s how we are to take in the greats. Sip by sip.

Who are you sitting with? Whose words are like tea drawn from the depths of the mind?

So we don’t paint any kids rooms. And we don’t buy kiddie-clothes. And we aren’t showered with gifts every-other Saturday for months.

Watching her open all those presents caused a bit of a panic attack for me. And I know y’all wanna rush down to the comment box and say “oh mandy, y’all will be fine” but lemme explain.

Although we have one more step in finalizing our application papers, I’ve got this feeling that it could happen quickly. I don’t mean “quickly” as in the next few weeks. But quickly as in the next few months. Pre-summer?

Maybe?

Good grief, hopefully…

And, while my ready-to-pop friend is opening an hour’s worth of gifts, I’m comparing. (And I know that’s the one thing that women aren’t supposed to do—compare themselves with other women. But I was at a baby shower, for crying out loud.)

If the adoption process goes as it may, we’ll have about a month—maybe six weeks—from when we hear about the kids until we bring them into our home. If we are spending weekends getting to know them, when in the heck am I going to have a half-dozen showers? That was my panic point right there: Knowing there’s a wonderful community of people that are sitting on go and ready to help us bring these kids into our homes, but not knowing how we can cram the “getting ready” part of it into just a few weeks.

Thankfully I had a wing-man at the party, and as we drove home afterwards she reminded me that we won’t be able to make the adoption public until just before they are moving in. See, as it works with the state, you sort of “date” the kids and if everybody likes everybody, they move in. So the “yay we’re adopting these kids!” moment comes just before we bring ‘em in. By which time we’ll already have beds and books and maybe even bikes. (eee!!!!!)

Oh and then there’s the other possibility, which is the newborn at the hospital who needs a home and we have a few days/hours notice.

Either way, I ain’t got nine months to figure this out. And I ain’t got no “What to Expect when You’re Expecting” manual to read, either.

So what do we do? We paint our living room tomorrow. And call it “nesting.”

I mean, seriously, what else can we do? Wait.

Thank you so much for reading attentively. Now I unleash you to leave those “oh Mandy, y’all are going to be fine” comments below. I could use a few today, because I’ve got two hours to get this house ready for our last home visit. The one where we need to have our knives out of reach and our poisons put away. Oh and she’ll look for a fire extinguisher and carbon monoxide detector, neither of which we have at this current moment.

Ah. Time to wake Drew up.

So, waiting for coffee this morning, coffee that is still brewing, I say to him, “Are you ready to pick some numbers?”

“Yes! four thousand one hundred—”

“No no. Wait.”

“Negative Eleven!”

Now I’m laughing. This is impossible. I married a math major and he’s brilliant and he’s just come in all sweaty from a run and his endorphins are flying and he’s going to be funny.

“Eighteen point seven.”

At that point I explain the contest and he drinks some water and settles down and here we go.

The winners are!!!!

CORI! yay

and Betty! yay again!

and Leigh Hill! woot woot! Who is #11 since Jeff and I don’t count. (See, Jeff. I told ya you messed up my count.)

I’ll send your email addresses to Jeff and you’ll get a copy of each of his new e-books. And, y’all, they are really really cool! Congrats!

Thanks for playing everybody. Y’all made my week sun-shinier.

We talked about sources of inspiration and hiding from all the noise and unplugging from social media. We talked about finding ways to find your words when they’re all lost. We talked music and songwriting and I confessed to him that I’m so distracted/enamored by Adele’s voice that I haven’t paid much attention to her songwriting skills.

I don’t think he judged me for that.

And now, Jeff is rocking the writing world, flying through the ranks and leaping over his peers in a single bound. His blog is at the top of the list of 2011′s Top Ten Blogs for Writers. He is generous with resources and in fact I’ve been molded by his “Intentional Blogging” course. All of that is pretty cool, but the most exciting part is that he’s just signed a writing contract and will be published in the not-too-distant future.

I say all this to say: dude knows what he’s talking about.

Some of my favorite recent blog posts include:

• Great Art is Transcendant
• How to Improve Your Writing in One Counter-Intuitive Way
• The Last Writing Prompt You Will Ever Need

He’s recently released a pair of e-books that are valuable writing tools. To get a copy of both “Before Your First Book” and “The Truth About Writing” leave a comment below. Drew, my amazing mathematician husband, will pick three numbers on our hot date tonight and I’ll announce the winners on the morning of manana.

Sound good?

I hesitate.

I look at the paper towel roll—a worthy but slightly more expensive alternative.

In this weird metacognitive moment, I can’t ignore the oddity of my behavior: standing in the kitchen holding a cold pickle jar while looking back and forth between two pickle-holder options.

Why do I have a problem with getting a napkin??

And then a voice in my head says, “Find out the reason you don’t want to do something that you probably should do. Acknowledge the hesitation and then work with yourself to eliminate or move around the barrier. You can still achieve the thing that you really should do, while cooperating with your hesitations. They are there for a reason, but they don’t have to rule you. Work with yourself.”

Standing alone in the kitchen I nodded to the voice and echoed it with a more Mandy-like inner voice: “Work with yourself. Ok. I can work with myself.”

Seriously. That’s what went through my head. I was paying attention. I heard all of it.

I decide to make it a personal mission to work on eliminating the obstacles hat keep me from doing the things that I really should be doing.

Starting with this napkin quirk.

The first step is to reach for a napkin. The second step accompanies the first: I ask myself what stopped me earlier?

It’s the system. We’re down to two napkins which means I need to replenish the napkin holder and I don’t like pulling napkins out of the plastic napkin pack.

Why not?

They sit at the bottom of the pantry, very close to the floor. Very inconvenient. And I’m an ergonomist at heart and my inner-ergonomist has issues with the bending and digging and trying-not-to-knock-anything-over that is all a part of the napkin-replenishment system.

Ah. I can fix that.

My hands move quickly through the pantr, sliding a few things around to place the napkin pack neatly on one side of a face-level shelf. Pleased. Then I effortlessly, smoothly, gracefully slide a handful of fresh new napkins from the pack. It was beautiful, y’all. I wish you could’ve been there to see the smile on my face.

New napkins go in the dispenser.

Pickles go on my napkin.

Jar goes back in the fridge.

And I sit down at my laptop to encourage you to notice the things in your life that you really should be doing that you don’t want to do. Ask yourself why, then make it a personal challenge to eliminate or work around some of those obstacles. In the end, you may really enjoy the results.

So, what is it? Any ideas of things you should, but don’t wanna, do?

The conversation was so tense that we might as well have been yelling. Our words were slow and careful and calm—the kind of eery calm that holds back the rising tide.

The conversation rolled in waves over a span of a weekend. Oh, it was supposed to be a wonderful weekend, but he said he wanted us to start having family devotion time together and, well, I didn’t take so kindly to that idea.

Before bed that Saturday, I spent a good 20 minutes holed up in the bathroom trying to figure out what I was going to do about this. And he tried desperately to keep me from shutting him out. That’s our dance. I’m the quiet one. He’s the pursuer. And he bravely pursues.

This kind of disagreement meant going to bed angry, which also meant waking up to the mess on Sunday morning. And doing church together as the preacher and the worship leader.

Oh, mercy.

Oh, Sunday.

I try hard not to talk to him all the way to church that morning, even though he kept pursuing with his harmless questions and me with my short emotionless answers. And I run to practice with the band. And I’m not even thinking about the lyrics, I’m thinking about how I’m going to get through the Family Devotion Time Fiasco of 2012. What do I say to him? Do I say anything? Do I tell him how I feel about this? Or do I just comply?

I mean, seriously, just days before I told a young woman that the backbone of marriage is communication and if that breaks down there’s little left between the two of them.

He walks into the sanctuary—my handsome preacher husband who I know would die for me and who knows I want to kill him and who probably isn’t sure why because I’m not sure why, but here we are and I don’t even want to make eye contact with him. How do we get to these places?!

Yes, the grown-up thing is to talk about it. I can at least tell him how I feel. That is a very strong gesture towards maintaining open communication and open relationship. He’s a big boy, he can handle it.

So, between practice and service, I walk up and hug him and then I keep moving with very little eye contact. But that hug said “Ok, let’s do this church thing. And then let’s keep walking.”

After church we went out for lunch. Tense “conversations” are so much better in public when we know others can hear us. And I told him that I didn’t want to change his mind about any of this and that I really do appreciate his desire for us to share more of our spiritual journeys with one another.

But, I needed him to know how I felt about all this.

Inhale.

I told him how I felt. And I admitted that I was very messed up and that this family devotion time topic seems to bump up against an overwhelming number of sensitive areas in my life and I’m having a hard time with it.

And he listened.

And he knew that my only goal was to maintain open communication. Not change him. Not change our plan. Just give him an understanding of my side of this conversation.

And you know what?

That made all the difference in the world. And there is peace in Casa Thompson now. And, yes, we are having FDT and it is weird and slightly unconventional but it’s a middle ground and it fits us. And we’re both happy.

And I kinda like him again.

I guess I should tell him that, too, huh?