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Mastering Feels: Show Me the Evidence

I was 26 years old, sitting in a young mother’s group called MOPS when I first heard a speaker utter these startling words:

Your feelings are not the truth.

Wait, WHAT?

Fresh out of college and my first pregnancy, where much of my entire existence relied upon feelings, this truth was unsettling.

If I felt like eating a pickle and a block of sharp cheddar cheese, dang it, I did. If I felt like a midnight Del Taco run, we got in the car and soon a burrito with Del Scorcher was entering my mouth. If I felt morose, I watched Independence Day and bawled my brains out as the aliens took over the earth. But more importantly, if I felt like someone was mad at me or distant or snotty, I experienced a weighty sadness in my spirit and avoided them—even if the distance was not real, but simply a narrative I created in my head.

Feelings often ruled my relational decision-making. Stories I told myself. I lived in my head as most introverts do. And while we are intensely reflective, we can also be avoidant.

Obviously, I was disciplined enough to understand that I had to go to work and school and study, even when I didn’t feel like it. I grasped that my duties as a new mom were sacrificial and endless, and the baby couldn’t care less whether I felt like changing his poopy little butt. I worked hard in life and put in the reps on the daily, but when it came to relationships—my feelings still ruled the day. I might hide those feelings, often stuff them or deny them, but eventually, those sneaky little suckers showed their true colors.

Often to my own detriment. I broke out in shingles at the tender old age of 28.

That day at MOPS when I got smacked with the truth was the beginning of a long journey as I began to observe my thoughts and feelings (and try not to judge them) but not necessarily let them steer the ship either.

They became more of a thermometer.

Ooohh…it’s heating up. Time for a mommy time out.

Oh boy, daddy is pissed and the air is flat-out frigid. {Insert boundary}

One of my favorite lines these days to soothe my anxiously attached heart is “show me the evidence.”

For the feelings addict, taking a step back and putting on the Nancy Drew cap can mean the difference between understanding someone’s intentions or living in the land of annoyed and misunderstood.

“You are not your thoughts. You are the observer of your thoughts.” – Eckhart Tolle

Overcoming Feelings and Anxious Thoughts: A Scripture-Based Plan

Feelings can be powerful, often pulling us into a spiral of anxiety or fear. While emotions are real and worth acknowledging, they do not always reflect the truth. As believers, we are called to measure our feelings against the unchanging truth of God’s Word. Here’s a plan to combat anxious thoughts and align our feelings with the truth of Scripture.

And yes, I’m still working it. 26 years later I still wake up every morning and hit my knees– taking my overly empathic, people pleasing heart to the Savior, pleading for his eyes to see the truth and the wisdom to act on it.

1. Observe and Evaluate Your Feelings The first step is to pause and acknowledge your emotions without letting them take over. Ask yourself: What am I feeling, and why am I feeling it? Then, test those feelings against evidence and truth. The Bible reminds us:

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, NIV)

It’s no surprise that our hearts can be deceived and triggered based on past trauma. If you’ve watched The Real Housewives you know this to be true. How much drama could be alleviated if there was more understanding and maybe less tequila?

What we need when the panic hits or the chest tightens is to stop, breathe, maybe cry if you need a moment, but get clarity. When you feel overwhelmed, take a moment to ask, What is the truth?

2. Replace Lies with Truth Feelings often stem from narratives we create, which may not align with reality. Combat these lies by identifying them and replacing them with God’s truth. For instance, if you feel unloved, remind yourself of Romans 8:38-39:

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39, NIV)

Speak these truths over and over and yourself to dismantle the lies that anxious thoughts try to enforce.

My new favorite thing is listening to guided Christian gratitude mediations on YouTube while I’m getting dressed. Love, love love!

3. Ask for Evidence When anxious thoughts arise, pause and ask: Where is the evidence? Are your fears based on facts or assumptions? Philippians 4:8 provides a practical filter for our thoughts:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8, NIV)

Redirect your mind to focus on what is true and grounded in reality, rather than the “what-ifs” that fuel anxiety.

Man, I can what-if so hard. Sometimes, I just need to look at the facts and get curious.

4. Take Your Thoughts Captive Feelings may come uninvited, but we have the authority to manage them through Christ. Scripture tells us to take every thought captive:

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5, NIV)

When I first started doing this it felt like a game of ping pong. Or windshield wipers tossing snow off the dash. A thought would pop in my head and then I would bat it away.

When anxious or negative thoughts invade, confront them with the Word of God. Remind yourself of God’s promises, such as Isaiah 41:10: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

5. Pray and Seek God’s Peace Prayer is essential when battling overwhelming feelings. Bring your emotions to God, trusting Him to provide clarity and peace. Philippians 4:6-7 always encourages me:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7, NIV)

Pray specifically about your emotions and ask the Holy Spirit to guide you toward truth and wisdom.

6. Anchor Yourself in God’s Sovereignty Anxious feelings often arise when we feel out of control. Remind yourself that God is sovereign and trustworthy:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28, NIV)

I often mimic the words of the father of the boy with the evil spirit that Jesus cast out. “I do believe. Help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

7. Build a Support System Don’t walk this journey alone. Share your struggles with trusted friends or mentors who can speak truth into your life. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 emphasizes the importance of community:

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, NIV)

A supportive community or a good pal can help you stay grounded and remind you of God’s faithfulness when feelings become overwhelming.

Overcoming anxious thoughts and feelings requires intentionality and reliance on God’s truth. By observing your emotions, replacing lies with evidence and Scripture, and trusting in God’s sovereignty, you can find peace even in the midst of challenges. Remember Isaiah 26:3:

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” (Isaiah 26:3, NIV)

Feelings may ebb and flow, but God’s truth remains constant. Cling to it.

-Sam

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Divine Resilience: God’s Lavish Love When Life Takes Unexpected Turns

Last fall, I prayed a prayer. A rather greedy prayer, but my heart was hungry–a roaring hunger for something deeper than the ordinary. I wanted a glimpse of the divine. Some reassurance HE hears me.

I needed a whisper, a Holy Spirit high five, a manna flyover. The rhema word. Just something. Can I get a Jesus with skin on, please?

On my bed, snuggled in tight, early in the darkness of the morning, coffee cup by my side, with tears rolling down my face, I pleaded, “God, will you show me a sign of lavish love?”

I wrote the words in my journal and closed up my little bookstore in peace. I say bookstore, because I generally have about 5-10 books and devotionals in my morning nest, with blankets and pillows and sometimes my dog cuddled at my feet. It’s the best part of my day. The stillness, The sacred. The words that pour out of my heart. The promises I say over and over to remind myself of the truth. And the beauty of a God that is so close.

I knew He would answer. I didn’t know how. But I knew enough to wait, to watch and to be curious.

On some level, I thought he might show me a sign of romantic love. But a few days later I knew it was finally time to end an on-again off-again relationship. Maybe the lavish love was the solace of being alone?

All I knew was it felt bad…but then strangely good. I felt relief.

Over and over, as I mature as a believer, I find what appears to be abysmal circumstances are actually GIFTS from God. I just have to unwrap them and do the work.

My lavish love wasn’t going to be tied up in pretty wrapping. It might look like a capsizing ship or a fiery trial.

They say be careful what you pray for…

It started with one of THOSE weeks. The kind that Murphy invented. When everything that can go wrong, does. So DARN WRONG.

I got a serious health scare. Abnormal lab results. The waiting.

There were prayers and anxiety and tears until I surrendered like a child.

Finally, the appointment.

And while the news wasn’t great, it was fixable.

And I felt loved. Lavishly.

That evening my engine blew up on the freeway as I was on my way to pick up my daughter from dance. My power steering went out and my brakes. It’s always an adventure traveling on the 5 freeway at 75mph and losing the ability to steer or stop.

I dragged the wheel as hard as I could and tried to pull over, but the car just kept going and then rolled down an off-ramp. It finally slowed and came to a stop at the corner of a major intersection one hot second before I careened into oncoming traffic. I was blocking a lane, but I was alive. It was dark and I was in a construction zone. But I was alive.

Did I say I was alive?

I’m just a little grateful here. Beholden. Delighted. Filled with gratitude.

A man pulled his car up next to me and rolled down his window. He waved at me to come over. My Spidey senses were on high alert. I approached with trepidation, ready to use kickboxing or hair pulling if necessary. (I’ve seen the trailer for Taken, so I know the signs!).

But this guy was more angel than villain. He hopped out of his car and jumped into action. Turns out my hero was a mechanic in overalls. He grabbed some tools and tried to charge the battery, but my car was not responding to the CPR. Super Dude thought it was the fuel pump and encouraged me to call AAA.

Which I did. After I stopped hyperventilating and reeled in the dying cat noises.

He also told me the safest place to stand as cars flew by. It was dark, cold and truly terrifying. But this man made it feel strangely safe. Peace in the midst of total chaos. I thanked him profusely and he laughed and said he would have stayed with me, but he had to get home because his wife had dinner waiting.

It felt like a little heaven in that moment. A God rescue.

The tow truck took 2 hours to arrive, and I just stood there directing cars who got stuck behind mine. My best friend pulled up an hour later and we waited in her car until the tow guy arrived. A nice and warm toasty car with giggles and her bestie love.

And I felt loved. Lavishly.

The next morning, I woke up with a scratchy throat and a headache. Then the auto shop called. The car was totaled. My only option was to rebuild the engine or donate it to Cars for Kids.

Ouch.

The scratchy throat turned into the flu. Seriously?

A few days later my dad and I went to look at cars. We found a little SUV I wanted with low mileage and a solid price and as I started to give the guy my credit info while coughing up a lung and watching my savings disappear, my stepdad whipped out his check book and said, “don’t bother with that. I got it.”

I’m sorry…what? (Insert happy dance, more coughing and tears)

And I felt loved. Outrageously. Lavishly.

God knew I needed the kind of love and support that only dear friends, random mechanics and a loving dad can bring after you’ve had a relentless shit storm.

I needed Philia: friendship and affectionate love that does not involve any passion or sexual impulse.

I needed Storge: love for family.

I needed Pragma: enduring love by my heavenly Father.

And most of all… Agape: perfect/unconditional love that only the God of the universe provides.

The child, in danger of the fire, just clings to the fireman, and trusts to him alone. She raises no question about the strength of his limbs to carry her, or the zeal of his heart to rescue her; but she clings. The heat is terrible, the smoke is blinding, but she clings; and her deliverer quickly bears her to safety. In the same childlike confidence cling to Jesus, who can and will bear you out of danger from the flames of sin.

Charles Spurgeon

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A Not So Welcome Home

The church can be a hard place to walk into under any circumstance.

It’s vulnerable, we feel judged, and there is something about coming face to face with Jesus that undoes people.

But walking into church takes on a whole new meaning after you divorce a pastor.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t attended for the last few years, I simply went to a different place to worship. That is, until recently, when my best friend begged me to join her Bible Study at my old church. She and her husband were leading a group this fall and she invited my boyfriend and me to join them.

My first thought was “hell no.” I’m not walking in there. I didn’t want to deal with the pain or the memories I’ve been working so hard to process through and let go. Even though the relationship I’m in now had nothing to do with my old life, assumptions and gossip have a life of their own.

But my friend and her husband are nothing if not persistent. I spent some time chewing on it and decided that at this point in my life, does it matter? What’s important here? And I was convicted to be brave. Even though I’ve done this particular study nine times, usually as the group leader, I knew my boyfriend would love it and I deeply missed community from church post-Covid.

So we showed up. The first night I got many strange looks, some big hugs, and some eyes averted. I was terrified and fragile; the shaking in my boots kind of nervous. It certainly didn’t feel like a safe place when you are on trial for a crime that from your perspective is self-defense.

One person told me that I was welcome despite my sin. Ouch! Doesn’t that go for all of us? And since when is blanket judgment without understanding both sides of the story not a sin too?

My group, in all honesty, has been lovely. They are the most beautiful people and I’m so glad we’ve experienced life with them. I’ve prayed and served side by side with them. I’ve shared my heart and heard their stories. We’ve encouraged, mourned with, and edified one other. And this is why I came, even though it was intimidating. When we drop the pious act, the Christian community is one of the most accepting and loving places you can find. My spirit craves this.

But showing up on a Sunday was a different kind of scary than a mid-week study. Some people only knew I left my husband. And in the church, women are crucified when they leave. It doesn’t seem to matter what the reason is and that blows my mind.

I walked in last Sunday with my boyfriend and his daughter. My own little girl was at her dad’s that weekend. We sat down and then it started. A woman three rows up, who use to be a friend, started in on the nasty looks. Not once has she ever asked me what happened. One side of the story is never a clear picture of reality. And what happens at home is not always the image people portray-especially in ministry.

When we got in the car I asked my boyfriend’s daughter what she thought of this church versus the one we usually attend. She mentioned the woman throwing her nasty looks and how off putting it was.

That made me sad. I love this place. I helped start this church. My kids and I sacrificed so much on this journey and when I look around and see all the people praising God I am overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, there is both ugliness and beauty in people but when the ugly comes out straight from the get-go, you never get to the good part.

Someday we are all going to stand before God. I will stand in judgment for my sin and so will you. But the stone-throwing when someone is simply trying to spend time with the Lord grieves me. And it should grieve you too. The church needs to be the one place in the world you can come just as you are.

broken. wounded. a sinner. a saint…and everything in between.

None of us are perfect. Not even close. So why do we judge when we see only a slice of a story?

I love the church and I believe it’s the hope of the world. But it’s certainly more a hospital of broken people than a sanctuary for the holy.

So please, do me a favor, the next time you are in church and you see someone who is new, or back from a prodigal journey, or smelly or dirty or whatever…

Just smile at them.

I know Jesus will be running towards them with open arms and preparing a feast. So let’s try not to be the party pooper.

-Sam

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Ditching the Cube

They say a woman’s greatest basic need is security. We ladies like to know the bills will be paid, there’s a roof over our head and if we are infirmed–someone will, at the very least care for the kids.

But what happens when a woman jumps ship?

Voluntarily throws herself off the boat and swims for the shore. Knowing full well the waters are dangerous and possibly shark infested, but feeling like if she stays on the boat any longer she’ll drown anyway?

When I got divorced, one of my greatest fears was financial.

I pictured myself in a crappy apartment, old and alone, surviving on spam and bankrupt social security. Yeah…I went there.

Could I make it on my own? Was I enough…alone? I was employed, yes, but could I really make it? Could I thrive?

These were big scary questions that didn’t have easy answers.

But stepping into a new story rarely let’s you skip to the last page.

It does however remind you that you are braver than you think. And moving out of an unhealthy situation was a small act of courage that prompted me to ask another big question.

Did I have what it takes to start my own business?

I mean the timing was absolute shit. It was Spring 2020. In the midst of the Great Covid–full of masks, paranoia and lockdown. Yet that still small voice said, “It’s now or never girlfriend!”

I made lists of all the reasons it was a bad idea. I lovingly gazed at my hard-earned savings account and I wrestled with God each day.

And then I let it all go and jumped ship once again.

This time I hit the water running as a single mom with two kids in college, and one still in elementary private school. With high tuitions looming, dance bills and horse lessons taunting me the whole way.

I was scared, terrified really, but determined to try something big and crazy.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

I battled self-doubt, certainly, but it was time to kick that junk to the curb.

I had lies to overcome and a chip on my shoulder just big enough to light a fire under my ass and propel me forward.

A few months ago, my little Kolby competed in a dance competition with her solo lyrical performance. The award ceremony was on Zoom. We curled up in front of the computer on a Sunday night to hear the results and how her studio fared.

One by one, they called off all the junior level girls she dances with. But Kolby’s name was not in the ranking or even mentioned.

Crickets.

And she was devastated. She curled up in my arms and cried her heart out. Kolby had certainly danced well. She left it all on the table. But in that moment, she thought no one noticed.

It was crushing.

Kolby’s phone buzzed with non-stop texts from her excited friends. I wanted to fling it across the room for tormenting us. I held my little girl as her body heaved with sadness and those feelings we all battle every day, “Am I enough?”

I whispered to her over and over the truth of her worth.

And then in an instant everything changed. Her name was called. They had moved her up into an older division. She placed in the overalls against more advanced dancers. What?

Her tears of distraught turned to elation, joyful hiccups and relief.

Maybe she was “enough.”

We’ve had so many conversations about this pivitol moment. Because in all truth, nothing was different about her performance. Abolutely NOTHING!

But it was the way she perceived it. Am I a winner or a loser? Do I have what it takes to make it on my own? Will my hard work pay off?

Yes…my darling child it will. You are enough. In God’s sight. In my eyes. YOU ARE ENOUGH!

And even if it doesn’t pan out with an award, you still win because you danced your heart out baby!

Thirteen months ago I started my marketing agency on the side. I hustled my ass off and began to build a business while still working my old job. I worked non-stop. Then seven months ago I went full time. Eighteen clients later I have now replaced my income, have a small team and no longer live in the terror of that question haunting me.

It’s the same old me looking back in the mirror, but I know… that I know… that I know…that I can take care of myself this time around. Only my PERCEPTION CHANGED!

I did the work. I believed in what I was doing even on the toughest days. I pushed through the doubts. And I danced my heart out.

The one thing I have learned through starting my business is to be confidant in who I am and the skills I offer. I’m not perfect, not even close. but I’m perfectly willing to go the extra mile for my clients. I’m perfectly willing to pivot when I make a mistake and keep going. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

I learned that if you work for the applause of a crowd (or a person who is never satisfied) you will never feel like you are enough.

But when you dance (or work) for yourself, confidant in your worth, no applause is necessary.

–Samantha

AKA “Girl Boss” of Crossroads OC Marketing

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Dating After Divorce: How to Ease In

I woke up today and randomly decided to check a new box on social media. The girlfriend box. Who knew I was unleashing the Kracken?

I got lots and lots of messages. Private messages. Tons of encouragement. Some disapproval. Questions. And yes, shamed. Ouch!

All because I checked a box that said “in a relationship.”

The funny thing is, no one seemed to notice or message me when I checked “separated” a year ago or even “divorced.” Weird?

(I guess the shame button is on delay mode?)

Last spring, I started writing about my divorce journey. Then I dove into dating again and my first dates with “taco guy.” I wrote about falling in love and the risk of opening my heart. I wrote through the tears and the snot and the joy of starting over. This has been a long, long process after years of counseling, not a fly by the seat of my pants decision. Through it all, after all the ups and downs, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for second chances and for finding a man who simply feels like home to me.

But maybe it’s a shock to those that missed the news and just saw it pop up while they were scrolling through their feed? I’d probably be shocked too.

I do find it interesting though, why we all so badly want to know what went wrong?

And I’m adding myself into this question because it’s true of me too.

Not necessarily in my divorce, I got that figured out, but in all divorce scenarios. Our brains want to wrap themselves around concepts that makes sense.

Is she…(insert word) ?

Bad. Good. Abuser. Cheater. Materialistic. Addict. Bitch. Controlling. Co-dependent.

Was it him?

dun, dun, duhhhh…

I love the show “Christina on the Coast.” I’ve followed Christina through her “Flip or Flop” days and then onto her next show. I watched her get divorced, navigate single motherhood, get engaged and then married and then pregnant. And when she announced her sudden divorce to Ant Anstead I felt all discombobulated. I wanted to know why, dang it! What happened to their love story?

Believe it or not, I’ve Googled this multiple times.

Now is this ANY of my business? No. Do I deserve an answer? No.

But because I am emotionally invested I sure feel like I do.

And that’s what I try to remember when people come at me with questions and confusion. They want to believe in marriage. They want something that lasts in an unstable world.

Maybe in some way you were emotionally invested in my story. I used to write about Christian dating and relationships. I used to speak at singles conferences. I planted a church. I married a pastor. We were a moving and shaking couple. I know it’s not what you expected. It’s not a happy ending.

And I don’t have an easy answer you can Google.

All I can say is that at that time, I spoke my truth…or at the very least, what I desperately wanted to be true. And If I’ve let you down in some way, I apologize for letting you believe that marriage is some sort of fairy tale. That if you only date the right way or behave the right way everything will work out.

Relationships are way more complicated than a “How to” list for Christian Mingle or a 3 point sermon.

Some of you may know we struggled with infertility. I went through 8 miscarriages during my marriage and lost both my parents. Without a doubt, grief changes people. Things I once accepted as normal no longer worked. And if you looked up co-dependent, my round cheeked face popped up as the poster child.

If you want to cast blame, then throw some of the stones my way. Just make sure to pry that log out of your own eye so you can see where to toss your boulder.

I admittedly changed. I grew strong and learned to stand up for myself. But I also made mistakes. No one gets out of divorce with a clean slate. There was hurt on both sides.

Many of you wrote to me and said you were sorry. Me too. I’m truly sorry. Something precious was lost. But something was also gained. And that’s God’s tremendous grace in a hot mess.

I haven’t lost my faith, I still love the church, attend church, and I believe Jesus is the answer to just about everything. But as I’ve said before, your spiritual health is only as good as your emotional health and that’s a journey I am committed to pursuing.

And I’m imagining for Christina and Ant, their emotions are similar, No one get’s married thinking they will get divorced.

Here’s the deal. I changed my relationship status.

But I’m under no illusions this time around. I know I will still take me and all my issues into this relationship. I know he’s human and so am I. And I know ALL relationships take work, sacrifice and a daily dying to self.

While my old love story didn’t pan out, the real happy ending is not that I found love again…it’s that I finally started loving myself.

Do they have a status for that on social media?

–Sam

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Rise and Shine Sleepyhead

Every morning you have two choices: continue to sleep with dreams or wake up and chase your dreams. The choice is yours…

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like COVID has made us all, collectively, a lazier lot. Since the second stay-at-home orders in California, our whole world has been rather…”blah.” There’s nothing to do, everyone is worn out, and we are completely fatigued from the masks, job loss, and political drama.

It makes you just want to go back to bed, pull up the covers and watch Bridgerton for the third time, right?

But as we head into almost a year of this pandemic madness, I’m also hearing more and more people who truly want to emerge from their Covid coma. They want to get back in shape (hello Covid-15) and move forward.

But where do you start?

I’m just putting this out there. Don’t kill the messenger, but morning routines are my jam and I think they hugely contribute to living a healthy lifestyle and keeping a positive mindset when the world is unhinged.

Now I know some of you are like, “Girl, I’m allergic to early mornings. My Keurig might break if I woke up before 9am, and oh by the way, your early morning cheerfulness is totally obnoxious.”

I get it.

And I’ll own it…I am 100% that chick who pisses you off because I wake up with a spit eating grin and raring to go.

My 5:15 am HIIT class will vouch for my hypo happy behavior. Honestly, I can’t help it. After a shot of caffeine and a quick run to the gym I am ENERGIZED! The glazed over looks from my gym buddies don’t deter me from non-stop chatter.

Before most hit the snooze button for the first time, I’ve gotten in a workout, a quiet time, a shower and a protein smoothie.

But I wasn’t always like this!

I used to be the one who woke up exhausted every day because one of my kids barfed or peed the bed or stayed out late (or all of the above) and I struggled to fit in a workout, shower and a quiet time in the day. For years I dragged my gym bag to work and spent my lunch at LA Fitness with a devotional propped on the treadmill, half asleep with messy hair, while eating a processed energy bar. Some days I made it to the gym and met with Jesus. Other days I ended up at Chipotle scarfing down lime chips and tacos.

But life changes, kids eventually sleep through the night, and one day you can actually sneak out of the house and get a workout in before they wake up.

But I had to want it. Like want it bad. Because hitting the snooze button after 20+ years of non-stop parenting was way more appealing. And yes…I’m still parenting an 11-year-old.

But here’s what I realized when I stopped making excuses a few years ago.

If I want God to be first in my life, I actually have to make room for him. I have to give him the first part of the day. In the quiet and in the sacred space of the early morning (and without all the noise) I can listen and engage.

I also want my body to keep going for a long time. I want to be there for my kids and grand kids. I want to be healthy, strong and kick ass at building my business, and I can only do that if I place wellness and self-care high on my priority list. I’ve learned that if I don’t workout early in the day it’s all to easy to make excuses. It’s way more tempting to reach for a glass of wine at 5:30pm than hit the gym for a spin class. For reals.

So here’s how I made the switcharoo to achieve that early bird status:

  1. Figure out your WHY. Why do you want to get up early and DO that thing you keep putting off and saying you don’t have time for? Define it. Own it. Feel it. Write it on a sticky note in the bathroom. Make a star chart and give yourself a treat when you get 5 stars.
  2. Create a morning schedule. Physically write down the things you’d like to complete in the morning and set a time for each. Then stick with it. Lay your clothes out the night before. Schedule the coffee machine. Once you force yourself out of bed early one or two weeks consistently, you’ll find it gets easier and easier to do. Also, you’ll be ready for bed earlier and earlier if you hit the gym consistently. I’m lights out by 9:00pm.
  3. Let the light in. Whether natural or artificial, light tells your brain its time to get up and get going. If your room lacks large windows where you can open the blinds up, consider investing in a timed lamp or alarm clock with a light. My Alexa Show does the trick!
  4. Prep and eat breakfast. Although there are many of us who chose to skip breakfast, it is key to perking up your energy in the morning. Try prepping protein-focused meals the night before or make a smoothie packed full of veggies, protein and fruit. If fasting is your deal, grab a coffee with MCT oil for energy.
  5. Get your body moving. Whether it’s a short walk around your neighborhood or a rigorous 5:30 am spin class, getting your blood pumping will help wake up your body and has a ton of other benefits, like stress and anxiety reduction. Repeat with me…less wine, more workout. Less sugar, less chance of getting sick. Less wine …more energy. (Can you tell I’m doing dry January?)
  6. Feed your mind and soul. Stimulate your brain and do something you enjoy first thing in the morning. Try reading a favorite book, doing a devotional, prayers, journaling, meditation, or setting intentions.
  7. Last, commit to your new habit. And get ready! You just might fall in love with being an early bird like I did.

What’s your WHY for getting up early?

–Sam

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My Elf is an A$$H@LE

elf

Christmas started early in my home this year. Normally I’m a vigilant proponent of keeping all things merry and bright until after Thanksgiving, mainly because I don’t want to gloss over the idea of celebrating a full day of gratitude. But this year, oh 2020, I will make an exception for you.

My youngest child started dishing guilt in mid November. “Mommy, it’s been such a tough year. The divorce and all…remote learning, Covid, and protests, and then geez…the elections. Mommy, we REALLY need to put the tree up and get a new elf for the apartment.”

Ok, seriously kid? Divorce guilt is the worst. Except for Elf guilt. That spit is stink, stank, stunk. I already had a love/hate relationship with hazel the Elf who lived at my old house with Kolby’s dad. I left her there for a reason. I was hoping to alleviate the terror of waking up at zero dark thirty and running like a banshee to hide the elf.

But the horrible feeling of letting my child experience an inadequate childhood sets in and I find myself at Target the next day searching for an elf girl.

I pick out a cute elf, but now another problem arises…I have to dress her in an elf outfit and that’s even more money headed to the North Pole. I know they come with a red skin outfit on, but let’s be honest, it looks indecent, so I get her a snowflake tutu and a scarf to up her elf game. I don’t want any naked elves in my house hiding in corners.

I bring her home and we adopt her, which means we log onto the elf website and give away even more of our digital identity to a website probably selling our data. In return, we get formal elf adoption papers and name her Belle, because our favorite Disney princess is the nerdy chick who reads voraciously (and yeah I know she had Stockholm syndrome and fell in love with her captor all all, but all the Disney characters are all screwed up, so pick your poison).

I make a note to hide Belle and put in on the Keurig. As a single mom, I’m the only elf handler in the house so I can’t screw this up. And my kid already knows about Santa now, so it’s really me being judged here, I can’t even blame it on the housekeeper who might have touched the elf if I forget to hide it.

The next morning Belle was artfully arranged on top of the Oreo’s with a cookie in hand. I can’t wait to see my kid’s reaction but Kolby barely glanced at it.

Hhhhmmmm? That’s weird. So, the next day, I get more creative and the elf has a little Starbucks in hand.

Oh yeah, I’m nailing this elf crap.

But once again, Kolby seems non-plussed.

Later that evening as we watch a Christmas movie next to our sparkling pre-Thanksgiving tree, I inquire about her lack of elf excitement.

Kolby shrugs her shoulders, “Mom, our elf is a little boring.”

What? Low blow kid. Low blow.

“Ok. I’ll work on it.” I smile and snuggle her, pretending to watch the sappy Hallmark movie but inside I’m having a mini-meltdown.

The next morning at my 5:15am HIIT class in a dark parking lot, I share my woes and ask my fellow workout buddies about their elf experiences. Rich shakes his head, “Yeah, that little elf A$$h@LE isn’t coming out until after Thanksgiving!”

And I laugh until my insides hurt, because he’s right. This stupid little elf is a symbol of the oppressively hyped up social media world we live in where we give our kids the right to judge our elf competency and parents kill themselves to create an image that’s worthy to pin on Instagram. Is this really about Christmas? How does this teach my kid about giving and loving? Because all I feel is guilt and that doesn’t sound like a nice gift at all.

Oh, but I am not done. Nobody puts my elf baby in the corner!

The next week I artistically labor to make my elf so spectacular my kid will have to react and she will have something of note to text her friends. One day we have a spider elf climbing the wall. Another day my elf is having a snowball fight. She plays football on Friday and then the coup d’état, she is found under the mistletoe kissing Santa on the cheek.

This is my best yet!

Kolby reacts like it’s elf porn.

“Mom, oh…yuck! I need our elf to calm down. She can just hide like a normal elf for a few days. I’m tired of having to give you some awesome reaction every morning, it’s exhausting.”

Can I get a ELF-yeah y’all? I just wore my kid down and now when she wakes up I can just toss the elf across the room when she’s not looking.

Like a normal flipping elf!

Score one for Mommy!

Merry Christmas!

–Sam

Image Source: https://www.pexels.com/photo/snow-winter-tree-gift-6119903/

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Slipping Crowns

My phone started blowing up at 4:30 am. One of my dearest loved ones was struggling in a volatile relational problem. There were tears and frustration, misunderstandings and emotional turmoil. I listened and soothed, tried to bring the conversation back to solutions and did my best to empathize and find clarity.

Don’t you just love waking up in the dark to DRAMA?

Instead of my 5:15 am workout I sat on my bed, consumed large amounts of coffee and pulled every psychotherapist trick I knew from up my sleeve. Mostly I listened and repeated back. Fortunately, after years of counseling it feels like I could start my own practice. It’s just the self-application that I find wee bit challenging!

But as I listened to my darling’s sobs, I heard something in her story that resonated closely with mine, and I dared to ask the question.

Why is she giving so much space in her life to this toxic person? And then it hit me…Is it possible I am too?

I pondered my previous evening. A friend asked me about a situation I’m struggling with and I went down the rabbit hole and complained for a solid five minutes.

Wait…what?

You would think I know better. I work hard to be a solution finder not a whiner.

But the truth is, sometimes I forget to take my own medicine. It’s not easy to turn your back on relationships built over time with established patterns and dynamics. People are rarely all bad or all good. I’ve often been guilty of choosing to see only the good and glossing over the darker stuff, to my own detriment.

And yet if we don’t set our boundaries firmly, we allow people negative influence over the way we think, feel, and behave.

There’s a scene from The Princess Diaries I often hold onto when I’m discouraged.

Princess Mia’s best friend Lilly goes off on her in a mini tirade. It was anger fueled by frustration from feeling left out, envy at Mia’s flowy hair and sweet makeover, and a million other things young girls feel. And it all poured out on Mia and left her in tears.

After Lily stomps off, the bodyguard Joe turns to Mia and quotes Eleanor Roosevelt.

Princess Diaries - Joe says to Mia, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/506373551848089255/

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Joe…you are so freaking wise!

Sometimes the putdowns are subtle. It’s a little stab here and there. Maybe you change the way you behave around certain people because you don’t want to cause waves, but it doesn’t impact your life too much. Until one day it does. And you explode.

Or maybe it’s a big thing. Someone is openly hostile and creating an abusive and toxic exchange. Perhaps you are allowing a person’s anger and criticism to take a serious toll on your well-being. It’s creating anxiety and unrest in your spirit. You have lost your peace.

I knew what I heard on the phone this morning was just that. My dearest had lost her freaking peace. And I knew as I counseled her that I was really encouraging myself too. Because in my own scenario, the subtle harassment is starting to wear thin and my peace blew out the window a week ago.

I needed to apply some Bodyguard Joe bandaids to both of us.

Here’s what I know but often forget.

The more time, effort and energy you spend venting about people, the more space you allow them to occupy in your life. Generally I try to give my offenses and judgments to God every morning, but I know when I’m holding onto something too tightly it starts to seep out in life and conversations. Now I’m judging the people who are judging me.

That’s when it’s time to get guidance and look for solutions. Call a safe friend or a counselor. Do something productive instead of stewing. Make a plan. So before you wallow in a 20-minute dissertation about how much you dislike that annoying person or how awful your ex is, think about the fact that you’ll be devoting even more time and energy to them.

That’s a sobering thought, right? Do you really want to waste YOUR precious mojo on them? I don’t think so!

There’s about a million other things to choose to use your time and energy on that are way cooler and definitely more positive.

Last, I pray for them and TRY to remember that they are hurting too.

Hurt people hurt people. Repeat. Hurt people hurt people.

We are all the same, simply trying to find purpose, meaning and happiness along the way and when we lose our way–we lash out and project our pain onto others.

But I do know this all too well…

Your life isn’t yours if you are constantly caring about what others think.

So…I am going to take back that five minutes, (or 20) if you please, and use it for something good. I’ll use my words to bless and lift up and not tear down.

I’m thinking a girl’s movie night is on the agenda. A little popcorn and some Princess Diaries should do the trick.

Dear friends, our words matter, our self-worth is already determined, and we are all daughters and sons of the King. We just have to remember we are all in this together, dig deep for empathy and be that friend who will reach out to straighten your besties crowns when they accidentally let it slip.

–Samantha

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Blessings in Disguise

#2020feels

I look outside and sigh. Ashes fall from the sky like chunky rain. The sun is wearing a reddish hue and the sky looks indignant–a heavy charcoal cloud spewing forth it’s wrath on my white car. It smells like someone is barbecuing around the corner. Unfortunately, the only thing getting cooked here is the nearby San Bernadino Mountains.

The conditions are apocalyptic at best. After a choking morning run, I stopped and snapped this pic at a home I often pass by. The mom probably told the kids to clean up their mess and this is how they left it— an upside down doll on an elaborate contraption. The babydoll resonates with me. I feel a little upside down in the world machine right now too.

I grab the remote, but don’t feel like watching TV. Mainly because my favorite TV buddy-my middle daughter Faith, is gone. I drove with her back up to school over a month ago to Tempe to resume classes at Arizona State. She’s a sorority girl now and kicking butt. I’m so proud of her it hurts. I’m also so sad she’s gone it hurts. It feels like I’ve launched her off to college now twice. And this time might be even harder. This time I’m even more attached.

Do I dare say it? I know everyone hated the stay-at-home orders, but I miss the days when my kids were forced to hangout with me.

March……..Apprrriiilll…MAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY.

It was if the racing minutes slowed down. I’ve heard so many people say that this felt like the longest shortest season they’ve EVER experienced. Life was a blur of fear and lines at the grocery store, masks and anxiety.

BUT, it was also a time of endless movies, long conversations over chips and salsa, DoorDash, my girls going to work with me, remote learning and all the shreiks of twenty four 4th graders on a Zoom chat, our dog over the moon from all the attention, and so much laughter and joy amidst the uncertainty.

It truly was the best of times during the worst of times. I have never been so in touch with my girls and as self aware.

When you strip away all the external fluff in life, it’s the basics that shine through. It’s the simple moments that emerge as the truest parts of our humanity.

It’s holding my daughters hand on the sofa as our eyes get misty in a sappy movie, or singing the “Baby Yoda” song at the top of our lungs in the Starbucks Drive-thru. It’s buying way too many dog toys at Hala’s Pets because it was the only store open in town during the shut down.

It will never be a job or money that define our lives, but the moments that take our breath away—like the dog gulping down a pupachino and laughing hysterically with my kids.

Because time with the ones you love, oh sacred time, you are the great treasure.

For six whole months I got to be roomies with my college age daughter along with my little one. And while “roomies” sounds kinda weird, like I know it’s my kid and all, the circumstances were unique. I got divorced. We moved out of our home right as the stay-at-home orders hit. We all clung to each other and it bonded us in a way I could only dream of.

Yes, I moved during Covid. Let me tell how much fun that was. I rented an apartment sight unseen, and the property management people launched a set of keys at me from a very safe distance. That first night we moved in was a trip. Sitting on the floor with my girls in this new space, chowing on tacos and drinking margaritas (obviously Kolby’s was non-alcoholic). Looking at each other like, “Holy Cow…this is for reals.”

Believe it or not, I gave my older daughter the master bedroom so she could have her own space, for her friends and her schoolwork. I just wanted her to feel safe and at home. I could see how hard it was leaving her neighborhood and home. I could feel her putting on a strong front while feeling overwhelmed too. The master bedroom helped. It became her own her little kingdom with an open door to all her friends. I loved having these kids over and getting to know them in ways I didn’t before.

Mainly because I was simply too busy. Ouch that’s hard to own.

Kolby and I, on the other hand, shared the smaller room decorated a la Kolby and we slept on horse sheets. I only mention that because I still can’t believe I paid so much for those Pottery Barn sheets, And then there’s the fact that I’m 48 sleeping on horse sheets. That too.

I’ll never forget the night I came home this summer and there was a young man (one of Faith’s friends) who was passed out in MY bed. While I knew she had some friends over for a hang out, we do have one big rule-“no one sleeps in mama’s bedroom”. But apparently, he slipped in there when the other kids fell asleep. Faith had the hardest time moving him and finally asked me if she could just leave him.

Seriously?

Uh….NO! Let’s grab his feet and drag him!

I noticed different things about my girls spending so much time with them.

While Faith is the social animal of my three, she is also a tremendously diligent student. I used to have to twist her arm to get her to study in high school, now she goes into her study cave and only reappears for snacks. What? And her friends are the best! They are encouraging and relational and so sweet and mature. I learned they love charcuterie and wine straight from the bottle- glasses are optional. College kids certainly know how to celebrate life and they remind me to lighten up and enjoy the moment. I’ve laughed more this summer than I have in years and I learned that Whiteclaw is an essential beverage to every college students success. Who knew?

But while Faith loves to play, she also needs her down time and that’s when I got all the love. Movies and dinners together. Target adventures. Endless masked coffee runs. Talks about life and healing and starting over. She pushed me to go on my first date and my second and talked me through all the feels of falling in love. She is thoughtful and vibrant and knowing my girl as an almost grown up is so different than as a child. We can confide in one another now and I don’t have to have all the answers any more. She’s certainly smart enough now to figure it out on her own.

I’m not saying I’ve advocated my parent role by any means, trust me, I’m still the funds for her fabulous life. But I’m more of a guide now and less of an authority and that’s a wonderful place to be.

I’m still Mommy to my little one though, and while Kolby’s always been my mini-me, she’s growing up too. She loves to “do” things and stay busy. So, we baked and made crafts, taught the dog tricks and hiked and shopped at every store we could find open. We went to the beach as soon as we could and it’s been our go-to hang out all summer. I think we all fell in love with nature again.

I love the smell of the stables as Kolby rides like a princess on her lesson horse Pillow, the weird tween movies we watch with popcorn and snuggles, and the looks of exasperation we give one another when no one is looking. Kolby is a “no drama little mama,” a ten year old with the insight of an adult. She misses nothing. She loves to lay next to me at night and listen to my meditative prayer app to fall asleep. We have sleepovers with friends often and I love hearing their giggles as I close my eyes at night. Joy is the best sleep sound ever.

The truth is before Covid and before my divorce, I was always so busy doing stuff, I missed out on some of the really good stuff. I spent so much of my time serving everyone else, working multiple jobs, volunteering at church, teaching, ministry, driving to football, cheer and dance, writing and going non-stop that I didn’t have time to stop and smell the roses, you know, the ones I shed blood over planting in my own garden?

Covid changed that and I’m so so so grateful. I got to really know my kids like never before. A global fear and undercurrent of “who knows what the hell is happening” is a great starting place to bond. And while I’m super sad for our country and all the loss I’m also deeply grateful for this window of time I got with my kids to know their hearts so well and simply be with my grown up girl and my growing up girl.

For me, Covid-19 had some serious blessings. It launched me off the hamster wheel of life and brought me back to the main things—faith, love and family. In crisis we come together and realize what really matters.

And right now I sure miss my Faith and I’m deliberately taking the time to slow down and enjoy every moment I’ve got with my little girl.

Thank you Covid.

Blessings,

Sam

Posted on

Navigating the FFT’s

I used to be a dating expert. Let’s emphasize the words “used to.”

I know being a dating expert sounds bizarre, sort of like Will Smith in the movie Hitch, but I speak the truth. Honest Abe! A few years ago, I pushed out three articles a week for Christian Mingle for well over a year and a half. By the end of my run, I had tapped into every story and metaphor I could muster up, I started repeating myself, and the dating well ran dry. It was then time to move on to a new topic-something easier, like parenting teens.

Strangely enough, after all the advice I dished out so liberally, dating again in my forties is nothing like what I remember as a young single mom. Now I’m a salty and seasoned single mom, nowhere near as desperate, and far more confident in my ability to tell an unsavory character where the flipping door is.

But dating again after divorce didn’t sound very fun. Actually, It felt like one of those named holiday workouts at Crossfit. Dating was the “Murph” in my mind. Absolutely EXHAUSTING. I mean I didn’t want to be alone forever but the effort to do anything about it was beyond me.

I certainly had plenty of time to contemplate being single again and the thought of putting myself out there again during the quarantine. I considered doing a dating app but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. One day my friend Emmy and I looked at the Facebook dating app and I almost gagged.

I can’t. I just can’t.

No way. I bargained with God. If you want me to go out with someone you will have to make it happen. I’m done with men. Bumble me that Jesus.

And then I met my sweetheart. In a conference room at work, not thinking about dating at all. The only thing I remember about meeting him the first time was commenting to my friends that he looked like Clark Kent and he was hot and barely talked. I don’t remember anything else. (sorry babe)

You might know him as “taco guy” because I wrote about him a few blogs ago. Truthfully, our first date was a bit of a disaster. I was probably not ready to date yet and nervous as heck. I wanted to wear flip flops (as if that could channel a calm vibe) but my college age daughter convinced me to wear heels and step it up a notch. I had a sunburned foot, I was guarded, and I was cranky as crap that night. Such a charmer.

I basically jumped out at the curb and ran to my door at the end of the evening. It’s amazing he came back for more.

Fortunately, the man is persistent. He sent me cute Bitmoji’s and a picture of my favorite bottle of wine and slowly wore me down with his sweet and thoughtful nature.

A few weeks later he convinced me to go out again. And this time everything changed. Our second date was like two different people meeting. I dropped my armor, he relaxed and asked a ton of questions, he listened carefully (that’s like crack to a woman) and we both leaned in as something magical happened.

The first time he kissed me I knew I was in trouble. They say a woman can tell everything she needs to know about a man from the first smooch. Is there chemistry? Is he in a rush or does he take his time? Gentle or aggressive? Appreciative? Confident? Good hygiene? Intuitive?

The list could go on and on. When you kiss, you can’t explain to your partner what you’re looking for with words. You have to use body language which is probably more honest about your true intentions.

And not to brag…but he kissed REAL good.

And I was scared. Scared of dating again. Scared of all the awkward firsts. Of opening my heart. Scared of getting hurt, of abandonment, of boundary pushing, addictions, control and a million other “what if’s”. Brene Brown calls these moments “FFT’s.” Sorry to be crass here, but it stands for “Fucking First Times.”

FFT’s are those scary awkward first time moments in life where we get all weird and turn into weenies. Brene recommends naming it and embracing the awkward. When we accept that we are out of our league and overwhelmed it takes away the power of fear to disable us.

Dating “taco guy” was my FFT moment.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more intentional about praying over each and every date. The poor man! I had about a million unspoken hoops he had to jump through. I would set a litmus test each time with God before we went out and somehow he passed every time. The dude must have an inside track with Jesus too.

“Ok God, my counselor said the important things are faith and self awareness. So, let’s see if he is emotionally mature.”

On the first date he told me he thought one of the most important things is that people are “self aware.”

I just about fell out of my seat.

On the fourth date he asked if he could attend my new church with me after I had literally prayed earlier in the day over that exact thing. So he’s smart, sexy, wants to go to church with me and self-aware? Hmmmm…

Another day I was on the freeway praying over him and the car in front of me came to a quick stop. The license plate said “Gods1Plan.” Ummmm…ok. I guess taco guy get’s another date.

Each “one more date”, I was ever so carefully opening a little bit of my heart. And watching and learning more about him. While we certainly have a long way to go, I’m finally at the point where I’m ready to see where it will take us.

Last weekend, a few months into this dating adventure, I prayed once again and told the Lord I was ready for the girlfriend discussion. That very evening this darling man grabbed my hand and asked if he could call me his girlfriend.

Seriously Lord? Could you be any more clear with me?

He’s probably reading this right now and thinking, “I had no idea your heart was so complicated woman.” LOL

So, if you see me out with a big strong handsome man, don’t be surprised. Apparently God isn’t. And if you see a huge cheesy ass grin on my face it’s because I’m happy and filled with an unshakable joy trusting that sometimes God’s plan is better than my own. That faith has better returns than fear and now I know that my sweetheart was praying about me too, back in that conference room in January.

And I guess I’m a girlfriend now. No dating app necessary.

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