pardon me while I toot my own horn...

The mother of the baby girl I watch during the week paid me the highest compliment yesterday. 

I heard her say to a friend, about her daughter, "She is never so consistently happy to see someone, as she is to see Emma." 

And just like that, I was on nanny cloud nine. Beaming with pride and joy. 

I play with this sweet baby, I change her diapers, clean up her messes, I feed her, I rock her to sleep.  She cries, she laughs, she's a funny little lady. 

And she LIKES me! She really, really likes me! 

I knew this little baby was usually happy to see me, but I didn't know mine was such a special greeting. 

There is no point to this post other than to say, it is in these moments that I feel like I have a purpose and that the things I do, matter. That I've been blessed with a gift and that I'm using it well.

There are no awards or trophies given to really great mothers, fathers, or other caregivers, but I'm learning more and more that when you take on a life of caring for others, the reward is the privilege and the gift to be able to do so. 

And if you're lucky enough, they like you. They really, really like you. 

Musings From The Can

The start of a new year always has me thinking. So, naturally, I must blog.

As I begin to type this blog post, I am sitting on the toilet. I'm not sure how relevant or appropriate that was to share with you, but I think it adds a little flare to this post. Maybe I'll call this one, "Musings From The Can".

(Mom, was that too much? Are you embarrassed for me? I know you're reading this, sorry!)

Also, to kick off the New Year and a new year of blog posts, I should preemptively apologize for the poor grammatical quality of my writing-- past, present, and future.  This should really be a disclaimer at the bottom of my page. Oh well. 

Now, let the new year musings begin.

- I've been filled with many thoughts lately, mostly questions without answers. Sometimes having so many answerless questions makes me feel alone. But, there's no such thing as a stupid question, so I think we should say the same about lonely questions. There's no such thing as a lonely question. 

- What if my life doesn't turn out the way I want and hope it will?  

- What if life takes me down a path and I end up getting hurt? I mean like, pull a Bella Swan and stare out a window while a camera does a 360 around me and shows the seasons changing outside my window.  Btw-- that scene never showed her eating, sleeping, drinking, or using the bathroom.  Add that to my list of reasons why I doubt that Twilight is real.

- Why do so many wonderful people I love lack confidence in themselves?

- Why is food intake sometimes the only thing a person can control?

- Why don't I treat myself with the kindness I treat others with?

- I'm a nanny right now, and I love it, but what's next?

- What's next, period...?

- Why is love so simple and yet so complex?  

- Sometimes I'd like to figuratively punch the following things in their figurative faces: bathroom scales, alcohol, weed, porn, mean self-talk, condescension, selfishness, the potholes on the ramp from 175W to 295S, the glorification of "busyness", the idea that my or your way is the best way and anything else is wrong or inferior, odds that seem to be not in my favor, succumbing to doubt.

- I would like to bottle up the following things and save them for when I need them most: hope, sunshine, laughter, peace, warmth, perseverance, humility, confidence, patience, love, joy, rain, and grace.

One final thought for those of you who didn't stop reading my rambling thoughts after I mentioned that I'm writing from a toilet seat...

Celine Dion would say, "What do you say to taking chances"?  And typically, I would confidently reply, "No way! Ew! Yuck!"... but, in taking a step back and looking at my life, the decisions I've made this year would say otherwise.  

I've taken risks.  Lots of them.  I, Emma Wetzel, am in a state of vulnerability right now.  Weeeee!

I'm anxious, excited, confident, nervous, wondering if I'm a lunatic, and joyful all at the same time.

Not to mention, I'm scared as hell.

Because hell is a scary place.

And this is my blog and I'm allowed to say "hell" on my blog, dammit.

(sorry again, Mom)

Happy New Year!

"It's okay, I love you."

One time, when I was pretty young-- I would say 3 or 4 years old, I had a meltdown in a restaurant. The kind of meltdown that caused people to stare at my parents and debate calling child services. Mind you, I was a content child. I wasn't one to cause a scene. 

What caused my meltdown?

My mom stole a french fry off my plate. 

I was devastated.  I could not understand why she would do such a thing! 

I don't remember what happened to calm the situation, but knowing how my mom has handled my meltdowns since, I bet it looked something like this: 

First, since it was merely a french fry she probably struggled to suppress her laughter. Second, I'm sure I ended up on her lap---I'm a bit of a cuddler. Want to calm me down? Hug me. Shuts me up pretty quickly. Third, I imagine she brushed my hair out of my face (it's always in my face) and reassured me, "It's okay, I love you." 

I've been blessed with loving parents and so that helps me understand how God loves and parents me. 

I am still an outwardly emotional person--- I'm a crier. If I'm overwhelmed in anyway--be it for happy or sad reasons--- the waterworks start flowing. Sometimes a bunch of things have built up over time and my heart and my head explode with thoughts and feelings and the debris comes out through my eyes. 

And so, God meets me at my breaking point. He has always met me there, and by that I mean, he patiently waits for me while I finish trying to make every last effort to handle life on my own. I'm so stubborn sometimes. 

But then I surrender, defeated. I have lost the lonely battle for and unintentionally against myself. 

And I'm met with a peace that surpasses all understanding. 

And I feel a familiar, "It's okay, I love you," softly resounding in my soul. 

"...just because we are the things called selves."

Things that do not define my self-worth: 

My goals. 

My achievements. 

My struggles. 

The opinions of others. 

My opinions of myself. 

My shortcomings. 

The amount of love I receive from others.

The amount of love I give. 

And the list goes on...

It's humbling to know that as an incredibly flawed being living in a broken world surrounded by billions of other flawed beings, we are loved unconditionally by an all knowing, all powerful, perfect God. To top it off, we are loved simply because we exist. 

C.S. Lewis once said, "Perhaps it makes it easier if we remember that that is how He loves us. Not for any nice, attractive qualities we think we have, but just because we are the things called selves." (Mere Christianity)

We will never be able to love or be loved by others in this perfect way, in this life. 

Which brings me back to my first and second posts.  I talked about how I don't know what God's love feels like. 

I think I'm getting there. Let me explain. 

I know how much I love my family. I know how much I love my best friends. 

This love, at times, is more than words can adequately describe. 

"I love you" just doesn't seem like enough. 

So, thinking about this, I'm overwhelmed knowing that even though there's a lot I don't know and understand about God's love, I know this: He loves me more than I love the most important people in my life.

He loves me more than the love that, at times, is more than words can adequately describe. 

More than THAT ^^^ 

This love is beyond my understanding and more than I can fathom.  I can barely find the words to describe the way I love, much less the way I am loved by the God of the universe. 

But because I do know HOW I love, I think I understand more of what it's like to love God back. 

God, who seems so close and yet so far away at the same time. God, who is so much bigger and more amazing than I can comprehend. Who loves in the face of rejection, who meets hatred with compassion, who forgives time and again, who lets us choose Him, who grieves with us and for us. God, who always is and always was and always will be. 

God, who in His very nature IS love. 

Knowing that loving someone is a choice and knowing that God chooses to love me so unconditionally, flaws and all, and simply knowing that this love is perfect and bigger and better than the love I have ever had for anyone, makes me want to choose to love Him back. 

I don't know if that's how it's supposed to work, but I'm a work in progress. 

It's a wonderful thing, to be known and loved anyway. 

I'm not a writer, but my life is a story.

Donald Miller introduced me to the idea of my life being a story, about how a character undergoes challenges and comes out on the other end a different person.  

Character transformation.

Learning new things.

Learning tough things.

Also, unlearning things.

I think I'm in the midst of a character transformation.  I think I'm at a turning point in my story.  Don (yeah, I call him Don) tells a story about how he climbed a mountain with a group of people (which is a much greater feat than I'm describing) and how yes, they could have taken the easy road to get to their destination.  They could have even taken a bus.

But they didn't.  

And the view at the end was that much more amazing for it.

He said, "The story made us different characters than we would have been if we had skipped the story and showed up at the ending an easier way.” 

So, we push through the struggles, confusion, hurt, and exhaustion---because yes, it is exhausting. We ask ourselves terribly difficult questions.  We dig through introspective layers to get to the answers, sometimes only to find more questions.

And we come out on the other side, changed.  

I know what I want from this turning point in my story.

(that sounds controlling)

I want to be more compassionate.

I want to do things that matter.

I want to be more encouraging.

I want to be more in-tune with the needs around me.

I want to challenge myself.

I want to challenge others.

I want to have a better grasp on humility.

I want to learn to love people the way they need it instead of the way I want to love them.

I no longer want to be afraid of failing.

Oh, and, I want to remember that my story isn't about me, entirely.  We are all a part of something far bigger and greater.  As Don wrote, we are all trees in a story about a forest.

It's a challenging chapter, this one. 

And yet, it's overwhelmingly beautiful and it's full of undeserved grace.

Sometimes I'm complacent.

I think I forget to tell people who are important to me, just how special they are. 

For instance, take family. They're my family, they're going to love me no matter what because they've been around me my whole life. 

This way of thinking makes me lazy. 

It makes me stop trying. 

It makes having a passive relationship too easy. 

My brother, Jake, is a hardworking, determined, driven individual. He is quick witted, and talks very passionately about things that interest him or are important to him. I don't see him very often because he lives far away, but yet I don't tell him that I miss him when I do. I don't tell him how great he is nearly enough. 

My cousins Adam and Austin are two of the funniest people I know. They have a way about them that makes you feel right at home. They care about people and they love their family. When was the last time I told them how much I appreciate them? 

My mom and dad are empty nesters now and even though that's hard on them they love my brother and I unconditionally. They show us they love us day in and day out through their concern, compassion, and generosity. Am I reciprocating that? Am I loving them well?

It's too easy to become complacent in our relationships, especially the ones we know we will (hopefully) have for the rest of our lives. 

This makes me wonder how many other relationships I've hurt by busying myself with other things. And, on a deeper level, how have I become complacent, spiritually?

Which brings me back to these challenging questions...

How will those we love know we love them if we don't show them? 

How will they know how important they are if we don't tell them?

Most of the time, they won't. 

tiny humans, dreams, and loving well.

One time I had a dream that I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and my friend Sarah Beth told me to do "what makes my soul sing."  

(More recently, I had a dream that I bought a new kind of shampoo. Dream big, folks.  Dream big.)

So, what makes my soul sing?  What makes me tick? 

Good question.  I wish I had a concrete answer.  In its simplest form, I love to love.  My dream is to love other people, and to do it well.  But, what exactly does that look like..?

If you've read the "about me" description on this page, you'll know that amongst many of the hats I wear, there lies a nanny hat.  I watch twin almost-2 year old boys part time, and a sweet 3 month old baby girl part time.  I am proud of these children.  I am proud of the things they learn.  I am proud of the way they trust me to care for them.  I am proud that they not only expand their knowledge everyday, but that they teach me things too.

Yes, the children who cannot speak, wipe themselves, climb steps, or, in the baby's case, roll over, teach me about life on a regular basis.

I'm learning how to be patient.  I'm learning that everyone, even the tiny gibberish speaking humans, have love languages.  I'm learning the ins and outs of their personalities--- and how extremely important it is to understand another (in this case, tiny) person's needs and wants, likes and dislikes.  There is a reason for everything these little people do, be it love, jealousy, attention, communicating a need, or simply because it brings them joy.  They really are quite fascinating.

So, when I read in Matthew to protect the little ones, the Word warms my heart.  They are precious beings full of love and wonder.  They rely on those who are older, stronger, wiser to care for them.  

God puts these tiny humans in our hands and trusts us to care for them, love them, and bring them up to be good people and to make the world around them better.   

What a huge responsibility, and what a huge honor.  It's humbling, really.

Impacting little lives so that they can make a difference-- THIS makes my soul sing.