Beautiful.

Easter is quickly approaching.

Good Friday is only 2 days away.

This is the time of year when Christians start to really reflect on what happened on those two magnificent days.

We also start to reflect on how undeserving we are of the magnificence.

As much as the Resurrection of our Lord is something to be JOYFUL over, the truth that His purpose for coming, the purpose for His beating and death, the purpose of His resurrection was to reconcile us to God, is very humbling.

Why?

We are that depraved and unholy that God had to send His only Son to die so that we might Live. Because we deserve death.

It's a hard truth. It's a humbling truth.

In the midst of all my personal reflection on this matter, I'm also reading this book in my morning devotions.

I've been struggling with food and body image for as long as I can remember.

And as much as I know how to get the weight off and I want it off,

the extra poundage is simply an outside manifestation of what's really going on inside me.

And I want to resolve this problem from the inside out.

So, today's assignment in my devotional was to compose a love letter to myself from God's perspective.

Would you know I couldn't do it!

I sat there for half an hour trying to find "good" qualities about myself but for every good attribute, I could list at least 10 not-so-good ones.

And I don't tell you this for pitty or empathy, I choose to be transparent on this blog because I honestly hope that someone who might read this will identify themselves in my words and not feel so alone. That they might join me on this journey.

But even as I compose this post, I can feel the Spirit working in me. Even as I type how unworthy I am I can hear Him whispering to me,

"But I love you. So much so that I died for YOU! So much so that I delighted in watching you grow in your mother's womb and I rejoiced the day you were born. I love you so much that I have placed my hand into your life and blessed you over and over again...abundantly! I love you so much that I have never left your side, even when you felt distant from me. I love you so much that I want you to be with me for an eternity, and I've made a way for you."

So, at the top of my list of redeeming qualities about myself this morning, (and I hope at the top of yours) is that I am loved by the Creator of Heaven and Earth. He has chosen ME. He has carved a path of righteousness for ME by sending His only begotten son to die the most humiliating kind of death so that I might live with HIM forever.

And you know what?

He did all that for you too!

"But God demonstrated His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." -Romans 5:8

Our Trip to Virginia Beach

...was a blast! There was a lot going on.

I ran in a 5K with Kim,

and Brittany celebrated her 20th birthday.

and got a kiss,

and did this when I wanted to take her picture?

Do you still love me, Brittany?

And Brianna was pretty,

as always.

We went to the Farmer's Market to restock Kim's yummy jam,

and had dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings.

Jake partook in his First Communion,

and he was happy.

Ryan got tackled by kids,

but he's used to this.

The boys wrestled,

and the girls colored,

and Izzy was cute,

and Mike fiddled with his iPhone,

because he's a Cortez man,

And that's just what they do. All of them.

Mitch cooked lumpia,

and let the kids get away with this.

We went to Williamsburg to shop, and then this happened.

and Mitch was apparently, very tired.

Do you still love me, Mitch?

That was our weekend in Virginia Beach with the fam in a nutshell.

P.S. Make sure to go check out this blog. The author is beautiful woman who has been a spiritual mentor and second mother to me all my life.

Mary Wells

Mary Wells is my cousin.

(I did not take this pic, I stole it from her Facebook...sorry MW)

She's brilliant and witty and has talent oozing out of her ears and GORGEOUS. She's always been that way. Even as a wee thing, her quick wit was unmatched.

She told me once when we were 7 or 8 that only genuinely beautiful people have widow's peaks in their hairline. She had a widow's peak...I did not.

We used to play dress up. She had an armoire full of dress up clothes and we used to don them all the time and play princess. She was the princess...I was the maid.

(another Facebook steal)

One time we spilled nail polish remover on one of those dress up dresses and the stuff ate a hole right through the silk. Aunt Debra was m.a.d.

(and another)

Mary Wells was a gymnast and a cheerleader and a singer and she composes her own music on the piano. She's photogenic and petite and unspeakably coordinated on the dance floor.

Me? I was the chubby one (still am, unfortunately). I had frizzy brown hair and horribly crooked teeth. My humor was more obnoxious than witty and my piano skills...lacking to say the least.

I had (have) zero coordination and sing through my nose. Petite is the LAST word anyone would ever use to describe me and I freeze in the spotlight.

Mary Wells and I, total opposites...or so it would seem.

As adults, Mary Wells and I have come to realize that we actually have a few things in common. And those few things are monumentally binding.

Mary Wells loves the Lord. She's devout and determined and insightful and has an incredibly generous heart.

She's not just my cousin, she's my sister. And I love her. Dearly. She's everything that I'm afraid to be and she does it with such grace. I admire her actually.

And she loves me. Just because I'm me. Because I'm different from her.

Mary Wells got married this month and I got to be there. Granted, I missed most of the ceremony because Izzy decided that sitting still for the wedding was NOT on her agenda, but I did get to see Mary Wells walk down the isle, and let me tell you...it was an emotional thing for me.

Seeing her in that wedding dress, walking towards this man who MUST be amazing in order to earn her affection and devotion was a little overwhelming. She looked so grown up. So perfectly beautiful. So deserving of what was before her.

It brought me back to when were kids and were playing wedding in her room.

She was the bride.

And I was the groom...

naturally;)

Finding Home: A Personal Journey, the final part

Driving around Central Florida absolutely gave me the warm fuzzies. I was feeling connected in a way that I never had and I also experienced a sense of being on my "turf" for the first time. I was happy to be there with my mom and little sis, happy to introduce this place to my girl's, happy that I'd made the journey.

Then, Saturday night came around. And I got nervous. My mom still goes to the same church we went to as a family when I was growing up. Covenant Presbyterian. I have warm fuzzies about going there, absolutely I do. But I also had some hesitancies about returning. I could go into fine detail about the whole ordeal, but that's a book in and of it itself, so I'll just say this:

I lost my identity at 18 years old. I was forced to realize at 18 that I had been building my life around the wrong thing, the wrong idea, the wrong person. It was a hard realization to come to and I kind of went into a reclusive phase that has lasted almost 10 years. Not reclusive to the point where I cut out everyone, mind you, but reclusive enough to cut out people whom I didn't quite know what to do with anymore. People who reminded me of my old identity. I scrambled to find meaning, scrambled to find a new direction, hunted for peace and a place to hide from everything and everyone that reminded me of what I'd lost.

I went to Arkansas. It was a wonderful year for me. I learned spiritual disciplines from my Momma Gloria that I still carry with me today. I had big sisters and good friends there. I had a church that I LOVED and I enjoyed my life there. It was an escape. I didn't appreciate it then at 19 years old as much as I should have.

I tried to come back to Florida after my year in Arkansas but I felt restless there. Too many reminders of my old life, too many obstacles, too many things to make my insides twist up inside of me.

So I joined the military. This confused a lot of people. It even made some people angry. Important people in my life, were baffled by this decision. But I couldn't be there. I couldn't stay. I was still scrambling to find my path.

Well 10 years later, here I am, on my path. I am confident in my calling. Confident in what my life is founded on, confident in my God and His plans for me wherever I am. I'm a happy person wrought with sin and insecurity but confident in my Creator.

Getting back to the original story...I was nervous to go to church because I knew that I had pretty much cut all of my high school friends out of my life. Not in an act of malice, but in a desperate attempt to heal. Most of them have moved away from Florida and since gotten married and started families but there was still a deep nervousness inside of me.

As I walked up the sidewalk toward the Fellowship Hall, I was flooded with memories from my teenage years. So many happy memories for me took place right there on that sidewalk, and so many hurtful ones too. I shook them out of my head and pushed open the left door in the set of double doors bracing myself for the looks, the questions, the complacent nods and smiles.

I got none.

I got hugs, and laughter and hearty, heart-felt greetings and well wishes. I was welcomed there. I could relax. And I did.

I'm so glad I did too, because I was able to reconnect with Michelle, a friend who was on the basketball team with me in high school. She's now married with 4 children and she and I were able to spend some time together later that week in her home. I enjoyed her immensely and left her house feeling like I had a friend in Florida. A real, genuine, bonafide friend to come see whenever I'm in town. I hadn't had that in a long time, or so I thought. Hopefully, this will the start of really reconnecting with many of my old friends.

And that was the experience that sealed the deal for me! I came to the understanding that my family isn't my only connection to Florida. It's my memories, my experiences, my friendships, AND my family that connect me to that place.

Moral of the final part of this story: Home is where your friends and family are.

Of course, being a wife and mother, my HOME for all intents and purposes is where my husband and children are. It's where I'm called to be now and grow now and train my children.

But my hometown? I'm glad to say, is Palm Bay, FL.

I'm from Palm Bay, FL! That's where I'm FROM. It's my HOME town!

Finding Home: A Personal Journey, Part 2

The girls and I settled into a "routine" at my mom's house rather quickly, much to my delight. It wasn't without some kinks and bumps but it seemed to be working rather nicely. After the first couple of days of settling in, I got the itch to get out and see my old stomping grounds. I wanted to see how much had changed and how much had stayed exactly as pictured in my memory.

A lot had changed. New shopping malls, new restaurants, new churches, homes and schools seemed to have sprung up everywhere. Still, amidst all the changes, the places that I was interested in seeing had stayed the same.

As we meandered through Palm Bay and Melbourne in my mom's Hyundai Sonata, I found myself reliving memories in my head as we passed landmarks, parks, churches and schools that each held specific memories of my childhood and teenage years. There was Fred Lee park where I used to ride my bike and Covenant Presbyterian Church where I first accepted Jesus into my heart at the age of 9 and where I later re-affirmed my faith at the age of 15. There was Brevard Community College where I spent the majority of my junior and senior years of high school and the Chick-Fil-A where I held my first job. There was the Chili's that my friends and I used to hang out at after youth group and the TJ Maxx where I did most of my shopping.

We turned onto one of the main roads in Melbourne and headed into downtown. I begged my mom to stop at The Sun Shoppe. It was (is) my all time favorite coffee shop! It has an artsy vibe with it's wall displays of iron work and contemporary pop art. The people who work behind the counter are almost always wearing some really creative get up complete with a piercing of some sort and there is usually some kind of live music on the weekends. I remember coming here on Sunday nights with a few friends, sitting on the couches and just talking. Talking about everything and nothing at all. Sipping my Vanilla Chai Tea Latte in a ginormous ceramic mug and soaking up the atmosphere. I loved it there. It was my escape.

Right next door is a paint-your-own-pottery place and I spent many an afternoon there with my mom or a close friend or both painting tea pots and coffee mugs and plates. We went so much that the owner eventually knew us by name.

As I sipped my steaming Vanilla Chai Tea Latte in a to-go cup, we headed across the causeway towards beachside. As we came up on A1A, I noticed the surf shops I used to walk in and browse, knowing that there was no way in you know where that I was EVER going to pay that much for a bathing suit, but enjoying the browsing just the same. I saw a big "Reef" sticker in the window and I remembered my first pair of Reefs. Best flip-flops ever, just so you know.

As we kept driving along A1A we passed all the beach parks that I used to frequent with my friends. Mostly Anna...who is now my sister-in-law:)

And then we came to Dakine Diegos.

Dakine Diegos is a small, eclectic burrito shack in Satellite Beach, FL and the burritos there are out of this world yummy!

It's super laid back and you'll find barefoot surfers next to men in military uniforms on lunch break from Patrick AFB on any given day.

People are encouraged to sign the walls when they visit and the various signatures have become such an integral part of the atmosphere there.

The burritos are HUGE and filled with jasmine rice and black beans along with all sorts of other yummy stuff, including pineapple if you so desire.

If you're ever in the area, I highly recommend it!

As the daylight faded and the breeze got cool, we piled back into my mom's car and headed home. Once again, I found myself gazing out the window at the all to familiar but eerily different scenery. These places that held so many memories, both good and bad were etched so deeply into my soul that I could remember the way things smelled or the color shirt someone was wearing on a particular night spent at that particular place. And I felt a connection.

I have memories in Florida. BIG memories. It's where I came to know my Savior and it's where I fell in love for the first time. It's also where I experienced my first and only real heartbreak. It's where I learned more about who I was and what the Lord was calling me toward. It's where I realized that my family is a precious gift and to love them is a privilege. It's where I grew in my faith and where I stumbled drastically. It's where I said a cuss word in front of my entire youth group on accident and where I laughed so hard that coke flew out of my nose on the curb at Twisty Cone. It's where I made unlikely friends and where I figured out that the likely friends weren't always the best kind. It's where I grew in my confidence to be obedient to God even when people I loved and respected didn't understand. It's where I learned independence.

Moral of Part 2 of my personal journey: Home is where your Memory Lane is.

Tomorrow, the conclusion of my journey.