Some day....

I have been holding onto two words this last week.

Some.
Day.

Some day I won't have to work this job.
Some day I will be back to the person that I was before.
Some day I will talk to you again.
Some day I will be married.
Some day I won't have to wait months upon end to see my love.
Some day I will be stronger than I am now.
Some day I will be healed.
Some day I won't cry as much.
Some day I will figure out what I want to do with my life.
Some day I will travel again.
Some day I won't have to struggle with money.
Some day I will be okay.
Some day I will have a plan.
Some day I will not let fear hold me captive.
Some day I will be the woman that I want to be.
Some day I won't be this crazy lady anymore.

That day doesn't have to be today.

But I beat myself up for it not being today.

I want results right now.

THIS minute.

I want to be a good person.

I want to be at least better than I am right now.

But change happens slowly.

You don't wake up one day and have your life together.

I am a mess. And that is okay.

And some day I will be okay with that.

Some day I will be okay with the fact that I don't have it together.

Not today. But maybe tomorrow.

Freedom...

This morning I woke up and was going to post a status on Facebook about freedom and then I realized that, I wanted to say more than someone would read on a Facebook status. Why? Cause this holiday is extremely important to me and dear to my heart.

Freedom is not free. You always hear people say that on any holiday that celebrates our country. Happy Memorial, Veterans, Fourth, etc....Remember freedom isn't free.

Have we gotten to where that doesn't mean anything to us? Have we gotten so used to hearing it that we forget to hear it?

Freedom to me is when I was too young to understand my uncle went to boot camp. I felt like he had left me. My Uncle Ryan was one of my favorites and always held a very special place in my heart. I remember when he and my Uncle Sean would stay with my parents and I and I would get to wake them up by jumping on their beds. They were always so happy to see me and I was thrilled to see them!! When Uncle Ryan left we all went to take the last pictures with him and I wanted a picture with just us. I loved him very much, and I still do.

But I still remember the day that my parents told me that he was going to Iraq. I sat in Kid's church and cried... I didn't want anyone to see me cry but Pastor Rachael came over and asked why I was crying. The only words I could manage were, I will hate God if my uncle dies in Iraq. She, being the most wonderful kid's pastor in the world, told me that most men who went over to Iraq were getting saved and finding Jesus and that God would keep him safe over there. I got home from church that day thinking, I wonder what people without God do when their family is military.

My uncle has come home from every tour that he has done, by the grace of God. But there is still sorrow in my heart. He lives far away and I see him on very very rare occasions. He was stationed in Colorado and we got to see him a few times while he was here, but then the military takes him to another state and we just have to deal with losing him again.

Freedom comes at a cost for families everywhere. Every man that is in the military has left some family at home to worry about him, miss him, and need him. He is missing out on parts of his family that he will never be able to get back. It costs him and all his loved ones deeply. So thank you Uncle Ryan for leaving your family and giving your entire life to your country.

You also lose friends to the military.

Josh and I have been friends since I was in 4th grade and he was in 5th. Even then he was taller than all of us and our teacher in Sunday School. Josh would always talk about how his dad was in the military and how he wanted to go into the military as well. I would always cringe and try to talk him out of it. Of all the people that I know from back then, Josh and I are the closest. He is probably one of my best friends and has been for years. Yeah sure we fight like brother and sister, and sometimes we don't talk for a year at a time, but no matter what I know that Josh is gonna be there to forgive me. We could not talk for a while and then pick up right where we left off. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if my safety was on the line, Josh would lay his life down for me. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt me.

He said something that broke my heart a few weeks ago... He told me to enjoy my Fourth and take lots of pictures for him. He told me I had to have double the good time because he couldn't have a good time. You see, Josh is deployed right now. And they are gonna do their best to celebrate this wonderful holiday. But they can't celebrate with fireworks and BBQ's. What does he get to celebrate this day that he is fighting to keep alive? Sand, duty watches, heat, no sleep (he never sleeps), uncomfortable uniforms...You get the picture. Josh is 21 and should be at home for the Fourth having fun with his friends and family, drinking lemonade and watching fireworks. But instead I have to celebrate for him because he can't do any celebrating.

Every day that I don't hear from Josh I am so worried that something happened to him. I am terrified that he is dead or something crazy. You see, this isn't over. Our men are still fighting enemies everywhere. He likes to terrify me and tell me how many times the bomb alarm goes off in a day. He is the most selfless man that I know, I always am hearing about how he is giving up sleep to go with one of his guys to get their teeth pulled or how his friend is not passing his PT and so Josh is spending is sleeping hours to go help him. Good men like Josh, give up their own freedom for ours.

Then this post brings me to my favorite man alive... The man who holds my heart and takes such wonderful care of it.

Wanna know why Cody wrote me a letter back when he was in boot camp? Cause I thanked him for his service. And why did I do that? Cause I knew what it was like to lose someone to the military and I knew the sacrifices that he was having to make in order to serve our country. I had felt first hand how that felt and I wanted him to know that I saw and appreciated it. That is why he wrote me a letter back. Because I thanked him for his service and he thought that maybe I wasn't just a stupid girl. Ha! He sure found out quickly that I wasn't!

I swore up and down that I would NEVER date someone in the military. In fact I had three main rules. I would never date someone in the military, never date someone younger than me, never date someone with a longer last name than mine.

Then Cody Krollpfeiffer came along with his 13 letter last name, 1995 birth year, and his job in the Navy. God has jokes. And they aren't funny. But I am glad that he has jokes because I have found the best man in the world. He is so perfect for me. His love is beautiful and kind, he is protecting and always caring for me. He has put up with me, a miracle that I thought no one would ever accomplish. He has loved me in my depression, in my happiness, in hatred, laughter, and joy. He has loved the good and the bad side of me.

But he isn't here. He isn't able to hug me after a long day. He isn't able to cure my lonely days. He sin't here to celebrate this holiday with. We can't watch fireworks under the stars, we can't share a good ole American hamburger, we can't go hide in the mountains for a day. We have to celebrate things alone. We have to do life alone. We have each other, sure. But we don't have each other at the same time. I would not trade it for the world... But now I have a much higher respect for military wives and mothers. They go without their backbone, often at very young ages. They keep the home together, raise the children, do without love and affection, all for the sake of this country.

Just last night I was crying because deployments are coming up soon for Cody and I and they are threatening to crush me. I feel this upcoming pain and I just want to stop time. I want to stay in this place forever... I don't want him to leave. And especially not to go fight for people who abuse their freedom and rights.

So please today, thank a service member. Women and men who give up their lives, their dreams, their families, friends, loved ones, all to make sure that you can watch those fireworks tonight. If you see a bumper sticker saying that they have a loved one in the military, especially those who say wife of a military man, please leave a note thanking them for everything that they do. Maybe even leave them $20 and a Starbucks card so that they can go escape for a while. If you see a service man, buy his dinner or his gas. Thank him for his service and sacrifice. Because it is hard to fight for your freedom, and one thank you can make the world of difference.

So thank you to everyone who faithfully serves this beautiful country. Thank you for those who aren't ablet o be with their families so that I could write this blog post today. Thank you for serving in Iraq Uncle Ryan, thank you for serving now Josh. And thank you Cody for every single minute that you spend away from me, just to make sure that I can sleep at night.

So to celebrate this holiday in whatever way that you want. But I hope you find a service member today and thank them because without them, we would not be here today.

Modesty, lies, and making people mad...

This post is going to make a lot of people angry. I don't care.

I have been struggling hard core lately with things that I am finding have warped how I view love, beauty and myself. One of those lies is...

You must be modest because if you are not, men will think bad thoughts about you.

From the time I was in Rainbows we had a dress code. Shorts longer than finger length, no sleeveless shirts, skirts at knee length, the front of your shirt had to be no lower than a hand width from your collar bone.

Why? Cause we want to protect boys from thinking wrong things. Bad thoughts. Dirty things. You take your pick in words there.

Every time I have been taught about modesty it has been warped into a horrid view. A view that seems harmless and partially true. But it holds a HUGE impact on women later on in life.

Let me preface this next portion by saying, I am all for modesty. I love modesty. I am modest. I love being modest. But being modest because if we aren't boys will think bad thoughts is the most damaging thing that we could ever associate with modesty. Here is what I have found in the dark places in my soul, hiding in the shadows, keeping me in bondage from truly being free.

First, boys are nasty creatures who can't control their minds. Every time a boy looks at you, he is being perverted. Men are not capable of appreciating your beauty without thinking dirty, wrong, and bad thoughts. Men are animals that we have to contain with keeping our bodies hidden from their ravenous eyes.

Second, we are responsible for their "wicked" thinking. You, as a woman, are responsible for what men are thinking. You are a stumbling block if you are immodest. You are the reason, the problem. Your body is a bad thing that causes men to sin. You are the cause of sin in men. If you dress in a way that is attractive and provocative, you are responsible for every bad thing that goes through every single man's mind that sees you. Their lust is your fault.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, dirty, gross, sinful, lust, disgust... You. A woman. You cause these things.

When we tell girls and women that they have to cover their bodies for the purpose of not causing men to sin we are telling them that their body is sinful. News flash!!! God made the woman's body. And He made it naked. Shocker there. Why? Cause sex is needed. Its crucial, its important. Its how you are reading this right now. The world survives on sex. God made sex. He didn't make it a dirty act, He made it enjoyable. Yup, grab your stones and throw them at me for saying that, I don't care. God made sex and I can't wait to enjoy it after I am married. And my body is going to be sexy, and my hubby is gonna want to have sex with me. And there is nothing wrong with that. NOTHING. Sex is healthy, it is normal, it isn't bad or dirty, or shameful. You don't need to hide it. That is what sin did to us, made us think that sex was dirty. Adam and Eve hid their nakedness from God...even though He was the one who formed them to be the way they were. Naked and attracted to each other.

Second, men are responsible for their thoughts. Period. If a man is lustful, it is not a woman's fault. Their brain, their thoughts, their sin. My body is not the cause of sin, sin is the cause of sin. Sinful nature, lustful thoughts, that is sin. Not my body. Yeah, I am not about to go push up my boobs and wear shorts that show my entire butt. But not because boys are nasty creatures who have blackened minds. Boys are capable of looking at a woman without lust. Boys are not animals and we must stop putting it in their minds that they are. Also we need to stop telling that to girls. Men are not to be feared. Every man's mind is not full of lust 100% of the time. They are intelligent and wonderful creatures as well.

Why can't we teach modesty for the right reasons? Why do we have teach it in a way that puts fear and shame as the reason?

Instead why don't we teach girls to be modest because they are beautiful? Why don't we teach them that it is far more sexy to leave more to the imagination? Why don't we teach modesty because we as women should respect ourselves and our bodies?

Modesty to me is no longer about boys and their "bad" thoughts. I am not to be an object that needs to be hidden. I am a beautiful woman with a gorgeous body that God gave me. But I am more than my body. I am more than a bad thought in a boy's mind. I am modest because I respect myself and my brain enough to know that I am more than my sexiness. I don't need to flaunt what the good Lord gave me because I am confident enough to cover it up and know that I am still hot stuff.

If I want respect then I must present my body in a way that demands respect.

But if one day I wear a cute skirt that is a bit above my knees, I don't want to be considered a slut.
If one day my wonderful. loving husband tells me that I have a hot body, I don't want my first instinct to be to cover in fear that he is lusting after me.

Modesty is about respecting your body as a woman.
Modesty is about knowing that you are beautiful without showing every part of your body.

The quiet in your soul...

The silence screams the truth.

Take a minute every day to just sit.

Sit and evaluate yourself.

Take inventory.

Take inventory of your heart, your feelings, your soul, your body.

Use the silence to unite your mind with your thoughts.

Think about what you are feeling.

Then ask yourself, "Why am I feeling this?"

Do not shut down what is going on.

Even the chaos needs to be felt.

Let your mind run the entire length of who you are.

And then let it walk back, taking in every beautiful thing about yourself.

Ask yourself why you are stressed, happy, angry, sad, irritated.

Find the reasons for your feelings.

And deal with it.

Let the answers set that feeling free.

Whether that feeling needs to be free to fly away or free to make artwork in your mind, set it free.

Your heart will weigh a million pounds if you let any emotion cage it in.

Sit in the silence and wonder.

Ask yourself, "Who do I want to be?"

And then ask yourself, "Why am I not that person right now?"

Then remind yourself of every beautiful thing that you are in this very moment.

Don't be too hard on yourself.

But always remind yourself of where you are headed to.

Take every person in your life and add together what they bring to you and what you give to them.

If it does not equal out, ask yourself if it is worth it and healthy to keep them around.

Or ask yourself how you can be a better friend to them.

Plan on how you are going to open your eyes and smile with no extra weight on your back.

How in your minute of silence you have taken yourself under control.

You have set to flight to the dust on your soul.

You have given yourself permission to open your own wings and take off.

Are you beautiful?

I hate my body. I hate that I used to be so skinny. I hate that people hated me for being small. I hate that I had to wear shorts that were taken in and shirts that were big so you couldn't see my deformed ribs. And I really do mean that my ribs have a deformity. I hated it. I hated everyone who was normal.

Even now, I don't like my body. I am still considered skinny by 90% of the population. But now I have stretch marks and a little bit of something something on my hips. And people still hate me. My body is not perfect as it once was...but then maybe it is better? Yeah, I sure don't think so. Long gone are the days of eating whatever I want and putting on no weight. Now I am 120 pounds and I still feel awkward. I feel fat...and wish I could go to the gym every day.

And again I bet 90% of the population hates me for saying any of this. 120 pounds is really nothing. But for a girl who struggled to even have 100 pounds on her bones, that is a lot for me. It is different.

And no matter what, people are going to hate my body.

Either they will hate I am skinny, or they will hate that I am fat. No one is happy.

So forget them. I should have been nicer to myself when I was younger. I should have been taught that I was more than how skinny I was. I should have looked myself in the mirror every single day and said, "You are beautiful."

Cause you see, whether I have zits everywhere or my makeup is on point, I am beautiful.

It has nothing to do with how I look in a swim suit. It has nothing to do with what a scale says.

I am healthy. I eat. I sometimes exercise. I am sure I could take better care of myself and I am aware of that.

But again, I do not need to weigh less than anyone in my family, I do not need to weigh less than anyone in the world.

I need to weigh Chiarra's weight.

Because I am beautiful. Just how I am.

And I wish that we would teach our girls that they are beautiful. And I think we need to start from when they are first able to speak.

I want my daughter to know that no matter what she looks like on the outside, she is beautiful.

I don't want her reaching age 20 and having an identity crisis because she suddenly put on enough weight to look normal.

(Photo Credit To: Kenny Kerns Photography)

Constantly empty...

Some days I feel like no matter what happens... I am empty.

You could tell me for a million hours how wonderful I am and how much you love me. But I won't believe you. You are filling an empty cup.

And it doesn't matter what I do, I always feel this way. Empty and slightly broken. A little cracked. Leaky.

I have asked Jesus to help, but I am still leaking. Everywhere. I am still a bottomless pit. I don't ever hold on to healthy things as truth. In one ear and out the other. Jesus has healed a lot of my brokenness... And I am truly happy with where I am. But I still feel like I am leaking.

I have made progress, but I am still empty... Constantly. I need love and attention more than I should. I need to hear that I am worth something to someone...all the time. And it is never enough. I can read of God's love for me, I can hear God's loving voice, I can know it in my heart that He thinks highly of me... But it is never enough to satisfy me.

And I have always been told that to be effective in life, you must be a whole cup. You can't be used if you are broken. God can't pour out on you and it go anywhere if you have holes in you. A cup with holes can't be filled up and running over.

But that view of God is so small and humanly minded. "God can only fill a cup to running over if we don't have holes." I have watched many a youth sermon preached with a cup with holes and one without and watched water being poured into both and being asked which one would be more fulfilling. And I always felt like the cup with holes. Spewing water everywhere... Not beautiful and clean cut water flow from a cup without holes.

But I have been broken... I have a past. It isn't pretty and it isn't one without holes. I have healed from it, I have learned how to deal with the pain. I have gotten wiser from what has happened, definitely more humble. But I am still broken.

And what if that is how I am supposed to be? A little bit of broken beauty... Never quite strong enough to do it, always depending on someone for help.

God has a plan. And when He made me He put together a unique combination of needy and independence. I have done things on my own for the last 9 years of my life. All of life's curve balls and valleys, all of the low points and the scary times, all the pain and scars and cuts and bruising, dealt with by myself.

Just me.

Alone.

And what if I am too broken now to do things on my own? Maybe I am never going to be back at the beautiful and whole Chiarra until I reach heaven. Maybe I am going to have to learn to deal with the broken and constantly needy Chiarra.

And maybe that is okay. Maybe I can't be that pretty whole cup. Maybe I can't be overflowing everywhere.

But I do know this, the cup with holes, got a lot more things wet and it took a lot more to clean up that mess. It had more of an impact on the environment that it was in... And it needed a whole lot more water!

Maybe that is why I have holes. So that I can touch more people. So that I need way more of God and way more of those around me. It keeps me from doing things on my own.

If I didn't have holes, I wouldn't need God. If I wasn't broken, I would not be in constant need of God.

So if I am constantly empty, I constantly need God.

Where there is beauty...

Where there is beauty there is also pain.

You can't feel the sun without the cold.
You can't see a rainbow without the rain.
You can't enjoy flowers without the snow.

Color has no meaning without black, gray, and white.
Grace has no meaning without punishment.
Love has no power without hatred.

There can't be beauty without change.
A butterfly is nothing without a caterpillar.
Healing is nothing without being broken.

There is no beauty in life until we experience pain.
There is no hope in life if we do not know rock bottom.
There is no life without death.

Sometimes we fear pain because it hurts.
Sometimes we fear the rain because we can't see the sun.
Sometimes we fear the unknown because we can't see the way.

How do we cope with the darkness?
How do we move forward without a path?
How do we carry on with a broken heart?

Do we survive or do we thrive?
Do we crawl or do we fly?
Do we jump off the edge without testing our wings?

Do we know we can fly unless we are thrown out of the nest?
Will we ever know our strength if we walk on sturdy ground?
Can we live if we don't die a little inside?

Where are our dreams without a fight?
Where are our wings without the wind?
Where is our shelter without the storm?

There is no beauty without pain.
Life can't exist without struggle.
We are not created for effortless travels.

"What if I fall?
But oh darling, what if you fly?"