Hello, Fall.

Hello, fall. What a pleasure to be greeted by you. Your mustard yellow ignites the hillsides and steep mountain slopes that meet the bluest sky. Your breezy air, campfire smell, and glistening gold take my breathe away. And truly, truly, in Colorado, you do it best of all. Fall, I'm glad you're here. I think I'll keep you for as long snowy days stay far away and your aspen leaves glisten in the sun.

Three weeks ago we ventured through Western Colorado. Each night we camped, each day we explored. It was wonderful. And now, life is busy again in the very best way, with a trip to California this past weekend, house projects crammed in on days off and between rain, and quality down time when swimming, or cooking, or working doesn't take up the majority. So, here's just a snapshot from our trip, with a promise (to myself, really) to share my favorites from Salida, the brewery's in Ouray and Durango, and the hikes to waterfalls and ghost-homes that filled those days out west. 

Oh, and in case you've ever wondered if I can do a cartwheel. I can't. But, this picture might make you believe I darn well tried.

Good Bye, Summer.

It feels necessary to officially say good bye to summer. To make this line in the sand, and cross over to fall. Last night I found myself in flip flops and freezing while hurrying across the Target parking lot to get into my warm car, away from the wind that often shows up with October. And it was in this moment I realized how I have been holding onto summer for as long as I could. Holding onto it even though night starts at 6:30 now, and yellow leaves scatter the ground, and window frost greets me in the morning. The reality is that this has been the hardest summer to say good bye to. Spring was cold and long, with traces of winter still, and summer was wet and mild. I feel like summer was never truly here. I guess I'm just still holding onto the idea of pool side, popsicle full, and bike ride weekends in the hot sun… so officially, this is where you and I part ways, Summer. Or at least the idea of you must go. But first, one last moment from this past August, when the concrete was hot and the nights long - from the biggest rodeo in Kansas and a parade to go with it.

A few more posts with photographs scattered from our trip to Kansas: here and here. 

Let's leave it in the prairie.

I was reading a chapter in Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist during my lunch break on Thursday, when I read her thoughts on forgiveness and forgetting. I'm not going to quote it here, because really you should go buy her book (like really, get in your car and drive to Barnes and Noble, okay?). But the jist of what I read was that her husband and her continued to bring up the past, even though in those moments they had forgiven, they just couldn't let it go and forget. The past and the hurt, from an array of different moments in their relationship, lingered. (And I know we've all been there). So one day, when they were on a day trip, they decided to leave all that they held onto and all they couldn't forget in that town they were visiting. They let it go, never to be hashed again. They dropped the past, in that town, and did it as a way to move on and not let it continue to linger.

The thing that happened while reading what Shauna wrote about forgiving yet having the hardest time forgetting, was my heart's continual beating "me too, me too." There is this deep sadness that comes up every now again in my soul, and I can't help but relate it to this difficulty I have forgetting hurt. Not the little things, but the monumental things that have taken me years to process. I have a really hard time talking about it, let alone writing about it, and I always wonder why that is. Am I afraid that no one will understand? Am I worried that my lingering hurt and inability to "let go" will make it seem as though I haven't been able to forgive? Am I afraid that this sadness that comes up every now and again, if I show it as true as it is to the people who are closest to me, that it will make me out as too sensitive and push those people away? Yes. On all fronts.

But I think its time I stop letting fear and worry get in the way. I think it's time I write about it.

When I was about 12 years old my dad remarried. I had a stepmom, a stepbrother, and a stepsister all the way from those preteen years and through college. I loved them so much, and although my adolescent nature probably made it seem otherwise, I truly did. The last time I saw my stepmom, stepbrother, and stepsister was when I was 23 years old. Matt and I were telling them about our wedding. We were sitting in the living room and talking about all the beginning plans of being newly engaged. I wanted all of them to be a part of our day. I had no idea I would never see them again. I don't really know how much time passed. It was summer or spring, a few weeks after we sat on that couch with them, and I received an email from my dad saying that they were divorcing. I didn't really know why, and its all a blur truly, but I never saw them again. I can't imagine the hurt that they all went through. My stepsister, ten years younger than me, also never seeing me again? A family of 12 years just vanishing? I wanted to just reach out and hug her and say how much I love her, you know? But I couldn't, and I still haven't, and those are the moments that bring true sadness up from my soul to the water wells of my eyes. Or to tell my stepmom (which has got to be the hardest role in all of it - being the stepmother of a teenage girl), how beautifully and respectfully she took on her relationship with me But I never got to say those things, and I never really knew the reasons because I never had any in person conversation with anyone about what had happened. I never said goodbye or see you later to the family that I knew to be mine. It was like I was supposed to pretend those 12 years of my life didn't exist. Soon after Matt and I got married my dad started to also get distant and now here I am at age 28 and it's been three years since I've heard my dad's voice. And all for reasons I cannot even say. This is where the deep sadness comes in again. I start to think of these four individuals, and my heart feels a void. It feels hurt and confusion. Heavy. I ask, why did this happen? I miss them, and get caught in moments where I'm cleaning out old boxes and seeing photographs from our trip up the coast to Pismo, burying each other in the sand, or the entire childhood memories with my dad and the daily reminders that we have so much in common- our love for art, and thrifting, and hats. Or I'll want to just call him and tell him about that thing, or ask him about that memory - but I can't. And I never truly know the answer, except for the truth that we live in a broken world with hurt and sadness, and that things like this happen, and that this is why we have a Savior. 

Something life has taught me is that holding on hurts one person more than anyone else. Yourself. So like Shauna wrote in that chapter in Bittersweet, I want to leave behind these things that still make me deeply sad that I have had the hardest time forgetting. I want to leave behind the question "why?" and the ache from not having answers. I want to hold on to the good out of those years and on to the hope that God is in control and that he has a plan so much bigger than mine. That all of this, in all of this muck, there is light. I know that I've forgiven - myself, my dad. Yet the sensitive human that I am holds on to pieces of the past. It's like if I let them go I will forget entirely those people that used to be in my life - the people that I still love. But I won't. God won't let that happen. 

If you're sitting there with your heart beating "me too, me too," I hope that we can both take the leap to let it go. Whatever it is for you, and this for me: Let's find a place to leave it, and not let it linger anymore. Maybe in a prairie, maybe up high on a hill, or maybe just right there at your computer or in a journal. Let's leave it. Because I don't want life to have too many moments of deep sadness from the past, when there is so much joy in the present to be had, you know?

Summer and Adjusting

Every day for the past month I have this moment where I think of this space and my lack of writing. I look at my list of house projects in the line up to share and see my files of edited photographs just sitting on my desktop, just waiting to be added to my drafts and a click away from sharing and pinning. But then I shut the laptop lid, walk out of my office, and then repeat the next day. This cycle almost continued today, but then I finally felt it. After reading a post by my friend Anne and then another by Natalie, both brave and raw and truly vulnerable--it caught up with me That little pull on my heart to sit, write, and be real.

Why I love the outdoors so much in our neighborhood.

I was telling Anne the other day that I just have no motivation to write and come to this place. I have no ounce in me to stay inside with a laptop as my view. I want mountains, and sunshine, and the pool! I want snuggles on the couch, camping, and crafting with friends! I want long summer nights, BBQs after work, and freshly painted walls! I just want to be anywhere doing anything except for blogging. It's just where I'm at, even though I really would love to say otherwise.

Now I treasure this place, I really really do, but lately I'm in a whole new world entirely. Ever since our trip to New York, everything has been at full speed. We bought a house. We moved to a new town. We left our community and our church. I quit my job. I stared a new job. I began working some weekends, with a new schedule, and a new commute. Matt's role at work changed. We've had out of town guests. I began swimming with a masters team, with practice, and discipline. We experienced hail damage and house repairs. We've built new friendships and worked hard to keep old ones. And on top of it all, marriage has been a place of learning, growing, and grace.

Hail damage and settling into our new home.

With change comes adjusting, and I think its safe to write that I'm still in that phase. We're figuring it all out, or at least the parts we can, and learning how to give up the parts we cannot. If anything, buying a house has been the best thing for our marriage. It's brought out core anxieties, our strengths and weaknesses, and a true necessity to rely on the Lord (especially so with weather like hail). This has probably been some of the hardest yet most gratifying six months of my adult life. Matt and I have made big decisions, life changing ones, and it is a bit overwhelming when I really reflect on everything that has been in our lives since the new year. Changing jobs has been another true blessing. I never realized how much happiness I was missing in that part of my life. I'm learning more about myself and who I am than I have in a long time. The same is true for swimming. I'm finding out how easy it is to slack and not be disciplined, and that it takes hard work to focus time and energy on a goal.

 Where I find myself the most fulfilled: in the pool and with friends

So with all of this said (and this being the very short version of six months that have gone by), I'm at this crossroads in my life where I'm navigating how to spend my time. How delicate the balance really is. Time is truly precious, you know? I am learning how to hold on to all of these new things in my life, give myself to them fully, but yet still find a place for writing and blogging. I will get there, I have full confidence. I hope you too might close the laptop, walk out of your office, and seek the long days that are left of summer.

Thank you for hanging tight and trusting that I didn't just disappear amidst blog silence. And thank you, Anne and Natalie, for being so brave and open to write and be real today. Your vulnerability truly encouraged me.

Our New Home

It's happened. We've bought a house! I have been wanting to tell you for so so long, but you know how these things go. I was hesitant to share until we officially closed. And closed we did, last week Wednesday! 

This weekend we moved the large items, and everything is falling into place. I've become quite a list maker, writing down the top to-do's for making it live in friendly: install dog door, calk window cracks, set up washer and dryer, patch up holes in fences. You know, priorities. But then, I've been making wish lists as well: make a pendant chandelier, hang curtains, change out hardware, search for the perfect skinny side tables. How amazing it feels to have a home that is ours. 

I'm still super under the weather with what I've donned as the mega cold-flu combo, and I'm only at Starbucks to use the WiFi so that I can do a bit of work and emailing; SO consider this post as a little bit of a sneak peak. I am not sure when I will get to blog next, but when I do I promise to get more detailed, room by room, project by project, idea by idea. We are still trying to get settled and have company coming end of the week (all while I try and get well!), but I've been showing bits of our new place on Instagram (@lauren_tien), so you can see what we're up to over there. Happy Monday!

Be Happy

If you clued in closely, you know that when I'm not blogging, or working at Anthropologie, that I spend the majority of my time at a Montessori school in downtown Denver. In fact, this is what's at the top of the list when it comes to my work priorities. I am so passionate about the quality childhood experiences that we as teachers and adults are providing our little ones. You only get one chance at childhood. So being part of a leadership team that works at upping that quality and making this happen for the families of our school couldn't be a better fit for me and my heart. Yet, just like at any job, that work life balance and making sure my bucket is being filled is so important for me to do my job right, and so important to avoid reaching burnout.

It goes without saying, that this type of work can be so rewarding, yet stressful. In the field of child development, and education, we are taking care of parents' most precious possessions. We are instilled with the joy of getting to see those "aha" moments and guide the foundation of what the rest of that child's life is built upon. That is such a privilege, yet with all that comes stress. This job is life-giving yet exhausting. And just like in any work place, it is attitude and perspective that keep the team going. Yesterday, I attended a meeting for the leaders that are working at the Montessori schools in our company's Colorado region. Just a small part of our meeting focused on being happy. I wanted to share with you the TED talk that got me really thinking yesterday, with hopes that you can leave reading this today feeling a bit more in control of your happiness, and thus more in control of your success--in the workplace, at home, with your spouse, amongst your friends, or wherever you may find yourself. 

Be happy, friends.

The Past, Latched Windows, and Forgiveness

I used to be so vulnerable to my past being a stumbling block in my every day. I was like a tiny little house, sitting on the prettiest lot, painted a crisp white with a vibrant blue door, with wildflowers growing along the path leading up to it, sunshine warming its exterior, visitors knocking and leaving treats on the front stoop--yet, I couldn't see it. With the windows latched shut, the door unanswered, my past hung around inside its sturdy walls--that, the only view to be seen. I didn't fully know of the beauty to be had in the every day. I might wander out, outside of this little house I created within me, see the delicate blooms, feel the warmth of the sun, and look like I fully knew of these simple joys; but what a sad picture of my heart one would truly see. All of these life giving things, the view outside, and the people who loved me: all of that juxtaposed blurry and in the background, while the collection of hurt, and guilt, and those heavy past burdens stood all so clearly in focus at the front of my heart.

And so, I'd wander out, but I'd always go back to my tiny little house, or remember what was stored up inside while I was away, behind those closed doors: pressing against latched windows, fogging my mind and tying up my ability to live freely, fully in the moment, openly to forgiveness, all stealing my ability to know joy as it truly truly is. I'd wander out, but at the end of the day, the tiny little house that I created within me was still there just filled with the collection of hurt from others, lies I created about myself, and anxiety from my past. It was there, and that house stayed, and I could not shake it.

The building blocks of this tiny little house in my heart appeared in those days when teenage awareness transitioned to young adulthood, and life slowly switched from the simplicity of childhood and the wild and free feeling of being a young girl (what my childhood was) to a jig saw puzzle of love and heartbreak, adolescent regrets, the pain and longing of wanting to feel fully wanted as a my father's daughter, self-criticism, and changes in acceptance: so many of which are tied to body, and image, and success (or what we label it as). As I navigated all of this: relationships with boys, awareness of my self, stark realities of life and sin, absence of what I wanted in my relationship with my dad, the changing of friendships, trying to fit in, and even stretching into self criticism as a newly married woman, those lies staring back in the mirror, the battle of the mind (I could go on), and all the muck that comes with that package--I learned how to hold on to it all. I learned how to take even the most subtle detail of my past and allow it to stay in my tiny little house. I allowed it to stay in and control how I felt about myself in the present moments of my life. And, of course, as those years from teenager to young adult became more and more, my house only filled, and I became better at not letting anything out. I locked the doors, sealed up the windows, and the light outside became harder and harder to see. Because when you fill your life with so much from the past, even the good, there is no room for anything but that, and you miss out on the present.

My past used to be a stumbling block. I allowed it to be this way. You see, I laid the brick work. I built up those walls. I closed those windows. I locked the door. It was me who didn't allow the sunshine and breeze to come in and freshen up my life, melt it like spring to winter, like a clean slate or canvas for a new painting and story to be written about the present.

I allowed my past to linger in my thoughts, be my crutch, hold me back. Until one day, a loud knock was at the locked front door. A light showed up so bright that even a latched window with curtains pulled tight couldn't keep dark. Like the early morning sun that wakes the slumbering, stirring those first moments of the day, rays kissing the air and singing "wake up! wake up! it's time to live!" And I couldn't resist it. I couldn't leave the door unanswered. I had to pull the curtains. I had to wake up, I had to give it up, I couldn't keep my collection of hurt and guilt away from that light any longer. I couldn't let the past hold cactive my present, and my future. So I didn't.

That pounding, that bright light, in a literal sense: that was the moment where I finally realized my role in it all. That is when I realized I had to give up everything I was holding onto: to give it up to God, to tell others about my anxiety in dealing with my past, through steadfast prayer, and to open up and air it all out in a sense to begin the process of forgiving others and forgiving myself. And to keep my little tiny house from being filled up, I have to do this daily. Because, really, I'll always be vulnerable to neglecting this place in my heart, and allowing the doors and window to bolt up. This is how I do it: Forgive daily. Choose to keep the windows open and the breeze coming in. Choose to clean up house if you will, for me through prayer and mindfulness, or a vulnerable conversation with a close friend, with Matt, or with myself, each and every day.

Everyone has a past. Everyone has hurt, let downs, stumblings, loss, and things they regret. And everyone has to deal with them in a real way. For me, it took years of prayer and true blindness to it all until I really understood how my past held me captive. I fell victim to my own default, to dwell on the collection of bad rather open the windows and see the good of the present. And that's when I realized my role in it all. God was always knocking, and I chose not to answer the door. The light was always peering in through the tightly closed windows of my heart, and I chose to never truly notice.

My past used to be a stumbling block, a hinderance to how I enjoyed my everyday, blinding me from opportunity and beauty that was right there waiting for me to see it, to grab it, to take it as what life is about--and I realize that now. I have learned how to keep that tiny little house bright, and it is a choice that I have to make daily.

What about you? Are your windows latched shut or wide open? Either way, the warmth of the sun and crispness of that air will always be right outside that door to your heart. If anything, know that. And know that someone will always be knocking. Are you choosing to let the present day in and air out what you are holding inside? Are you choosing to answer the door?

… … … … … … … … … … … … 

This post is part of a series of 25 bloggers over 25 days sharing as part of the Skinny Dip Society Blog Tour, hosted by Katie Den Ouden. Be sure to check out Stephanie's post from yesterday, on Falling Back in Love With Yourself, and Caroline's post tomorrow. Katie is also doing a 21-Day Freedom challenge, which may be the perfect little addition for you to live a bit more freely and wildly each day. She is a total inspiration, and an amazing woman cultivating a community of people who want to live life wholly. You can read catch up on the past few week of the blog tour--over here. 

A Me Update

It has been a little quieter around here since New York, and I wanted to say thank you for being patient as my writing and projects have been mostly been on pause (let's be honest, projects have been on pause for awhile now). Lately I've turned to quick photo-logues of our New York adventures (which I am loving sharing with you!) to keep this blog rolling. You see, with two jobs and some other news that I can't wait to tell you about, free time has pretty much amounted to the size of a freckle. 

So thanks for hanging tight. And thank you for being okay with a bit of quiet. I'm still here, but have had to make sure to balance work with the personal, and part of that has been letting go of blog planning, post line ups, and all of that editing piece that keeps things happening here. It'll be back though--promise. And it'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, its a go with the flow mentality to this little blog, so be sure to still pop in.

My 2014 Goals (And the Luxury of Setting Them)

It's a luxury, really, to be able to set new goals and work towards pursuing them. I'm lucky enough to have time to create dreams and reach for them, and a support system around me, when it could very well be different--a different hand of cards that I could've been dealt, where priorities and pursuits need to be focused on survival and meeting basic needs, void of a net that catches me when I fall, and gives me a hand when I'm needing it. Because you know, there are women who don't get the things that I get, like that precious latte time at coffee shops where writing is all I think about, or going for a swim in a heated pool with time to focus on health, or the option of buying organic and local because I have the finances to. No, some women don't have that priveledge. And its so important that I remind myself of that as I sit and write goals, and align my life, because it really is a gift to be able to do so. How often setting goals can seem like a thing to check off my to-do list, when really, what a luxury it is that I can open my Mac Book, find time to edit photographs of beautiful places some people may never see, write about my ideas and dreams, and set new goals--whenever I want.  As you set your goals this year, or if you're reminding yourself of the one's you already have in motion, rather than only feel defeated if they're not yet achieved, or bolstered by the idea of a bright future; be sure to also dwell on the gift that dreaming and goal setting truly is. I know I will be nudging myself to do the same, as I pursue my goals below:

Conquer Fresh Air and Fourteeners

Colorado has provided the best playground. I want to continue running and walking through the parks that are all around in the city of Denver, but even more I want to really explore the mountains around us. Matt and I decided that we did a pretty pitiful job of camping and backpacking last summer, and as we're planing for this year, this is definitely one of our priorities: tackling a few fourteeners. There are SO many here in Colorado, and we love hiking, so this is definitely how we'll be spending our down time this summer (or rather, up-time, climbing to great heights!).

Read Often and Write More

To be a better writer, I need to read more. And to be a better thinker, I need to write more. 2013 was such a great year for me as far as stretching what I can do as a writer. But I know there is so much more in there that needs to come out and be refined. I can just feel it. And since I have about a mile high stack of books next to my side of the bed, it's a pretty honest reflection of my reading consistency. When my friend Anne remarked that she's read 27 books this past year, gosh I just thought "I want that!" I want to read more and read often. I want to travel the world from my couch, and go to far off places with a cup of tea right next to me. I want words to take me there. Whether its through reading, or writing, I want that to be my 2014.

Make for Time Away

Quality time is my love language. If I don't get it, I feel lonely or lacking in my relationships. For Matt and me, getting away is sometimes the best thing we can do--even if its just an hour at a coffee shop, a walk around our neighborhood, or a stop in to The Great Divide for a beer. Seriously, getting away is what helps my mind focus on him, and on us. Its amazing what a bit of time away really does for our marriage. How easy it becomes to get caught up in our own agendas when we are around each other at home, and not notice how long we've gone without quality time. This is a big one for me, and a total goal priority for life, not just 2014.

Buy Second Hand

I've talked about thrifting a lot on here, and it continues to be something I strive towards. I'm often tempted with the materialism of the world and wanting something new, shiny, and bright. But realistically, when I think about my footprint and the way that buying mentality can really impact my life, I want to become the thriftiest second hand shopper ever. I don't want to get into the patterns of needing something new. I'd rather that be saved as a novelty and make second hand shopping my go to. It will definitely be a challenge, but I am confident that it will only stretch me creatively (and stretch my pennies out a bit longer too!)

Make Pretty Things

A simple yet very true to me goal: to make things from scratch, and to make them for others. I want 2014 to be filled with little projects that brighten my home, or someone else's. Maybe this will be the year of the DIY.

Clean Out and Simplify

If it hasn't been worn or used in two years, it goes. I started by cleaning out the kitchen and bathroom cabinets, and have not even touched my clothing yet. But even just that small task made me feel ten pounds lighter. Its amazing how stuff weighs down our lives. 

Be Intentional in Friendships

God has been so faithful to provide friendships since moving to Colroado. This last year was definitely one of putting myself out there and meeting new people. Now since making these friends, and even with those that are like gold back in California, I really want my heart to be focused on intentionality in these relationships. I want community here in this town, I crave it, and that is only going to come if I am committing to pouring into those friends that I have, and taking risks to be vulnerable, honest, and true. That, and game nights always help ;) Another goal it to open our home more for gatherings and games--to host and stay true to being present over perfect in all things related to our friends. 

Savor the Morning

I've somewhat gotten into a funk where mornings are wasted. I sleep in and have a hard time getting going. I hate that, because mornings are something that I used to cherish. I used to revel in a 6 a.m. start where I had hours to myself before the workday began. I love being able to sip coffee and read or write first thing, or have the option to take Shelby out for a walk, or even get in some bright and early yoga. So that's it, I'm taking mornings back. If it means getting to bed earlier, or setting my alarm across the room with no option to press snooze--I am doing it. Savoring the morning won't be around forever. I am pretty sure when children are in the picture, the mornings won't be up to me any longer. So savoring the mornings in 2014 it is!

Have you realigned your goals for 2014? Do you feel like goal setting really is a luxury?