A Reckoning.

 We gather here, we line up weeping in a sunlit room…

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me

Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you, until my dying day

My entire life has been so entwined with the evangelical Christian church I can’t even really begin to pick apart what is mine and what is the church’s, especially from my early years.  I went to private Christian school from preschool through my senior year of high school.  I then went to Liberty University for my college education.  All the while, and since, deeply involved in the local church community, primarily the Presbyterian Church in America.   When I was young, this meant Sunday school and morning and evening church services, then as a teenager, all of the above plus youth group.  Then in adulthood, weekly church services and memberships in various life groups and bible studies.  Everything about my worldview was informed by what the church told me I should believe.  There was never a choice of what political party I would align with.  It was a given.   I served, I worked in the nursery, taught Sunday School classes, joined women’s conferences and hosted life groups in my home. 

We gather stones, never knowing what they’ll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring 

You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

But I always had questions. 

Throughout my college years I often left our thrice weekly convocations riddled with guilt.

So much of what was expected felt like a weight pulling me under.  Where I was told to have joy, I felt drudgery.  I did all of the things.  I set my alarm for 5 am to have a quiet bible and prayer time before the kids were up.  I fought for a family devotional time that always felt like I was just checking a box.  When a life group meeting would be unexpectedly cancelled I felt a deep sense of relief.  Sunday mornings I never seemed to grow out of the habit of mentally checking off each line item on the bulletin until I was one step closer to the freedom the benediction would bring.  

I read the books.  I was The Power of  a Praying Wife , Living the Cross Centered Life, Screwtape Letters, Mere Christianity and many more.  

I knew the Bible. I mean, I REALLY knew the Bible.  During my junior year of high school we had to memorize the entire book of James.  I took more Bible classes in college than classes in my major (ok, that is a lie but it’s close).  I regularly read the Bible through, always hoping for that spark, that I would love to be in scripture like I was supposed to.  Like it seemed like everyone around me loved it.  But it was ok.  This was who I was.  I knew it was who I was supposed to be, and I was so grateful for my identity as a Christian.

And I can go anywhere, anywhere I want

JUST NOT HOME 

And yet, she persisted.  She persisted for so long and kept waiting for her faithfulness to make it all feel right.  Instead, as the years went on, it only got worse.   The questions that nagged never went away, the suspicions, the “what-ifs”.  Around the time of Covid, I began to feel like such an outsider.  For the first time my worldview was beginning to differ from those I was in church community with.  I couldn’t understand how we could all love the same God but see things so vastly different.  Walking into church, I felt like I didn’t belong, and I didn’t really want to belong.  Singing the hymns I had always sung felt wrong.  When I tried to pray I felt like a fraud talking to a God I wasn’t even sure I believed existed.  Now I realize that I was rejecting the evangelical movement, not God, but at the time, in my mind, I didn’t see a difference.  And so, for a time, I walked away from all of it.

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace

And you’re the hero flying around saving face

The best way for me to describe that year half of deconstructing is that I was angry.  As I began to pull threads, the whole basis of my faith came apart.  And I began to ask – where the hell did all of these expectation, rules and requirements in the modern church come from?  If you walk into any given church on a Sunday morning, there were so many things that looked nothing like what was described in scripture and yet had become the standard for what church was meant to look like.   And there is nothing wrong with a lot of these things (heck, my kids benefitted from over the top children’s programs as much as the next child) but it was just one more thread that had me questioning what was truly from God, and what was created by the evangelical movement.

I felt anger towards the “true love waits” movement that told me if I crossed the line in my physical relationship with boys, I was used goods and had disappointed God.

I was angry at the leaders who I had let speak into my life for years as ultimate authority, when I found out they stood by while multiple friends of mine were sexually abused by men in power in the church.

I was angry at the hatred I saw all around me, and the silence from many pulpits in response to addressing it. 

I have a lot more topics that I was angry about, but those are future blog posts.  

It was at this time that I started to realize that I wasn’t alone.  This was when I first heard the word “deconstruction”.  I know it has since become THE buzzword for those who are working through their beliefs and backgrounds, but at the time it felt like a lifeline when I was drowning in my own questions.  For years I looked at the dangling threads that didn’t tie neatly into the evangelical package that I had been raised in, and I refused to tug too hard, for fear that it would all unravel.  At the time I was scared, after all, what could possibly be more risky then asking questions that, if I was wrong, meant eternal damnation?  When you grow up as an evangelical kid, that means your childhood is often spent asking Jesus into your heart more nights than not, altar calls “just in case” and constantly checking and rechecking to make sure your eternity will be heaven and not hell.  And then, one day, you decide that maybe you don’t believe it at all?  That was by far one of the most frightening things I had ever done. 

And I still talk to you (when I’m screaming at the sky)

And when you can’t sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

But when something was going on in my life, I still felt the pull to talk to God.  I knew He was there, but I realized I needed to find Him, not the Him that is through the lens of the evangelical church.  And then, the healing began.  I learned to control the anger, but more than that I decided that my relationship with God was mine, it didn’t belong to the evangelical church.  So, I walked away from many of the theologies and principles I grew up on, and back into the arms of a loving God.

What exactly do I believe?  For the first time in my life I can comfortably admit that I don’t totally know.  And I am ok with that.  I do believe in an all loving God.  I do not believe that the book we call The Bible is the complete, inspired, inerrant word of God.  I believe the God who created this universe, didn’t have to do it in a way that fits neatly into the collection of stories and histories that were, thousands and millions of years later, made into a book.  I believe God loves all of us, regardless of how He made us – whether straight, gay, bisexual or somewhere in between.  I don’t believe He put us on earth to give each of us a finite number of years to succeed or fail at choosing heaven or hell.

I also believe I’m incredibly grateful to have walked away from the guilt and obligation that hung over my life for so many years.   I believe Taylor Swift never fails to write a lyric that will bring me to tears.  I’ve cried many times listening to “My Tears Ricochet”.  I’m grateful for the structure they gave me to share my journey through this post.

Shoutout to a couple of amazing resources that I have used in the last year as I’ve pieced my views back together: 

1 – The Exvangelicals – Loving, Living and Leaving the White Evangelical Church by Sarah McCammon. Never have a highlighted so many passages in an e-book.  I felt like I could have written many parts myself.

2 – Inspired- Slaying Giants, Walking on Water and Loving the Bible Again by Rachel Held Evans.  Again, I had my pen in my hand constantly highlighting passages.  This was just so good.  This was a book recommended to me by the pastor at a church we have been visiting occasionally. It was so refreshing to hear the perspective of a biblical scholar who so eloquently put into words the nagging sense that was so often in the back of my brain when I was reading the Bible. 

3 – The What If Podcast by Glenn Siepert.  Again, a true theologian with a deep history in Christian education who has gone through the same process I have and asked some amazing questions and had some enlightening conversations.  

*I want to be very clear that I have am grateful to my parents for what they tried to do in giving me a faith basis to grow up in.  And I love them to the moon and back. 

The Tragedies of Charlie Kirk's Death.

 Up until a week ago I didn't really know who Charlie Kirk was.  When my son sent a message to our family group text saying that he had been shot, I wrongly guessed that he was a YouTuber or musician. Of course, soon I would realize that he was very important to many people.

Let me be very clear.  Charlie Kirk's murder is a terrible tragedy.  

It is tragic that two young children lost their father.

His death is tragic for his wife who is left to mourn him and to raise their children on her own.

It is tragic for his parents, siblings, friends, anyone who knew and cared for him,  to lose someone they loved very much.

Also.

His death is tragic for black people in our country, who have to face yet another wave of realizing how low they rate in the eyes of so many white people, people they may have thought were friends.   Kirk once said, "If I’m dealing with somebody in customer service who’s a moronic Black woman, I wonder is she is there because of her excellence, or is she there because of affirmative action?".(1)  He also once said, "Happening all the time in urban America, prowling Blacks go around for fun to target white people, that's a fact.  It's happening more and more."  (2)  These are unfounded accusations and just plain hateful speak. 

It is a tragedy for the trans community.  Whether or not the accused gunman was motivated in part by his (potential? alleged?) ties to the transgender community, it is awful that they now have yet another battle to fight because of one rouge and horribly misguided individual.  This is not their fault, and yet it will be blamed on them.

It is tragic for all those who have lost loved ones to gun violence.  A man is being venerated and deified who once said, "I think it's worth it to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the second amendment to protect our other God-given rights.  That is a prudent deal.  It is rational."(3)  How horrible for a parent who has lost their child in a school shooting to see how many Americans think that death was just an unfortunate fee that we have to pay for "freedom". 

There is also tragedy for immigrants, and children or grandchildren of immigrants (I guess that's me since my great grandparents immigrated from Poland).  If your friends and family are lifting him up as a beacon of truth, and yet he once said,  "America was at its peak when we halted immigration for 40 years and we dropped our foreign-born percentage to its lowest level ever. We should be unafraid to do that." (4).  Isn't this the land of opportunity?  Doesn't our diversity make us great?  When did the line magically get drawn that it was ok for our ancestors to immigrate, but those who would seek to find a better life in this day and age are no longer welcome.  

And finally, it is a tragedy for followers of Christ, that yet again, our faith and religion is being taken over by Christian Nationalists who want to commandeer our Jesus and His good works and align them with a man who had so many hateful things to say.

There is no peace in this.  There is no joy.  I would genuinely cry joyful tears if Charlie Kirk's death was a hoax and he could be reunited with his loved ones.  In the meantime, I will be crying tears, though of a different ilk, for what has been revealed over this last week. 

1-  The Charlie Kirk Show, 3 January 2024
2- The Charlie Kirk Show, 19 May 2023
3- Event organized by TPUSA Faith, the religious arm of Kirk’s conservative group Turning Point USA, on 5 April 2023
4- The Charlie Kirk Show, 22 August 2025

The Chicken and Dumpling Disaster

A few years ago I was thinking about changing jobs.  The job I was considering could not have been more different than the one I was working at the time. One was analytical, data driven work in the investment industry.  The other was working with special operations families at a not-for-profit.  To me, the answer seemed immediately obvious to move to doing something with deep impact and meaning... but Ryan wisely cautioned me that the biggest variable in the move was people.  My new job would be focused heavily on relationships - and as Ryan put it, "people are hard". 

Well, if you've read my blog over the years you'll know I did make the move to the new job, and it was a colossal failure because the person I was working for was too difficult and I was too stubborn to back down.  If one of us would have had a little more give, it may have survived but it wasn't meant to be.

People are hard, families can be even harder.  They are the people we love most in the world but are also the people who have the ability to cut deepest. 

A few years ago we had the opportunity to invite some of our extended family to our new mountain house for Christmas.  It was a super exciting time where we were truly grateful to be able to share the realization of one our our dreams (to own property in the mountains) with our people.  It was also an enormous undertaking.  We closed on the house on December 3rd and spent every spare moment over the next 3 weeks shuttling back and forth between Pinehurst and Banner Elk to get ready to squeeze 16 people into a 3 bedroom cabin.  Not only was the task of furnishing the house from empty to "host ready" daunting, but Ryan took on the job of organizing all of the meals, delegating some, but (per usual) keeping the majority of the heavy lifting for himself.

On our first night with everyone at the house, he decided to make Chicken and Dumpling - a family favorite that truly honors the memory of his mom, who made it for her boys.  Ironically, Ryan hates having to follow rules, despite a very successful military career.  So, when it comes to cooking he rarely follows an exact recipe, usually putting his own spin on it.   He did so on that fateful night.  You could call it "the night that Ryan ruined Christmas by adding carrots to the chicken and dumplings" or you could call it "the Christmas night that Lacey almost kicked 10 people out of her house with no regrets".  As you've probably guessed by now, for whatever reason, the everyone felt comfortable letting Ryan know that he had effectively dishonored their mother's legacy by tweaking her version of that meal.  Don't even get me started on the comments that were made because we used Bob Evans mashed potatoes rather than spend the day with a peeler in hand!  We survived and moved on to have a nice time together,  because that is what families do, but it's something I've had a hard time not remembering on occasion. 

And then, last night, as we were hanging out with our extended family in town to celebrate Ryan's retirement, it was brought up again.  Not only was it brought up, but the sentiment that we had done something wrong by serving a version of a meal that they didn't care for, was doubled down on.  When I shared that this was a sore subject, we were chided for not being able to laugh at our "mistakes".   A "mistake" is burning the eggs and saying "whoopsie, that didn't turn out like I had hoped".  What is not a mistake is choosing to do something really kind for your guests, in a manner that is not 100% what they would prefer.  As Ryan and I talked about it later, he made the excellent point that what would help in this case is some perspective taking.  Imagine that it's your child, now grown, hosting a large group for a special occasion.  On in the midst of their hard work, your extended family members shake their heads  at what is given to them.

I am grateful that this has given us the opportunity to discuss with my own kids why we shouldn't react this way.  When someone shares with you that a situation bothered hem, its an opportunity to step back and say "I'm sorry that happened" rather than  "you need to laugh at yourself".  Even if you believe you didn't do anything wrong, you can still try to find a common ground.  

But, more than anything, we will move on and continue to love our family, as always, because family is forever and that is important.  Because grace goes both ways, and we can't expect it if we don't give it.

Why I Think It's Ok To Unfriend

 “Love yourself enough to walk into only the rooms and situations that show care and love for you.  Love yourself enough to walk out of the rooms that harm you in any way”.  Cleo Wade

The last 6 months have been very eye opening to me as I try to walk the line between preservation of my sanity and the maintenance of the  relationships I’ve cultivated in my 46 years on this earth.  Good, bad or indifferent, the advent of social media has allowed me to be in touch with hundreds of people who would no longer be a part of my life without it.  

During this time, I’ve really had to dig in and sift through the difference in tolerating the different opinions of people who I love and am actively in community with while, on the other side, granting myself permission to sever ties to old acquaintances with whom my only link is that we went to the same school 25 or 30 years ago, but who’s current viewpoints bring me sadness and make my heart heavy.  

For example, as a military spouse in relative proximity to a huge installation, a number of my friends are very much on the far right side of the political aisle.  Do I agree with them?  Often, no.  But am I able to separate those views from the relationship and see that my life is richer from having that friend in it?  Yes.  For me, the effort is worth it.

But let’s go back two my hallmate from college, with whom I didn’t really get along with back in the day, and whom I have almost nothing in common with now.  When she posts anti-moderate/left propaganda that is, at best, uneducated, and, at worst, slander, I think it’s ok to examine that “relationship’.  I don’t think it makes me intolerant to make the following assessment;

• I’ve not spoken to this person in 24.5 years

• They do not interact with me whatsoever on social media

• The majority of the things they post make me sad for one reason or another 

• Therefore, removing them from my “friends” list is not mean spirited or intolerant, rather, as expressed in the above quote, I’m loving myself enough to walk out of a room that harms me.

I realize that not everyone feels this way.  In fact, it’s funny because only in recent years, and with the help of both my therapist and my live-in mental health expert, have I come to label why it is that I feel SO deeply and and I hurt SO much when there is pain and suffering going around me.  I don’t know that I could have even given the definition of the word “empath” until one day it smacked me in the face that I AM one.  

I won’t lie, there are times that I would give anything NOT to be an empath.  It can be exhausting.  Sometimes I just want to turn down the volume on my feelings and the feelings of others for a little bit of peace.  And yet, I also know that this is part of what makes me unique.  

I wish I was better at letting things roll off my back!  I’ll be honest, over a month later and I’m still pissed about a stupid “Gulf of America” meme that rolled across my feed, posted by someone that honestly doesn’t know any better.  Should I still be thinking about that?  Absolutely not.  But does it change the face that I am?  No.

So,  yeah, I’m going to continue to do some editing here and there.  Not with the intention of hurting anyone’s feelings, but with the knowledge that what is happening in the world right now is too big for me to handle. Too much for my heart.  And so I’ll sleep well at night knowing that my motivations were pure, when I occasionally hit that “remove friend” button. 

2.20.25

 My parents are currently on a cruise around the Antarctic circle and in a quest to check in with their adventures I decided to check if they had posted anything new on FB.  Apparently, this is the only way for them to share photos, which seems suspicious, but I digress.  Instead of what I was hoping to find, the first thing that came on my feed was a post by an acquaintance of mine sharing her decision that people who only post to share negative things about the president will get “snoozed”.   

Here’s my reaction to that.  How very nice it must be, to live in such a bubble for that you are able to mindlessly post about what you ate for dinner that night, as if our very society isn’t crumbling beneath us.  As if the very worst of human nature isn’t on display for the world to see, each and every day here in America.  How very upper middle class, white, evangelical of you to demand to see less of the hurt and sorrow that your neighbors are feeling and more of whatever you deem to be appropriate Facebook posting.  

I also love the hurt feelings on the part of people I know who can’t take the outrage and frustration that is being leveled at them because they ignored all the evidence and chose to vote for Donald Trump.  Now they are posting about how sad it is to be called names over “political discourse”.  Friend, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, it’s not political discourse. Many of us who lean center or left of center know that we are in an everyday, uphill, soul stealing battle to protect those without a voice.  We are literally seeing the end of common decency and respect for those with different color skin, religious beliefs, sexual orientation, etc, and you want to act like we are sitting at Coffee Talk chatting about how the Industrial Revolution was neither Industrial, nor a revolution.  

I’m verklempt. 

Anywho.  Those are my thoughts for today. 

2.1.25

 As previously noted, this year my blog is focused more on being my personal journal than an edited commentary, therefore I will not be editing or even re-reading before I post.  

I feel sad.  Like overwhelmingly, paralyzingly sad.  I keep hoping with each passing day that the weight will lift and I will feel a little bit of hope, but it seems that the opposite is happening.  Today I feel like I could legitimately sit and cry for the rest of the day if I let myself.  

The state of this country has brought me to a state of hopelessness that I didn’t know I could feel.  

My youngest daughter has a friend, let’s call her Janet, who is now afraid to come to school.  She is also afraid to stay home.  You see, Janet’s parents are not in the US through the proper channels.  Despite the fact that they have been here many years, have jobs, pay taxes and have no criminal records, they face the very real and very imminent prospect of being deported.  If you ask “well, why didn’t they go through the proper channels?” I would try not to laugh in your face as I ask what exactly those channels are.  They left everything they had in their home country to take an unknown chance here - how bad must things have been there to take that risk?  And now these contributing, lawful members of our society are afraid for their lives. We’ve gone from talking about Janet’s upcoming quinceanera to discussing reports of what ICEs latest local movements are.  And it breaks my heart.  

Last week a solider came to my husband’s office, terrified.  18 years in the service.  An exemplary record.  Liked and respected by all.  A model officer.  She is a trans woman so her entire future has now been put in jeopardy.  I’m trying to imagine what it must be like to spend the majority of your life feeling like you’re in the wrong body, to finally experiencing relief when the government told her she could embrace her true identity and still serve her country, to now facing the very real possibility that it will all be taken away from her.  

I know a husband and wife who have served in the education sector for their entire careers.  Selfless dedication to making our system stronger and better.  Now they are both employed by a federal education grant … which means they may both soon be unemployed.

Cancer patients in clinical trials at MD Anderson are having their hope taken away from them when the trials are stopped in their tracks.

And then I wake up on Thursday to the horrific news of the plane crash in DC.  I spent the day feeling grieved and horrified, just to tune into a press conference in time to see the president blame DEI.  My jaw dropped. My first thought was “this is so horrible and offensive and baseless, maybe now some of MAGA will see how crazy he is”… only to have the sick realization slowly sink in that it’s actually the opposite that will happen.  Those who follow him will see his statement and blindly accept that this tragedy had anything to do with DEI, rather than looking into other news sources with my plausible and realistic reasoning.    My fear was only further confirmed when I heard that one of the Army pilots was a female, who’s family has requested that her name NOT be released so that she isn’t subjected to a post mortem raking over the coals to determine if she deserved to be in that seat or not.  

Guys.  How do I process this?  How do I move forward each day when every time I venture out of my house I feel like I am surrounded by people who are cheering for the very things that are breaking me.

A 2024 Post Mortem

 Two thousand and twenty four.  It was the best of years, it was the worst of years.   

2024 feels a bit like two separate lifetimes.  It was simultaneously one of the hardest and one of my favorite years of my life. I have an immense amount of pride as I look back at the hard work and growth that brought me through the year.  There were so many times that I could have circled the wagons and surrounded myself with only like minded people, but I would have missed out on a tremendous opportunity to become a much healthier version of myself.

The best gift that I gave myself in 2024 was to re-engage in therapy.  I am super lucky that years ago I found an incredibly wise and insightful counselor who has seen me through many seasons in my life.  It started with navigating a challenging middle child who was always angry, especially when his dad was gone, to then walking with Ryan and I through our grief when we lost Belinda, to now, meeting over video chat as I work to heal and grow from hurts and harmful patterns. 

The year started with a wounded ego that I had been so easily discarded by The Station Foundation.  I also faced the heartache of watching my children each go through challenges that regularly brought me to tears as I wanted nothing more than to protect them (and, when applicable,  punch the people who were hurting them in the face).  I worried deeply over the stress and years of accumulated baggage that weighed Ryan down at work and prayed each morning that he would survive the day and come home to me safely.  I guess you could say that is a good representation of what made it the worst of times.

Summer came and the air seemed to lighten a little as we saw beautiful growth and progress in our family.  Our trip to Arizona was like a balm to our souls and we reveled in long hikes, no humidity and the beauty of Ponderosa pines and San Francisco peaks.  We dropped our beautiful girl off at college and the next day I flew to Iceland on what was, truly, the adventure of a lifetime.  I look back on that trip with so much pride because it’s the kind of thing that I always say that I WANT to do, but when it comes to decision time I chicken out.  But not this time!  I did it and I will treasure the experience and the friendships that grew on that trip. 

September and October were when I re-engaged with my therapist as she helped me navigate the growth that I needed in my life.  I had a few valued relationships end (or I guess I should clarify relationships that I valued, clearly not so much on the other side) in the preceding months and weeks and I was reeling with the onslaught of emotion and questioning of myself and who I was.  I will never forget my therapist’s face as she looked at me from across the screen and said, “I don’t see it as a loss, but instead as a shedding of relationships that didn’t serve your growth and desire to be the best version of yourself”.  Oh my goodness.  My brain immediately envisioned a phoenix coming out of the ashes and that one sentence allowed me to reframe my entire recent experience.  Instead of being hurt or angered at being discarded I felt something a little like gratitude. For better or for worse, I am a loyal person, and sometimes that loyalty means that I won’t release relationships that I know don’t make me a better person, because that would be a disloyal act.  But in my conversations with my therapist I was able to see that being released from that obligation was actually a really good thing for me.  There doesn’t have to always be a right side and a wrong side.  Or a good person vs the bad person.  Because none of them are bad people.  I am not a bad person.  They can be really good friends (to other people in their lives, but that person doesn’t have to be me..  What a deep breathe I can now take as I move forward focusing on the abundance of relationships that I have in my life who do make me a better person.  I’ve joked that I’ve been on somewhat of a reunion tour lately as I have taken stock of my life and purposefully made an effort to connect with other women who bring out the best in me, and, I hope, can say I bring encouragement to their lives.  

The end result is that sometimes going through loss of relationship can be painful but with the proper perspective and introspection it can be a true catalyst for needed change.  And that has brought me to where I am now as I enter 2025.  Truly the most content and whole I can remember being in a long time.

1.2.25

 1.2.25

It’s so cold out this morning! I sit here cuddled up in a blanket on the couch, cuddling my dog (more accurately, being bullied by my dog into petting her), drinking coffee and trying to work up the motivation to take her for a walk.  There’s going to be a cold blast the next couple of weeks which leads perfectly into my January goals.

My favorite time of year is fall into the holiday season.  It starts with the long lazy days of summer coming back into a shape and a rhythm with the schedule and structure that back-to-school brings.  Then it’s soccer and football games and homecoming dresses and school spirit.  Before you know it there are nights by the fire pit snuggled under a blanket telling stories with your family.  Then comes Thanksgiving with food and games and general family togetherness.  And BOOM, we’re decking the halls and wrapping presents and laughing at white elephant gift exchanges and quietly celebrating with glee when we’ve found the perfect gift for someone we love.  Too much food, too much wine, so much laziness in those quiet days after Christmas when I crave a few days back to life with no schedule before the hectic hits again in January.

And so, I often get a big post holiday let down in the beginning of January.  Yesterday I was reflecting on this during my morning walk with Yadi.  At the same time, I was listening to my dear friend, Ally, speak on a podcast about the divinity in the creative that we are each born with.  I began to ponder all of the things I was hearing and it stirred in my heart that I needed to reframe the way I view the calendar year.  Rather than looking at January as the end of something I love, and February as a month that I typically loathe, and focusing on the long 9 months until I get to my favorite season again, I need to find joy in each season.  And so, with that, I’ve decided to give an official Lacey Trumbo rebrand, based entirely on my own weird preferences, to time periods that I’ve created in my own weird mind.

January - February - These are now officially the cozy months.  Here is what is IN for these months:

• Snuggling on the couch.  Definitely with my dog, preferably with Ryan.  Ideally with my children.  This will involve blankets, coffee (or wine depending on time of day) and keeping my husband company while he watches all the sports. 

• Nesting - cleaning and decluttering as I take down decorations (at my leisure).  I will embrace Taylor Swift and leave the lights up until (through) January if I so desire).  But when I feel led to take things down, I’ll focus on removing the things that bring stress and buying more of the things that bring cozy.  Here’s to blankets and pillows!

• Reading - Instead of feeling guilty for spending hours in the same position with a book I will celebrate a season of quiet and conscious learning.  I will, of course, keep reading the fiction I love, but also branch out and embrace books that will shed some light into my current season of spiritual reawakening. 

These things are OUT:

• Guilt - Ok, this may be a pipe dream but as I look back at the year that was 2024 I see more progress than ever in my attempts to unshackle myself from the burden of guilt and embrace the freedom in trusting who I am.

• Fitness goals - I will not be trying any new fads or workouts.  I will be eating as crappy as ever.  I will continue to stay as far away from the scale as possible.  

• Trying to be the right person who says the right things at the right time.  I want to rely LESS on my high social IQ and focus more on being me in social situations.  Hopefully if I show people my true self from the start, I will avoid my past habit of getting into friendships that then dissolve when I get brave enough to find my voice. 

I don’t have the rest of the seasons hammered out in such detail but here’s what I’m thinking.

March & April - warmer days mean incorporating more outdoor exercise and trying to change up my workout routine so it doesn’t get stale.  Maybe a weekly hike somewhere cool and an outdoor bike ride where I push aside my fear of being hit by a car and embrace being outside.   Also, will be back to high school soccer!  Nights at the stadium with friends watching our girls play.  Lot’s to be excited about in that season.

May & June - this year these months will bring terminal leave, retirement ceremony, 25th wedding anniversary and a big trip with Ryan and the kids to celebrate all of those things.  I don’t think I have to do too much to frame those months!

July and August - Goal setting and preparation.  Getting ready to get after it!  

As you can see, I’ve still got a ways to go but i feel hopeful at the progress we are making! Cheers to 2025!

*absolutely not edited for clarity, brevity, typos or mistakes

1.1.25

 I’m going to try something new for 2025.  Rather than waiting to sit down when I have a fully formed blog post sketched out in my mind (which never seems to happen), I’m going to focus more on journaling.  I feel the constant pull to pour my thoughts and emotions out in the written word, but I let myself be held up knowing that what is stirring doesn’t create a full or compelling post.  So, out with the pressure of a post, and in with the cathartic healing that I experience when I write.  If the words that come out end up forming something that I can share, that is great, but I need for that to not be the ultimate goal.  I don’t like the self imposed pressure that results when a published post is the measure of success.

I have posted a few blog posts in the last few months that I didn’t link on any form of social media.  Unsurprisingly, they had very low viewership and no responses or reactions.  In a way, I’m grateful because that has led me to examine the motivation behind why I blog.  And while it’s true that I enjoy the connections that come when my words resonate with people, that isn’t the main reason that I love to blog.  It’s because of the therapeutic benefits i receive by getting my feelings out of my brain and out onto paper.

I don’t do resolutions.  I absolutely loathe the idea of new year new me.  If anything, its new year, and Lacey still on her bullshit.  But I don’t mind the idea of trying out new things!  So my new thing for 2025 is to journal more, be braver about what I post, embracing the less than perfect, enjoy the benefits I receive, and trust that if my muddled words are supposed to reach someone, the universe will make it so.

*Absolutely not edited for typos or errors.