Category: Art

It’s Friday, I’m in love…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

This was one of those weeks where the good things were really good, and the less than great things were pretty low. As I’m typing this I am on a post recording high, from an episode very near and dear to me. Every single time I sit down to do an episode, it feels like the world opens up a bit wider and it somehow makes a little more sense. It is almost as though there are these full circle moments coming into clear focus, and leaving me in awe. In and of itself, the show is a very technically flawed free app. Beneath that though, where the gooey, glorious heart of it lives, there is something so much bigger than anything I could orchestrate and I am so grateful to be a part of it. This show is a humble little blip in the deep and ravenous sea of podcasters, sponsors and expense sheets. We are an every growing community of women, filled with a fire to make something better simply by being real and supporting one another. It is so odd to think, but that really does make the world better for someone.

If I am never a part of anything else, I think this podcast will never stop being my favorite.

Beyond that, it was a week which included cupcakes, coffee & sharing with women, family dinners, sunshine, pulling the summer clothes out of storage, packing the winter ones away, so much criticism, breaking pointes/boundaries, changes, possibilities, acceptance, so much tension dissipating into true peace and some of the most raw and transparent conversations i’ve had in ages… This blissful Thursday night/Friday morning finds me filled with gratitude and trust.

Beyond that:

  • Boise Boys. If you haven’t watched this, you should. It likely won’t evoke longings for home, like it does for us, but it is honestly just so fascinating. We don’t know either one of them, but we have about a thousand personal/real-life connections to Luke Caldwell, so we practically know him. Right?!?!
  • Goat Milk lotion. Have you used it? I am a constant hand cream user, and the problem isn’t the cream but it’s my skin. Super thirsty, I guess. Anyway, we were out of town on Sunday and I found a sample bottle of this soft scented goat milk lotion on a shop counter. I put a small dab on my hands and probably didn’t use lotion again until Monday. It was amazing and now, now I must acquire some. (note: adding to list of reasons why I need goats in my life.)
  • On Saturday I made Blackberry Cobbler. I totally want to claim that I made it for my cousin, and I really want to claim it is because I am so thoughtful and remembered that it was her favorite and that my grandmother always used to make it for her. Truth is, I didn’t remember that… (At least not consciously) also, I have never made blackberry cobbler before. My grandmother’s peach cobbler has been a stable in our summers, forever, but blackberry has never crossed my mind. Then I made it, and it was heaven. This summer we will not have cobbler- this summer will become the Summer of Cobbler. You’ll see…
  • The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society Trailer. It appears that Netflix will have it in August and honestly, I cannot wait. I loved this book and am loving the trailer so much. (PLUS it’s like a Downton reunion!)
  • I have developed this odd little bad habit of setting beverages on the back of my couch. Where we are currently living happens to be the very first living room where my couch is flush against a wall. I eventually began to utilize the very convenient “shelf” that is the its back. It’s not a big deal really, no spills… But, my swell bottle and coffee cups sometimes scuff the paint on the wall. There have been times my husband has come home from a business trip to a few forgotten (empty) coke zero cans planted there. My husband found a few pieces of reclaimed wood and he put together a humble little “sofa table”. We didn’t need much, basically just a holder for Misty’s pluthera of beverages. (#drymouth) It was the sweetest thing and I LOVE it. As if the gesture wasn’t sweet enough, he also built an outlet, complete with USB plugs, right into it. Seriously, this guy is the coolest…
Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

When two young, married kids learned the hard way that starting a family wasn’t an automatic given, life turned harder than either of them had imagined possible. Through miscarriage, bouts of infertility and a traumatically failed foster care adoption, hope became this certain thing they each believed did not belong to them…

Anyone who knows me, or us, knows that this is our story. This is also the story of so many other couples. Maybe a few details would be different but the key elements- the vital heartbreak and hopelessness- that is the same… It was that journey, the one which felt the length of centuries, but was really only the length of seven years, which set the stage for our actual parenthood. When the foster babies we’d believed were the answer to so many Please, God, give us a family prayers were taken, my husband emphatically and protectively decided that enough was enough. He was done, we were done. No more hopes mutilated, no more trying to have faith that my achingly empty arms would soon be full… No more.

And so, fast forward about five years. We had very hesitantly signed with an adoption agency. It was all an awkward and cautious dance, really… Within ourselves, with those around us, with dreams and ideas, prayers, and especially with each other. It is often talked about how the loss of a child is seldom something a marriage survives and I am here to say that infertility treats a marriage the very same way. There are just genetic ways that women tend to process, cope and grieve which often seem foreign to a man. This is also true from men to women.Those times when a couple need to draw together, often leads to them pulling far apart. Immersing ourselves back into the family journey, no matter how delicately we tiptoed, was a terrifying attempt. We were each so jaded and scarred from the time before. Just as we were both settling in to that same-page way of things, and trying to move towards whatever path this adoptive journey led us- a call comes asking us to consider taking a four-year old little girl. She’s unsafe for other young children to be around. She’s been hurt. She’s aggressive and reactive. She’s coming from every imaginable trauma. Please, please take her. Now.

The past bites us viciously when we least expect it. Carnal instincts are there, within us, no matter how hard we suppress them. When you unite a mother with a child who is a viciously shattered, wounded little bird- something happens. I never knew how protective I could be. Would be…

Our adoption of that little girl took far too long. With every investment of thousands of dollars, the path would only lead to an unscalable brick wall, closed-door and the urgings of another avenue followed by double the dollar signs. She was four when she came home to us, and thirteen when a judge finally made us a legal family. For nine years we were bled dry, gave birth to debt and lived in a constant state of fear. Hope sometimes speckled our lifelines, but mostly we waited for the big-bad-whatever to ruin everything we were fighting for. With each closed-door, we would have the talk…

What if it doesn’t work out. What if someone takes her. What if we never get to adopt her. What if? What if? What if? The seeds which had been planted when those twin foster babies were taken, as I lay a mangled mess of salty tears and agony on the floor bloomed, and they bloomed vibrantly. We’d flee. We’d run. We would protect her at all cost, no matter what came her way. We’d face prison. We’d find the money and hire someone to make sure no one from those who had hurt her would ever have the chance again.

There were a lot of frustrations. There were season upon season of sleepless nights. There were a lot of Oh gosh, it’s happening- this is it, type scares. I grew far too familiar with the feeling of blood running cold. I grew far too comfortable with the idea of doing what I “had to”, even if what I had to might be wrong. My ethical compass, typically solid, grew blurred when it came to our little girl.

Thankfully, I never actually had to make the decision. Even now, years later, when I look back I realize I have absolutely no idea if I really could have gone to such extents… What I am certain of is that I gave up everything and devoted my life to give her love and keep her safe. I also know that there is no way I could have made it through even a month of that journey, much less nearly a decade, without a solid faith. God has never promised me that he’d hand over anything and everything I asked for, but what He has given me is a peace when peace seems impossible, and a quiet security and strength when the world around me raged in uncontrollable stormy chaos.

I shared this story as an experience about a relevant time, in my life, when I struggled with my moral boundaries and what I knew was right or wrong, for me. This post is in partnership with the film Wraith from writer-director Michael O. Sajbel (One Night With the King).

Wraith (rāth) noun: a ghost or ghostlike image of someone, especially one seen
after, or shortly before, their death
Something’s very wrong in the Lukens’ house. After living uneventfully for years in their historic home, the Lukens family have
somehow awakened a ghostly presence. Who is this frightening spirit and why won’t leave their 14 year-old daughter, Lucy, alone? Everything changed when Dennis and Katie Lukens discovered they were pregnant
again. Expecting in your 40’s is always high-risk and dangerous, so when the Lukens
decide all options are on the table – including termination – the unexpected starts to
happen. Sinister forces are now conspiring against the family. But is this eerie,
wraith-like spirit actually trying to haunt them…or help them?
Wraith is available on all VOD platforms and Blu-ray/DVD May 8

It’s Friday, I’m in love…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

Two years ago, this week, I embarked on a fast which changed my life forever.

I’ll agree, that sounds incredibly overdramatic, but it is also one hundred percent the truth. That time in my life was among the darkest and most hopeless. While I never (ever, ever, ever) want to go back there, I also maintain being proud of myself for coming through it and growing in the ways that I did to manage it. The fast was fourteen days long, intentionally, and turned out to be seventeen days total. It was not a dietary fast, but rather a heart/mind/self-control one.

This week, while I am not in a dark place, I am embarking on a pretty similar journey. While I would love to sit here, in this space, and tell you all about the reasons why- I can’t. Not only would that be in violation to my fast rules, it also wouldn’t be a great idea. Someday, I’m sure… But for now, as I get ready to share the top five things I loved the most about this past week, I’ll ask that you send me all of the good thoughts/energy and prayers you can muster. Not for the strength to fast (though I’ll take that too) but for the outcome.

This week!

  • My windows have been open almost every day, and most days (this past week) I have been able to snag at least a few minutes of real-life vitamin D!
  • I Feel Pretty… (begin rant: There is so much love/hate about this movie and honestly, it just baffles me. It is your average light-hearted rom com, at base. If that isn’t the sort of movie some people enjoy, then why are they going? If you can’t stand Amy Schumer then why are you going? Why do some people do things just to complain about it? Life is too short for that nonsense! end rant.) It is poignant and lovely and chock full of wisdom girls of all ages can benefit from. I remember early on, critics were so upset that AS was playing someone “overweight and ugly” when she is neither. The thing is, that is irrelevant! It doesn’t matter. That’s the whole, entire point of the movie! At the end of the day, I think the topic is way outside of the industry’s comfort zone, so the idea is to bash it instead.
  • On Monday we caught a show by Nancy & Beth. We laughed a lot, teared up more than expected and had the best time! It was so much fun! If you aren’t familiar, get yourself familiar. Megan and Stephanie are natural performers and gave the show so much heart. The very special added bonus, (aside from the INCREDIBLY talented musicians comprising their band) was Megan’s husband Nick Offerman. My husband worships at the shrine of all things Ron Swanson and so this was a special time for him! I loved experiencing it with him, and watching him. Seriously- FUN NIGHT!
  • Issue 23 of my favorite Flow Magazine <3. I love them all, in their own unique ways, and it is a happy day when, after hunting, I have the new one in hand. This one does NOT disappoint!
  • This story makes me tear up whenever I think of it. Heartwarming and beautiful! I hope that, beyond the in-the-moment-selfless-help, this man is able to get the help/hope he needs… For so many of us, suicide is a very sensitive subject, close to our hearts. It was also part of the discussion in this week’s episode of our Collective podcast. (If you haven’t listened yet, you should!)

It’s Friday, I’m in love…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

It’s just not possible…

I look outside my large Michigan window and curse life as I know it. The warmth that was Tennessee this time last week, while here, today, it is snow and bitter cold.  Again. So over it…

I am also battling a cold, and intensely sore from wild and crazy things like caving beneath the Smokey Mountains and a new workout routine, back here in the land of frigid. I am achy and congested, frozen-finger typing while I am bundled up in an oversized sweatshirt, scarf and yoga pants. Emma, my seven year old Aussie, is corralled in the bathroom due to some sort of doggy sickness that I honestly feel like I cannot muster the energy for and I am nursing my second Coke zero of the day (yes, I do realize it is only ten in the morning) because my throat is swollen and on fire and it just feels better to drink that over razor sharp water… My box of tissues sits to my left, stack of books to my right. Atop the stack, naturally, is my Let Go journal…

I feel miserable and terrible, and really pretty awful too.

Let it go, Misty…

And maybe it is possible. Possible to feel all of the sad, bad, sickly things and still be a ray of shining something inside. Let’s try that, anyway.

Sharing the love, with you-

  • The husband and I went to Tennessee to celebrate twenty-four years since we first said I Do. The trip was wonderful! It was so great to take adventures together, just focus on BE-ing, and make new memories while investing in Us. The only really unplanned inconvenience was the traffic down, where we crawled at a snail’s pace along with EVERY SINGLE PERSON heading to Florida for spring break. Never would’ve thought, but now we know for next time… Among the AMAZING things we did in Tennessee, my favorite things to list (without making this an entire Knoxville area edition of the standard Friday post) would all involve Market Square, in Knoxville. Not only is trendy and yet somehow timeless, but it has an adorable little dog park right in the middle, and we got to meet lots of great little dogs! (It is safe to say that this part is not going to make Chw’s BEST list.) My favorite shop in the Square was the Knoxville Chocolate Company, not for what seems like the obvious reasons, however. The chocolate parts were more  earning of my husband’s adoration. For me, it was the artwork and gifts. They were featuring works from local artist Milk Moon House, and I fell head over heals for several of the pieces displayed!  It was a sad reality that they were pretty far out of my budget, and so with deep sadness I walked away… (also, shout out to the Blue Coast Bar & Grill for miraculously making the best french toast I have ever put in my mouth!)
  • When we first decided on Knoxville being our destination, a friend recommended a visit to McKay’s books. (If you’ve never had the overwhelmingly sensory experience of visiting this entertainment haven, you might want to consider a trip to Knoxville.) Nothing I can say would ever do it justice, and the place itself isn’t my second item here anyway. It is something I discovered while digging through their Vinyl. This album/movie is so fundamental to my childhood. You would have thought I’d dug and found a trove filled with gold and diamonds, for all of the enthusiasm I still have over this record.

The dark side’s callin’ now, nothin’ is real
She’ll never know just how I feel
From out of the shadows she walks like a dream
Make me feel crazy, make me feel so mean…

Moving on…

  • Because we love them and it’s what we do- the husband and I caught a movie at the local cineplex our last night in town. Him, (quite eagerly), and me (significantly less so) nestled in with popcorn to see Ready Player One. We had spent a pretty big chunk of the day adventuring through underground caves and I was feeling pretty tired. On occasion my inner grandma has been known to come out and nap through movies, and I was pretty certain this would be one of those naps. It was not. By principal and taste I pride myself on not being much of a Sci-Fi lover, but this movie… So crazy good.
  • I love to read. I don’t always have the time, but I am trying to be more intentional about picking up books. One thing I cannot do is read in the car. I just can’t. And my husband loves to listen to audiobooks, but the one thing he cannot do is read physical books. Something about holding a book just inspires his inner grandpa to pop right out and drift to snoozeland. Neither one of us can justify the regular cost of purchasing Audio books because… well, they are ridiculous. (and yes, he listens through the library, but the wait list is often unbearable.) Enter Otto. Maybe you’ve seen it pop up in various social media ads, promising to be the Netflix of audio books. That’s how I first heard of it, and skeptically, I looked into it. You guys, it IS the Netflix of audiobooks! We listened to a couple of great books, on our trip. Our favorite was The Woman in Cabin 10. (sidenote: I am surprised the consumer reader reviews aren’t stronger because this book HAD IT ALL…) Feeling super crummy this week (as I mentioned), and not playing entirely by-the-book with my Dirty Keto life, I have been self caring by some more reading. (We all need some self nurturing…) Am absolutely loving listening to This Is Me and recommend it to every woman/girl/person.)
  • I don’t usually watch New, midseason TV shows. (They aren’t usually very good and they also stand a greater chance of getting cancelled, so why commit?) I am a major fan of Zach Braff though, and as an Office lover, also adore Jenna Fischer. Their new shows Alex Inc. and Splitting Up Together are actually really good. I don’t know that they will get renewed because these are pretty smart and not the normal trendy types that do well… Fingers crossed! (Plus Emily Kapnek is bringing us Splitting Up Together and she was the brilliance behind Selfie– a show I deeply loved, that was gruesomely cancelled even though the internet went to war to save it! So you could say I’m a little jaded.)

What have you been loving lately? PLEASE share- I need all the joy I can get right now!

The Miracle Season…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

When I was very, very young I would travel from the very southern bits of New Mexico, up to a children’s hospital in Albuquerque. From such an early age I remember both loving and hating these visits. The road trip, complete with fun music and McDonald’s (a luxury we did not have in our small town) made the trip an adventure. To top it off, we would stay in a motel. As if my young little self didn’t have enough to be excited about, the motel was the icing on the cake. I still, nearly forty years later, remember the details of this dilapidated brick structure. Knowing what I know now, this place was likely a dump, but then it was just awe and wonder…

The hospital visits, on the other hand, weren’t so magical. They consisted of painful examinations, serious conversations (that I did not understand) and humiliating “tests” where I would have to run down the hallway, while a team of staff watched me. Because I have a hip disorder I was growing extremely pigeon-toed. As you can imagine, those “runs” were mostly me falling and being yelled at to get up, again and again and again. I would return to the hotel room covered in bruises, sitting with ice packs and being massaged with Ben Gay. In addition, my weight did not sit correctly upon my feet. At 8 and 9 years old I had more times than I can remember of having to quit riding bikes or walking because my right hip and foot were in so much pain that it was unbearable. I eventually began to understand that most other kids my age did not have such chronic pain. Most other kids didn’t have to stop on the walk to school and sit in the desert, because the pain was just too much. The dream of maybe playing sports one day was an unlikely one which I didn’t really allow myself to have.

As I have mentioned before, I went to live in a group home when I was twelve. The group home required several tasks of routine hard labor and some of the things (bucking hay, for instance) were brutally painful. There were no exceptions and I had to learn to move through the pain. As time passed, and I moved in to high school, I also faced the fact that team sports (through our private school) was also not an option. Volleyball and basketball were expected, and painfully I complied.

Some practices were nauseatingly pain riddled, especially where basketball was concerned. The hustle expected, honestly wasn’t really possible. When I tearfully would offer my best, I was torn down so eventually my most logical response was to stop trying. This led to a lot of consequential actions being administered before I was finally benched. Volleyball though, the game of volleyball I loved. Some practice and games had pain, but eventually I worked through it. I loved being a part of a team. That part of it, the belonging, the needing and the being needed- that was exhilarating. (Plus, the sport itself was fun, which helped.) Basketball had always left me feeling like I was letting my team down, and in actuality I was. I was sick and angry with myself over it then, but I can admit it now…

By the time I graduated, I was a pretty descent volleyball player in our small private league. (also, if you’re curious, I grew to love the exertion of doing hay and my body, though it still hurt, had adapted to appreciate it too.) I pushed through my pain and began jogging several times a week, and though I knew I’d likely never make it as a “real” athlete, I had grown to really appreciate how far I’d come. Over the years I have had to learn to listen to my body, as well as admit that pushing through wasn’t likely always the best choice. Even so, I learned a lot from the effort and the trying, and I learned so much from being part of our team.

I am still, though not a sports player, an avid team player. I derive a lot of strength from my support system and offer myself, in every way capable, as a supportive player. When I was deep in the trenches of my struggles with abandonment, being a part of teams (both in sports and drama) met the needs I had and allowed me to contribute to the symbiotic system with others. I would not be the person, wife, writer, friend or woman I have now if I had not learned those things…

Have you seen the trailer for The Miracle Season? Based on the inspiring true story of West High School girls’ volleyball team.  After the tragic death of the school’s star player Caroline “Line” Found, the remaining team players must band together under the guidance of their tough-love coach in hope of winning the state championship. The Miracle Season is in theaters this Friday (April 6th) and I am excited to see the hope and encouragement that this amazing story will share with its audience.

This trailer gives me chills EVERY SINGLE TIME.

The easily critical (myself sometimes included) love to criticize the emphasis and attention that we American’s put on sports. As I mentioned, I am guilty of this too. With a son in the Army, it kills my heart to see how our service men & women are compensated and treated while our Athletes are often worshipped. Even so though, I have to admit that whenever these truly impactful true stories of teamwork come out- I am exceptionally moved. And I must not be alone because we keep telling these stories, and the audiences always show up…

Have you ever been a part of a team, which impacted your life?