Category: gifts

Finding You… {Giveaway}

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay4 Comments

My passport remains intact, yet unstamped.

If you’re curious, I’m super sad about this…

Whenever someone mentions the topic of adventure, I shrink a little. I’ve never been anywhere, I think. I’m wrong, of course. I’ve been all over this North American landmass I call home. I’ve done a hundred different road trips, and because I LOVE the movie Elizabethtown, I’m pretty great at making sure road trips are memorable and intentional.

I’ve had exciting flights to west coast beaches and whimsical days in some of our biggest cities.

In the end, I think adventure is either in us or it isn’t. If life has made it so that we haven’t been able to get passport stamps- that’s ok. Adventure is still ours for the taking!

This past year, as we’ve been stuck at home we have re-fallen in love with the adventure we find in movies and books, and honestly, I love that. Speaking of that, I have an amazing trailer for you!

FINDING YOU is an inspirational romantic drama full of heart and humor about finding the strength to be true to oneself.  After an ill-fated audition at a prestigious New York music conservatory, violinist Finley Sinclair (Rose Reid) travels to an Irish coastal village to begin her semester studying abroad. At the B&B run by her host family, she encounters gregarious and persistent heartthrob movie star Beckett Rush (Jedidiah Goodacre), who is there to film another installment of his medieval fantasy-adventure franchise. As romance sparks between the unlikely pair, Beckett ignites a journey of discovery for Finley that transforms her heart, her music, and her outlook on life. In turn, Finley emboldens Beckett to reach beyond his teen-idol image and pursue his true passion.  But when forces surrounding Beckett’s stardom threaten to crush their dreams, Finley must decide what she is willing to risk for love.

115 Minutes | Rated PG

GIVEAWAY: One lucky reader will receive a $20 World Market Gift Card to ‘Shop around the world!’

How to enter:

  • Leave a comment telling about an adventure you’ve had OR connect on the correlating instagram post on 3/18.
  • Make sure there is a way for me to reach you, if you win!
  • Giveaway ends Midnight Saturday March 20th.

So, tell me your adventure!

just a case of the february…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

I hit the second half of February in solid migraine form. I was in bed, living in a heightened state of nausea. The following week my husband had his second dose of the Pfizer vaccine and he was down for the count for three blurred-together days. (his blur, not mine. I was clear headed, but they were unnaturally long days.) The day that he felt human again was the day I was knocked back down:

fever.

chills.

migraine fest.

fatigue.

It was like we were tag-teaming on the worst part of winter blues and seasonal illness, except that he had a reason and I really did not.

In this era of C-19, when every sniffle raises a heightened paranoia, I made the decision to label whatever mystery was bringing me down (life? fibro? stress?) as February.

Are you feeling better? What do you think it was? I am, and February. It was February.

It works, don’t you think? It works because February is possibly the worst of the months. Winter is dragging on (or unfairly pummelling Texas, if we’re lasering in on this year) and though the days are growing a bit longer, it doesn’t matter too much when it’s still cold outside.

Beyond realizing that February is my least favorite of the twelve months, I thought I’d take this end-of-the-month reflection time to share some other things I’ve learned through these past four painfully long weeks:

  • Our little rescue kitten Darcy is nine months old. No one told me that nine months would bring her heat cycle. It was short, but those days were intense. Mostly we both just felt so bad for her. Bless. Also, our vet can’t get her in until April… Will she cycle again? I know nothing… except that the vet will only see her 8 weeks POST cycle so fingers crossed she does not.
  • Because we could not go out for Mardi Gras (something we love to do, even if we are here in the north), I decided to make some Creole food at home. The dirty rice was pretty meh, but the shrimp dish I made was PHENOMENAL and the beignets were a bit like heaven. All in all, a win.
  • A fellow writer talked skeptical me into joining Clubhouse. I was 100% convinced it was stupid and I’d hate it. It turns out it’s timely, pretty fantastic and I love it. Since so much of my job and passion involve community and connection, it has been an incredible experience.
  • Meundies. Have you heard of them? I was told they were the “softest and most comfortable underwear on the planet” and, once again, I was super skeptical. I was wrong. They are heaven. Also, here’s a code to save you $20. Trust me, you WANT to save it to this.
  • I spent moments in February coming face to face with my pride. Really questioning why something may have hurt my feelings and realizing it was up to me to keep myself in check. Sometimes that self reflection can feel really scary and trust me, I am no expert. Growth can be painful, but these growth moments were so healing.

And now, we are practically at March. A beautiful, closer to Spring blank slate and I am here for it- tired, but ready…

some form of something…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

As a classic self-doubter with added combo bonus of overthinking, when I set out to learn about liturgies, last month, I was unprepared. Initially, writing a liturgy was a bit of a challenge that came about in my Mastermind group. While the other women talked about the books they’d read and their own experience with liturgies, I sat scribbling mental notes that looked a bit like Learn how to write a liturgy.

And so, I googled “how to write a liturgy.”

Then I scoured pinterest in search of the best, most straight forward liturgy how-to.

I kept my eyes peeled for some mystery webinar on the subject, which would inevitably pop up in my internet ads, as literally all things I search for do.

I had misconceived that I had to create some formal/fancy form or religious, old-fashioned poetry.

When I found no guidance, I began reaching out (subtly at first, and later full-on-begging) for ANYONE to tell me how this was to be done. I needed help…

But really, I didn’t.

I believed that I needed line by line instruction, and could list out a dozen (plus) reasons why I was not capable of such a task. (things like my lack of education, my disregard for traditional writing strategy and rules. Good grief, I hadn’t even known what a liturgy was before last month.)

My lovely friend sent me the book Every Moment Holy and, as I poured over the pages of beautifully crafted captures of often ordinary moments, I began to see myself in them.

In the cups of coffee.

In the moments of mundane uncertainty.

In vibrant sunsets as well as the eighth miserable day of Pennsylvania drizzle. Slowly, I began to understand this need that I have to operate on a level deeper than merely existing. I began to realize that this notion of liturgy could be my how.

I could chop vegetables for a stew, while being overwhelmed with the volume of pain I felt with each movement, because this body of mine lives in a constant state of such hardship… OR… I could choose to work through this place of intentional gratitude for my ability to make dinner at all, preparing the meal with love. I could choose to soak in the stillness of routine, coupled with the natural engaging of my senses, as I did the tasks before me. Suddenly, the basic chore of folding my husband’s t-shirts had become something so much deeper, and satisfying.

The truth is, I’m just me. Some super brilliant theologian could stumble upon these words and tell me I’ve got it all wrong. To this I may respond two ways… First, I may urge them to move along because everything here is not meant for them, and I feel complete peace in that. Second, while many may feel that my acts of doing the mundane in intentional and connected ways cannot be an act of worship, I kindly disagree.

Here’s what I know:

When my feet sink deep, into collapsing sand as the sea kisses its shore, I am my most authentic me. As the sound of waves crashing thunders throughout my very core, I am my most connected me. While the aroma of salt and life take over my senses, working together to form this entire experience, I am directly plugged into the very thing that fills me up. I believe this is God, and I begin operating on a wavelength so different than everyday life. For me, this is my truest form of worship. It does not need “praise hands” lifted high, or Chris Tomlin written lyrics sung from my lips.

When I am in a still, mossy wooded space, deep in the mountains, I am my most authentic me. With the morning, patches of fog littering the air, I am my most connected me. The gentle gurgle of a creek breathing life, somewhere nearby, can carry me straight into that same wavelength of centered connection.

The collection of these moments keep me going in the harder times, as I believe they are the moments when I was tapped into my Creator… In those times, I am made up up gratitude, love and serenity…

My reality, however, is that I cannot always take to the coastline or the mountaintop. What if I could choose some form of something in my daily moments along the way?

My life is not a liturgy. I am WAY too messed up for that. I am learning that my days however, can contain them…

(In the most synchronistic turn of events, I stumbled upon a 30 day instagram challenge, for the month of November, utilizing the hashtag #liturgyofthelittlethings. Already, just a few days in, this has been a centering practice during these days of anxiety and election overwhelm.)

brink…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

It was the September of my 20th year when the combination of feel and scent in the air took me back, ala’ movie montage moment, to so many Septembers past. High school Septembers, Jr. High autumn evenings. Flooding, internally, from one to the next.

When I was thirteen, I declared I would one day have a daughter and name her September. It turns out that I neither had a daughter, nor named a child (or pet) that. I do not regret this, just so we’re clear.

All in all, if we were keeping score, September probably shouldn’t be a favorably definitive month for me. It was when school years began, and growing up I was not a lover of school. September marked my first full month as a group home kid, when I was 12.

It carried me into my two definitive adolescent romances, which led, in different ways, to deeply broken hearts…

It also, in fairness, introduced me to my husband, when I was seventeen. That September nearly killed me, as I dealt with a health crisis of extreme proportions, which may (or may not- we will never know) have led to my inability to carry a pregnancy to term. Pretty much nothing, at all, was going remotely ok that September, but in walked Chw and I knew that the two of us would be married, so for that I will declare September 1993 a victory.

A year later, September would bring us full circle, to a horrific miscarriage.

Why it stands out to me that Septembers marked more loss than gain, I’ll never know. Sometimes my biggest gifts (I met each of the kids I loved like a mother loves, in Septembers. First, 2000 and then 2003.) Beautiful gifts, further falling in love and inevitable heartbreak.

Shattering.

Destroyed irreparably.

September…

Two of my three beloved dog besties were laid to rest in Septembers.

My husband left me for another woman in September. Though we reconciled two years later, that first September had us glued to the tv as planes hit the towers and we gained perspective unlike we’d ever had before.

SO MANY milestones of trauma mark the ninth calendar month, of the year.

And still… still, I find myself to be a lover of September. The autumn air ushers in this crisp scented magic, and I am here for it.

This year’s janky calendar had hoards of people unable to wait for summer, because summer would fix the world.

Then it didn’t.

And now, now people are chasing after pumpkins, and spice and new sweaters earlier than ever, with a misplaced faith in this next season bringing the reset needed to right the world.

I don’t know… Maybe it will. September has proven to be a magical and tricky beast. These Sept’s of past have been known to bring about some incredibly unexpected gifts- I’ll just caution us all to be weary.

Whatever these days actually hold, (and let’s be honest- it’s 2020, September could bring us ANYTHING!) I’m pretty certain we will arrive at the first of October scathed in someway.

For all of us, I hope it is a beautiful healing way… A restorative way.

I’m cautious, but also here for it. Despite the track record, I’m a September girl through and through…

A powerful thing…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

A million years ago, we crossed into a new millennium.

I found myself a twenty-three year old divorcee with a trail of miscarriages, health issues and heartbreak in the jet streams behind me. Because I’d become a wife so young, and essentially achieved grown-up status as a child, in many ways it felt like I was beginning my life again.

With all of the change, why not add in my first solo-cross country move? I took a position in rural Kentucky and a Greyhound took me on the thirty-six hour adventure to my new life.

Prior to this unexpected chapter, I had always been the girl who prided herself on having an easier time forming friendships with guys, over girls. Sure, I’d had girlfriends, but I found it so much easier to be real with my guy friends. And then, suddenly I was in my new life, making new connections and friendships.

FORTUNATELY for me, the housing situation paired me with the sweetest girl, who I am still so grateful to call one of my dearest friends. Because we worked such long, and often opposite, schedules- it wasn’t super regular that we hung out. Quite often, the early foundation of our friendship was laid, brick by brick, around our shared kitchen table over Kraft mac and cheese, with music videos in the background and generic soda. We learned not only to laugh, and share, together- but I learned to heal and grow though that.

A few times, our days off aligned and we were able to take the winding mountain roads into town for a meal and some shopping. On one of these particular trips, normal for most girls but so foreign and mysterious for me, she mentioned needing lipstick.

I did not wear lipstick. In fact, I wore minimal make up. I didn’t love it, I didn’t understand it. I had never had anyone show or explain much of it, to me. I knew that my mother was glamorous and all about beauty, when she was in the mental health headspace to care about such things, but I’d left home long before I would have any interest in such things…

At some drug store, in small city Kentucky, my adorable friend Laura taught me about lipstick. She taught me about color matching, to the back of my hand, and about how a good lip color can bring with it the power to change an entire day.

Over the course of our months living near each other, this special girl would become the first deep female friendship I’d really know. She held my secrets and listened to the things. She would co-carry the load of inside jokes and sway with me to the rhythm of Dave Matthews, which was the very first magical thing to bond us. She would read a hilarious book, and then loan it to me so that we could swoon and talk about the same things. There are a thousand things my friendship with Laura shaped about my life, and the chapters of life that would unfold. I remember so much of it, etched clear as day, in my soul. The most prominent of memories though, is that Tuesday afternoon in the make-up aisle.

The truth us, a good lip color can deeply impact a lot of things, but the pure & honest friendship and support of another woman has the power to change the world.

I tell this story in this week’s episode {76} of the Collective. That is about the extent of what I bring to the table really, because our guest Katie Allen is an absolute FORCE and as she shared about reconnecting with herself, (and lipstick, I won’t lie) I was happy to just absorb her awesomeness. Women supporting women is a powerful thing!