Why You Should Celebrate Everything

18 months ago, when I launched The Letter Project, I had no idea what I was doing. In fact, I just posted the idea of it here on my blog, thinking it might be a little campaign I try out. I had no idea what kind of growth and support I'd receive.

Also? I had no plan. Literally. No systems to organize the requests. No business goals. No concept of how I'd pay for the postage. Nothing. It was an idea I had one day over lunch with a friend and, within 24 hours, I'd posted it. Excel sheets? Nope. Forms to document requests? Nada. Terms and conditions to protect myself legally? Not a thing, butterbean. 

The day I launched (though "launch" sounds like it was more organized than it really was!), Chris and I went to dinner to celebrate. The fact that I'd shared it with the world and received positive feedback felt like something worth acknowledging.

I posted a photo on Instagram and captioned it "celebrate we will." Minutes later, a friend texted me: why are you celebrating? She was only being curious, but I immediately felt ashamed. She knew about The Letter Project. Did she not think it was worth commemorating? Were we being overly indulgent? Were we making something out of nothing? I felt so embarrassed. (Though, it's worth noting this was far from her intention - she was just trying to be a good friend!)

My niece, Della, celebrating life in a big way. :) 

As I reflected on it later that night, I realized accusing someone of over-celebrating isn't exactly an insult. In fact, I want to be just the type of person who does over-celebrate.

I want to take time to recognize small victories. I want to slow down enough to appreciate little wins. I want to sink into the goodness life offers us - both big and small - whenever I can. I want to be vulnerable to the abundant joy life provides, whether it be through big news, like our CNN shoot, or tiny things, like the fact that the previous homeowners planted beautiful spring tulips that just popped up. 

So today, I'm celebrating. It's Friday, it's supposed to be 83 degrees and I'm having an iced coffee later. To me, those three things are worth all of the praise.

Let's celebrate life for its beauty, its simplicity and its goodness. Let's celebrate daily, not because each one is perfect, but because remembering to pay attention to life's sweetness just might be the very thing that makes it sweet after all.

My Hope for Wanting Less {on this Black Friday}

A house I used to live in was recently torn down and replaced by something much more beautiful. It's big and white, with windows and a porch. It has a farm-house vibe in the heart of our favorite neighborhood. It's dreamy.

As I drove by one night, all the lights were on and it looked like it was glowing. I saw the family moving about inside; the owners are younger than me. I thought about the joy they must have felt when they moved in with their new baby, an urban family's dream coming true. 

I rounded the corner to my rental, just up the hill, and I felt jealous.

I found myself dreaming of having that home for myself. Of having a little Saxon babe to put to bed in a brand new room, smelling of fresh paint. I thought about the way the kitchen was probably still packed with boxes. I wondered if they were eating pizza on the floor while making a plan for organizing their new space. All the while, of course, picturing myself doing the same, calculating how (if?) I could ever make it happen. 

I laid in bed that night, listening to the sounds of our friends in the duplex upstairs. Their boots struck the bedroom floor above me, revealing exactly where they were in the house. I listened to Chris' steady breathing; he's always asleep before me. I thought about that cute couple down the street in their big, new house.

But this time, as I took in the simple, easy sounds of our rental, I didn't feel jealous. I felt an overwhelming ease wash over me by the simplicity of our life and space.

Sometimes I find myself yearning for more glitz: a new house, a big vacation, boutique workout classes. Sometimes I troll Pinterest, drooling over all white homes and trips to Croatia. Sometimes, especially today, on Black Friday, I want to buy everything on the internet. 

I'm more than aware that, to some, our current lifestyle is extravagant. To others, we're living super simply. The key is finding the sweet spot. The one that's right for us.

For me, it has been about learning to let go of comparison, knowing that it only makes me want more (trips! clothes! dates!). It has been about practicing gratitude and learning to appreciate the things that give me life - the natural light the pours into our house each morning, coffee dates and outside adventures. It has been about learning to love cooking at home for one another, but appreciating every minute of a date night. 

I imagine this will always be a balancing act. Someday, we may have a little bit more (a home we own, perhaps?). I hope that, even as our life changes, we continue to strive toward simplicity.

I hope I remember the sound of the boots above me and Chris' deep breathing - knowing the familiarity and simplicity of these things is sweeter than the new and shiny that often tempts me. I hope I always remember the simple joy in a good cup of coffee and a morning spent outside. I hope we trend toward less stuff, more time together. Less wanting, more gratitude. 

This is my hope on this beautiful, crazy Friday. 

When Life is Unexpected

My sweet friend Stacy is doing the calligraphy for our wedding invitations and recently came over to show me a handful of options. We sat on my dining room floor, shuffling between 20 different styles she'd created, trying to determine our favorites. 

I laughed as I went to get our invitations from my room - they were sitting in a beat up box, on a shelf in the back of my closet. When you think about glamorous wedding invitations - the beautiful paper, calligraphy and stamps - you don't exactly envision them collecting dust in the back of someone's little Virginia-Highland rental. 

I told Stacy that this has been one of the most unexpected parts of wedding planning. In my baby dreams, on some level, I thought that my life would pause when I got engaged. I didn't think about the fact that I'd still have a job, a lot of stuff to do and the normal highs and lows of life. I thought about the glamour of dress shopping, selecting the band and the pretty flowers. I thought about the rings and cake and dancing. 

But, as we've planned during the last five months, I've come to realize that wedding planning is about so much more than planning a wedding. Chris and I have grown deeper in our relationship with one another and with the Lord. We've had amazing conversations in premarital counseling, overturning parts of our pasts we've never touched with anyone else. We've learned to rely on one another in a new way. I feel God working between us, drawing us closer and guiding us. 

Last week, we went to dinner on a ScoutMob Sun in My Belly deal. We ordered a glass of wine, chatted with the two elderly women on the bench next to us and then got down to business writing on the paper table cloth. What did we want our lives to look like in 10 years? And 5? How about 2? We wrote down baseline needs, smallest wishes and biggest dreams. 

In that moment I thought that if I had a little journal where I wrote down happy memories between Chris and me (which, I should!), I would write this one down. Because, like wedding planning, sometimes you think things are going to be more glamorous than they really are. But, when it comes down to it, you're mapping out your life with a 50 percent off coupon and the pen you snagged when the couple next to you paid their check. It might not be quite as fancy or perfect as you anticipated, but it turns out to be better. 

The moment reminded to keep my hands open during this season. It can be so easy to white knuckle the plans we had for our lives - refusing to relinquish control. But, the more I allow myself to kill those dreams to make room for new ones, the more I realize there was a better plan for me all along. My expectations might have looked different for 29, or wedding planning, or living in Atlanta or my job (or any area of life), but the more I make room for God to move, the more I'm overcome with joy and gratitude.