For Christmas this year, my youngest brother gifted us a new (to us) fisheye lens… and OHMAN have we had some fun with it. I’ll be posting some more silly pictures from the fisheye soon, but here are a couple of photos that the hubster took the other day while we were hanging around the house.
Posted in Everyday Life, Nish Happens, Photography
I walk to Temple Square from my house. It’s a quick walk, only about 10 minutes if I hustle. It’s all downhill going, so the walk home is always a good workout.
Walking through the big iron gates, I admire the architecture, read the infographics in the Visitor’s Center, and chat with the missionaries while Rowan smiles and flirts from his stroller, always with his trusty Hot Wheels car in-hand. I like hearing their story – where they’re from, why they wanted to be a missionary, how they’re enjoying Salt Lake City.
The Temple missionaries, usually young women or an elderly couple, always ask me if I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I always politely answer “No, I’m not,” and explain “But, I am a believer in Christ, and I am a part of a local church here.” This usually incites some good conversation.
During one of my trips to the Temple, I was offered a copy of their Scriptures, as “a gift from The Church,” the young man said. I thanked him, brought the book home and began to thumb through the pages while Rowan snacked on an apple. I remember a conversation I had with my dear friend Allison. She was asked by some missionaries in her neighborhood to read the entire Book of Mormon. After thinking about that concept at length over the course of the last few weeks, I thought “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”
See, here in Utah, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints makes up over 60% of the population. Yes. Over half of the entire state is considered Mormon. Which, if you know anything about Utah, that probably doesn’t surprise you.
But, as I’ve been living here in Salt Lake City, a short walk from one of the Saints’ most sacred sites, I realized that I know very little about my LDS friends’ beliefs. Everything I’ve learned about the Mormon faith has been through others, primarily people who were never Mormon, or who used to be Mormon and are no longer. Which isn’t bad, per se. The people I’ve learned from are extremely smart, analytical, knowledgable, and I trust them.
But.
But, there’s something that I think we’ve lost in our culture of immediacy. We’ve lost a sense of discovery, hard work and independent thought when it comes to learning about other faiths. We take to our computers and scan Wikipedia for a few bullet points. We ask our friends. We maybe read a book or two, but even that is rare these days.
Aside from my friends who used to be members of the LDS church, I’m not sure I know anyone else who has willingly read The Book of Mormon, The Doctrine and Covenants, and The Pearl of Great Price (these are the three primary scriptures in the LDS faith) in their entirety.
Some of the reason is time, and I get that. We all have limited spare time to research and learn on our own.
If we’re honest, some of the reason is fear, too.
As a mainline, protestant, evangelical Christian, I’ve been taught to keep other faiths at arms-length. Never let it too close, and for heaven’s sake, PLEASE don’t read their Scriptures. Right? Don’t get me wrong, I think at some level, it’s healthy to not engage emotionally and it’s healthy to know where I am in the steadiness of my faith. I should always be evaluating that and making smart decisions.
But, at what point will I decide to grow a pair & be intellectually honest? How can I engage a thoughtful, genuine conversation about the LDS faith WITH people OF that faith, without even knowing what their Scriptures say? Without ever touching the pages and reading the words for myself, how can I talk about it with any kind of integrity? It’s too easy to slip into hearsay and assumptions. And frankly, I’m tired of assuming. I’m tired of not being self-informed. I’m tired of putting my foot in my mouth & looking like an ass… it’s awkward, uncomfortable and I’d rather do the work towards a fuller understanding. I feel like I owe it to my LDS friends, neighbors and colleagues to sit and read for a while.
So, over the course of the next year, I’ll be reading the Scriptures of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I’m grateful to have people I trust on both sides of the Mormon faith… those who were once LDS and are no longer, and those who are currently LDS and active in their faith community. I know I can go to them with hard questions and get honest answers. I know they’ll dig in with me and help me understand. I know they’ll keep me upright, and they’ll honor both my desire to learn, and my desire to stay true to Christ as I’ve come to know Him through the Bible.
I might post more about this as the year progresses, I might not. But, I wanted to be open about what I’m pursuing & why, in hopes that it might spark a conversation about what it means to really learn about other beliefs while staying true to our own.
Posted in Church, Faith, Nish Happens, Utah
Tagged Book of Mormon, Latter-day Saints, LDS, Mormon, Salt Lake City, Utah
When I was pregnant with Rowan, I kinda bucked the trends. I didn’t read a bunch of books about pregnancy, birth, or even raising kids. I’ve always had this “come what may” attitude about parenting… and life in general, really.
Even though I didn’t read much, I did read some. And the first blog I found in my journey was Simple Mom.
I loved how Tsh & her contributors sought out to live a more simple life, so that they were freed to live with more intention.
Hubster and I don’t really have a family motto, catchphrase or vision statement… but if we did? That would be it. We crave the simple life. Everything from our spare time to how we spend our money, and how we live in community to how we raise our kid. It’s a passion, a heartbeat, and honestly? Something we struggle with, too. It’s a daily choice to live simply & intentionally.
So, when I found Tsh and Simple Mom, I was hooked from the first post.
And last month, when she asked me to join the Simple Mom team as a contributor? I was SO EXCITED. Honored, surprised, but ohsoexcited. Writing alongside the Simple Mom team is a dream come true for me in my blogging and writing experience thus far, and I can’t wait to jump in.
I’ll be writing primarily about getting your family outdoors… and how it’s a lot easier than it sounds. I hope you’ll join the Simple Mom team throughout the coming year as we share our stories about intentional living.
Posted in Adventure, Blogging, Everyday Life, Nish Happens
To the year past and the year to come, I am grateful for each of you.
2011, you have blessed me richly, peeled back the veils of my eyes & opened my heart wide and raw and I’m not the same as I was when we started out together. You brought me up and down and twisted sideways and there were times when I couldn’t tell if I’d ever stand stable again. You moved our little family into three houses in two states. You sent me to another continent – a trip that left me with the thinnest skin.
2011, when we started, we had plans & dreams. Most of those shifted with the wind and months passed, but we remained faithful and pressed into each day, some with more faith than others. You taught me so much, but patience most of all. As we passed through, I felt like I had my hands tied behind my back, vulnerable to your whims & changing tides. But you proved to be a great year. God used you in the biggest ways to change me as a wife, a mother and a woman altogether. I am wholly different and this new skin suits me just fine.
You weren’t always gentle with me, 2011. I felt ravaged and laid out, sucker-punched and vulnerable. You made me question everything. You reminded me that I still have demons to stare down and the battle isn’t over. I lost my temper more than I care to admit and sometimes, I let the darkness swallow me whole. But, dangling from the limbs, there was always a rope to climb out. Somehow, we made it through you.
No, you weren’t always gentle. But you were often kind & full of abundant blessing. Rowan grew up so much. He’s only two now, but I can’t remember life before him. He stayed healthy and strong. I’m grateful for that.
You saw me to Bolivia and back. I still struggle with what I’ve seen. I still struggle with how I respond. My heart is so tender and I hang onto that trip with heavy sobs and a mind of wonder. The Bolivia trip started in you, 2011, but I think that the aftershocks will last into the infinite years to come.
2011, a tip of my hat to you, for providing incredible music – the tunes that came through you played as a soundtrack to my life. Bon Iver’s “Holocene” sweeps me into another world entirely. Jay-Z and Kanye’s “Ni**as in Paris” is a monstrous & brilliant hip-hop anthem. Gungor’s album is ethereal. Adele’s voice could raise the dead. Florence + The Machine gets played with windows down & at a loud volume. The Civil Wars reminded me why music is important – it ignites passions and emotions buried deep.
____________
And now, my attention moves to you, 2012.
You, with your fresh paint and open canvas. What do you have in store for us? Will we spend months in anticipation of something? Will we feel stable and grounded – the first time in years? Will our roots start to grow in here?
Will I make a mess of you? Will you make a mess of me?
I don’t know what you’ll lay out in our path this year, but I’ve chosen a name for you.
Like years past, I abandon the ways of resolutions and instead, choose a theme. A rhythm. A word.
You, 2012, are my year of YES.
I know you’ve got tricks up your sleeve that I can’t see yet… surprises that I’ll welcome and some that I’ll dread. But, regardless of what you put in front of me, I’ve determined that I’m jumping into you with two feet and reckless abandon.
I’m going to say yes to you.
I’m going to say yes to Him.
I’m going to say yes to Erik and yes to Rowan and yes to the mess. I’m going to say yes to letting people into my unclean house and heart alike.
I’m going to say yes to the beautiful broken transformation. I’m going to say yes to things that scare me. I’m going to say yes to things that I love.
I’m saying yes to wearing my heart on my sleeve, even though it probably means it’ll fall off and shatter a few times.
It scares me to death, this thought of saying YES to all of you. But I’m going for it.
I’m all in. I’m all YES.
Bring it.
Yours,
Nish
Posted in Everyday Life, Faith, Nish Happens, One Word
I knew, upon moving to Salt Lake City, that I was moving to be a part of a community. It’s a unique one… one that values the messy and real things of life. It’s a community that challenges each other and grows alongside each other and we watch each other flourish and transform.
Shortly after our move, we found ourselves jumping into the small group (or House Church, as we call it) that met in our neighborhood. It was one of the largest groups in the community and it was in the middle of some major changes, leadership and location, being the biggest. It was only a month later that we were asked to host the group in our home.
Providing a space for people to gather is easy for me. It brings me joy & a sense of purpose. Hospitality is a gifting of mine and having a house full of people doesn’t stress me out at all. There’s always coffee ready to be poured in our house, and our front door is always open to whoever wants to stop by.
I like providing a space for people to meet, to talk, to challenge each other, to grow together and for people to spread their wings and try new adventures.
The same is true for everything I do online. Specifically, A Deeper Story.
A year ago, I wanted to provide a space that nobody had provided yet. A space where writers who love Jesus could gather, talk about hard issues & messy ideas with grace and an abundance of love. A place where newer writers could find their voice and cultivate it alongside people they trusted. A place where writers could be unafraid to really let it fly… where creative control was really theirs, where nobody sliced and diced their pieces before they were published.
I wanted to offer a space where writers could be a little bit Banksy: Paint powerful word pictures of Truth & human experience on an unlikely canvas.
And so, I did what I’m good at: I simply provided a space. The rest is history and all the credit for any sort of growth & influence needs to go straight to the sensational writers that fill that space every week.
Since its inception, A Deeper Story HAS seen exponential growth and depth. The writers have gotten even more bold and more raw with their words. The mess really shows some days, but the beauty of Truth is always between the lines.
Voices have been found – not just by their owners, but by publishers. Editors. Agents. Print and online publications.
And I guess that’s the nature of the thing, really. When you provide enough space for wingspan, eventually they’re going to use it and fly.
And then, you’re the one being left behind.
I’ve struggled with that lately. As book deals get offered, articles get reprinted elsewhere, speaking opportunities are presented, paid blogging gigs roll in, I have found myself with my feet firmly planted on land, seemingly unable to get myself even halfway up a tree, let alone in the sky.
But after some serious thought, prayer, and long conversations with people, I’m learning that it’s okay to be on the ground, cultivating the land for things to grow and building runways for inevitable takeoff.
Maybe I don’t need to be a star player in the game. Maybe I simply need to build stadiums so the game can be played at all.
I think that’s where I’m most needed right now.
I have a million ideas for book proposals, posts and written pieces. Perhaps one day, I’ll put them to good use and see where takes me. But for this moment, maybe being an architect is the best gig of all.
I can tell you one thing. Watching everyone fly and thrive and flourish makes for one hell of a view. I think I’m going to enjoy it for a while.
Posted in A Deeper Story, Blogging, Nish Happens
“Where you do what you do, matters.” Bob Goff
I’ve always wanted a writing space of my own. Some place with a window and a view, and a door that closes. A space with an overstuffed chair and piles of books and small areas to light candles. I’ve always wanted a space that cultivates creativity.
We live in an old house here in Salt Lake City. It’s 110 years old, to be exact. The rooms are limited and with the hubster working from home in the offseason, he needs an office of his own more than I need a writing space.
So, I compromised a bit on my writing space. In the landing area, just off the kitchen and next to the sliding door, we plugged in the computer on top of a new stainless steel table. I’ve always wanted a stainless desk… I love how clean it feels and how it easily reflects light. We perched a shelf on the wall above and I hung some pictures and started to make the space my own. It’s not ideal, but its great, and it’s starting to feel a bit more comfortable.
I keep my knitting things close by, and I’m trying to gather some pieces for the walls that inspire me. I have so many friends who are artisans and artists, and they’ve been kind to point me in the right direction. But, Rome wasn’t built in a day, so it will be a gradual settling-in.
I keep a few cookbooks up above, along with some necessary resources, like a Bible, a Madeline L’Engle book and Common Prayer for Ordinary Radicals. The lamp on my desk is always on. I like how warm it feels and the pink glass feels airy and light. The mug rug that Mandie made rarely sits alone like that… if I’m sitting at the desk, chances are, there’s a hot drink there.
And my Kindle is always within reach. We all know I can’t leave The Hunger Games trilogy for too long.
So, it’s not entirely finished & it still feels a bit empty, but I’m slowly making it feel more like a space I enjoy.
And some days, the desk just won’t do. So, I take the laptop and cozy up next to the fireplace with a knit blanket on the couch. Comfort is key sometimes, you know?
What about you? Where do you write?
Any tips on making my desk area a little more cozy?
Posted in Blog, Nish Happens
They said this would happen upon reentry. The shattering.
Erik and Rowan picked me up at the airport. Smiles plastered wide, I embraced fully, leaned my weight into theirs and became part of the family again. Rowan’s delight in me, my return, brought back thoughts of children in Bolivia, their faces expectant with the hope of seeing the parent that abandoned them long ago.
With my suitcase in the trunk, I returned. Many parents in Bolivia never do.
I cry quiet in the car as we drive past fast-food joints on the interstate. My hard-shell heart starts to crack.
Everything I encounter is now seen through a different filter.
I’m in the produce section of the market, I’m holding potatoes. I lower my head, close my eyes to see Bolivian women, farming with worn hands and raw hearts, I hear their stories echo in my ribcage and I remember the bowls of fresh-plucked potatoes we were offered at each home. A woman comes up behind me, “They’ve gone up in price since yesterday.” She clicks her tongue in dismay at the added few cents, she adds a shake of her head for good measure.
More cracks. I’m splintered. Tears sting.
I’m standing in the cereal aisle. Stacks upon rows of brightly colored boxes howl at me and I try to focus in through the blur of the tears, barely being held back by the edge of my eyelids. I look for the snack that Rowan likes so much, trying to find the one that has the least amount of sugar. Quaker logo in-hand, I think of the family of ten. The Pablo’s. Eight children, one room. Little to no work and little to no food.
And it happens.
I shatter.
I lose my proverbial shit in front of the boxes of Frosted Flakes and I sit on the floor next to my shopping cart full of “necessities” and weep. Knees pulled into my chest, my arms folded on my knees, head hanging low in the dark between. Heavy, wet tears fall and I feel desperate for air. For hope.
Someone asked a few days ago if I experienced any culture shock while I was in Bolivia.
Whatever shock I experienced there doesn’t hold a stick to how I feel about coming home. Bittersweet seems too kind a word. Too gentle. My soul feels ravaged and I am laid out, peeled back and raw.
I oscillate between wanting to sell everything we own, and wallowing in a half-gallon carton of cookie dough ice cream and mindless movies to numb the remembering.
I’m doubting.
My writing wasn’t compelling enough. I didn’t say enough. I didn’t find enough sponsors for the kids. I set expectations for myself and now I’ve returned and I’m still looking at the bar I perched so high above me. I’m frozen. Unable to move. Even now, as I sit and type with my laptop perched on my legs, I question – what’s my next move?
Now that I have seen, I am responsible.
What do I do, now that I’m home, wrapped up in this American life? How do I continue the work that I started? How can I press forward? How can WE move forward, as a community of believers and big messes?
I have that old Sara Groves song in my head:
Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we areAnd I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
And maybe that’s all I can do right now. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other, stumbling and clumsy, add to the beauty. Make life just a little bit better for one person. Fight for that one child, that one moment that brings redemption in dark places.
I think of Maria. The beauty in her eyes and smile are God-gifted and exquisite and she is made in the image of her Maker. I had nothing to do with her inherent beauty as a child of God. But, by His grace and through the profound work of World Vision, I’m able to add to that beauty. Provide her with a little bit more. Make sure she sees a doctor every year. Has school supplies to study math. Remind her, from thousands of miles away that she is deeply loved, valued and prayed for.
And that’s what World Vision does. One child at a time. One family at a time. One community at a time. Build them up, one by one. Save the life of one, you save the life of many.
Will you add to the beauty and sponsor a child?
All photos © Amy Conner for World Vision
Posted in Bolivia, Nish Happens, World Vision
The drive wasn’t as long today. We rolled into the Viloma ADP, greeted warmly by the Director and his staff. We made our way into a dimly-lit multipurpose room and sat in wooden student desks. I pulled out my trusty black notebook and pen, ready to take today’s notes from the presentation we were scheduled to hear.
A kind and gentle woman named Janet came to the front of the room. She’s a pastor and she led the devotional for us. Then, we heard presentation after presentation about the progress of the community – the security of sustainable food sources, health development, women’s empowerment. I could physically feel the joy from the progress seep into my bones and my heart started to grow wings.
You can read the rest of the post over at Deeper Story. Join me there!
Posted in Bolivia, Nish Happens, World Vision
Today, I wept with the ugly underbelly and danced with hope.
I saw a man, a father, stumbling in a drunken stupor strike his daughter in the wide open as our bus rumbled down the stone road.
Just moments later, I saw jumping, playing, smiling kids greet us at a World Vision empowerment program.
If I’m honest with myself, and you, I’m having a hard time figuring out the disparity between the two images.
The one thing I can tell you is this: The kids that I saw playing at the World Vision school live in the same community as the young girl that was struck by her dad. The problems are not solitary, they are rampant – they are lurking behind every dark corner and under every tin roof. Every kid is vulnerable in this place.
Every kid.
But, one child at a time, one family at a time, and one community at a time, World Vision is making massive strides to replace the dark with the light. To replace the ugly with the beautiful. To replace the dispair with hope.
Let’s choose to be the light. Let’s choose to be the beautiful.
Let’s choose to always dance with hope.
Sponsor a child through World Vision. Let’s change the world.
All photos © Amy Conner for World Vision
Posted in Bolivia, Nish Happens, World Vision
I saw her as soon as I walked into the room. Her bright yellow name tag held her name, but I didn’t need to read it to know it was her. I knew that shy smile from the picture I was given when I first chose to sponsor Maria.
We made eye contact. She blushed and smiled a wry smile, one corner of her mouth turned up. Just like I do. The half-smirk. I laughed. Did she know? Did she know that it was me?
When I sat down to listen to the day’s devotion and presentation, I was two rows behind her, and I stared quietly at the back of her head from time to time, wondering if she would turn around. She did a couple of times, but I was sitting directly behind her, so she couldn’t quite turn around completely without being obvious. I felt my hands start to warm with sweat. I was the one getting nervous to meet her, meet her parents. I desperately wanted it to be a beautiful moment for them, too… I dread the awkward, even though I could probably wear it as my middle name.
The presentation ended and a crowd formed and I couldn’t quite see her any longer. Where did she go? I chatted with a few of my teammates and then, just over the dull roar of the chaos happening in the classroom, I heard it clear as day “Nish, it’s time.”
I walked outside and to the right, and Maria and her parents stepped around the corner. She looked at me, smiled big and wide and shook my hand. I told her how excited I was to meet her, and she said “I was excited, too!” I greeted her parents, too and they shook my hand in the traditional Quechua greeting and I smiled and told them Maria was beautiful. Her father beamed, and her mother said “Yes, she is.”
She looks just like her mother. My heart nearly exploded.
She told me all about school, and the translator explained to me that she is very bright. She does extra math problems at home for fun when her friends can’t come out to play. She plays basketball and volleyball the most, and she loves to paint and read stories.
I told her that I like to do all of the same things, except the math. She laughed.
We sat down on the floor for a little while and I handed her the gifts I brought her. A small basketball, crayons and paper, Ring Pops and a PEZ dispenser, glow sticks, a tiara, a stuffed toy and a Spanish/English Jesus Storybook Bible. I told her it was one of my favorite books and that I love the pictures. She sat, mouth wide open, flipping through the pages. I could only just watch. After a moment, I explained to her that it’s written half in Spanish, and half in English, and that I was going to try to work on my Spanish. She looked at me, determined smile plastered on her face and said “I’m going to learn English.” I nodded.
She will.
Our time came to an all-too-soon end and I stood up to greet her parents again and tell them how proud I was of their daughter, and that they are such good parents to care for her the way they do.
The mother explained to me that she works in the fields with her husband and his father, so she is not home when Maria and her two younger children get home from their hour-long journey from school, so Maria takes care of her brother and sister, washes clothes and gets dinner prepared.
She’s only 11.
I praised her mother for her hard work and dedication to her family. Thanked her father for working to provide for his wife and children. I saw the emotion creep up in their faces and flush their dark skin. They both whispered heavily. “Gracias. Gracias. Gracias.”
Maria’s father reached out and grabbed my hand and asked me to send pictures and letters, they wanted to have my family in their home, even though I live so far away.
Now my skin was flushed. I thought of Erik and how much he would have loved this moment, meeting this man with the beautiful daughter. I thought of Rowan who would love more than anything to play with Maria and her siblings.
Our family grew that morning. Five people in Colomi, Bolivia are now part of our family, and we are a part of theirs. We share a common bond – the strongest bond a parent can know on this earth – the love for a child.
Thank you, World Vision for the gift of family.
Do you have room in your heart to expand your family through sponsoring one child today?
Posted in Bolivia, Nish Happens, World Vision
