37 things I learned this year

I love traditions. I like to keep track of change and growth. And my sister is getting married in less than two days so my creativity is a little frazzled. So here's 37 things I learned this year:


1. Moving sucks. On all levels. At every point. From wrestling the packing tape onto boxes, to the painful goodbyes. Moving Sucks.

2. Growing out your bangs takes way more time that I thought.

3. Graduation gowns make no sense. I bought this awesome dress so that I could cover it with the polyester equivalent of a garbage bag.

4. Ummm guacamole is awesome!!! Why didn't I know this before now???

5. When your mom gets a boyfriend, it's pretty equal parts of gross and cute.

6. My wedding cake was delicious. Again - why didn't I know this before?

7. Most of the experimental frappuccino flavors were awful. Just sayin'.

8. How to play Dominion. It's nerdy, but it's fun. But mostly only if you're a nerd.

9. Luke really likes ice cream. I probably should've guessed this, but it's a new thing for us this year.

10. It's okay to work a job that you don't love, so that you have health insurance for the person you do love.

11. I really miss my job at the YMCA.

12. There is a TON of paperwork involved when buying a house. If you're wondering where the rainforest went - it's in my loan application.

13. How to make a pour over coffee... or is it just 'a pour over'. Obviously I didn't learn the lingo.

14. Justin Bieber isn't all bad. This new album is pretty cool.

15.  The difference between Dementia and Depression in older adults. Often misdiagnosed.

16. The greatest class I ever took in college was American Military History, in my very last semester, in the town of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Who would've thought.

17. How to DIY a kimono.

18. Make sure you measure twice for curtains and couches.

19. How to put up a tent in the woods... you call Mom. That's how.

20. Meme apps are the best. Especially if you have an ugly crying face picture of your sister. Or you create a pig named Pablo.

21. Having a fake son for a week was way easier than you all make parenting out to be.

22. I don't know why my mom didn't kill me before I made it to adulthood.

23. How to use a selfie stick.

24. This whole pulling trend with coconut oil is just gross, and I can't do it.

25. How to lose your mind at the Vera Bradley Annual Sale, and then suddenly regain your sanity when you get your total at the checkout. Ouch.

26. Time with people I love became more valuable this year.

27. I don't need more clothes.

28. Avatar the last Airbender is on Amazon Prime Video.

29. Donuts fix just about anything. Except obesity.

30. Trust your husband. He may just come  home with a fantastic couch. But also send Shea with him. That helps too.

31. To be loved by a good man is more rare than I thought.

32. Dysons really are better.

33. The cassette tapes I listened to as a kid are now available on iTunes.

34. Apple Music may be better than Spotify, but love is love. And I love Spotify.

35. If I was brave enough, I could pull off maroon lipstick. I'm just not that brave.

36. Krispy Kreme is not Dunkin Donuts. Krispy Kreme will never be Dunkin Donuts.

37. The older I get, the faster time passes.

Coolest year ever. Seriously. Starting in total confusion, and ending in a home - my own home - in a town full of people I love, in a place where I belong and thirty minutes away from my mom. That's a pretty big leap folks, and I'm still reeling from it to be honest. How could this all have been just one year?

Thank you for being part of my year.

With Love,

Emily LeVault

That thing he said about you

I've made a few mistakes in life (maybe more than a few...), and one of them included dating someone I just shouldn't have. Right now you might be wondering why I bring this up, you might be grossed out, or you might be afraid this is going to be one of those cathardic, way-too-personal-posts.

Deep breath. Stick with me.

A few weeks ago, something really cool happened. I heard this same guy had recently dumped someone else. For whatever reason, I decided I would call that girl.

It's weird, I know. But it felt like something I needed to do.

It was the coolest seven minute conversation I've ever had, and I spent all of it telling her the things I wish someone had told me when I got dumped.

I also realized, it's probably time to take my own advice.

And because we are tight [you and me, here on the internet] I think you need to hear it too.
If you hate it, just ignore it. Otherwise, listen up.

This is not a roast. Even though that could be fun, in a mean-girl-Emily-minus-Jesus-kind-of-way. I'm not roasting this guy.

I will tell you that I don't think about him often, but when I do, only a few words come to mind. It's something he pointed out to me while we were dating, that has been stuck in my head long afterwards:

"You have no personality."

If you didn't chuckle, please feel free to chuckle. Because it's funny. It's a stupid comment, that is so very, very false, for about a million reasons.

Psychology taught me that people are born with personality, that genetics give us personality traits that are evident within the first year of life. Nature and Nurture come together to develop the good, the bad and the ugly within us. A person would have to be nonexistent, to have never ever existed, in order to have no personality.

I know this.

My brain knows this.

I have a piece of paper from Purdue University that says I know this.

But for some reason, I've carried those words around in my head for way too long.

I have allowed them to rent space in my thoughts, in my doubts, to creep out when I was about to go into a job interview, on my first date with Garrett, even when I thought about starting a blog.

Those words someone else had spoken over me, "You have no personality" had me wondering if other people would think the same thing. Would I fall flat? Would I ever be able to communicate what I think and feel? Do people understand what I'm passionate about, what I love, what I hate? Because according to this lie I've let hang out in my heart, I have no personality.

I called that girl because a part of me knew that she too was in the midst of holding onto something she shouldn't.

And I wanted to tell her one thing before it was too late: No one else decides who you are. Not boyfriends, not bosses, not parents, professors, grades.  

None of them.

Maybe I'm just a little nuttier than the rest of you, but I doubt it. So that phrase that's popped into your head while you were reading this - let's get rid of it.

A fantastic way to stop negative self-talk and the cycle of negative thoughts is to memorize a Counter Truth. A Counter Truth is exactly what is sounds like; you need to contradict that negativity with something positive, until you believe it. It needs to be specific and ruthless.

Get serious with your brain. It's yours. You need to take every thought captive. Because if you can cut out gluten and sugar and dairy and post all over my newsfeed about it - then you can do this too.

That thing he said about you, it is not who you are.

Even if it's true. Because maybe what they labeled you with, came from some grain of truth.

Same principle stands.

No one else gets to be the end-all be-all of who you are.

If you're breathing, you've got time to change. You decide who you are, not Joe Smoe. And not the jerk who dumped you.

There is One who made you, who created the DNA that dictates that personality of yours. He knows you. He defines you. You are Beloved, that is your name.

Today, I can laugh at what this person said about me. I am ridiculously fiesty, adorable and hilarious. I'm stinkin' delightful. You would have to be blind, deaf and dead to miss my personality.

But honestly? I can tell you that for weeks afterwards I was scrambling to find my personality, because he'd told me I didn't have one. And I don't want that for you.

Scariest thing ever: my baby sister, Lou, is on the dating scene. Yikes. And she's on my mind as I write this. I don't want her to hold onto to this nonsense that might be spoken over her. I don't want that for our youth kids, my mom, or for you. But I can't get in your brain and sort out the ugly stuff. That's up to you.

So go forth and kick butt, friends. It's even more important than being gluten-free.

*P.S. I'm not a licensed Psychologist, so do not replace valuable mental health treatment from a professional with my goofy blog post. 

With Love,

Emily LeVault

Dear Kendahl

Dear Kendahl,

I'm writing you a letter instead of telling you things in person for a few reasons:

 a) it's October, which is also pastor appreciation month, and I wanted to appreciate you

b) this summer in a leader's meeting at CIY we were asked to raise our hands if someone had invested in us as teenagers, and I did. Which (of course) made me cry and feel like I needed to thank you

c) you and I are awkward human beings, and if I say it to your face I'll never be able to get through it

When I think about my time in youth group - I cannot remember a single message that Bryan ever preached.

I'm sure they were great, but the lasting impact was the time that you both spent on me.

 Now that I have my own marriage, a job outside of the church, a house and a dog I'm beginning to understand just what it cost you to stop and make time for me.

So, thank you.

Thank you for letting me bake 50 cupcakes in your kitchen for Hannah's surprise party.

Thank you for always being real and honest about life in ministry.

Thank you for taking an entire Saturday to drive me to Lincoln Christian University for a college visit.

Thank you also for eating 20 chicken nuggets with me on the way home.

Thank you for giving good advice, even though sometimes it was tough to hear.

Thank you for asking the hard questions.

Thank you for opening up your home for countless Bible studies, small groups and random meetings.

Thank you for taking us to Steak n' Shake in the middle of the night after that car accident so we didn't have to be alone, even though you were 5 months pregnant annd probably exhausted.

Thank you for listening to my never-ending boyfriend woes.

Thank you for the endless cups of coffee.

Thank you for never making me feel like I was wasting your time.

Thank you for arguing with your husband in front of me -- it's how I figured out people who love each other can still disagree.

Thank you for listening to my current rants about life as a youth pastor's wife.

Thank you for still giving me advice that's challenging.

There are days when I come home from youth group with a heavy heart, and I wonder how on Earth you ever did this. Even with your own struggles and worries, you always made time for me. I didn't get it when I was in high school -  but I'm starting to understand just how hard your job was.

And you have never decked a rude church lady.

In the last year I've come to understand just how much self control that takes, but you still respond with grace.

Thank you for being my youth pastor's wife. Please know that on days when it's hard for me to want to stay up late with teenagers, or open up my home or be at church -- I remember that a youth pastor's wife showed me love on my very worst days. I'm making good on your investment.

Sincerely,

Emily 

Adult-ing is hard. Have a donut.

Lately, I'm in this awkward transitioning stage of life, caught between making Ramen with my Keurig and getting excited about things like health insurance benefits.

I feel like I'm supposed to know what I want out of life.

I feel pressure to be doing epic, bold, and equally responsible things while simultaneously writing a novel and winning my first Nobel Peace Prize.

When most of the time I'm struggling to decide what to eat for breakfast. 

I mean seriously, it's like everywhere I go people want to know when I'm having kids and then they want to know how many kids, and then it gets into this weird-judgey-cycle where they tell me how wrong I am for wanting 23 kids (kidding).

And if I'm not popping out babies, I must sprint to the opposite end of the spectrum and be on some kind of amazing, incredible career path with all of my ducks in row, ready to end world hunger in the next few years.

Guys. 

Some mornings I don't even put on eyeliner because I'm pretty sure I'll do it wrong. I can't decide whether or not to cut two inches off my hair, and I'm just now realizing that Pumpkin Spiced Lattes are not calorie free.

The thought of being a mother terrifies me most of the time because there are days that I want ice cream NOW and I refuse to shower -- I can't be responsible for a tiny human being.

I'm 23 and I [still] have no idea what I want to do with my life.

I just know I can't do it with a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology. 

I want to wear #flannelonflannel but I have a job that requires khakis.

And I'm saying all this because here's what I'm learning: I am enough. 

Right now, in this very moment, with my chipped fingernail polish and my temporary desk job - I am enough.

In all honesty, I like eating Coco Puffs and staying up late to play nerdy board games.

I don't have any idea what to go to grad school for and I don't want a new car.

I like my crappy furniture and the freedom I have to make Garrett cook his own dinner.

I'm even getting better at liking what size jeans I wear.

The point is that I know you are out there reading this and you're not engaged, and no one is hiring you and you are not finding the cure for cancer and everyone wants to know when you're getting a "real" job, or finally settling down, or having kids.

But you need to listen to me: you are enough. So long as you are doing things that are right and good and kind -- you are still enough. 

I have these days where I just sit and freak out; one question about my future leads to another and another which leads to a tailspin of donut eating.

The truth is: I am not pregnant with twins, I don't have a PhD in Psychology and I don't know what I'm going to do when my poor Camry finally quits.

Someday I'm going to publish a book and have a dozen children and maybe even get my Masters... but that is not today folks.

Today I'm going to eat spaghetti in my rental house. Because I can.

8 tips to surviving Small Town Life [from a city slicker]

Once upon a time a country mouse and a city mouse fell in love.
And it was bizarre for everyone involved.

I grew up in the massive metropolis of Springfield, Illinois and my sweet husband grew up in the middle of a field somewhere in Illinois - we come from different worlds.

There were a lot of culture shocks for me when I first got into Edinburg, honestly I'll write a book about it sometime. There were also a fair amount of culture shocks for Garrett when we moved to the booming city of Fort Wayne, Indiana. But the tides have turned and I find myself now LIVING in a small town - something I did not exactly dream of as a little girl.

 My time in Fort Wayne made me soft, according to Garrett, so this summer I have had to relearn these 8 essentials to survival in a small town. I think it's only fair that you have them as well for the next time you find yourself in a town that could fit its entire population into a good sized clown car.

1. Wave - at everyone. This is essential, this is the epitome of etiquette, you MUST do this in order to survive. If you don't wave, you're probably a snob and no one will trust you.

2. Learn something about corn. When all else fails, crops are a great fall back. Everyone sees them, they tell the weather, they tell the season, and someone always wants to complain about how tall-short-green-dry or dead they are. If you can make one intelligent corn comment, the farmers in the room will take it from there.

3. Do NOT ask where the Starbucks is, do NOT ask where the Dunkin' Donuts is. It's in the city, that's where it is and there's coffee at Casey's down the road. Also - you will be mocked.

4. Locking doors is optional. Most of the time no one will break in, the rest of the time intruders will be shot on sight. So really, don't worry about it.

5. Beware of the amount of privacy that exists in a small town - there is none. So if you're building a fence, grilling a steak or you're locked out of your house for the third time and you're crawling through the kitchen window - there will be someone who sees, someone will know.

6. Free range chickens. You know those cows that just roam around in India? Free range chickens, my friends, so stop staring.

7. The lingo will get to you. You will find yourself referring to traveling to the nearest Walmart as "going into town". Grab your bonnet, hitch up the horses and do not forget your wallet...this is no 15 minute trek.

8. The thing I have always found strangest about small town life is something I struggled to put my finger on at first. People move slower, they stop to talk to each other, they know their neighbors, you can just walk to someone's house for dinner and they aren't all that amazing at doing things on time. Here's why: for whatever reason, there still exists a level of grace for one another, a margin for error built right into small town life. It goes against my need for schedules and lists and rules and timeliness-that's for sure. But - hey- it works.

Since we moved I have found myself missing my daily Dunkin' and the seven minute commute to work. But as Garrett lovingly reminds me - there is not enough Dunkin' in the world to make up for being only 30 minutes away from my mom...and Sonic. So should you ever find yourself in a small town - I hope this helps you yuppies survive.

With Love,

Emily LeVault

112 Laconwood

My mom is moving.

Papers are being signed, boxes are packed-officially moving. 

And as we go through the process of sorting through old things and dividing up what we want - I'm starting to comprehend how many stories this house holds, and I want to remember them. 

Because all I know lately is that things keep going, they keep changing. My youth pastors stopped being youth pastors, Rob Petersen has preached his last at Edinburg Christian, my baby sister is getting married and my favorite sandals are on their last summer.
And this house, I want to remember.  

So in case you didn't grow up with me, here's what you need to know about 112 Laconwood:

Here lies two pet rabbits and 30 dead fish. 

Here is where Olivia used sharpe on the carpet and Hannah threw up wedding punch. 

This is the location of about 2,000 couch pictures though the couches and cameras changed. 

Here is where we learned what the grace of God looks like after the bathroom was flooded and the ceiling fell into the kitchen and mom still didn't kill us. 

Here is where someone shut the garage door on the new van, and someone else left the deep freeze open. 

Here lies the naked lady bathroom wallpaper we will never be able to forget.

Here we spent hundreds of hours practicing piano in tortuous 30 minute increments. 

Here was born the OH Restaurant, served on Emily's bedsheet. 

Here is the big tree that we played under, we were just pioneers trying to survive.  

Here our mom taught us that girl power can accomplish anything, like dragging wet carpet out of the basement, painting the bathroom red or mowing on the diagonal. 

Here we learned to cook meatloaf, French braid our sisters' hair and what to do should a semi lose control. 

Here is where we spent every Christmas Eve snuggled up together. 

Here is where we learned how to ride a bike, drive a car and make knot blankets. 

Here is where we got to watch what a woman of faith does when things get scary. 

Here we built snowmen, raked leaves and stepped on rusty nails. 

Here is where we came when school was hard, when boys broke our hearts or we needed laundry done. 

This is where we put up our Christmas tree, this is where we hunted Easter eggs, this is where we carved pumpkins. 

This is home to the emotion bush, dress up in the basement, and game nights. 

Here is where our 'Mana' arrived, and where we watched our mom cry. 

This is where we hunted mice and got a puppy and bred guinea pigs. 

Here on this kitchen floor, late at night with a tub of ice cream, was the safest place in the universe. 

Here is where we struggled, we got hurt, we tried to understand divorce. 

Here is where my sisters became my best friends. 

Here is where we wore eye patches, heart monitors and headgear. 

Here is where we practiced walking in high heels, had time constraints on Internet and a doorbell that called us to dinner. 

This is where we threw surprise parties, played Shangai and fell in love. 

This is where my friends would come, to eat and see my mom.

This is where we fought a lot. Where we apologized as well. 

Here is where I sat and watched my mom do her hair and her makeup on Sundays before church for 12 years. 

Here is where we had water fights in the house. 

This is where we played Barbies, planned weddings and learned to shave our legs. 

This house held ugly curtains, awful rugs and monstrous art work too. 

Here is where I did homework. From 3rd grade to just this year. 

Here and only here is where you'll find beautiful wonderful loud family dinners that most boyfriends didn't survive. 

This is where I said goodbye to the people I missed most the day we moved to Fort Wayne. 

Here lies Titanic, Tourist Trap and Cocoa Jammy Christmas. 

This is where we celebrated birthdays and graduations and mom's new job. 

This is where my family was. Where we grew and changed and loved each other. 

This is where my home was. My family was made here, and so was I.

Lately I'm trying to figure out where I belong. Garrett has this job he loves and we love our church family and we are figuring out our new town. But I'm trying to find my spot- what it is that I'm supposed to do. And I look at this house and this funny front porch and this reminds me of who I am. Where I came from. And what we've been through. I miss these things. And I know that when this season passes, I'm going to miss it too. 

So if they change the front lights and the Rochester Rockets finally lose a State Championship... it wasn't us. 

With Love, 

Emily LeVault

First is the Worst. [happy anniversary]

WARNING: this is about to be a sappy anniversary blog post. So if you're feeling angry and single come back another day. Otherwise, I'm going to try and sum up my first year of marriage in 1,000 words or less. 

First of all, I didn't sign up for this. 

When I got married I was under the impression that I was simply agreeing to combine life goals and bank accounts and maybe have a few bad days and some kids and a dog. 

That's not how it works. 

Second, can we please stop telling newlyweds that this is the "best year of marriage" - please?! 

Because that's not how it works either. 

It just makes me want to poke you in the eyes. Both eyes. 

A year ago today I married my best friend, and I said some really cute vows and I wore a pretty dress and I danced a lot. And I started out thinking I knew what I was getting into - and quickly discovered that I was absolutely clueless. 

I had no idea that I would be so miserable when we first moved away. 

I had no idea that Garrett actually expected to eat a real meal every single day- including weekends. 

I had no clue how to begin scheduling (juggling) bills, insurance and more bills. 

I had no idea that I was so incredibly bad at sharing, but I really am. I even have trouble sharing my toothbrush. 

I hadn't planned on having to actually work at marriage, because dating wasn't all that complicated. 

I had no idea how gross my husband is. He poops, people. And it smells. Also he doesn't clean off the sink when he shaves. 

I did not think that the human being I loved the most could make me so frustrated I would cry. He didn't know he could do that either. 

I thought we agreed on more things than we actually do, like whether or not paintball is a real sport, how awesome white comforters are or how many kids we're having (I swear he agreed to 10 while we were dating). 

Most shocking to me in my first year of marriage is that things do not always go as planned. 

I thought we were working towards mutual goals and sharing a bathroom. 

When I stood up there and I signed on for this marriage, things like broken appliances, emergency room visits, tight budgets, family Christmas and jobs that don't work out were not on my mind. Nowhere near my radar. 

I didn't expect it to be so hard to keep Christ at the center of my marriage but things like health care and Hulu Plus kept getting in the way. 

And sometimes I have to fight this utter selfishness I have over things like my time and my money and what temperature we keep the house at.

It's ridiculous. Because I stood up in church and promised to be faithful through all of these things for the rest of my life. And after one year I'm like- this is hard!!!

But I also thought I knew everything there was to know about Garrett LeVault. I did not, I'm sure I still don't. 

In my vows I explained that I had no idea how much Jesus loves me until Garrett loved me, but truthfully I still had no clue. 

This man has loved me through some ugly, scary, hard things this year.

Through homesickness and a second Freshman year in college, through fear and failure.

Through 2 moves and a lot of road trips. 

I have single handedly destroyed most of our wedding gifts, and he still lets me use the stove. 

I didn't think anyone could be funnier than me- but I've laughed more than I've cried this year. If he meant to make me laugh is a different matter. 

I thought that we loved each other at maximum capacity the day we got married but I had no clue. I love him more today than I did a year ago. 

I also didn't expect how precious it is to share a life with someone. To be a team and a family and to work together to be a living example of the Gospel. I didn't think we would have this much fun. 

It's been a really hard year. And it happened so fast. Things are different than they were a year ago, my expectations have changed, I have been humbled in ways I did not want to be and we have become a solid unit instead of two clueless kids. 

Whether you were there for the beginning or you're here at the end or if you've been riding this out with us all along- thanks for being a part of our first year. 

Now it's time for a brand new year. 

I love you Garrett LeVault.

With Love, 

Emily LeVault

P.S. It was mess day. Happy anniversary/welcome to my life as a youth ministers wife. 

11 Things I did not learn from a professor

So I graduated this month.

I GRADUATED THIS MONTH!!!!! 

And suddenly I'm feeling nostalgic and sappy, reflecting on the last 4 years. 

So these are my words of wisdom after 1,920 hours of sitting in a college class:

1. The grade you receive in this class does not define you as a person. Really. Just because you failed does not mean you are a failure. Just because you got straight A's and posted it on Facebook does not make any of us like you more. Secretly, I like you less. 

2. There are no assigned seats but don't sit in my seat. Don't sit in my seat. 

3. College guys are more afraid of you than you are of them. Kind of like spiders. Creepy, but easy to hit with a shoe. 

4. Make friends in every class. You're all stuck there together. Try to avoid the "adult learner" who asks too many questions. 

5. Sometimes all you need in life is Ramen, ice cream and Netflix. And a big comfy chair. 

6. Your roommates are probably not plotting to kill you or -much worse- eat your food. Probably. 

7. You don't have to drink the kool aid. Retain your personal beliefs and avoid being brainwashed by your professors. Because honestly they are overweight white guys with a few extra pieces of paper. Not God. 

8. There is so much more to life than what you are doing now. Right now you are trying to make sure the indentations are correct on your References page. There is a lot more to the universe my friend. 

9. Park strategically. 

10. College is not the point of life. So stop feeling like you have dishonored the ancestors just because you don't like it or you skipped class or you drop out. 

11. Community College is way underrated. At $89 per credit hour nobody puts Lincoln Land in a corner. 

And that's a wrap. #classof2015

With Love,

Emily LeVault

IKEA lied.

IKEA is a beautiful place. 

If you've never been, you'll just have to believe me. It's beautiful. There are floors upon floors of what a perfect house can look like. Perfect kitchen, perfect bedroom, perfect office-- just perfect. 

When we got married, I thought we were on track for the IKEA life. I mean sure, bad things happen to good people-- but if those good people also live in an awesome house with fluffy white towels... how bad can the bad stuff really be? 

IKEA convinced me that if I just registered for enough fluffy white towels, designer pots and pans, Apple TV and three spatulas, that life after marriage would be perfect. 

So, I registered us for the perfect life. I thought of everything we could ever possibly need and then about a hundred things we would never need. I convinced Garrett to let me have the most perfect apartment we could find with new paint and new carpet and vaulted ceilings -- all a part of the perfect equation. I had everything we needed for our life to look like an IKEA catalog, and all we had to do was get married and move in. Life was going to be perfect. 

IKEA lied. 

After we got married, life kept going.
Not in the perfect IKEA way I thought we were destined for, no. 
In the same way that Garrett and Emily had done life before. 

We had a beautiful set of pots and pans- that were not dishwasher safe. We discovered this after we put them through the dishwasher. 

We had fluffy white towels... until they got washed with one very bright blue towel. 

We had this awesome kettle that whistled and everything... until I lit it on fire. 

We had matching sugar and flour canisters... until they fell off of the fridge and shattered. 

We had an Apple TV remote... until it magically disappeared. 

We had a Keruig machine... until it spontaneously died. 

We had a blender... until it cracked up the side, mid-smoothie.

The list goes on: can opener, waffle maker, butter dish, Mac charger.

My point is... that the IKEA fairy never showed up in the LeVault household and life kept being life.

We're moving back to Illinois in a few weeks.

We've prayed about this decision for months. We've labored over it, pros and cons, back and forth. This is what we know is right for our family, this is where God's leading us. But this is not what I had planned. This was not part of my IKEA-perfect life.

When we got here I was surprised to find that instead of perfect, I was heartbroken, lonely and homesick. And after a few months of that, I started to wonder why on earth God had brought us to Fort Wayne, Indiana. 

I still can't tell you why. 

I do know that while we were here, God taught us a lot. 

While we were here I had to take a giant dose of humility by becoming a college freshman again, and cleaning up vomit professionally. 

While we were here God gave us a small group to do life with.

While we were here I learned to rely on Garrett. 

Today is my last day of work; I keep crying about it and laughing too. If you had told me nine months ago that I would mourn leaving Fort Wayne I would have laughed at you. But God changed my heart, He gave me people who love me and a place to belong. And miracle of all miracles,  I'm finding it hard to say goodbye.

IKEA was so wrong. You do have to pay for electricity. And my house has never looked like the catalog. But this way is better. I get to watch God being so much bigger than the hard, imperfect things in life. Honestly, I am wrecked over what He has done, how He has blessed us, how things have lined up and the timing that has brought us to this moment. 

It is time for us to go. Goodbyes are hard, and plans have changed. 

But I am so thankful for a God who shows Himself in the brokenness of my imperfect life. 

This past weekend Garrett left for a paintball expedition in the woods (let that sink in). As I was getting ready for bed I noticed a lone bright orange toothbrush sitting on our bathroom counter... mine was nowhere to be found. 

As we come to the end of this adventure in Fort Wayne, I'm not sure what to say. God has done amazing things here. None of them were what I had planned. How perfect is that. 

With Love,

Emily LeVault

$7.40 an hour

Have I mentioned that I love my job? I mean I love my job.

Which is a little strange, because I make a whopping $7.40 an hour for mostly changing diapers, picking up the same toy 12 times, and preventing toddler suicide.

But all the same... I love this job.

Believe it or not, I have some really bad days. I get bad grades on exams that I don't study for, I don't make it to classes, I have a messy house, and there are a lot of situations that I cannot control or predict at the moment.

But man, am I good at child wrangling.
There are days that I just need to know that I am good at something - even if that something is wiping noses, reading Cat in Hat and sanitizing toy dinosaurs.

I wanted to share this with you, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to pay you much more than $7.40 an hour to come and see it for yourself - so I will bring Child Watch to you.

My favorite moments are when words come out of my mouth, and then I look at my coworkers like - "In what world should I be saying that?" 

For example:

"Please stop licking the floor."

"Take your hands out of your pants."

"Take that car out of your mouth."

"Stop playing in the toilet."

"Did you throw up in the box of dinosaurs?"

"Stop hanging on the door."

"Stop climbing in the windows."

"Do not eat the crayons! You will puke!"

"Please stop licking the window."

"Have you seen this baby's thighs?"

"Put your dress down."

"Pull your pants up."

"Did you pee in your shoes?"

"Please stop licking your brother."

"Yo sé que usted está jurando en español."

"Is that poop? No, he just puked up brown crayons."

"No, I can't marry your dad."

"I am not your mom."

"No, I will not take your children home for the weekend."

This place is crazy. It is made for crazy people. Small crazy people. And I've realized this month (sadly enough it did take me this long) that this place is where I do ministry.

There are kids that come to the Y for their only hug that day, there are little girls who don't have moms to braid their hair, there are parents who feel like no one else cares about their "difficult" kid, and there are foster kids who hate where they live.

A lot of people are looking to be loved in Child Watch. And sometimes I am 1000000000% there and I'm ready to go, but some days I am tired and I am grouchy and I don't want to pick up any more vomit.

Last week I was talking to a toddler, I was saying something about how pretty her hair was and then this little girl named Emery pipes up "Am I pretty too?" And then I remembered: little girls are listening.

I can't control what happens to Emery any where else, all day long. I can't even decide if she is ever going to come back to Child Watch, or if I'm going to see her tomorrow. But I get to love her while she's with me. Of all the crazy things I say all day long, more of them should be out of crazy love.

I don't know where you work, and I don't know how you feel about your job - but I am positive there are people you are over looking. There are people who need to be loved. Chances are the people you work with are not adorable six year olds, I'm guessing they are a little more difficult. But I encourage you to start looking for them. It will make your job way awesome.

Even if your job is toddler suicide prevention.

With Love,

Emily LeVault

28 Mondays

 

     

February was a month full of Mondays.

Like, horrible-early-way-too-sunny Mondays. 

Somehow we struggled through - our good humor still intact. 
But just in case you ever run into a Monday, or a Tuesday (Monday's ugly sister),
here are 28 things guaranteed to get you through:

1. Dunkin Donuts Coffee. Dear Anonymous Reader... I love you. And every time I got a coffee this month I was reminded of you, sweet Coffee Angel. Thank you for your encouragement- it arrived with impeccable timing. I think it was a Monday...

2. A blanket scarf. 2 yards of pure flannel; and suddenly it's publicly acceptable for you to carry your blanket to class. 

3. A big dumb dog. Preferably the kind that like to snuggle. Mine has to be sedated before we can snuggle. 

4. Watch Garrett eat sushi. Especially for the first time, in front of strangers. It's a hilarious mix between polite and nauseous.

5. Wear your lucky underwear. No one else has to know, but you'll know. All Monday long.

6. Spend your grocery money on Scentsy. You'll be hungry, but you'll smell good.

7. Rent movies from the library. Because they're free. Unless you forget to return it. 

8. Dance. Dance like no one is watching. But first, seriously-- make sure no one is watching. 

9. Pinterest.

10. Grab your friends and get to the nearest Mexican restaurant. Run, don't walk.

11. Watch 5 episodes of The Office in a row. We recommend 

• "Classy Christmas" 
• "The Injury" 
• "Goodbye, Toby" 
• "Scott's Tots" and of course please please please watch: 
• "Diversity Day". Please.

12. Call in sick. We know you're not sick. Your motivation is just feeling a bit under the weather. Best not to spread those germs ;)

13. Treat-yo-self at Walmart. Every kind of Ben and Jerry's and all those $5 movies that are already on Netflix. 

14. Take a nap. Babies and cats and old people know where it's at-- take a nap. 

15. Peruse through AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com. I learned this one from Robey Smith. Guaranteed to make anything you're going through feel normal.

16. Wear a hat. 'Cause your day 3 hair is nobody's business but yours.  

17. Buy the cupcakes. Do you need the cupcakes? No. But Mondays are tough and cupcakes are good.

18. Just cry it out, man. If you need help getting started, watch a few episodes of Parks and Recreation. Ron Swanson will have you weeping buckets by Season 4. 

19. Go ahead and binge watch every Jane Austen movie ever made. Trust me, you'll feel much better.

20. Buy something from Jen Daisy. Also just discovering that they now have a website... that always helps the Monday Blues. [jendaisy.com]

21. Manage to get a mild concussion. You get ice cream and sympathy out of the deal, but no permanent brain damage. 

22. Listen to Taylor Swift. I know you haters gonna hate, but then you're gonna get in your car and sing along. 

23. Make yourself laugh. Maybe its just me... but I am hilarious. I just can't stop laughing long enough to tell you why. 

24. Eat breakfast for dinner. Chances are your Monday morning wasn't all that bacon-filled, and you should fix that. 

25. Phone a friend. A good friend, who isn't gloomy or realistic. This is not the time for realistic friends.

26. Watch this video: Ultimate Dog Tease

27. 
             

28. And finally, remember this: you're never alone on a Monday. Or even through a month of them.

"So let’s not allow ourselves to get tired of doing what is good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith." 
Galatians 6:9-10

"Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The Devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Keep your guard up. You’re not the only ones plunged into these hard times. It’s the same with Christians all over the world. So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does." 1 Peter 5:8-11

I'm encouraged in knowing that your Mondays suck too. 
Thank you for fighting the good fight, even on bad days. 

And don't worry: Friday is coming. 

With Love,
Emily LeVault

Tbh. [To be honest]

I just need to put this out there.... this week is trying to kill me.

I'm being serious.


Since about Sunday at 8:00 am to right this second, things have been going wonky.

We fought the good fight over the Church Budget.
 I started school, I dropped about five classes and scrambled to rearrange and find five more in the final hours of registration. I hate my classes.
 All of the people in my major have been friends for four years and I know absolutely no one.

 I'm in 2nd year 2nd semester Spanish.
That is a place I do not belong.
 Remember that feeling you used to get when it was Mile Day in P.E. class in third grade, when you were mentally willing yourself to throw up or fall down the stairs so you didn't have to run? That's how Spanish class makes me feel.

 My work schedule has been crazy, with more bathroom mishaps than I have been witness to in the last four months combined. I had to explain to my boss that I would not be showing up for my shift because my classes got rearranged, I locked my wallet in Child Watch when I closed on Tuesday.

I ate rotten lettuce, I've caught myself staring at other people's cups of coffee, Jimmy Johns does NOT deliver to my address, I got to Wal-Mart and realized I had no purse and no wallet, we got a notice from the landlord, I wasn't in Springfield for my Grandpa's surgery, Daniel would quite frankly be ashamed of the way I'm eating and my battery was dead this morning.

I've had the kind of week that makes you want to crawl back into bed until it passes-- except, yesterday my dog peed on my bed.... so there goes that plan.

I've missed my first class this morning, only to discover homework that I didn't do, online forums I have no idea how to access and another 11 hours before I can go home. I'm starting to consider moving into the bathtub... Luke hates the bathtub.

All the while under all of these tiny things there's this big answer Garrett and I are waiting for. Obviously I'm doing a bang-up job of waiting well.

How does one wait well? I wouldn't know, ask my husband.

I was going to post at the end of the week but I'm so scared that if I wait any longer more things will go wrong.

I think I might have brought this all on myself by informing you all that we are confident and content to wait for God's answers. He decided to test how true that actually was.

Here's the truth: everyday this week, multiple times a day,  a cry of impatience and frustration comes out of my heart. I want to know now. If I just had the answers, everything else would be easier. But still no answer.

I've made a few New Year's resolutions because I'm weak and so very mainstream: lose weight, go to the gym, read my Bible-- the usual things. But that means that on all of these bad days I've been able to cling to God's Word; I am holding onto His promises. He has overcome the world, he cares for my anxiety, and because of Jesus he hears me when I pray sad, impatient prayers.

I have to tell you the good parts of this week too; I've been doing my best to see them.

I got into all of the classes I needed and Lord willing I am going to graduate this summer. Holy Cow. What an unexpected gift. I thought it would be at least another two years. But at the last minute my advisor called to let me know I was 2 credits short, and I was able to get into a class that was already full in order to get those credits. Whoa.

I got to talk to my sister for 45 minutes this week. It's been a long time.

The people I work with rock.

My awesome husband left work to switch me cars this morning.

I had a cup of coffee today.

This week is almost over.

I'm being honest with you because I am still confident God is going to answer us. If I keep it together and never let you in on my junk, you and I will both miss out on what God is doing and what he is going to do.

So here it is-- this is my life status today.

I'm about to be late to class.
I'm counting down the hours until Saturday.
But I am content to wait-- uncomfortable and unsettled-- still confident in God's plan for us.

With Love,

Emily LeVault