We love Jesus AND we talk about sex.

I said the word masterbation in a group of church leaders.  That isn't so surpising for those of you who know me well.  I don't exactly hold back when it comes to those things but all of a sudden I realized that I was teaching real ministers about talking to their youth.   I realize I'm a 'real' minister but I'm talking about colar wearing, pulpit preaching, big kids.  And I also realized that I said masterbation in the first 2 minutes I was infront of them.  Margo Fisher would be so proud.

So rewind... I was speaking at a training about sexual assault and child safety education in religious communities.  I was asked to speak there because apparently not all churchs have these conversations.  Not all youth ministers put their youth through a four week program where they hear the word sex used more than seems humanly possible.  Not all churchs have parents that not only stand behind but demand that their youth learn about sex from their faith community, not the weird kid in their math class. 

Thank God for my church. 
... and for all my parents, who talk to their kids about sex
... and for my youth who have opinions, and questions, and vocalize them. 
... and for a place where Jesus and sex can exist in one sentence.

half way there...

20 weeks down... 20 more to go.  I got dressed this morning to face the Friday.... looked in the mirror... and almost passed out.  There's no more denying it, it's jeans with elastic waist bands and maternity shirts for me. 

happy thought.

We had an aunty day. We hiked in slippers... with no sun screen. We stopped and looked at every rock/dinosaur egg. I found out my aunt had lied to them last time they had taken this hike and told them that there was shave ice at the second pillbox. I ruined their reality and was totally okay with it. We said hello to everyone who passed us. We stopped 16 year olds who thought they were having a romantic moment from necking. We ate spam musubi and a medium slurpee for lunch. They dressed in profession soccer jerseys... it was pretty epic if you ask me. I love my nephews. ALOT.

Home

The past month has been FULL.

Full of traveling.

Full of family time in Hawaii.

Full of Lenten fasting and Holy Week planning.

Full of Ikea trips and Target looking to figure out what our little one will live in and with.

Full of time to think.

It's amazing what 15 hours both ways on a plane from Charlottesville to Kailua can do for your soul. It had been a very very long time since I had the space to think about life in the big ways instead of life in the small-- what are we eating for dinner-- what time can I fit a gym run in-- sort of way.

And for most of that time I thought about home, probably because I was leaving one for another. I thought about Charlottesville home, my pictures on the wall, my chocolate brown couches, the routine we've created here. And I thought about Kailua, the way I can feel what the weather will do, the way each road carries with it a memory, the way my town looks when you get through the tunnel on the H3... like a little Eden.

I was feeling very 'in between' as I flew from VA to HI. Where do I belong? What does it mean to be home? Is it where most of your memories live? Is it where my family is? It is where I was called by God to be? I have no answers for those questions, I struggle with them daily. But the other day as I sat on my chocolate brown couches watching way too much Netflix and feeling very pregnant I looked over and saw this...

The man who has made me fall in love with him a million times. The man who is so stoic it can make me crazy. The man who refuses to get a new wedding band, even though his is scratched, bent, and tattered (after only 3 years) because it's the one we started with. The man who moved across the country with me because of a still small voice that gave us a call. The man who asked my best friend's permission to marry me over pancakes because he knew how important it was. The father of the baby that grows within me....

and I realized

Home is where my husband is.