#blessed

If I hear one more person thank God for their frappuccino or see one more person hash tag the word "blessed," I might throw up. American Christians have used their idea of blessings/being blessed to justify materialism. A new car or a too-big house are not "blessings." A means to get to work in bad weather (gasp, that includes public transit) and a shelter to shield you from the elements - those are blessings. An overpriced specialty drink every morning is not a blessing (even if someone surprised you with it -- their action or attitude is a blessing to you, not the item itself). Sharing conversation with a friend over a cup of coffee - that's a blessing. My entire life I've been led to believe that getting a new purse or the pair of jeans I've been wanting makes me blessed. I've actually thought that being privileged made me blessed. Because I am privileged. No, I may not have a brand new car, a big house, or a fat savings account, but I have never been without anything I've needed (or most things I've wanted, for that matter).

If my husband didn't have a much better head on his shoulders than I do on mine, I would spend every extra penny we have on the most frivolous, useless items I could find on Amazon/Etsy/etc that I think we "need." I would fall victim to the trap of materialism much more than I already do. I buy new clothes to workout in and expensive shoes to walk my dogs, when there are people in my own town yearning to have any nice clothes at all. I complain that I don't like what we're having for dinner because I think I deserve to eat what I want for every meal, when there are people all around me hoping to simply feel full. I think that new clothes and delicious meals make me blessed. I think that what I have that others don't, instead of what I do for others, makes me blessed. I grew up thinking that all Americans are privileged, so there's no guilt in wealth - that if one day I was "rich" it would mean I was very blessed. I grew up thinking that other people were helping those less fortunate, that I could go about my business loving all of my things. I grew up thinking that everything in my life that I saw as "good" was a testament to how blessed I was.

Has anyone ever stopped to consider that calling yourself "blessed" because you bought a new car is offensive to people struggling to feed their children? Better yet, that it's offensive to call yourself "poor" when you want for nothing. Nothing. Every time I think about how incredibly fortunate I am to have a job, a home, copious amounts of stuff, the opportunity to get an education, and a loving husband with whom to share it all, I feel so guilty my stomach hurts. The guilt of being privileged is overwhelming. The guilt of knowing that I can't possibly help every person who needs it is overwhelming. The guilt of complaining about things I have that other's don't is overwhelming. Feeling guilty about being privileged is so damn overwhelming.

All I ask is this -- next time you want to get on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter to tell the world just how blessed you are, go do something for someone who isn't so "blessed."

One Year

A year ago today, I committed to spending the rest of my life with another human being. A commitment I'd said 'yes' to many months before. A human being I had known since I was 15. For the first time in my life, I was living with someone that was not a blood relative. Someone who didn't know all of my day-to-day quirks, and I didn't know his. Someone who, like me, didn't really have an example of what to do in marriage, mostly just what not to do.

It's probably the biggest commitment, besides parenthood, that people can make. Committing to spend your entire life with someone else. Not until it gets hard, not until you get tired of that person, not until it doesn't look how you expected it to, not until keeping your vows feels cumbersome. Forever. Even when that person leaves their underwear on the bathroom floor, or wants to repaint the same room for the 1000th time (who could that be?). Even when you're tired and the thought of being gracious and kind to another person makes you want to scream.

The past year has been quite a journey. I found someone who has seemingly endless amounts of patience for me. Someone who rolls his eyes when I say, "So...I thought of another good idea for a project on the house," and then proceeds to ask me what it is and get excited, too. Someone who listens to my long, impassioned rants about any and everything. Someone who supports me in pursuing what I want in life. Someone who thinks I'm far better than I am.

So Ethan, thank you for everything you do. For loving me, for helping me, for supporting me, and for living this journey with me. Here's to 100 (being optimistic) more. I love you. Let's go eat some freezer cake.

Back to School, Back to School

My new school bag, courtesy of Ethan

In a few short weeks, I'll be entering an academic setting for the first time in 5 years. I'm going back to school to teach high school social studies.

I've always wanted to be a teacher, except for the short span of time in which I wanted to be an attorney (thanks for that, Harper Lee). At 18, after I'd made living arrangements and accepted an academic scholarship at IU, I decided to go to cosmetology school. I wouldn't go back and do it differently for anything.

The past 3 1/2 years in the salon have been an incredible experience. I've had the opportunity to build relationships with people I wouldn't have otherwise known. I've had the blessing of learning how to listen - whether it was venting through struggles, mourning a loss, or sharing in joy - I've had the privilege of being a confidant. Making people feel good about themselves - even with a simple haircut - is an indescribable feeling. The icing on the cake is working with people who support and celebrate with me, always. I will continue this profession, in some regard, as long as I'm physically able.

In recent months, I've felt strongly that teaching is what I'm supposed to pursue, as terrifying as it may be. I've heard endless negativity surrounding education, ranging from criticisms of the state to the teachers themselves. Many feel teachers aren't paid enough or as respected as they should be. I would agree with both, but neither are the reason I've chosen to teach. I'm not concerned with money, my bills will be paid. I don't need respect, I need to teach. I want to know the children that will be entering the real world soon. If one student finds his or her passion in my classroom, if one student receives support and encouragement they aren't getting elsewhere, if one student sees the world differently, if one student realizes someone cares, that will be enough.

Recently, the resignation letter of a high school social studies teacher was released, in which he states that his profession 'no longer exists'. Contrary to what it probably should've done, it only further concreted my decision. It saddens me that seasoned educators are giving up. Yes, I find the current climate of our education system to be dismal, but it isn't hopeless. As long as there are teachers fighting for students, it will never be hopeless. Much like a marriage, I believe a career about which one is passionate must be for better or for worse. Policies will change, our culture will change, our economy will change, the challenges of our youth will change, but the need for good teachers won't. I firmly believe that at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, our society's view of education will shift; its value, and the value of those within it, will be recognized.

Perhaps it all sounds a little dreamy, but what kind of world would it be if everyone entered their passion and career only seeing the negative?

Here's to new beginnings, the fear of change, and hope.

Wordless Wednesday

The weekend was finally warm enough for a family walk!

Raw Diet

When Ethan made the comment that my entire blog would be about our dogs, I tried to prove him wrong. Well..I made it 2 posts without mentioning them. What can I say? Besides Ethan, they're my favorite part of walking through the front door each evening. Which is why their health is really important to me. When my step-mom told me how incredible a turn-around my brother's dog, Jack (a large German Shepherd/Husky mix), made when switching to a raw diet, I took notice. At 7-8 years old, he was already having a hard time enjoying the 5 acres where they live. Just days after visiting a holistic vet in Kokomo and switching his diet, they were seeing changes. As I started to do some online research and read this book, I realized that Willow's excess energy and Tanya's skin problems could all be a direct result of consuming commercial food & getting yearly vaccinations (most holistic vets don't believe in continuing vaccinations, besides rabies, past the first year). The biggest testament to this, is the story of the author rescuing a stray, bringing it into her home, finding out it had Parvo, and her two dogs didn't so much as lose their appetite.

Our new Saturday ritual

We've found a couple local butchers that will give us their scraps for free or really cheap. Ethan has been such a champ about grinding the meat - as vegetarians I don't think we ever dreamed we'd have a freezer full of raw meat. We give them meat and brown rice, with the occasional raw egg or yogurt, in the morning. In the evenings they get cooked vegetables with brown rice. Surprisingly, they get as excited in the evenings as they do in the mornings. I'm happy to report that both of them are doing incredibly well on this diet - Willow is beginning to calm down (as much as an 11 month old puppy can, at least) and Tanya's side is slowly clearing up. We're saving a substantial amount of money by feeding this way and they're getting the proper nutrition they need. Win-win.

Adventures in Soap Making

My family, especially Drew, finds it quite comical to remind me of the phase I had as a child wherein I would make soap. By "make soap" I mean that I poured water and shampoo into a bottle and demanded my family try my new creation. I never claimed to be normal. Well, guess what guys, I've actually made real soap. I got the recipe here and was drawn to it mostly because of its simplicity. The whole working part of the process takes less than an hour, and I suspect will shorten the more times I do it ...that's not to say there were no incidents. I used beeswax instead of stearic acid and I didn't add any scent - this makes for a bit of a strange smelling soap, but it doesn't stay on my skin after showering. All in all, we'll definitely save money by making, instead of buying, all-natural, organic soap, AND I got through the entire process without acquiring a Tyler Durden-esque lye burn. Success.

Yes, beeswax tends to boil over. Lesson learned.

Finished product: 16 rather large bars of soap

It's me, Aunt B

One year ago today, I checked my voicemail to hear Drew saying, "Brittney! Answer your phone! Your nephew is coming!" A very short time later, Carter Jordan entered the world. There's something beautiful about seeing your brother look at his son for the first time, or any time for that matter. Carter is the happiest baby I've ever been around, always smiling and content. You can already tell by the way he looks at Drew that "Dada" is his hero. 

Meeting Uncle Heath for the first time