How To Be A Boss.


(graphic by the amazing yesyoumaigh.  she is most certainly a boss.)

We haven’t really chatted about work much on here…I’m a wardrobe stylist!  Surprise!  :)  I’ve had various styling opportunities in my day.  Everything from in-home consulting to working with brands like Bloomingdale’s and Anthropologie.  They each bring a different lesson.  Some easier than others but all necessary.  Here are a few school-house moments  I’ve learned through styling:

  1. Always, always be kind.  You never know who you’re working with in any customer service platform; shoppers, customers associates, bosses and everyone in between.
  2. Ask for what you want.  Employers can’t read minds and neither should they be required to do so.  It’s up to you, and only you, to ask for what you want.
  3. No one thinks about you as much as you think about yourself.  I was so guilty of this.  Obsessed with appearing teachable and helpful…I had good intentions but no doubt I missed the Spirit’s leading on a few things bc I was so worried about myself.  I’m working on getting over myself so that I can do my job better.  I think that’s called being an adult?
  4. Hard workers work hard in any situation…not just ones they like.  You don’t get to tell a leader that you didn’t work hard at a task because you weren’t given the opportunity to do what you ‘deserve’ to do.  You do the task at hand and deal with potential misleading in leadership later.  Don’t cause a ruckus just because your feelings got hurt.
  5. You will have to work to earn your co-workers trust.  Just because you know that you’re a trust worthy person in your circles, doesn’t mean that your coworkers will trust you right away.  Or ever.  Trust is earned.  And don’t toss is around once you get it because if you drop it and it breaks you most certainly won’t get it put back together.
  6. Respect is also earned.  I don’t care if you have 5 advanced degrees and an alphabet behind your name….if you treat people like they are expendable you will never win their respect.
  7. Obedience is not the same thing as respect.  They often go hand in hand but they are not required to do so.  Think of any type of prisoner, they obey not out of respect for the guard but out of self protection.  Two very different things.
  8. Being honest is always the right thing to do but being brutal is rarely necessary.   In styling specifically, I’m often asked my opinion.  I see this as an opportunity to speak honestly in an uplifting way.  It’s all about the delivery.  One builds and the other tears down and leaves you rocking in a fetal position in the dressing room vowing off denim for life.  And no one, I repeat no one, should vow off denim- my favorite piece of clothing! 
  9. Real leaders don’t have to announce themselves.  Ever.  When a diva walks in, everyone knows it and they confuse recognition for praise.  A boss walks in and everyone acknowledges and follows her lead, not because they have to but because she’s right.  Be a boss not a diva.  Only Instagram likes divas.
  10. Even a dream job has job-like moments.  Doctors still get blood on their scrubs and teachers still have to do paperwork.  Stylists still have to push racks and fold clothes.  When an occupation has ‘job-like’ moments don’t overlook the fact that hard work naturally produces humility.  Praise the Lord!

Be a boss not a diva.  You’re better than that.


The Quiet Years.


Our 9th anniversary is coming up soon.  Actually, our 9th anniversary is on 9/9 so that’s cute.  Nine feels big for some reason.  I can’t quite put my finger on it but it feels substantial in my mind.  I think it feels momentous because it’s almost double digits.  Whoa.  Only old married people have been married for double digits.  The other reason it feels big is that I’ve recently been hanging out with some mid-twenties young ladies and one of them who has a boyfriend told me she wants to be me ‘when she grows up.’  Sweet, right?  Except I’m only 31 and now I feel like a dinosaur.  Didn’t see that one coming, college version of myself, did we?

In nine years we have learned what forgiveness means (over and over and over) and brought two children into this world by the grace of God, had a few job changes, three houses, lots of late night talks and some family tragedies.

In between all the excitement of the above events, when things slowed down and the evenings were ripe with conversation and prayers for early bedtime were answered, were the quiet years.  The quiet years gave us footing to handle the crazy.  Granted, even the quiet years weren’t necessary all quiet but still were calmer and routine and, yes, sometimes even monotonous.  We had to fight for connection and chose to lean into one another when other sources were calling us apart.  Work, kids, volunteering, family….they all have their own voices that, positive as they may be, do call us away sometimes.  We have to practice selective hearing from those outside voices and constant communication inside the home and with our Father.

The last nine years have demanded a lot from us but it has also given much in return.  I won’t tell you how many years have been quiet years but I’ll tell you that they steadied our ground for what was to come.  Even before we realized what was happening.  The quiet years could also be called the grounding years.  The anchor years.  And perhaps even the gifting years.  They are vital and necessary to a healthy relationship as it’s impossible to move forward with only busyness and hectic schedules to connect you.

I wish you quiet years, friend.  And some crazy because who wants just quiet?  But only enough to make you appreciate the quiet, slow and the normal.  The second cup of coffee or the late night waffle house date.  Those are the sweet times.

And as we stare down the 9 year mark I’m so thankful to have Brad to walk alongside for all of the good and the bad.  He’s my best friend and confidant and sometimes he even laughs at my (very corny) jokes.  Truly more than I deserve.  He’s shown me grace when I didn’t have a right to it and that sweet man has always been there to wipe my tears or make fun of my fierce bed head.

May year nine be a quiet one that we savor and settle into like the end of a favorite book.  You are my favorite book, Brad.



Summer Nights.


It was one of those long summer nights.  The kind where the sun seems to follow you on your drive home with the windows down and the sun roof open.

We had a great weekend.  It had all the right ingredients for a home-run weekend…..friends, church, relaxing and a little shopping.  It was on point.

That long summer night came as a sweet reminder that while I’ve been trying so hard to ‘find myself’ or my calling or my whatever….that God has remained faithfully present.  He’s the one that tells me my name for the 100th time when I forget who he says I am.  He speaks words like forgiven and redeemed and rescued over my head as blessings and promises.

I’ve realized that He knows my name but I also know His.  And His is unchanged and steadfast and cemented into the history of our earth.  The signs of His name are everywhere.  The air that rushes over my hair with the windows down is Him.  Just like the sun shine that warms my body to my bones…All Him.

Our lives are not part of God’s experiment.  He’s not on a probationary period from His boss.  He’s not just figuring this stuff out.  He’s not trying to balance the universe the way a Harlem Globetrotter does.  (No offense, they are very impressive)

He is fully in control and fully present at all time.  Even when I’m asking him who I am..again.  He’s there.  And he’s as present as the wind in my hair with my windows down on a warm summer evening.

Pushing Back the Dark.

When my husband travels for work I dread the darkness of night.  I’ve gotten much better over the years since he’s been doing it for so long but every once and awhile I listen to that voice of fear and it can overwhelm me if I back off for one second.

I’m never as hopeful for the sunrise as I am around 3am when I’ve woken up with the babies and I can’t get back to sleep.  I cling to the promise of the sun.  The light forthcoming.  The end to the consuming and deafening darkness.  It’s a beautiful thing when I open my eyelids to see rays of glory filled sunshine bursting through my 1940’s cottage windows.  It feels like the rays are dripping with  gratitude.  As though all the earth is so thankful that the sun came out again, as well.  For a moment, I’m united with the earth in singing His glory.

To think that there are nights that are longer than others is a distinct parallel to our lives.  Sometimes the darkness feels like it’s going to overwhelm us.  And others we can just watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians to keep our mind off of being scared. (I’m just hypothesizing here.)

No matter the length of the night, the morning always comes.  Always.  It is not bound by time but rather by the parameters of planet motion and heaven’s willingness to explode the earth with His glorious goodness once more.  In the light.

Our Lord is good.  And lovely.  And He is sunshine that drips with fresh beauty.  And a warrior to push back the darkness once more so that all of the world might know His name.

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