click here to open post Sep 12, 2011 | posted in Personal | 1 comment

On September 3, 2011, our friend Olga lost her wonderful husband Heber to a tragic free diving accident. Olga is truly one of the.most.exceptional women I have ever met. She is radiant in every way. . . my heart is simply broken imagining the pain she is now experiencing at the loss of her sweetheart.

And Heber, well I have no words.  He was one of the most kind, generous and authentic people I have ever known.

If there is one lesson that I have learned from Heber and Olga, in life and in death, it is this, “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

If you are able, a donation account has been set up in Olga’s behalf. Even $5 would be a beautiful gift for this cherished friend. Aloha Heber; a hui ho, N

click here to open post Sep 08, 2011 | posted in Inspire, Personal | 14 comments

Image source. I love it. I want one of my very own.

Oy.

I’ve NEVER considered myself a writer. Not until very recently. But the absurd reality is that since early, early childhood, my head has been swimming with words. Words that fill me with joy and inspire me to my core, words that make me wild with anxiety and burden my soul. . . words that scream at me from the inside. WORDS.

I write, because if I don’t, I go crazy. Wildness overcomes my soul and I start to feel like I’m going to catch fire from the inside out.

Just so we’re clear, this is all very embarrassing for me to admit. I feel silly and trendy and ridiculous. But the bottom line is this, complete transparency makes me feel more at home in my own life. Writing it all out, the good, the bad, the downright ugly. . . somehow, putting it on paper makes it all make sense. Somehow it gives me bearings and helps me know where I’m headed and the significance of where I’ve been.

But there’s no time. There are too many distractions. I’m constantly overcome with debilitating anxiety when I sit down to write, because trust me, I’m FULLY aware that I’m only marginally good at it.

The reality is, there are SO MANY THINGS in my life that I’m not very good at but that bring me immeasurable joy, clarity and peace. I’ll never be the best at ANYTHING I do. Never.ever. But that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t. . . do. And the same is true of you. Whatever your “thing” is. Get out and do it. With your whole heart. We’re only here once. . . and not for nearly long enough.

No more excuses.

I’ll be here. . . keeping calm. Writing on.

What will you be doing?

xx, N

click here to open post Aug 24, 2011 | posted in Personal | 4 comments

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!  Tomorrow I board a plane headed for home. HOME! I feel so parched. I keep imagining myself just standing on the beach, soaking in every ounce of aloha I can stand.

Alison and Emory, I am SO thankful that you are getting married, for a million reasons, of course, but sincerely, THANK YOU for bringing me home.  xo! N

click here to open post Aug 22, 2011 | posted in Personal | 7 comments

I heart Instagram.
And yes, this is my actual bed, where I will be in about 22.2 seconds and counting.

I am exhausted to.the.bone.

If I weren’t an inch away from conking out face first on my keyboard, I’d give you a big, long sob story all about how nutso my day ended up being (did I say “day?” Insert, day, week, month, LIFE, any will do), then I’d likely try to wrap it all up by pointing out the positive, and somewhere in the middle, I’m sure I’d praise God for His goodness and mercy despite all the pain.

GOOD NIGHT!

Natalie

One thing about the desert? It makes you feel small. Way out here, right in the middle of nothing, I’m tiny and insignificant. My roots just can’t seem to break this impenetrable earth.

Last night it rained. The Heavens cracked WIDE open, and down came the rain. Heaven poured down miraculous relief—both for the parched earth and for this homesick island girl. Something in the rain, and how it dumped from Heaven, helped me to grow, to gain my footing, to strengthen my brittle roots. Water everywhere. An abundance of relief.

This journey with Cardon is proving to be more difficult than I had anticipated (and that’s saying a lot). I’m good at rolling up my sleeves and getting to work, and I expected this experience to be just that, WORK. I just don’t think I’d properly gauged how exhaustive the process would be. I didn’t have an accurate measure of just how chaotic (and maddening) life would become before things would start to get better. School starts Monday, and I had envisioned us being at a very different place by then. But here we are. And there’s not a thing I can do about it. That’s the hardest part. I have ZERO control. No control over when doctors and specialists will be able to see us, no control over heart arrhythmias or borderline EKGs that halt planned treatments, no control over dyslexia diagnoses or literacy centers who won’t return phone calls, no control over uncooperative special ed coordinators at elementary schools. I just feel.so.small. And the problem here is starting to feel.so.huge.

But last night, I was reminded that the rain will come. It will, and it will bring sweet relief and an abundance of clarity, capacity and joy. I know that it will, because I know that God is mindful of me, yes, even me. . . tiny and all alone . . . in the middle of the great big desert.

For now, we’ll seek shade in his grace as we wait for rain.