Life hoarders

I’m a blog post hoarder. I write these- beautiful, meaningful, full of life; witt and expression posts and then just keep them. I allow myself to convince myself that, they aren’t good enough, not funny enough, too corny and even too long to post. I say, “Lundon, nobody is going to read it,” and “only you are going to think that was funny; until I decide, “well, I’ll post it at another time.” I was up to about 26 posts or “not posted blogs,” and my drafts crashed. O_o for all you people out there who have lost a document that didn’t save, pasted something and realized you never copied it or lost anything you understood how slightly traumatized I was. All of my post that I swore weren’t good enough were completely gone. Gone. Then, all of a sudden I’m wishing I posted them…realizing that I loved every word more than I wanted to admit and dissapointed that I talked myself into losing them anyway.
This is kind of like life.
Moments happen, seconds go by, situations take place, and days pass that you live and for some reason you convince yourself that it wasn’t good enough, wasn’t long enough, wasn’t warm enough, you didn’t have the time enough, the finances enough, the strength enough, the love enough, the confidence enough, enough power, will, support, energy…

And then when you look up and it’s over, or it has passed, or they grew up, you realize that instead of enjoying every minute for what it was or loving what has come from what you did; you lived life hoarding what could be memories… moments that add nutrients to your blog of life.
Live unapologetically.
No matter who approves, likes it, says thank you, notices, thinks it’s funny, polite, politically correct, too cheap, tacky, not cute, un-called for, LIVE. Live in the freedom God gives. Enjoy it. Whatever you’re hoarding, waiting for the right time, the right moment; Do it. Do it now. Post it…. before you look up and it’s gone.
Don’t hoard life’s memories. Make them.



Does the caterpillar know who she’ll become?

Different….Different is the first word that comes to mind. Who is this girl that lights up, when seeing another person that I may have only had the pleasure to meet once in my life, just got engaged…Smiling from ear to ear as if it were my own flesh and blood, genuinely happy, simply because they are genuinely happy. Scrolling up facebook 3:00 in the morning wanting to comment on every toothless baby photo, inspirational status, couples photo, and exciting news. Who am I becoming? …Mommy says its my metamorphosis. Can you say emotional? Sheesh! This was not the Lundon I knew, but I think I love who i’m becoming.
The Lundon who buys a box of stationery simply to write little cute notes to people that don’t expect it. The Lundon who calls and talks to her 87 year old friend about life and living it. This new Lundon will live in Whole Foods, The Herb shop, Local Markets, Thrift Stores, and Consignment shops everyday if I could. Story time is non-negotiable every Wednesday at 10:30am and am looking for other things to secure on our calendar. I still stress sometimes….but i’m learning to live life.  What’s life for;  if not to live it? This new chic knows her Friday nights and Saturday mornings are booked for her little brothers football games. Hanging with my mom is second nature and texting her sister randomly throughout the day will be noticed if skipped. “Im praying for you,” is no longer just a saying and “Thank you Jesus,” rings from my gut. Life is real for me now. Not real in the sense that it would imply an unrealistic view of life prior, but a real-ness in the sense of the realization that it must be enjoyed. Every moment. Every minute. Every word. Person. Circumstance. Situation. Life is really, real. Sometimes the new me can feel it so strong; life that is. Strong, like the fighting side of a winning arm wrestle. Fighting with every ounce of myself to simply push through the strength life can be, but also as strong that one has to be to even withstand the strength to push back.
Yeah…. Mom, says its my metamorphosis. I can feel myself transforming. I think that is the beautiful part. I can feel my “me” transform into something more beautiful, more refined, more ready. A caterpillar must know that she’s waiting. I wonder… does she ever get frustrated? Did she know she would have to shed what she knew as life for a better one?  She has to be aware, right?…aware of her gradual transformation. Nonetheless, she waits patiently, working within herself. She must thrive in her cocoon until that day when she opens her beautiful wings as her new self. I guess this is how I’ll get my wings…