Winter Sangria

For the majority of my childhood I truly felt as if I was just one tiny step away from stardom.

This is true.

I honestly lived in an alternative universe of sorts, believing I was simply one discovery away from fame. Nevermind that I lived in a teeny tiny town outside of Baltimore, which in and of itself is not a thriving hotbed of talent discovery. Nevermind that there was nothing in my family history (or present) to indicate a rise to stardom was probable or even possible. We were (and are to this day) decidedly natural, low key and unconnected (read: we don’t know the people who know the people).

But none of this mattered to my little girl self. This little girl self who felt, quite honestly, as if she had something to say, talents to share and joy to bring to the masses. If only the right person who knew the right person would just discover her already.

Meaning, I was showing up all day every day living life for an invisible audience. And all I needed was a real one to finally reach my stride.

I held so tight to the belief that I was destined for greatness that it never ever occurred to me to think otherwise. I just knew that I was meant for something and felt with strong conviction bordering on insanity that this something was right around the corner. I approached all aspects of my life with this unshakable belief anchored right down to my very core.

I believed it that one time all of our neighborhood kids created a play in the basement of Becky Leur’s house and I was (through no small oversight on the part of the teenage casting directors) the star. I believed it with such conviction that it never once occurred to me that Hollywood insiders don’t generally hunt for talent in the musty basements of small town America, regularly searching for their next big thing in childhood productions without any discernible plot (past the scene where I inexplicably had to walk down an aisle yet was somehow incapable of executing this simple action without breaking into fits of uncontrollable giggles) put on next to old Maytags and broken down Barbie Dreamhouses.

I believed it when I was cast as the lead role in the fourth grade production of “Molly and the Invisible Giant,” beating out my arch rival/best friend Suzanne, who was arguably equally talented and every bit as destined for stardom as myself (read: not very much so at all), for the part. I took this epic dramatic production so seriously and showed up so hard that I am sure I was a total fourth grade diva, annoying everyone within ear shot with my overacting and over-rehearsing.

I believed it every other day of my childhood, too. I lived the entirety of my formative years for an imaginary audience, knowing somewhere deep inside of me with unwavering faith that the only thing I had to do was SHOW UP. Trust in the plan. And LIVE.

And looking back now, I realize that was a pretty fun way to go about life, y’all.

Sadly, as it often does, somewhere along the way adulthood crept it’s way into my life and I lost track of this unflinching belief in myself and the great grand plan for my life I was confident was unfolding behind the scene. They just disappeared. I started to listen to what everyone else said about me and internalized the idea that no matter how much I showed up, there was no great plan for my life. Self doubt and fear crept in, taking permanent residence in my soul. I made peace with letting my dreams take a back seat to my reality and let life and others dictate my path. With an inward sigh, I began to swallow the all-to-common thought about adult life: it is what it is.

(Oh how I hate the resignation and desolation of that phrase).

No matter how ridiculous my childhood beliefs were, they were unshakable. They were solid. I lived my life showing up. I showed up in a big way because I believed in the big-ness of life. And looking back on it now with the clarity of adulthood in full view, I see it for what it was. FAITH.

FAITH in something bigger than myself. FAITH in the goodness of a plan for my life I didn’t know, yet trusted. FAITH in life and God and the simple act of showing up.

I lived with FAITH. And if I’m being honest, it was better than the alternative I’ve lived with in my grown up years.

And now here we stand, on the precipice of 2019 and I want that faith back. I’m pretty damn tired of living life without it. I have had faith in God for so long I can’t even remember when I didn’t. But somehow my faith in God never transferred over into my faith in Him as He relates to me. I listened to everyone else’s thoughts for my life yet I dropped the belief that God actually has a few of His own, and they’re far better and truer and more powerful than any others out there, yes, even my own.

And yet when I sit back and ponder the past few years, I see again and again and again how He’s shown up in ways both big and little. I just didn’t realize it.

He’s met me at every corner, every swerve, every detour. He showed up in the dark times when I felt I couldn’t go on one second longer and He showed up in the joyous times when my heart felt so full it could quite possibly explode. He showed up when I didn’t have direction and wanted it. He showed up when I was begging for a sign, a word, anything to help me find my next step. He showed up in BurntToast, with Beautycounter and with Grit and Grace. He showed up in the faces of my children and the smiles and laughter of the amazing group of women I’m surrounded by. He’s showed up in my marriage and in my personal relationship with Him.

He’s shown up everywhere. I just couldn’t see it clearly until I showed up to meet Him too.

And finally, in 2019, it is my plan to simply SHOW UP. To meet Him where He is and go all in with the audacity to believe, with unflinching faith, that He’s got this and it’s gonna be good.

So here I am, God. It’s your year. I am tired of fear. I want that childlike faith back. I am going to show up for my life. I am going to show up not without fear, but without doubt.

And maybe, just maybe, something amazing is going to happen.

So friends, as we near the start of a brand new year and you pause to reflect on the beauty that is your life look for the ways God has shown up for you, both big and small. Look back at your child self and marvel at her audacity. Her power. Her guts.

And maybe channel some of that for 2019.

My word of the year is courage. And I intend to do some major work each and every day showing up. Waiting on God. And trusting His plan. Won’t you join me?

So here today, I’m sharing with you the festive drink recipe that’s taking us from Christmas straight through to the New Year. It started with this red wine my mother in law got as a gift that is, shall we say, on the sweet side (as an understatement). Given that none of us are generally sweet wine drinkers I decided to get to work and make it something better. What ensued was a fun little game of experimenting where I kept texting her and saying, “Yeah, um, I’m going to need a few more bottles of that wine,” until I got it right.

This is a fun, sweet and wintery drink. Yes, perfect for your Christmas day get together but also wonderful for the entire winter through. We kept it simple with just the wine, but if you’re more hardcore than we are, brandy is a traditional sangria add in and I think it would compliment the rest well. If you happen to add it in, let me know how it goes. Even our non-drinking family members loved this and it felt special to have a fun drink to help us make merry this holiday season.

So, friends, make yourself some sangria. Channel your inner fourth grade drama queen and show up for yourself. God will meet you there. He always does.

Peace, love and New Year,

Meg