Little Dunn

I have a confession to make.
I have baby fever.
Bad.

I have been thinking about babies a lot, pinning baby things on pinterest, thinking of names I like, on and on and on.

Let me say this: I am not pregnant, nor am I trying to get pregnant.

But I have friends who are having babies, my niece just turned eight months old, I am twenty-four and these things cross my mind. The problem is that thinking about these things gives me extreme anxiety and extreme joy all at the same time.

Firstly, the realization that I am bringing a child into the world that is very scary at times. Ebola, ISIS, declining morality, school shootings, its just a nutty place. My faith is tested sometimes thinking about how much I will want to protect the little peanut but you can't protect them from everything.

Not only that, but I really enjoy my husband. Like a lot. I love him more than I even knew I could care for someone. And its just him and I right now. We stay up late watching the shows and movies we like. We have to worry about only feeding ourselves. On Sundays, we get to sleep in a bit because we only have to get ourselves ready for church. If we want to go to dinner just because, we get in the car and we go. We spend money on ourselves. We even have time to take a nap sometimes.

We just enjoy each other and only each other right now.

And I am extremely scared to lose that.

I know I want children. I will be a mom someday. But the thought of it no longer being just him I, just Daimian and Brittany, is unknown territory and honestly a little sad.

Is that normal? Anyone else had these thoughts? Cause at the moment, I feel like a terrible, faithless, selfish human being.

In my head, I know that God is in control, and  I will still have my husband, and once I hold my baby (whenever that is... not now) I will forget all my sadness and it'll be worth it, but right now, today, I am scared for and of a Little Dunn I haven't even met yet.

No Use Crying Over... Egg Rolls?

Last night I cried.
I cried over an egg roll.
Yes, an egg roll... The deep fried pastry stuffed with veggies and pork and dunked in soy sauce.
I don't even like egg rolls that much.
But there I was in the kitchen, tears coming out of my eyeballs.

I am just being honest here, people.

Why in the Moses would I cry over a stupid piece of food?
It wasn't about the egg roll itself... I promise...

I am tired of being addicted to food.

I am tired of passing restaurants on the road and thinking about all the delicousness inside.
I am tired of going into a restaurant, really wanting to make the right decisions in my heart of hearts, but not being able to say no to cheese sticks and Mt. Dew.
I am tired of watching the scale go up and having to buy bigger pants and somehow justifying it in my own mind reaching a new level of denial.
I am tired of it all.

And I am scared.
I am scared that something as ridiculous as food could be so controlling, so consuming.
I am scared that I spent so long not knowing I was addicted.
I am scared that it is something I will never not face.
I am scared that I will never be able to overcome this.
I am scared that I have tried so many times before and failed.
I am scared this time won't be any different.

And so, when I was offered an egg roll, and I knew I had already hit my calories for the day and it wasn't healthy but I wanted it anyways, it was like I had been slapped in the face with all my frustration and fear all at once. Who knows why it was an egg roll that would do that.

But my husband took my hand and he gave me a hug and told me that this time was different. He reassured me that we have more motivation, we are in it together, and we had accountability now.

Addiction sucks. It isn't like heroin, so hear me when I say that. But I have finally come to the understanding that its there and I have to deal with it and I can conquer it.

This time is different. This time I am doing it.

Ghosts and Caution Tape

My husband is a fan of fall.
Like a big fan.
We even chose the fall to get married in because he loves it so much.
And so do I.

This year, he wanted to decorate. Let me give you some context, Mr. D. is a minimalist. When we first got married, I remember one of our first arguments being about the fact that I wanted picture frames on the wall and he thought they were unnecessary. Needless to say, I was shocked when he asked this year if we could decorate.

So he went to the dollar store and found some cheesy Halloween decorations. I am so not into them, but he loves them, so there are cute ghosts on my windows, pumpkins all over (I really don't mind the pumpkins), and caution tape in creepy writing.

I thought it was time I busted out a few less tacky of my own decorations. I have SO many pins on Pinterest, that I decided I should actually do one of these things I pinned. So, I found this sign for fall/Thanksgiving. I wanted to make it easier and less time consuming, so I changed a few things.

This is what I was inspired by, but mine looks a little different. All I needed was a trip to Michael's and a little time in my evening, and boom, I had my own sign.

Here are the things you will need:

• Stretched burlap canvas
• I had never heard of these before, but it is literally what it sounds like... A canvas that has burlap stretched over it to give it a cool look and I didn't have to do it.
• I got a 9x12, but there were so many sizes and they were on sale at Michaels!
• Paint
• I chose two different browns and an orange, but only ended up using dark brown.
• Hot glue gun
• Scissors
• Scrapbook paper in fall-ish colors
• Letters
• Paint Brush
• Jute

I started out by painting my letters since I couldn't find any in the right color. I did three coats because these had black writing that you could see through the paint, but it dried really fast. If you have a fancy machine that will cut out a stencil for you, I am jealous, but these letters were much cheaper than a Cricut.

While those dried all the way, I then cut my scrapbook paper to make my flags. I cut them into rectangles of 3"x 1.5". 

Then I folded them in half (ignore my terribly painted nails)

Lastly, just cut them into a triangle...

I then cut a piece of jute a long as I needed for my canvas size and just hot glued my triangle flags over the jute, like so. 

I then glued on the letters, let those dry, and then glued on the jute . A couple of the flags I also hot glued down, let it dry, and boom, done. That is literally it. 

Here is the finished product hanging on my wall next to my front door. I think it looks very autumn-y (is that a word?) and makes me excited for leaves and boots and Thanksgiving and pumpkins and rain. 

As for the ghosts and caution tape...... Well, I guess I am the best wife ever. 

I have a boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend.
He is handsome, funny, smart, opinionated, nerdy, a Packers fan, picky, and passionate.
He is also my husband.

I had always heard that you have to date your husband, that you should be his girlfriend and his wife for your entire life. But what did that really mean? Why would marriage life be any different than dating life?

In November, it will be four years since we exchanged vows and I became Mrs. Dunn. I understand now the difference. I don't think either one of us gave up or stopped trying or stopped putting out effort, I think that life just happened and we live together and the feeling is different. You fall into a love that is more steady, less butterflies, less nerves, more of a choice rather than a feeling.

This past year, Daimian and I have realized that we had stopped dating. Not that being married is bad, don't get me wrong, but we had gotten so caught up in ministry, family, work, school, life... I had lost my boyfriend and I was a terrible girlfriend.

So, we decided to fix it. I am so blessed to have a man who realized it and wanted to do something about it. I started getting little notes again and texts just because. I would get flowers just because he loves me and he would make sure to take me on dates often, even if it was just the two of us sitting at Chipotle.

The other night, we had fancy date for the first time in a long time. It was just us two, and though money is really tight, he had saved so that we could have a really nice dinner. We were at the restaurant for about two hours just talking, laughing, holding hands, and it felt just like before, when I was still a Morgan and he had no ring on his finger.

Isn't he handsome?

DELICIOUS mushroom ravioli

Dark chocolate and raspberry panna cotta

I don't know what it is about life that we allow it to get in the way of what really matters. How do errands and to-do lists and groceries and homework ever seem more important than the man who chose me out of 7 billion people to love and be with for eternity? 

From this moment on, I vow once again become and remain Daimian Michael Dunn's girlfriend. 

Third Times a Charm

They say that college students change their major three times on average.
Well, I am on number three.
Third times a charm?
Let's hope so.

I thought I knew the first time. Missionary to Africa. I even got a tattoo of my beloved continent.
Then I went there. And God told me directly, "No."
Well, strike one.

Then, I went with my second choice. This was it for sure, I thought.
Teaching. I want to teach. I want to teach Bible college students.
But, once again, I may be wrong.
I want to love what I do. I want to go to work and have it not feel quite like work.

Am I naive?
I don't know.
And I don't know if I want to teach anymore.

So I have decided to take a break from school this term. I was supposed to begin yesterday, and I chose not to. I may start again next term once I have some clarity. This is a time for me to pray, and pray a lot, a time to listen well and talk less, and for me to seek wise counsel while I gather what I need to to make sure I am choosing correctly.

Why are we expected to make such decisions?

Thanks in advance for your prayers.

What Weight Has Stolen From Me

I can't remember a time where I didn't struggle with my weight. Even in high school when I had three hours of basketball practice or weight training for track to help me, it was still a battle. Once the team sports stopped, something didn't click in my brain and here I am today.

I have had a lot of times where I have tried diets, jogging, phone apps, and gym memberships. Nothing ever stuck and I never did anything consistently. But I never really made it a priority because I didn't really need to. I've never really been self-conscious and I have still been able to do all the things I wanted to do. But, here I am today.

Today, I weigh more than I ever have. It is an incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing thing to write about, but something that needs to be addressed. It hasn't been until recently that I have really looked back and seen all the things being unhealthy and overweight has cost me. It was a slow decline; I didn't realize it as it happened. Little by little, it cost me more and more. It wasn't until I stopped and turned around and counted that I noticed what was gone. Here I am today.

It has stolen a lot from me. It has stolen basketball from me. I can barely even play. When I do, I always end up hurting something... a knee or my back. I can't shoot or play defense like I was taught. I want to coach someday, but what school or athletic director would trust me? I wouldn't trust me, not like this.

It has stolen power from me. It gets to decide how I feel.. Sometimes I am tired, sometimes I am sick, sometimes I am fine, but I don't decide. It decides what I can and cannot do. I can't go skydiving or ride on certain rides at six flags. I can't wear the clothes I want to or shop in the stores I want to. I get to pay more money to buy clothes that actually fit.

The one thing that hurt the most, the thing that motivated now more than ever in my 24 years, was when I began a discussion with my husband about when we should have kids. Please pay close attention to the fact that we ARE NOT trying, no matter what Daimian tells you (he likes to joke). We have no plans of becoming parents soon. But, we were having a serious discussion about a timeline and it wasn't being dictated by our finances or our living situation. It wasn't being decided by my wants or Daimian's desires. Even the idea of if we thought we were ready or not didn't matter. I think you can guess what drove the conversation... My weight.

I repeat, there is no Dunn Baby happening any time soon. Yet, that wasn't really the point. What hit me over the head like a ton of bricks was the fact that once again, it was in control of my life. The other stuff, the basketball and the clothes, and the skydiving, that was all stuff that didn't really matter, at least not compared to bringing a soul into the world. I wanted to be the one to decide when I became a mom. I didn't want to deprive my husband of a baby when he wanted one just because I enjoy french fries and can't get my butt to the gym.

And so, I decided that no more, no more would something have power over me. I would be the one in control of my own life, my own destiny. If anyone else has control, it will only be the good Lord, not my darn weight. How ridiculous? How stupid that it took this to long, this much weight to understand how much power it really had over me, how many decisions it was making for me, and how many things it was stealing away from me.

I let it. I let it have control. I let it make decisions. and I let it steal.
No more.
I am in control now. I am making decisions now. It will not longer still anything from me.

Fred Phelps

Fred Phelps. May not be the most recognizable name, but if I were to say Westboro Baptist Church, one might recognize that more. For those of you who don't know, here is a little bit about what they do:

Recognize it now? 

2 days ago, their founder and "pastor" died. I have seen a lot of twitter talk, facebook posts, and articles written about this death. A few examples:

"Who wants to protest #FredPhelps funeral with me? Bring drinks let's toast & roast!"

An alternative for "Rest In Peace" is "Rot In Hell."

People say being pumped that #FredPhelps is going to die makes you a bad person. No. Being #FredPhelps makes you a bad person.

“I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.”

I think you get the picture... Hatred. So much hatred. 

How do we get off thinking that we can do the exact same thing that he did to so many? How do we think that hatred can be cured with more hatred? 

My heart breaks for this man. He lived his whole life full of hate, anger, and a wrong belief in a truth that wasn't true. He founded his entire life, career, family, thoughts, everything on this hatred. What kind of life is that? To me, that is a tragic one. 

Do I condone what he did? Of course not. Do I condone what he stood for? Of course not. I use the word church and pastor only because that is what they refer to themselves as, but please know that is not at all how I view the organization or him, especially when I myself am a pastor and belong to the Church. 

I guess what I am saying is that I just wish that people would have some compassion. Does he deserve it? Some would say no. But do I deserve it? Some could also say no. At the end of the day, God doesn't rank us based on our sins. To Him, we are all equal. He loves Fred Phelps and no one is more devastated that he is most likely in hell for the rest of eternity than Jesus Christ who died for Mr. Phelps. 

How dare we, those who did not pay the price for his soul, sit here and rejoice? That is not love. That is not Godly. Do not return hate with hate. My heart is sad. More importantly, God's heart is sad.