“Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. Worry about what Jesus thinks.”

“Don’t be afraid to go a completely different direction than everyone else.”

“Fear God. Not man.”

These were the words I constantly heard from my dad all growing up. As I watched him take on the world, I saw this. This absolute unabashed confidence in making his decisions. In making brave moves. They weren’t based on what other people were wearing, what other people were doing with their lives, how they were talking…

It seemed to come so easily for him. Wearing sweat pants when everyone else was wearing a tie. Having 14 children when everyone else was having 3. Letting a song from James Taylor escape his lips in the church lobby…when everyone else thought only hymns could be sung there. Picking up his family and moving to the south, away from our family, away from our familiar, for more opportunities. Homeschooling us children. Beginning his own businesses.

He was, in my mind, fearless.

And as a girl full of insecurities growing up, I watched him. I watched him get up at 4am. I watched him make daring moves. Sometimes falling flat on his face. Sometimes losing everything. I watched him get back up. Time and time again. No matter the discouragement. No matter the naysayers. He had a tenacity about him. A resilience. A life that sung, “The world is my oyster.”

And I think there is a kind of heroism about that. Maybe unsung. Maybe unnoticed. But brave. And good.

The more I grow up, the more I see how uncommon this is. The ability to be different from everyone else. And not care. The ability to walk your own path, not the paths of other people. Not the paths your parents wanted you to walk. Or the paths your friends are taking. But your own path, your eyes fixed on Jesus. How rare and beautiful a person you become, when you embrace the idea that you are your own person and you are accountable to God. How much that concept simplifies things. And lightens the load.

That insecure girl is 25 years old now. And about a year ago, I started to get what my Dad had gotten long ago. I can’t waste my life by living someone else’s. I can’t. I can’t let my fears keep me from living. Really living. Taking on the world….and not allowing the world to reign me in.

And it took a lot of brokenness. A lot of hurt. A lot of pain, to see this. To get it. But when I did, I slowly saw.

I saw Jesus with His arms open wide. Willing to forgive. To accept me. To love me. To carry me. No matter how many mistakes I had made, no matter how many mornings I had laid in bed giving up on the day…before it had even begun.

And I started grasping for Jesus. Grasping for His love. His acceptance. His affirmation.

And when I did, I didn’t need other people’s approval. I didn’t have the same kind of fear I had had before. I felt secure.

Secure in who He had made me…the artsy, spacey, wanderlust. Secure in the strengths He’d given me and the places He’d brought me to…the coast to the midwest. Secure in the life decisions my husband and I had made that went against the grain of our culture and caused all sorts of questions…married at 19, first baby at 20. Secure in pursuing a business while raising my little ones at home still…a lot of balancing work. Secure in saying no to a lot of good things…things that I would love to fit in. Secure in letting the dishes go…because as long as we have something to eat off of, it’s not that important. Secure in moving out here and leaving so much we love behind. Secure in the people who are in our lives and the ones who aren’t.

And I’ve learned that by living this way, you can’t make everyone happy. But you’ll rest a whole lot easier at night. You won’t be running around with your head cut off…trying to keep things under control.

And I make a lot of mistakes. I learn a lot of hard lessons.

But when I think about the people who inspire me. Their life stories. Their view of the world. You know what gets me?

It’s the trying again. Over. And over. Again. The ones who stick it out, because they believe in it. The ones who pick up the pieces of a shattered dream. The ones who get beaten down and get back up again.

It’s the part that goes unnoticed. The picking-up-the-pieces that get’s the short end of the stick. Because we glamorize the success and we gloat about the fame. Forgetting – or not seeing – that there is a whole string of failures, try-agains, good old fashioned hard work, behind the things and the people that make something out of something…or make something out of nothing.

We don’t see the lonely nights in bed and the anguished prayers to God. We don’t see the early mornings, dragging themselves out of bed. And the nights they stay up late. We don’t notice the scars they carry and the battle cries they’ve uttered. We forget so easily the cost. The cost to be faithful. To be consistent. To try again. Just one more time. Try again.

So thanks dad.

For living a brave life. For falling flat on your face and not giving up. For all the times you tried again. And tried again. For all the lessons you taught me just by living and being used by God.

You’re my hero.

My Dad | On Trying Again…

We’re leaving for the coast, two weeks from today. I could not be more ecstatic. The kids are going bonkers and tell me {daily} all about sea life and what they’re going to catch. I’m going bonkers because I want real sea food, and sand between my toes, and salty air, and lazy reading days. Steven’s going bonkers because he wants a break from work. We’re all basically counting down every minute. Every hour. Every sleep.

I’ve had my eye on a few things that spell nautical, so we can sail seamlessly into coastal culture. I’ve saved some of my pennies from working at Anthropologie and I’ve put together my wish list. You can view the girls’ picks from yesterday here. {Thank you for all your help in picking out which three things to buy for myself. I already got started on a little shopping trip with the girls this morning!}

So here’s to the boys in the family….

No. 01 | Linen pants. You may think I’m crazy, but I am actually attempting to make some of the schooner’s summer clothes. I made a simple pair of linen pants for Emma Claire out of a pajama pattern. {You can view them here.} And I love them.

Because I made them. Because they’re simple. Because I want to get into textiles. So bad. I’ve got a handful of fabrics on hand that I am hoping to turn into pants and shorts for Keller. He has such a short, stocky build it’s hard to find anything that fits and looks good. Wish me luck!!!

No. 02 | Hedgehog Sailor Shirt. We’ve “met” through pinterest. She pins my things. I pin hers. I feel like we’re friends. I love her simple shop based out of the UK, full of stripes and solid colors.

No. 03 | Zara Swim Trunks. Don’t laugh, but I just ordered these for Keller!!! Steven and I were sitting here just dying {from sheer laughter} at the vintage cut. I waited for a long time to buy them, but knew, just knew, they would suit our stocky boy so well. They are currently out of his size, so I had to order up. Crossing my fingers his rolls will make up the difference!!!!

No. 04 | J. Crew Espadrilles. Technically on their girl list, but I think they would work swimmingly for boys. I feel like the beach just calls for espadrilles and sailboats, you know. I’ve never owned a pair, but I want to be apart of the club. They’re very schoonery, no?

No. 05 | Strappy Beach Hat. I feel like a hat that has straps is essential for our fair headed boy. The wind on the coast never allows those cute hats to stay on unless you have a strap. I had to google and google to find one above 24 months.

No. 06 | Mabo Gauzy Beach Pants. I stumbled across Mabo on Pinterest. And I’m a huge, huge fan. Their fair colors and classic styles fit me to a capital T. These pants are described as “gauzy”. Can we say perfect for an evening on the ocean?!

No. 07 | Mabo Gingham Drawstring Shorts. Another Mabo wonder. I am going to attempt to make my own version of these for both the girls and the boys in the family. I already have some gingham and some seersucker I’m planning on using. I really don’t know the slightest thing about patterns, so this ought to be interesting. I work better free handing things I think. I think….

You must know, one of the things I first noticed about Steven was that he dressed well. I like a man who pays attention to style, without being overly self absorbed.  Rare combination, and I found one. ;-) One of my favorite things is to pick something for Steven that is a little out of his comfort zone and ask him to wear it on a date night. He is funny in that he will wear certain things to certain parts of town. Artsy things to our artsy streets. Conservative things to unknown events. He cracks me up.

No. 01 | Zara Straw Hat. I think hats are sexy. I wish they were more socially acceptable in the US. We carry these huge, wide-brimmed hats in Anthropologie and I want to dare myself to wear it to the grocery store or something. But I’m not one of those people who likes stares, and I think my point would totally be lost with the kids dragging it down in front of my face and trying to store kale leaves on top.

No. 02 | Gap Striped Swim Trunks. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a good-looking swim suit for men. Classic. Clean cut. I go for stripes. Every time.

No. 03 | Scotch & Soda Sailor Sweater. This company. Oh I love them. Every single thing oozes my style. Like they knew it in my head and made it a reality, or something like that. This heavy shirt would be a perfect layering piece for cool evenings on the beach.

No. 04 | Birckenstock Leather Sandals. Steven has a pair and they literally last forever and look good with everything. He wears them with shorts. With jeans. With khakis. With socks. The sock thing drives me wild. He knows that and only pulls it out every so often.

No. 05 |Canvas Tote. I good canvas tote is what actually holds up on the beach and at the pool. They seem hard to find, but I came across this one on etsy and LOVE it. It’s manly, so he won’t feel embarrassed carrying your coral tote across the beach.

No. 06 | French Book. Steven is totally into french these days. He’s teaching the kids {and me!} and we’re working on the bilingual thing. He has a channel on youtube for the kids and now they’re watching mainly shows in french. Steven’s always looking things up and teaching us new phrases {I am a slow learner…it’s embarrassing, but I ask Emma Claire for the translation.} and gosh I love that man for it. I would really like to surprise him with a book to read over during our quiet moments on vacation. What do you think?!

So that’s it for the boys. I am totally posting a picture of Keller in his new skivvies on instagram when we get them in the mail. And I’ll be posting our entire trip on instagram as I take a break from the internet and leave you in the hands of some fabulous guest posters. So if you would like to keep up with our travels in the deep south and east coast, come follow me @annapolisandco!!!! We’re leaving 2 weeks from today!

Beach Essentials For the Boys…