my letters to G

Sunsets are like chicken nuggets

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

G:

I’ve decided sunsets are like chicken nuggets. No two ever look the same.

I’d like to consider myself a “sunset chaser,” if you will. I’ve been chasing sunsets over the ocean like storm chasers stalk tornadoes in a field in Kansas.

And you blessed the socks right off me when I finally saw the sun set over the Pacific Ocean (because the sun setting in bays over the Atlantic just doesn’t count).

IMG_1592

Somewhere between creating day and night you decided to create this amazing transition between the two. And no two sunsets are ever the same. You just keep me guessing. And keep me chasing the new, the different, the beautiful.

Kudos, G. Kudos.

In awe, your child,

m

christian girl problems.

THE PARTY INVITE PERSONALITY TEST

Image | Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

You know you’re an introvert if you’re like:

boo boo time by myself

You know you’re extrovert if you’re like:

excited cat

You know you’re borderline if you’re like:

little girl with no expression

 

Sometimes, the boar doesn’t need a haircut

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

G:

It’s March already?! It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating your Son’s birthday.

It seems as if the older I get the faster time flies—as if we’re picking up speed the closer we get to the finish line.

Since I’ve been gone in Seattle for more than a week for work, my blog clearly showed the effects of my busyness. In my efforts to juggle so many things in seemingly so little time, I always end up dropping at least one ball somewhere (at least I’m not juggling chainsaws).

While at this work conference, there were hundreds of tables where people from schools or literary journals had fun and interesting freebies. My coworkers stumbled upon a table that gave away tarot card readings. Of course I don’t believe in it, but I was on a mission to get as many awesome freebies as possible.

I walked up to the table and picked this card:

boar

The guy at the table stared at it for 15 seconds and declared:

“Clearly, this is a man trying to give a boar a haircut.”

Clearly, this tarot card reading was directly applicable to my life.

I felt the excitement go out of me like helium from a popped balloon.

He went on to say: “This man is trying to do the impossible. You have to allow yourself to be realistic. Sometimes you can’t do everything. Don’t try to do the impossible. Sometimes, the boar doesn’t need a haircut.”

Even though this guy made up all this stuff up on the spot, it reminded me that I can’t do everything.

Clearly, I need help.

For all the things I need to do and can’t avoid, for all the balls I need to keep juggling, I’m thankful You give me the strength to accomplish it all when I focus on You (Philippians 4:13).

And then sometimes, there are those balls that can and should be dropped. Sometimes I try to tackle the impossible, when it’s not in Your best for me. Thanks for giving me discernment to drop the ball.

Because sometimes, the boar doesn’t need a haircut.

Your child,

m

I ain’t my Momma

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

Upon turning 22, my friend declared that “22 is halfway to 44 which is halfway to 88 which means you are halfway dead.”

(We are clearly no longer friends.)

Birthdays are kind of like New Year’s—they make you reflect on where you’ve been and where you’re going. You’re another year older. And another year closer to 88.

On the day of my 28th birthday, I couldn’t help but compare myself to those I love and admire more than anyone else in the world: my parents. I think about where they were at 28. And at this age my mother was married for 6 years with a two-year-old and another on the way.

If my life was supposed to follow those breadcrumbs, the birds clearly had a 28-year feast and unknowingly I stumbled upon the long, scenic route up the side of a steep mountain.

While I would be blessed if I had even 1/100 of the character my mother has, my life has not followed her blueprint.

I ain’t my Momma.

Chatting with another single friend the other day, I decided expectations for young adults are like kitchen cleaners under the sink to little kids. It’s just not fair that the blue stuff that looks like a huge jug of blue raspberry Kool-Aid is locked away behind childproof cabinets—seemingly unattainable. But here’s the thing: turns out that stuff may not be the best for us anyway.

My life and the lives of my single friends are not the lives of our parents. But our lives aren’t wrong. They’re different.

I’m single. I’m living on my own. I’m pursuing my passion for writing. I’m really great at making cereal for dinner.

I can’t help but compare myself to those I love most—and I pray that I have even a fraction of the love, faith, and character that my parents do. But I know You have different plans for me than you had for my father and mother.

I ain’t my Momma.

I’m me.

Your child,

m

Why Shaun White’s new haircut broke my heart

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

This year’s Olympics have left me more depressed than a vegetarian at a Brazilian steakhouse.

And I’m not talking about the fifth snowflake-ring debacle, or the times my countrymen haven’t nailed their triple sow-cow twist and shout ice skate thingy. I’m talking about follicles.

Actually, the lack thereof.

You see, Shaun White and I were meant to be.

Exhibit A:

shaun white and i

We have the same exact hair.

Well, we used to.

Exhibit B:

shaun white no hair

I’m not lamenting the fact that he was the Samson of the skateboarding world, and with the loss of his locks came the loss of a medal. No, I’m lamenting the loss of what our Christmas card would have looked like with us and our six children:

shaun white christmas card 1

(It was inevitable at least one would pop out with recessive genes.)

For the sake of our future spawn and holiday greetings, consider this a passionate plea, Shaun White, to grow out your locks like Rapunzel once more.

I’ll be waiting.

On birthdays: a special shout out to my parents

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

family

G:

Well, 28 years ago today you decided to have me pop out into the world on a cold foggy day with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and my weight matching that of a popular convenient store chain.

I’d like to first give You a special shout out for creating me even before my parents did. You knew the plans You had for me even before my parents knew my gender. You knew how many hairs were going to be on my head even before the “no that’s not a perm that’s her natural hair” afro phase.

But I’d really like to thank you for blessing me by bringing me into an amazing earthly family. For parents whose love rivals the depth of Loch Ness. For a mother whose warmth is greater than the Sahara. For a father whose humor is better than any late night with Jimmy Fallon. For parents who have shown me unconditional love. For a mother and father whose kindness, thoughtfulness, compassion, encouragement, support, and guidance has helped form who I am today. For parents who lovingly guided and instructed me on a path to You.

My heart swells with love for them like a balloon to the point of bursting.

Thank you for blessing me with parents who reflect in real and tangible ways the characteristics of You.

Your child,

m