Guest Post: Have Yourself A 20-Something Christmas

Happy Christmas Eve, friends! I'm so excited to share a guest post today from my friend, Erika. We went to Africa together this fall and I'm so grateful for the things I learned from her. She lives and blogs in Hoboken, NJ about love and life as a 20-something. Check out her post below on Christmas love and expectations. Have the best Christmas!

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I have always loved Christmas and the anticipation that leads up to it. As a child, I spent many hours trying to find the gifts my mom would so painstakingly hide. I loved the suspense of seeing presents under the tree, dreaming up all the possibilities of what could be inside.

On Christmas morning, I would wake up early, awakened by anticipation in the darkest of night, and sneak downstairs after I knew my parents and Santa had finished arranging their pile of gifts and stuffing our stockings. I’d tiptoe about in the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights, gazing at the overflow of presents, basking in the calm and magic of Christmas before dawn.

As I grew older, the thing that made this season so special wasn’t as much about the presents, but about being able to spend significant quality time with extended family who lived hours away. It was the one time of year we all gathered together, to sit around the table and exchange stories of God’s faithfulness, and to have those unavoidable family debates.

Throughout high school and college, I began feeling a longing, that desire to have someone with whom to share my incredible family Christmas experiences. I looked at the strong marriages in my extended family, the camaraderie between all my aunts and uncles, and I felt the pang in my heart of bittersweet hope. One day I’ll have that, but when?

Brewer Family Christmas 2007, and my grandparents’ 50th anniversary 

The fact that popular culture harps on the ‘misery’ of being single during the holidays certainly didn’t help my case. You can’t get away from it. I felt like I was missing out. My soundtrack to this season became variations of the sentiment behind SheDaisy’s “That’s What I Want for Christmas”: 

‘When you said yesterday that it's nearly Christmas 

What did I want and I thought just love me, love me, love me 

That's what I want for Christmas

When I walk through a room let them see you need me 

Walk through a room let them see you love me, love me, love me 

That's what I want for Christmas...’ 

Over the years, I had boyfriends through the holidays, so I had a taste of having someone to belong to during this magical season. When I was dating in my early twenties, my vision of a perfect engagement involved hot chocolate, a big fuzzy blanket, a one-horse open sleigh. My dreams were grandiose. My expectations for what Christmas would look once I had found my other half were pretty high to say the least. Thankfully, my parents had a pretty strict policy that boyfriends don’t join us on family vacations. At the time it was annoying, but now I am grateful. The sacredness of most my favorite family memories aren’t marred by the ghosts of boyfriends past. 

Me and Nick, our first Christmas as a dating couple 

Finally, the Christmas of 2011, when I was 26, the dream of sharing my beloved family Christmas traditions with my true love came to pass. My new husband Nick came with me for our big extended family Christmas in North Carolina. It was surreal to watch a hope I had held so long come true. Having the reality of my husband among my family was wonderful. The ease with which he fit into our family surprised me a bit. He laughed and swapped stories with my cousins and uncles - it was like he had always been there. 

But can I tell you that on the other side, while having someone forever at Christmas is wonderful, it isn’t quite like I pictured it? I live across the river from New York City, the American headquarters of Christmas cheer. People come here in droves to experience Christmastime in the city. There are many things I love about living here, but there are others that challenge my younger self’s expectations of what married Christmases would be like. I don’t have a big, comfortable living room with a crackling fire and Christmas tree decked to the nines with ornaments telling stories of Christmases past. I live in a one bedroom apartment less than 800-square-feet, and no real room for a respectable Christmas tree. 

So we make do with what we’ve got - a wreath hung on our window, some twinkly lights, and a little tabletop greenery. 

Apartment-friendly Christmas decor: our window wreath 

Now that I’m married, I balance not just my family holiday traditions, but those of my husband’s family as well. My Christmases will never look the same again. There are wonderful aspects of that, but also challenging ones. I am blessed to have incredible in-laws, but now I feel the pang of missing out in a different way - of not being able to be in two places at once. Those extended family holidays in the south will be few and far between. Distance and job responsibilities shape our Christmas season now. 

When we move into the season of life where we have children of our own, our holiday realities will shift all over again. And I admit… I’m looking forward to creating magical Christmas memories for my future kids - even though they will likely be entirely different than I imagined. 

So for my single friends whose hearts ache during this season, those still in waiting, as much as it hurts, know this time will not last forever. You will someday have the opportunity to share your most cherished holiday traditions with someone you love. 

And regardless of where you are... single, dating, married, childless, or a growing family, if you want to experience the magic and wonder of the season to its fullest, start practicing now. Carry on your family traditions or begin building your own. The magic of Christmas happens when you count your blessings and embrace where you are wholeheartedly.

guest post: jaime from la vie...j'aime

Hi friends! Today I am so excited to share a post from Jaime at La Vi... J'aime. She wrote this for me to post while I was in Africa, but I somehow failed to press publish while I was gone. I am so excited for you to read about a time she trusted her gut!

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I was excited when Whitney asked me to guest post for her while on her African trip but was slightly intimidated by the subject: tell us about a time you listened to your gut...whether it be taking a risk or sticking with something. 

I can’t really count many situations where I’ve been at a crossroads with Road A and Road B before me. A few major decisions, like choosing my college, came pretty easily. I applied early decision, and off I went to Syracuse University. I knew I’d move back home after to pursue a career and build my life in Boston, near where I grew up. 

Then I remembered a time when I was sixteen and going with friends on a teen tour abroad in Europe. I signed up with three friends and was placed on a trip with one of them that left in late June. My other friend, called me asking to switch trip dates and go with her. This trip left the first week in July. I decided on that phone call to change trips and leave in July, with a girl I actually wasn't as good of friends with but felt it was right to change. 

At the time, my grandma was sick and her health was declining very quickly. She was diagnosed in the spring and passed away in early July, July 3rd. My teen tour that I changed to left on July 5th, the evening of her funeral. I guess that feeling to change my trip months before had meaning, as I was able to attend her funeral. If I hadn’t changed, I would’ve already been on the trip when she passed away.

 It’s something I always remember when I think about listening to myself and having a belief in fate, that things work out for a reason whether you know it then or not.

trusting your gut: kate hampton

Hello Sometimes Always Never readers! I’m so excited to be guest posting for Whitney while she’s in Africa changing the world. I blog over at What Kate Likes about a lot of fashion-related things and occasionally things that are a bit deeper and more personal. I’m excited to have the chance to get into a meatier topic than I normally do, without it seeming random or out of place.

When Whitney approached me about guest blogging for her, she told me that she wanted everyone to write about listening to their gut. To be honest, I really had to think about the topic and do some serious introspection before agreeing.

I am a planner, an obsessive, a person who doesn't even go to the grocery store without a defined list of what exactly I’m going to buy. I don’t take risks or jump into something feet-first unless I've considered all options/consequences/benefits/rewards. I’m the type of person who peels off band-aids bit by bit, even though ripping the whole thing off is much easier and less painful. Making decisions based solely on what I feel in my gut or heart is right is something I seriously struggle with. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a hard time giving up control, maybe it’s the fact that I don’t like taking risks without knowing exactly what will happen.

However, lately I've been thinking more and more about past decisions I've made and how, even when I carefully weighed the pros and cons, things didn't turn out quite like I’d imagined or thought they would. I feel like over-thinking every decision is using up so much energy and brainpower. I’m so in awe of Whitney and her ability to just instinctively say “yes” to this trip to Africa and not get bogged down in the details.

So I’m going to make a conscious effort to listen to myself when I need to make a decision. I know I’ll still probably over-think, but I’m going to do my best to listen to what my heart and instincts are telling me and just go for it. I’m slightly nervous about how much of a change this will be for me, but I think that it’s definitely something I need to do! I’m really going to take Tina Fey’s advice to heart and say “yes” first (or no or whatever it is that my instincts are telling me is right) and then figure all the details out afterwards. Nothing needs to be fully thought-through in order to be amazing or to at least have the possibility to be amazing, which is something I definitely need to remember all the time.

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Read more of Kate's posts on her blog, What Kate Likes

trusting your gut: keith wynn

Listening to your gut. What does that phrase mean to you? We hear that phrase a lot but I wonder if we truly ponder its meaning. Listening to our gut, or our intuition, is a “learned skill” in my opinion. I say this because it goes against a lot of what we’re taught in life. We are taught to apply reason and rationality to all decisions so as to make the best informed choice. In other words, use your head, not your gut. But what about those times when our gut is telling is something completely different than what our head is telling us?

I was faced with this internal conflict once. It was a few years ago and I was at a crossroads in my life. I felt I needed a change. A big change. I had spent my entire life in my hometown and I didn’t feel I was going anywhere. It felt like I was reliving the same day over and over. Have you ever felt that way? So I decided to just move. Seriously, just completely pack up and move to an entirely new city and start over.

Most of my family and friends were against this idea. They were saying it was impractical and something that only worked in “the movies”. But my gut was telling me that this was the right decision. My heart was telling me that this was what I needed to do.

It ended up being the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. I have a career I love, wonderful friends here, and I LOVE the town I moved to. It’s truly home to me now and I know that this is where I belong. I listened to my gut, and it changed my life :)

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Read more of Keith's posts on his blog, Musings of an Unapologetic Dreamer

trusting your gut: lauren leighton

The definition of gut. Answer numero uno is an obvious one: the stomach or belly. 

Number two (and the informal definition according to the world wide web) is personal courage and determination; toughness of character. 

What is a perfect marriage of the two? The action of following your gut. Combining that uncomfortable, yet valid, feeling your tummy tells you is scary, but right with those innate brain waves encouraging you to act accordingly. As I make tough decisions in my 20-something stage of life, my mother always asks, "What does your gut tell you?" I love and hate that question because it usually (more like mostly) reveals the answer. 

One specific time where I turned to my mother for advice was when I found myself extremely unhappy in New York City. I know. Most of you are probably reading this and thinking, "Unhappy in New York? Isn't that supposed to be like one of the coolest places to live and work?" Well yes, yes it is a cool place to live, just not for this girl. I found it to be the loneliest place on earth. Even though there are 8.337 million people in Manhattan, I constantly craved human interaction, big hugs, a warm touch. I had a super sweet gig at Oprah Magazine assisting the publisher (still miss her a lot), but that island just wasn't for me. 

I knew I had to make a change. I loved my job, but it wasn't enough to keep me locked up in a concrete cage, constantly confined by brick walls and stilettos. I had to make a change, therefore I followed my gut (thanks mom!) and packed up my 500 square foot studio apartment, one sweet pug and essentially two years of city life to move to Denver, Colorado. 

Why Denver you ask? I have always loved this place and it is where my brother, his wife and two babies live. There is nothing sweeter than family in my mind (and waking up to dry, crisp air and the Rocky Mountains as life's screensaver). Was I scared to pick up my life and move across the country? Absolutely. Did that stop me? No. I knew there was no way I could possibly be unhappier than I was, so why not just follow my gut to happiness?

I love it here in Colorado. I have made some incredible friends and can't believe I lived in such a personal slump for a full two years, but at the same time I am eternally grateful for those two years because they taught me a lot about myself. I will always have my New York to thank for helping me grow up (pretty fast!).

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Read more of Lauren's posts on her blog, Borrowed Light. 

trusting your gut: robyn coale

I had it all planned out. 

Living in New York City, completing my dietetic internship at NYU and getting my masters in Clinical Nutrition. I had worked hard in college and thought I had a pretty competitive application.

But a good resume and transcripts don’t impress God. And it surely doesn’t change His plans. 

I applied to six schools. And on match day, I opened up my letter to read ‘Congratulations, you’ve been accepted to the University of Virginia Health System dietetic internship.”

I sat there in Starbucks in complete and utter shock. Everyone around me continued on sipping their coffee, typing away on their Macbooks while my world came crashing down.

My eyes welled with tears. Leaving my computer unattended, I ran outside to call my mom. I needed someone to hear my disappointment. My heart ached.

It was a bit dramatic, but I was crushed. Everything I had been hoping for and planning on was wiped away in the click of a mouse. After lots of tears and talking to my brothers and mom I tried to pull it together. After all, I had actually gotten an internship- something only 50% of applicants could say. 

That day I told my mom I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to move to Charlottesville. That wasn’t what I had planned and I struggled to rearrange all the pieces of the puzzle.

But over the next month something in my heart changed and I felt a pull. I called the internship director at UVA to accept the internship and began planning my move to the east coast.

And I went. With my Honda Civic full of everything I owned, I drove to Charlottesville not knowing a single soul. Excited yet terrified. Unsure yet hopeful. Anxious yet assured.

Inside my head, I was hot mess. But something inside my heart felt settled. 

This was a new season, and I was ready to embrace it. Whatever that meant.

Thankfully, I am an extrovert. But moving to a new city without knowing anyone forces you to move out of your comfort zone. Say yes to things you wouldn’t normally say yes to. Do things you wouldn’t normally too. To get a bit uncomfortable. Two months after moving, at an attempt to meet anyone and everyone, I ventured downtown to a movie screening for Forks Over Knives that was followed by a panel discussion. 

And on that panel was a brilliant doctor. I was passionate about nutrition [like, I like food a lot- especially vegetables] and I couldn’t believe there was a doctor out there that shared that same passion. So that day I asked him if I could work for him.  

And a week later he called with a job offer. 

A job I thought didn’t actually exist, but here I was 700 miles from home in a place I thought I’d never be. But I was so thankful I was. 

The past two years in Charlottesville have been a fierce yet beautiful transformation. Feeling completely lost and lonely, not knowing where you’re supposed to be or what the next step is.  At one moment feeling on top of the world, but the next feeling like your life is a tropical storm. But little by little, I’ve seen the reasons behind the journey out here. I’ve been blessed with such rich community, and amazing job, and sweet, sweet friends. The ones you’ll have in your wedding. The ones you call for favors that seem absurd yet totally okay to ask for. The ones you feel so grateful to soak up and do life with. And ever so slowly I’ve planted my feet and this place has become home.

Sometimes it takes being stripped of everything you know to trust in the plan for your life. To lean into something bigger than yourself and take a step out in faith. 

But it all began with the pull in my heart to move. To say yes. And go all gas, no brake.

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Read more of Robyn's posts on her blog, The Real Life RD.

trusting your gut: ashley guzman

After driving for two days from Indiana, I stepped out of the car in Denver and felt like I took my first deep breath in years. Between the bright, high sky and mountain views, I was sold. I was on my way to student teach on the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico, but Colorado had already stolen my heart. Every free weekend during that semester of student teaching, I longed to drive the two hours north into Durango--to see the mountain vistas, enjoy the beauty of the changing seasons, and just soak in the feel of a true mountain town. 

Upon returning home after my semester finished, I wasn't sure what to do next. I didn't have a job. I had missed my family terribly. I longed for my own adventure, but was also tempted to follow my older sister to Virginia just to be close. What if I went my own way and I was lonely? What if I couldn't find a job or a husband? Once I looked past my fears, however, I allowed myself to feel the deep pull back to Colorado. 

With great excitement and trepidation, I went. My mom and I packed my car with everything I had, including my dog. Once we pulled out of my parents' driveway, I felt certain that I would find the job and adventure that I had been seeking. We were heading west. 

But, let's be honest...moving to a new city is hard. Trying to make new friends can be scary and messy. Mistakes are made and hard lessons are learned. Believe me, I had my fair share. Along with the adventurous western spirit, there seems to be an unspoken rule out here that plans are always tentative and that you never fully commit until something happens. I struggled to find a sense of belonging. I longed to be with people I loved and who understood me. But, I also saw the enormous blessings of following my gut, which really is following the gentle tug of the Holy Spirit. God honors that. As time went on, I did find those new, deep connections and even renewed some old ones. I came to appreciate how Denver is different from the midwest and to find my place here. Here became my home. 

Regardless of how clear a call is or how willingly we follow, it's never easy. Even years later, I miss my parents and siblings ALL THE TIME. I sometimes get a little whiny in the spring when everyone else is warming up and we're still getting snowed on. But, then I look at the faces of my sweet boys and my loving husband and I know it was a good plan. It still is.

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Read more of Ashley's posts on her blog, Stepping Through the Wardrobe

trusting your gut // even when it's hard: courtney smith

Hi friends! Today marks the beginning of awesome guests posts. Up first is my sister, Courtney! After that, you'll hear from my sister Ashley, a few of my friends and some awesome fellow bloggers! Be sure to check back to read more from them! 

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It is an absolute honor to contribute to Whitney's amazing blog. I learn so much from her wisdom and beautiful writing every time I read her posts. I do not have the eloquence she possesses, but I am excited to be able to write a post during her absence. (side note from whitney: that is not true - she's amazing :))

I have always known I have wanted to be a mother. 

Growing up, when anyone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say, "I want to be a ________ (teacher/doctor/nurse/artist)" but would think in my head, "I just really want to be a mom." 

Mothering was modeled beautifully by our mom and I know that Ash, Whit and I all have a strong mothering desire deep within our souls. 

Several years after Ryan and I had been married, we decided we would begin the journey of having babies. We felt ready and excited. And then a year passed with no pregnancy. My self worth and sense of identity started to crumble and I felt inadequate as a wife. Thankfully, after much patience and prayer, we were able to get pregnant and welcomed our daughter and then a son into the world. 

In 2010, we were overjoyed when we became pregnant a third time. We were thrilled to be so blessed to be expecting another precious child and went into the pregnancy with much joy and thankfulness. 

At my 12 week ultrasound, our obstetrician found a concerning second sack next to the baby. He originally thought that perhaps it had been a twin that had not survived and wanted to see me again in a week. 

Being an optimist, I asked if I could still run (to which he said definitely no) and I walked away feeling a slight twinge of worry, but not accepting the gravity of our situation. 

A week later we went back in to see him. The sack had not dissipated at all and he noted it was as large as the sack our sweet baby was in. He concluded that I had had a large hemorrhage that had contained itself. I was again told to be cautious in my activity, but he hoped that with time it might dissolve. 

On New Year's Eve, we were celebrating with friends when I began to have the most intense contractions. I was 17 weeks along in my pregnancy and was absolutely not willing to allow myself to believe I was in labor. I gritted my teeth through the evening and immediately got into bed when we got home and prayed all night that things would stop. 

The next morning, I awoke sore from a night of contractions that had felt like my insides were ripping apart. My optimistic resolve was starting to fade, but I was not willing to admit to myself that worry and fear were creeping into my heart. 

Over the course of the next 10 weeks, I lived through a cycle of contractions followed by horrible hemorrhaging. As the days crept on, I got weaker and weaker as I lost more and more blood. We prayed day by day that this little one would hang on and that we could make it much further. 

And each day as I saw my OB, got iron and blood transfusions, and clung to our baby's life, I started to realize the seriousness of what was occurring. I knew in my gut that things were going horribly wrong, but also knew that for our baby's sake, I had to hold on for as long as I possibly could. 

As the weeks went on, it became more and more clear that we were not going to make it to term. What had initially begun as a prayer to have the hemorrhage disappear, became a prayer to make it into week 30. Many people kept insisting that I go on bed rest, or start mag sulfate, or get another medical opinion. But, my gut was telling me that if we allowed ourselves to be hospitalized, they would deliver our baby too soon. I knew that each day that passed was critical for our baby's development. So, as long as I was not dying, I wanted to press on for as long as possible. 

And then, after a night of never even making it to bed due to such severe hemorrhaging, I knew it was time to listen to my gut again. 

I called my OB and asked to have my blood work checked. Immediately after the results came in, we were admitted to the community hospital. Then hours later transferred by ambulance to the larger academic hospital. As soon as we made it to the room, the OB's rushed in and said it was time for a c-section. I burst into tears and begged them to give us more time. Ryan asked them to check my blood work once more and see if we could give our baby a few more days to receive steroids. Thankfully, they agreed and we were able to make it through the night. 

The next day, things seemed quieter and we started to have hope that I could possibly stay in the hospital for a few weeks allowing our baby to incubate a bit longer. Although I was getting weaker and weaker, our baby seemed stable inside me. 

On the Monday morning, Ryan got up to go round on his patients a few floors below me. And suddenly, I awoke to a contraction unlike any other I've ever experienced. I tried to tough it out for a few minutes before calling him and asking him to quickly come back. I prayed and asked the Lord what I was meant to do, and knew without doubt, that it was time. I knew that it was time for our baby to be welcomed into the world. I called for help and was immediately rushed to the operating room. 

Once there, it became clear that my I was in DIC and that my placenta was no longer able to sustain our baby's life. Our sweet Crosby was delivered at 27 weeks and weighed 2 lbs 6 oz. 

The months that followed were traumatic and stressful and some of the hardest days we have lived through. But, we felt so very supported by friends and family. The love of the Lord was so very real to us in those 10 weeks in the NICU and His presence was palpable. 

When I look back on the months prior to Crosby's birth, I am overwhelmed by all that we went through. And I am also overwhelmed by how much I knew to listen to my gut. 

I knew when many were pushing us to be admitted, that it was not time. If we had been admitted earlier, I am sure they would have delivered him and his outcome would not have been so favorable. I am thankful I felt peace in listening to my gut. 

And when I knew I could no longer sustain the pregnancy, I am so thankful I felt led to call out for help. Although I did not want to listen to my gut, I knew in my soul that it was time. Had we waited even hours longer, we could have lost our precious baby. 

Looking back on the winter of 2011, I am amazed by how we knew when to carry on and when to cry out for help. And I realize that this was not me listening to my gut, but rather the Lord leading us through those very dark days. He held my hand as I contracted through nights alone. He gave me peace as I endured weak and painful days. He was my Rock and my Comforter through it all. He loves me so very much and had a perfect and beautiful plan for the start of Crosby's life. 

Although that period was the most difficult phase of my life, I knew He was always by my side. And that is the best feeling I will ever have in my gut.

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Read more of Courtney's posts on her blog, Z'ville to C'ville