Faith And Family | Whitney Kolb

On May 3, 2012 / Kiddo / Leave a comment

Dear Kiddo,

Today you are two and eight months old. Four months away from turning three! It doesn’t feel like it’s been over two-and-a-half years since we welcomed you into this world, but I can tell you it’s been a wonderful two-and-a-half years.

You are SO busy. Tonight we went to my sister’s house, and you proceeded to run circles through the house for the first half hour after we arrived. You were so excited to be there, so excited to see cousins, you just ran! When it was time to eat, you weren’t interested in the pizza, until after we said grace (which, instead of finishing with “Amen”, you shout, “OKAY!”). After grace, you grabbed my pizza slice and plowed through it, tearing off all cheese and toppings and shoving them into your mouth.

You can be SUCH a mess (but I think that’s all little boys), but you hate to have food on your hands. When I hand you a napkin, you proceed to “wipe” your hands by crumpling the napkin into a ball. You’re good about washing your hands, but are clueless as to when you have food smashed across your face.

It’s safe to say that you eat when you want to. You love string cheese and fruit. You ask for “who”, meaning juice, and after I give you your juice box, you look at me and say, “Bubba who?”, wanting me to give your brother some juice, too. Almost everything that is breakfast-bread is “cake”. You love ice cream, and when I fix myself a bowl, you stand by my chair and help me finish the bowl. You ask for bananas by saying “buh” and oranges by saying “or” and pears by saying “pea”.

You are actually showing a lot of signs indicating that you understand spelling. You know almost every letter of the alphabet by sight, and if we press you, you’ll give us the associated sound as well. I told you the other day that we were going to watch Winnie the Pooh, and you said, “Weh da Pea?” indicating that you recognized the first letters of the words I just said.

Your language skills are still developing. We have you in speech therapy, and you’re doing really well. You babble a lot, throwing in words that we recognize here and there: “Garble yadda baba yadda CAR, garble garble, KEY, yadda garble, GO.” Most of what you seem to be saying is that you want to go in the car–it doesn’t matter where. When I do confirm that we’re going, you start saying “Mama key?” INCESSANTLY until I hand you the car keys and we head to the garage.

You also recently started calling EVERYTHING “mine”, which annoys the fire out of me, but I’m not sure what to do about it.

When we ask you where your shoes are, you throw your hands out and start to look around the room and say, “Whey soo? SOO-OO-OO, wheyr oo?” (Where shoes? Shoes! Where are you?) It’s adorable. You’ve been doing that for a while. We taught you early on, “Shoes first, then go,” so shoes are definitely a very motivating reward–they mean excitement is on the way.

The other day, we were out in the backyard, and you pointed that you wanted to go to the front yard. I said no. So you pointed the other direction, indicating that you wanted me to turn on the hose and let you play in the water. I said no. After several subsequent failed requests, you looked me straight in the eye, slathered a charming, wide-eyed smile across your face, and silently nodded, as if you could convince me to change my mind. I threw my head back and laughed out loud.

You have a temperament that is probably a pay-back for my own stubbornness as a child. You’re not fond of the camera, you scowl a lot, and you require a lot of reward to motivate. I think that’s ok. The other day, after your brother was napping, you climbed into my arms and let me rub your back for almost a solid, quiet fifteen minutes. I can’t tell you how much I loved that snuggle time.

When we put you to bed every night, you take your lovie and paci, and then nestle into our arms to read a book. When the book is finished, you turnaround and wait for us to say prayers. We used to just fold our hands, but a while back, you started putting your hand into our folded hands, which is incredibly sweet and precious to me.

The other day, your brother was crawling all over me and you weasled your way in and threw your arms around my neck and said, “Mine!” Even though I’m your brothers momma, too, and love him just as much, I let you say it. Thanks for letting me be yours, Kiddo.

Love you tons.
Love always,
Momma

On April 19, 2012 / Faith / 1 Comment

When others have hurt us, offended us, or caused unwarranted grief or pain, how are we to choose to respond? I think we all know we’re supposed to “forgive”, “do unto others” no matter what has been done unto us, pray for our enemies, and thank God for trials of many kinds. And all that stuff we learned in Sunday school.

But what do you do with the pain? The pain that comes from loving too much? Forgiving, being kind, praying: none of that seems to take away the hurt that comes along with broken relationships and shattered dreams.

Sometime in high school I read a book called Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot. While the book was seemingly meant for teenage girls in the throes of infatuation and subsequent heart-breaking angst, it resonated in a much deeper, spiritual way for me. If you decide to pick it up, I’ll warn you: it’s a pretty deep read.

Chapter 13, entitled Material for Sacrifice, is only four pages long, but a very hefty four pages, offering a solution for the pain that makes so much sense, but is very unrecognized by today’s standards: LET IT GO.

Quit hanging on to the hurt. Quit allowing it to fester. Make a split-second decision to be done with it, to move on. Refuse to harbor the bitterness and anger, further allowing those toxic emotions to brew in your life. And in a second fell swoop, give it to God. Like an Old Testament sacrifice, put it on a proverbial alter to Him who understands perfectly. God considers this to be an acceptable sacrifice. It’s giving Him the broken pieces, so that He can put it back together.

The most simplified way to state it: LET GO and LET GOD. Sometimes I have to do this multiple times with the same problem, but making it a disciplined practice is part of life, I suppose.

The C. S. Lewis quote, above, is in the first pages of Elliot’s book, and is a good reminder that we can’t escape this roller coaster we call life on this side of this earth. I guess it’s all in how we choose to enjoy the ride.

xoxo,
Whitney

On March 22, 2012 / Faith and Family, Gratitude, Pregnancy / 22 Comments

Almost three years ago, I was sitting in a perinatal office, waiting to have an ultrasound that would tell us the sex of our first child. As my husband and I sat, waiting on the doctor to come in, we discussed girl names. Girl names were of the utmost importance, because, we were, after all, going to have a girl. I mean, how could we not have a girl? My favorite color is pink.

I’ll be honest: when the doctor told us we were having a boy, I cried. Not tears of happiness: tears of disappointment. Confusion. Angst. What on earth was I going to do with a boy? Someone is going to have to teach me how to talk FOOTBALL? I wasn’t going to be able to decorate a nursery in pink? Would someone at least give me permission to use ruffles? And how long am I allowed to monogram everything? In that moment, my world had been turned upside down.

However, for the remainder of my pregnancy, every single mother of a boy told me, “Boys love their mamas.” So, I started to adjust. Being adored by a precious little boy was something I could get used to.

And then Kiddo was born. You can read the whole story here. And in that moment, I was no longer worried about hair bows and monograms: I was that little Kiddo’s momma, and he was my boy.

When we sat in that same perinatal office a second time, waiting to find out if our next baby was a girl or a boy, I wasn’t nearly as concerned about the sex. If it was a boy, we had all the clothes, the nursery was ready, and he’d have a brother. If it was a girl, we’d have one of each, and that would be perfect as well. When they told me it was a boy, I was totally fine this time. I was going to be a momma of TWO boys! Lucky, lucky, lucky me!

When Bundle was born (who is fast becoming referred to as Bubba, since his brother can’t pronounce “brother” correctly), we were no less delighted with the sweet little thing who won our hearts over immediately. Bubba has been the happiest baby ever (until the past week, poor thing, as he’s had teeth coming in). One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is coming home to my precious husband and those two rambunctious little boys and watching them all rough-house like scoundrels on the Oriental rug in the middle of our family room. Yes, I’m the odd girl out, but I get plenty of kisses from all those boys to make up for any self-indulgent feelings of left-outness.

So, yesterday, as we sat in the perinatal office for the third time, waiting to find out what we were having, I weighed the odds. If it was a boy, I was going to be relieved. By now, we’ve been blessed with tons of hand-me-downs, have an adorable nursery ready to go, and I’m a great momma to boys! If it was a girl…well, I wasn’t sure what my response would be to the news if it was a girl. I am a boys’ momma, after all!

The nurse asked me if we had kids.

“Yes, two boys.”
“Well,” she said, “it looks like they are going to have a little sister.”

And then, the response I didn’t know how to predict came on: I cried. And then I heard my husband crying over my shoulder. And they weren’t tears of disappointment: they were tears of shock, and a little fear (I mean, what if the poor child ends up deficient in hair bows because I don’t have time to put one on?), and excitement, and the overwhelmed feeling that comes along with immense blessing.

So, we have to paint a nursery. And decide how much Disney princess plastic we’re going to allow in this house. And we’ll have to get her some clothes. And some crib bedding. And a car seat, since we sort of thought we were done and sold the last infant carrier on eBay.

BUT WE’RE HAVING A GIRL!!!

On March 11, 2012 / Gratitude / 3 Comments

So, I’ve had some amazing opportunities presented to me lately. I’m honored to be speaking at WE Inspire again this year. All things Stationery Academy are on a roll. We’ve got a huge announcement coming up for English Paper Company. And I’m knee-deep in some new development processes for a new venture launching this summer. (It’s going to be awesome.)

If I kept going, I could probably add ten more things to that list of things that I’m supposed to be grateful for. But, if you want the honest truth: I’ve been terrified. Fearful. The opposite of grateful. Fearful to the point of being immobilized.

And why? WHY? (Time for some brutal honesty).

Because I’m afraid others will see me as less than successful. I’m afraid I will fail at one of those opportunities. That the reviews on my presentation at WE Inspire will come back as poor. That the attendees of the Stationery Academy will be less than delighted and will not walk away with enough content. That our English Paper Company announcement will cause someone, anyone, not to like me. That the venture we’re launching this summer will fall flat on its face.

In my heart, however, I know myself. I know that I am way to determined to let those things happen. I know will practice my WE Inspire presentation no less than fifty times. I know I will load the Stationery Academy curriculum so chock full of ten years of industry experience that attendees will have to tell me to quit talking. I know that no announcement that English Paper Company makes is going to please everyone right now, because the stationery industry is so fragmented and people relying on it for income are fearful themselves. And I know I will run the numbers on our new venture until I am blue, and I’ll have a solid Plan B, so falling flat isn’t really even possible.

So, why the fear?

Well, I suppose it’s because I’m human. It’s because I’m comparing myself to others, and buying into the lies in my head that say that I’ll never be as good as them. It’s because I’m focusing on what I haven’t done, instead of valuing what I have accomplished, and letting confidence in my abilities take the place of that fear.

OK, so how to conquer?

Face the fears. I’ve identified the fears. I know when they come up, because I get sinking-stomach-feeling, so they are easy to recognize.
Find the fire. Find something, anything, to replace the fear. If I’m afraid to present, practice the presentation. If I’m fearful I won’t offer enough value, open up and offer more. Run the numbers again, and again, and again, and if they’re not solid, abandon new venture.
Forward movement. And here is where I struggle the most. While steps one and two can take place in my head, step three requires actual physical response. Practicing the speech. Typing up the curriculum and editing it. Getting a calculator and a pencil and turning on the numbers side of my brain. Step three requires discipline. And the handy little tool I’ve found for inspiring discipline? The timer. I get it, I set it for ten minutes, and I start. On anything. And ten minutes later, fear is (almost) gone.

I posted this graphic last week, but it really is worth sharing again. I said when I started this blog up that I was committed to not being fearful of the response from negative people; that I would ignore the haters; that I would delete the non-constructive feedback. So, I apologize in advance for reposting, but nothing could be more applicable at the moment. I hope it encourages others.

OK, gotta run. I have a timer to set.

On February 24, 2012 / Faith, Faith and Family / Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about grace recently. We have a couple (actually, more than a couple) big announcements coming up in the next couple of months. I was speaking to someone about a month ago regarding one of these things we’re planning and the associated stress, and my wise friend said: “You’ll be fine. God will give you situational grace.”

Um, what? Situational grace? Do tell? I asked for clarification.

“Grace enough to help you in your time of need. See Hebrews 4:16.”

So I’ve been ruminating for several weeks on Hebrews 4:16.

Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

So here’s the deal about grace that I think we all know: we don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve. Grace is freely given, and never earned. It is impossible to earn grace.

And that whole mercy thing? Websters defines mercy as “a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion”. It’s the inverse of grace in that grace is unmerited favor and mercy is withheld punishment. I’m not a theologian, but it doesn’t seem possible to earn mercy, either. Mercy holds a more compassionate element than grace, whereas grace is unmerited, in almost an impossible way to humanly comprehend.

But that doesn’t mean that we can’t ask for grace and mercy. And heaven only knows, we all need it. I need it. White flag flying over here. I’ll take all the grace He’s willing to bestow upon me!

The amazing thing that Hebrews 4:16 conveys to us is that that grace and mercy is customized to the exact level of need we have at that moment.

It’s situational. And that’s completely, totally, and mind-boggingly amazing to me. Amazing situational grace.

In 1 Peter 1:6, Peter talks about suffering grief in “trials of all kinds”. The original Greek word for “all kinds” actually translates to meaning “multi-colored”. As a creative, I love that. Trials are bad, but multi-colored trials are at least prettier to look at right? A couple of chapters later, Peter uses that same word in 1 Peter 4:10 to describe “God’s grace in its various forms”. So if trials come in many colors, it sounds like there are coordinating shades of grace. Situational grace, abounding grace, amazing grace.

And for that, I’m grateful.

On February 19, 2012 / Faith, Motivation / Leave a comment

I don’t look forward to much. I don’t get excited about much. So, I typically do not find myself disappointed very often. I can count on one hand the number of times I cry in one year. Sitting in the Houston airport this past Saturday would have been one of those times.

A couple of weeks ago, I found out Natalie Norton was hosting an intensive that was all about finding balance. As a momma, entrepreneur, wife and designer, I need balance more than ever right now. It took me about three minutes to register for the intensive.

I didn’t sleep the night before my flight. I set the alarm for 4:30 but was out of bed by 4:00. I was packed, ready to go, and in the car by 5:00, thirty minutes before my goal departure time. I arrived to the airport over an hour before my flight. Ask anyone who has ever traveled with me: I do not arrive at airports early. I was excited.

So when my flight started circling the layover airport, and continued to circle for an hour due to weather, my heart sank. The next flight out was the only flight that would get me in town in time for the intensive, which was scheduled to start at noon.

As we finally landed, I tried to fight my way to the front of the plane. According to my iPhone, I had nine minutes to catch my connecting flight, if they hadn’t pulled one of those awful stunts where they cruelly close the gate five minutes prior to departure. I begged people to let me past them on the plane. I was in the very back. And people literally just turned their backs to me, and wouldn’t let me by. When I finally got off the plane, I ran to the next gate, which was actually across the walkway, and sure enough, gate closed. Attendant with pursed lips shook her head and pointed me towards the customer service desk. I felt my lower lip quiver as I headed that way, and realized the line was about 98 people long.

As I stood in line, a rare bout of emotions washed over me. I’m usually quite stoic, but not now. It was like it had all been too good to be true–to actually get to sit in a room with other creative moms, and to hope that they would relate to this crazy lack of balance that I had been dealing with. The hope of connecting, of finding someone who understood, who shared my values, who grasped the burden of business, was suddenly shattering. I was in Houston; the amazing people who understood were in Vegas. And at that point, I dissolved, in the middle of the airport, into a giant, messy, sobbing puddle of desolation.

I had a very good, unapologetic cry. I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my sweater, calmed my breathing, and started mumbling every positive affirmation I could think of. Everything happens for a reason. There is a lesson in everything. God is in control. For I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and not evil.

I was having a hard time buying my positive affirmations.

But keep going. In any situation in life, you always have two choices: the good, the bad. The positive, the negative. The light, the dark. The progressive, the regressive. Moving forward or moving backward.

So the mantras continued, as I stood in the customer service line. Over and over and over. I knew in my head that there was a plan for all of this, but in the middle of my disappointment, I couldn’t move the head knowledge to my heart and find the positive. Attempt to make something good of it. Move forward. It was hard.

All I could do was wallow in my customer service line emotional breakdown while they booked me on standby on the next flight out. Two hours later.

When things sometimes get hard at work, sometimes I mutter The Little Engine That Could: “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!” In the midst of that airport, I switched the mantra to Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you, I know the plans I have for you, I know the plans I have for you…” I needed to convince my heart that God really did have a purpose in me missing that flight, and it wasn’t necessarily in my best interest to berate Him on “why”.

I trudged to the standby gate and patiently waited my two hours. They started calling standbys, one by one, and one by one, my name was not called. The flight left without me. The next flight was yet another two hours from now. I had to decide: travel forward, or turn around and go home (or beg them to put me on the next flight to an island in the Caribbean). As I thought about why I was going, I made a decision: I had to get there. Even if only for two hours. If I turned around and went home, I would never know what I would have missed out on those two hours, and I’d forever regret it.

So I texted Natalie: “I’m coming, no matter what. I would be letting myself down if I gave up.” She texted back: “Whenever you make it, even if it’s midnight!” Thank goodness for gracious and understanding people, right?

I was the second to the last name that they called on the next flight. As soon as I got to Vegas, I ran to the taxi stand, and pulled out my GPS to give the driver directions. He pulled up in front of the house close to 7:30 p.m., I think. I sat in the last few minutes of the intensive, trying to pull something good out of the entire experience. I was there. I had made it. I hadn’t given up. And there were thirty other moms, who loved their families and their businesses, sitting in the same room with me.

The nugget of inspiration came the next morning, though. Meredith Tilton, a graphic designer/photographer, was heading back to the airport. The house was quiet, as people had either left, or were sleeping off the exhaustion of the day before. Meredith had to turn in her rental car, and offered to give me a ride to the airport. We both had late flights, we both wanted to get home as soon as possible, but she handed me a copy of Anthology magazine with an article about Las Vegas in it, she said: “But if we can’t catch earlier flights, I’m up for adventure.”

Click. That was the sound of moments falling into place. “Me too. I’m up for adventure.”

We headed to return the rental car, and then ducked into the airport to see about changing our flights. We both were able to confirm flights slightly after noon, so we determined to find breakfast, which ended up consisting of Cinnabon and Starbucks, and we grabbed a table, and we talked. We talked about business, about life, about kids, about goals, about dreams, about doing the best things for ourselves and our families. We talked about how it was hard, but at the bottom of that conversation, there were two people who were insanely grateful for the blessings in their life and the lessons that they could pull from those around them, and the experiences that they had been through.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Meredith.

Life is an adventure. You never know when it’s going to leave you stranded in Houston, dump you in Vegas for half a day, or introduce you to the kindness and kindred spirit of a complete stranger. Buckle up tight, keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and hang on for the ride. It may be bumpy, but the bumps are probably just lessons and blessings that you run into along the way.

On February 15, 2012 / Organization / Leave a comment

Several times yesterday, I needed an easy, quick, year-long calendar for reference. Trade shows, conferences, and day trip jaunts that keep me out of town all need to be documented in one easy, reference-able spot. So, for your handy downloading and printing, I present to you the printable year-at-a-glance. Enjoy!

Click here to download the printable PDF version of the Year-At-A-Glance reference. If you needed to, you could print several: one for kids school schedules and vacation days, one for work and travel, one for your husband to fill out (wishful thinking?)

On February 9, 2012 / Faith and Family / Leave a comment

Around our house, the grocery list is a team effort. Compiled over the course of a week, it is often hard to interpret handwriting(s), preferences, and intentions. So today, I designed this little form for us to use. It’s laid out in almost the same “floorplan” as our grocery store. We hit fruits and veggies first, then meats and deli, then aisles, finishing up in frozen and dairy. I left the little spot at the bottom for extra stuff, just in case.

My favorite design element? The way the columns for “aisles” echo the vertical feeling of aisles on an actual floorplan. (I used to want to be an architect and have been known to obsess over floorplans).

Click here to download the printable grocery store list. It prints on half of an 8.5″ x 11″ sheet of paper.

On January 25, 2012 / Faith and Family / Leave a comment

I believe in humility. My sister keeps this quote on a card on her bathroom mirror:

Humility is perfect quietness of heart. It is to expect nothing, to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised. It is to have a blessed home in the Lord, where I can go in and shut the door, and kneel to my Father in secret, and am at peace as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and above is trouble. ~ Andrew Murray

Sounds nice, right? To be in a “deep sea of calmness”? I’ll take that.

Easier said than done. And hard to practice. If humility is a discipline, I’m a failure. But I will continue to try.

On January 23, 2012 / Faith and Family, Inspiration and Entrepreneur / Leave a comment

This past weekend, I had the privilege of spending some time with a precious gal, who is going through a fair share of difficulties right now. Without going into the details of those difficulties, I can explain that she has two small children, a husband with an injury/disability, and is faced with a mountain of decisions on what she needs to do to best provide for and support her family.

Oh my goodness, I can relate.

As we chatted, I struggled to find encouragement. I always want to find just the right words, and I hesitate. I encouraged her to do what she needed to do, to put her kids and her husband as her priorities, and to not be afraid to dream big.

I tell a lot of people to dream big. I tell them to think outside the box, to make a crazy list, to set some goals. And here is where they start throwing me excuses. In their minds, it will always take too long, cost too much, be too hard, or not work out. Everyone can always think of a reason for why they shouldn’t start something new, or different, or adventurous. I guess that’s the common sense that somehow got instilled in all our brains along life’s way.

And that’s when I ask: “What’s the worst thing that would happen?”

It’s a question that usually makes people stop. They think for a second. I can see their minds turning. As they walk through the what ifs, pausing to deal with the worst possible outcome at each choice, relief starts to cross their face. A revalation starts to occur, as they realize that nine times out of ten, the worst possible outcome isn’t even probable. (If it is probable, we go back to square one and start with other choices). But most of the time, the worst that could happen, simply, won’t.

But isn’t it funny that that teeny tiny ounce of a probability keeps us from doing so much? It keeps us from dreaming big. It keeps us from setting big hairy audacious goals. It keeps us from thinking we’re worth it. It keeps us from living.

So here is my challenge to you today. In this moment, this very moment, stop and do three things:

Pick a dream. Any dream. A tiny, simple dream, or a big, crazy dream.
Make a list of small steps that must happen to accomplish that dream.
And ask yourself: what’s the worst thing that could happen if you take that tiny step of faith towards that first step.