gina prescott

This past Tuesday was my husband’s 30th birthday.

There is so much to love about this guy.

His chiseled jaw.

His super smarts.

His ability to be really good at almost anything.

His example of quiet determination and daily consistent effort.

When our five year old asks a question beyond my knowledge or ability to explain, he ALWAYS delivers the perfect response. The other night at dinner Max asked, “How does water steal heat from our body?” I mean I know it does, but I don’t know the actual science behind it. Kyle did.

He is the least materialistic person I know. He will go without, far longer than makes sense, because to him very little is necessary for contentment.

His affection is sweet and gentle. Never does a day go by that he doesn’t make sure to let me know his love for me. I feel adored in his eyes.

His faith is strong and enduring. He lives with such surety and confidence in who he is and who the Savior is. Then he takes that knowledge and spreads the love he feels inside to everyone around him.

He is such a good example of loving people and seeing them as the Savior does, as children of Heavenly Father with infinite potential. As he loves, he builds confidence and truly helps others to rise to their best selves.

I know this first-hand.

He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. If he is wronged, he never holds it against a person. He is quick to forgive and forget. This makes him super-human in my eyes.

One of my most favorite attributes of his, however, is that he has the ability to make anything fun. He turns work, school, service, church, waiting in line into something that can always be enjoyed. He understands our purpose in this life is to have joy and he understands that joy isn’t something to chase, but rather to choose and create. It is around us, in our families and with our friends and coworkers. It is in all of those moments in between, where sometimes life slips by, that he laughs to himself or with others.

His joy in the small simple things is the best. A joke or pun will always guarantee a laugh, surprises grant grins, and his children leave him hysterical.

I love this about him, because even when I am in a bad mood, he rarely is.

His joy lifts our family and revives our spirits. He teaches our family so much by this amazing example and I am just so grateful that I had the sense of mind to hold on to this spectacular man when I was younger. Life is infinitely happier and better because of him.

Happy Birthday Suckafish! Grateful to have spent so many days by your side, never able to resist joining in with your infectious smile.    

“It’s pretty fun. A bunch of cute old guys give really inspiring messages and afterwards we have a barbecue. Wanna come?”

I had spent the last week, holed up in my dorm room, trying to avoid the freshman party scene that had emerged. I had intentionally set out to find some Mormon kids, knowing that their idea of fun was what I preferred. I found them at religious club fair. I walked around and around and finally found the booth I was looking for, hesitant to approach, knowing that this could set me on a path that I was still unsure about.

I met some great Mormon kids at the booth and they invited me to a social to celebrate the new school year. So the next night, I arrived and found that familiar comfort I had felt being around Kyle before he left to serve a two-year mission. For the first time in two months, my mind relaxed and my spirit brightened.

I had a ton of fun that night and at the end of it I was asked, by the same girl who invited me to the social, if I wanted to join her for General Conference the next morning. Old guys with inspiring messages, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but I knew I didn’t want to let go of the light and joy that I had felt at the social.

So the next morning, she picked me and few other students up and we drove across the 520 bridge towards the bishops home which was nestled in a strangely rural area outside Seattle. Inside his house, tons of young adults gathered, each vying for the best spot on a comfy leather couch. They all agreed that I definitely should get couch privilege and I felt special being there. Bowls of nuts and candy were set out and blankets were dispersed. I settled in and watched a small countdown in the corner of the tv tick away.

People started hushing each other and soon the room filled with a swell of organ music, then a prayer took place and then we sat and listened for two hours to cute, old guys give inspiring messages.

It was wonderful. My whole body felt warm and light and my mind filled with so much peace. It was like someone was pouring out the goodness of God upon me.

Afterward we ate pulled pork and potato salad and they informed me that in another hour there would be another two hours to watch, if I wanted to stay I was more than welcome.

I stayed.

After that I was told it would happen all over again tomorrow, but without the comfort of the bishop’s house and a barbecue. The messages of love and hope were enough for me to say yes. So the next day, I joined my new friend and my soul was filled again.

This was my first experience going to church and really, it was what set me down my path to getting baptized. When I tell members of my faith this story, they laugh because it is quite unusual for a non-member to endure the eight hours of general conference that happen twice a year.

I thought I was just looking for good, clean fun, but instead I found a fountain overflowing with treasure.

This experience gave me a deep and abiding love for General Conference. I excitedly look for ward to clearing off those two weekends of my year and relish in the excitement of messages that have always answered the questions and thoughts of my heart.

My spirit still leaps at the first swell of organ.

This weekend is one of those exciting weekends. I now gather with my family, we eat toasted bagels with lox and cream cheese for breakfast and I sit and journal my thoughts while the boys build legos on the floor. It is a special time set aside. At the end of the weekend I am always grateful for it, even when it seems inconvenient.

The messages from general conference fill me with a brightness of hope for the future. As the heaviness of the world wears me down, I find that the inspired men and women who speak at General Conference speak messages that lift me up. They fill my mind with ideas and action that I can take to combat whatever comes my way. They remind me of God’s infinite love and his constant hand.

Each weekend feels like a reset, a time to get a full-charge.

I have so much gratitude for that friend who had the impression to invite and introduce me to what might seem like a pretty overwhelming weekend. She knew the power that can come from taking the time to sit and listen to a servant of the Lord. The men and women who speak are called of God and the messages they prepare are done so with a great deal of prayer and study. There have been messages that have answered the complicated questions in my heart, there have been messages that bring clarity to thoughts and ideas I have been having, and there have been messages that fill me with the Spirit of God, strengthening my testimony and trust in a loving Heavenly Father.

I will always be glad that I accepted that invitation that led me to the greatest bounty of peace in my life. General Conference will always serve as a reminder to me that I am not alone on this earth. Heavenly Father has sent servants to help and aid me, to help bring a surety and confidence to move in the right direction.

I know that His hand is outstretched still.

If you are curious about General Conference, I encourage you to watch. You can do so from your own home. The link below has a list of the many ways to watch (It starts 10am MST, so if you are in the PNW with me, it starts at 9am).

Watch General Conference

Have a wonderful, uplifting weekend. I know I will!

When you spend a year doing your best not to shop, you get a much more clear idea of what it is you actually like and want, rather than what an ad tries to convince you that you need.

Clothes were my biggest culprit prior to last years challenge. I wasn’t an excessive shopper by any means (my favorite store was a thrift store) but I definitely ended up with a lot of clothes that I thought I liked but didn’t actually wear. Not shopping forced me to forge deeper into the depths of my lesser worn items and as creative as I tried to be with them, I still didn’t really want to wear them.

Thus, a clear picture of my style emerged and a clear vision of what I valued in clothing emerged as well.

For some clothing is a purely functional endeavor but I have always loved clothes for their ability to help me feel creative, confident, and strong. Some might try to pass off clothes and style as only a shallow endeavor (and it certainly can be) but I found that clothes are a fun and simple form of self-expression. That isn’t shallow at all. When we utilize what we wear to give the world an idea of who we are, clothes can be incredibly empowering. They can absolutely make us feel beautiful and confident and lovely and carefree, and they should! It really is about finding what makes you feel most like yourself.

So I knew I wanted to challenge myself again and challenging my wardrobe was what I was drawn toward.

As I read to stay motivated last year, one challenge kept coming back up and piquing my interest, Project 333. The challenge is pretty simple, 33 items of clothing for 3 months. This includes shoes and accessories and typically does not include activewear and sleepwear. Many people have undergone this challenge and you can look up their efforts under #project333. It’s basically a twisted version of fashion blogging, and many have tweaked the guidelines to fit more in line with their lives (which is encouraged by the creator of the project), but the main element typically stays the same: 33 items, 3 months.

I have loved looking at other’s challenges and what they chose and how they wore it, so with this challenge I will try to document it along the way, most likely on instagram (@gidgetgoestorome). I chose not to include outerwear or accessories (because my accessory game is non-existent) and am giving myself 3 opportunities to alternate an item if something really isn’t being worn (sticking with the magical number 3 makes it legitimate right?).

So without further ado, here are the clothes!

13 tops total. Lots of blues, whites and pinks. I know what colors make me feel most confident, what can I say?

The sweaters. Keeping me warm on those colder spring days. I actually got all my items down to 34 and really struggled to finally ditch a third gray sweater that I was holding on to. Kyle convinced me to let go, especially since it was wool and wouldn’t get that much wear now that the days were getting warmer, plus no one needs 3 gray sweaters…

Nursing-friendly dresses! I love dresses, they always make me feel instantly put together with very little thought. The denim one can be dressed up or down and the floral is perfect for a few fancier occasions coming up (Easter, baby blessing, school fundraiser).

Both of these pants are for warmer days. The chambray gauchos are a risk, but I wanted a little excitement in my life. That’s right, I live on the edge with chambray gauchos, be jealous.

My favorite and most worn skirts. I am actually looking for a chambray a-line skirt (I like denim okay?!) to replace the floral but feel like I might have to venture into sewing it myself, a project for summer!

The jeans clockwise from the top left: skinny, boyfriend, destroyed, black.

Wedges, booties, nude flats. Each spring I purchase a new pair of nude flats, because they are my most worn shoe. I haven’t been able to make the purchase yet, but plan to replace these within the next couple of weeks with a new pair because these ones are on their last leg of life (and I can because it is my challenge and I am an adult).

Sandals (which actually need to be replaced as well but I will wait until July), sneaks (that I have had since 2008!), black flats.

So there you have it! This is what I will be wearing for the next three months starting April 1st. If you feel inclined to do this yourself or think “33 items? I probably only have that many already!” (this is straight from the husband’s mouth), I challenge you to join me. The benefits far outweigh the struggle of these challenges and I promise there is a secret bonus: less laundry!

In the meantime, I am consciously choosing not to wear anything in these pictures until this Saturday.

When I was a teenager, I started making the habit to wash my face each evening before bed.

I take the time for the water to warm, gently wash off the day’s experiences and finally take a bit of moisturizer and massage that in. What started out as advice from my mother (that I was reluctant to receive) turned into my favorite act of self-care.

Because it isn’t just washing my face anymore.

Over the years it developed into a beautiful moment where I look myself in the eyes and mentally affirm my self-worth. I see myself stripped of hard and tiring efforts in my day, my skin is happy and glowing and I catch that sparkle in my eyes that I have always loved. It is a simple moment of self-love, to know that I am beautiful and have value on this earth; to see that I am powerful and capable despite my weaknesses.

There were times though when it was hard to look in the mirror, when I averted my own gaze. Losing James sent me in a tailspin in which I forgot who I was and what I was capable of. I remember rubbing my face aggressively and the times when I did look in my own eyes, they looked so sad that I could never stare for long. I was scared of myself. Scared of what my own grief could do to me, scared of its power to transform my eyes so that they lost that sparkle. I could feel my own sadness when I looked in the mirror and it would send me to tears.

Have you ever watched yourself cry? Big tears well up and fall as your face contorts and swells; it confirms that you look as sad as you feel.

But there wasn’t only sadness, there was a lot of bitterness and shame. I was mad at myself, at my body for such an act of betrayal. I didn’t feel strong or capable, I felt contempt.

So I spent months, routinely washing my face, moisturizing but skipping that moment of self-love.

I have learned that Heavenly Father is acutely aware of us and is always trying to reach us. He desires to send His words of peace and love straight into our hearts, that it can flow from that central point to the rest of our being. If it starts at the heart, it will make it to the brain, to the eyes. Then we can think and see clearly what He sees.

In those months of sadness, I began studying the concept of individual-worth. Not of my own curiosity, but as part of program called Personal Progress that was created by my church. As I studied the assigned scriptures and sought out talks given by inspired men of God, the reality of how much Heavenly Father knew me started to hit. I started to remember moments where He was mindful of me, I started feeling His infinite love so fully that I started looking at myself in the mirror at the end of each day.

When I did, I saw how much love can transform us for the better. The love we have for our families and children fills us with purpose and strength; the love our Father has for us because we are His children is a constant reminder of our worth. His love is infinite and He extends that infinite love to each an every one of us.

When I look at myself in the mirror at the end of each day, good or bad, I take that moment to see myself as He sees me, as a child of God with infinite worth and a divine purpose.

It helps me see beyond my limited view and when I do I feel beautiful, I feel strong, but most importantly I feel His love.

I have had a few months to sit and reflect on the challenge I gave myself last year not to shop. I entered with so much trepidation and feel largely successful in my efforts, not because I was perfect at not shopping, but because I really believe that I learned some valuable lessons that will continue to impact our family for the better.

First off, when you stop shopping for a year, you have to learn to get comfortable saying “No.” It can be so easy to justify and reason with yourself why you feel you might need or deserve something. Asking yourself the simple question, “Can I live without this?” quickly clarifies your real feelings. You can live without more than you think. When that question feels too harsh, asking “Will this really improve my life?” is another great way to sort out whether something is needed or not.

The flip side to saying no is that you become awesomely adept at finding creative solutions. You learn to borrow, you find activities that are free, you connect with people far more. Saying “no” to all the unnecessary makes room for our relationships to enlarge and brighten.

The second lesson I learned was that it is really important to know your triggers and if you can’t avoid them, make a plan to get through them. I have learned that there are definite trigger stores for me (Target, Ikea, and Costco being the main culprits). There is a reason these stores are popular and there is a reason they make a lot of money. They are good at what they do. I was most successful when I avoided these places all together. Being tempted is never easy and these stores always had something that I could see being helpful in my life. However, when I didn’t know something existed, I was living just fine without it in the first place. Also, everyone makes jokes about walking into Target and leaving spending way more money than planned…I mean I laugh too, but sometimes jokes speak great truths.

One major discovery was that change was a larger trigger than I expected and I wasn’t prepared for it. Within the space of three months we bought and moved into a fixer upper, found out I was pregnant again, and started rehearsals for a musical. Life was busy and time felt short and I was tired in every sense. That is when it became a lot easier to justify things like eating out. At one point Kyle bought me a few tops (at Target of course) because all of my maternity clothes had gone through the ringer (ahem…three previous pregnancies) and it was like it unleashed a floodgate of justifying purchases a little more easily. I would probably say I was still pretty stringent by most peoples standards, but it definitely crossed the line that I had set for myself, which was disappointing. Through this I learned that I am most successful when I plan ahead.

I also found that when I surrounded myself with the right voices, it helped me to stay focused. There are tons of bloggers, instagrammers, facebook pages, and writers out there who live minimally. They promote a simplified life and offer tons of insight and advice. When I take the time to really read their words, they help to fortify my desire to make these positive changes in how we live. They drown out all those other posts about whatever sale is going on and those supposed “must-have” items. They redirect persuading thoughts back to where you want them, on the things that hold true value.

The biggest takeaway from this shopping ban was not the amount of money saved, but the establishment of a simpler, more free way of life. A life where I don’t feel hurried or overwhelmed, where I have tons of time to be present and pursue worthwhile goals. I have loved having more freedom to reflect and meditate upon what values I want to promote for myself and within my family. Saying “no” more often means getting to say “yes” to what matters most.  There are so many things that we know drain our energy and leave us frustrated but we continue on, pushed forward by unknown forces to maintain the status quo. Taking a break from shopping disrupted this standard and revealed a slower pace.

This slower pace makes room for quiet reflection, for sitting and reading with my sons and building tower after tower. It prioritizes time together, gathered around the table for dinner or snuggled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.  It gives me moments to recharge by reading a book or taking a walk. It has clarified dreams and goals and given me power to pursue them. More often I feel myself grinning and finding joy in everyday moments.

This shopping ban was the tip of an iceberg of discovering minimalism. On my favorite minimalist blog, Becoming Minimalist, Joshua Becker clarifies what minimalism is. He writes, “At its core, minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it.” I love this! This is the heart of what I have discovered and I want to continue challenging myself to promote what I value and get rid of the excess.

I have a few more ideas in mind to keep this momentum going.

Stay tuned.

The grass is matted down to the earth, still unaware that the snow has melted.

The days alternate between gray skies, late winter flurries that melt instantly, fierce winds that drop the temperature by ten degrees, and glorious, bright sunshine-filled days.

The gray skies feel numbing after this long winter. The late winter flurries confuse and tease. The wind feels forceful, but the sun, the sun transforms.

It melts the snow and sends droplets falling from every surface, flickering as the light catches them in free fall. Small streams run at the edges of streets, cars splash through deep puddles, the world comes alive.

But that grass is still stuck, seemingly frozen in place.

I feel like that grass.

I have largely sequestered myself at home. Finding comfort in the familiar four walls that contain my children, I know what to expect. I know that if Danny runs off, he is either 1) playing with one of the three sinks in our home 2) upstairs dumping out the Duplo box to make the tallest tower or 3) wandering the house with my phone taking pictures of the dog, the walls, pillows, piles of clothes (dirty and clean), and most recently himself (He prefers a blue-tinted filter for everything).

But I am growing restless and have been itching for my brain to thaw. I imagine my neural pathways stuck in routine, matted together like leaves of grass. I feel my brain and body gaining clarity and momentum with the sunshine and all these ideas and projects have come rushing in.

Traveling, book clubs, hiking clubs, art classes, play-dates, curated closet, bathroom remodel, kitchen remodel, theater, gardening, movies, writing and these ideas keep looping around over and over.

So I sit frozen, unable to make any progress on any of those ideas (Except the one day I managed to remove the seashell wallpaper in the bathroom!) and then I get sad and frustrated and I wallow and sulk in all those unexplored ideas and wonder if any will ever come to fruition.

But the sunshine is melting the earth and I feel energy reviving my mind and with it I am given the sweet reminder.

Be gentle with yourself. Time is slow and fast and precious. Spring doesn’t arrive in one day, it comes at first in the melting and gains momentum in the sunshine. New buds and leaves rise up and stretch and fan out and new grass will grow, disrupting what is matted together and there will be a day when you sit outside enjoying the sunshine with the biggest grin because spring has arrived.  That transition always feels sudden after the fact.

As I slowly stretch myself from these newborn days, I want to be careful not to run faster than I am able (as I am inclined to do). Leisurely mental walks feel lovely and are just the pace for those swirling ideas to find their footing.

There is no rush because I have learned that my life is not a race. Knowing my greatest treasure lies within my four walls I have found peace within my simple days of staying at home. As my days are filled with messes and cries, I find space for small commitments that challenge and strengthen me. I embrace opportunities that fill and revitalize.

I feel that gentle shift; like Winter turns into Spring and new grass starts to grow.

Inside the safety and warmth of my home I have been able to snuggle a precious newborn. I have taken the time to watch him nurse, eyes looking for mine. I have held him in my arms and simply watched each breath, every relaxed inhale and exhale notes a peace that many children yearn for.

Within my own community, I hear stories of children who struggle, who are neglected and sometimes even unloved. My mom works directly with these children, laboring relentlessly to help families find long-term solutions for their troubles. She calls, emails, and visits schools, she fights for those who have no one in their corner. It is tiring work that not many can or are willing to do, but she knows that if she doesn’t do it, often no one else will.

As I scroll through my news feeds, both social and press, I have been overwhelmed with stories and opinions and felt frozen with indecision on what I can contribute to the dialogue. There is not much I can say that has not already been spoken of and for that I have refrained, and on another hand many conversations are wrought with mocking and rage which I have found to be of little help for anyone.

However, I have also been inspired; by those who have found their voice in this massive sea, by those who have the time and resources to peacefully protest, by those who have found their footing creating light-filled activism.

As I have sat in the comfort of my home, tending to this new life, I have been filled with fear and anger, confusion and shock at the words and actions of our President and how much he has impacted the humanity of our nation. I think about this new baby and the world he has joined. As his mother, I feel the urgency to take care of him by giving him all the tools he will need to withstand chaos and confusion. Then I think of all of those children, within my very own community, who have very few advocates, if any. I think of those children in war-torn nations who have families and advocates but still struggle to escape their reality because of resources and laws.

I do not understand the lack of empathy that I see in the choices of our leaders, and it pains me because I feel helpless as the problems seem so huge and insurmountable and here I sit on my couch nursing my child for the millionth time and picking up messes and folding clean clothes. My life ticks on, the world still spins and yet there are people who are simply seeking refuge.

A life of simply nursing and cleaning clothes. A life where the messes can be picked up and tidied.

As we look at our history and the atrocities committed, humanity has been at the heart of it. Our humanity is our ability to empathize and understand. To find ways to lift and help each other. Our humanity is rooted in civil discourse and peaceful activism. When I think of the horrors of our history, it is the silence and dismissing that haunt me. The shrugging of shoulders and closing of curtains.

I want to purposefully participate in the goodness of humanity; the creation of light and peace.

As a mother of newborn, I am limited but there is still much that I can do.

I will start with maintaining the peace in my home. I will create a safe haven for my children and do my best to open my doors and set a spot at my table for others.

I will speak up when I see or hear discrimination. I will not do this with anger or mocking but with a steady voice, rooted in kindness.

I will write letters and make phone calls to representatives and speak up for civil liberties.

I will continue to be aware and conscious of the issues that surround us and the impact they have not only on MY family but how they impact ALL families. The quick or easy solutions are rarely best, but the solutions that take into account diverse voices and experiences have lasting power.

I will pray. I will pray for my nation. I will pray for those who lead and guide this country to do so with love. I will pray for the many who are hurt by and live in fear of the actions of our government. For refugees and immigrants, for people of color and women, for the poor and desolate, for the children who yearn for safe walls, for a haven of their own.

If I am a mother, I am a mother to all. I will follow the example of my Savior and open my arms, stretch out my hands, and make space in my heart to love and care for all of God’s children.