I had the huge pleasure of meeting Lisa at Blissdom this year. She writes at Franny Bolsa, where she’s “just a girl telling stories.” She’s also a girl sharing amazing pictures in her “Ordinary Lens” weekly series, in which she makes ordinary things and moments extraordinarily stunning. She’s the mother of an accomplished, beautiful teenage girl (Girl Wonder, whom she brought to Blissdom with her) and an amazing example of a classy, humble, strong woman that writes from the heart. And she contributes at Mama and Baby Love.

She is a light in the online world, with her gorgeous smile and wicked sense of humor. I’m so glad you came to share at my place today, Lisa!

Expectations. The things we see in our head. Held against the reality of our lives. Constantly shifting. Cracking. Blowing open. Reassembling.

When I was younger. I expected to be a wandering soul.  I had visions of drifting around the world with a camera. Wearing faded jeans and scuffed up cowboy boots. I expected my hips would remain forever slim and jiggle free.

The reality… I got married at 26. 6 months later found myself pregnant.  Motherhood was never on the list of expectations. I have the tattoos and piercing to prove it. In places I had no idea would stretch and stretch and stretch.  Belly button ring when you’re 6 months pregnant? I was a butterball turkey in Liberty overalls.

I brought a squirming tadpole of a baby into this world. I didn’t expect to have my heart leap to the outside, get swaddled in an 8.5 ounce person, and handed back to me.  I expected to be a family.  2 years later I found myself divorced and living in Florida with my parents. And y’all… my hips? Like Jello.

I expected to make my way back home to Tennessee.  I made that happen. Living with your parents is a powerful motivator.

Expectations were whittled to the bone. Just get by. Get through today. Hold it all together.  Keep a roof over our heads. Keep my Girl Wonder fed and clothed. Every month. Month after month.

I became a master of thrift. Learned my way around a kitchen.  I paid off all my debt except for my house. Girl Wonder has flourished into a 14 year old, 6 foot tower of possibility.  We have a roof over our heads. Our bellies are full and laughter settles in the clutter around the house.

It’s hard to look in the mirror and still see a woman who feels like she’s just getting by.  I’ve forgotten to raise my expectations. My dream muscle is strong.  The action muscle feels wimpy.

I am a 41 and forgotten how to be a woman beyond Motherhood and the Keeper of All Things.  I’ve gotten lost in the daily shuffle.  I have to remember how to think beyond today.

It’s time to expect. To build. For tomorrow. For myself. To dream out loud and with the doing of things.

Secretly, you know, – just between you and me – I’m terrified of failure. Paralyzed with it. If fear was a pair of Spanx, I’d practically have a Brazillian butt lift right now.

I want to write a cookbook. I want to stand behind my camera and make magic happen.  I want to expect: big, grand, crazy. Wild Woman expectations.

The best thing about expectations, even those that soar and crash, is their ability to be re-born.