Kim Harms

Life Reconstructed


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This is What it’s Like When Home is Your Office

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When your house looks like this and you need to get some writing done, but you are too much of a hermit to pack up and find a different location from which to work, you move a chair in front of a window and pretend that because you can’t see the mess, it doesn’t exist.

This is my writing strategy for the day. 🙂

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Sometimes You’ve Gotta Take Care of Some Crap to Get to Where You Want to Be

Sometimes our house smells like crap. Literally. (Not figuratively-literally. Literally-literally.)

And I love it. (Not the smell, the house.)

It’s been two months since we moved in, and I still have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude every IMG_20170330_103945088time I turn onto my cracked, narrow driveway.  God gave us this house. I mean, we bought it and everything, but there are some things in life that are clearly gifts from God. This house, with all of its quirks, is one of those things.

And it definitely has some quirks.

Like the crap.

Our basement seriously smells like a poop bomb on occasion. One night I plugged in my Scentsy warmer to mask the stink, and I thought I’d done a pretty good job.

 When Carter walked in the house from youth group, I asked him what he smelled.

“Sweet farts,” he said.

Yep. That’s about right. Sweet farts. Is that better than sour farts? I don’t even know…

When that unpleasant smell wafts up the stairs, my first thought is, “Oh gross, here we go again.” And my second thought is. “God gave us this place, so if he wants us to deal with crap, we’ll deal with crap.” (And we are by the way. The plumber is scheduled to come soon 🙂 )

I’ve lived in some nice new houses.

I’ve had granite countertops, hardwood floors, gorgeous 5-panel solid wood doors, cavernous tiled showers, huge mudrooms, stone fireplaces and even a theater room encased in concrete underneath our garage floor (known to us as the zombie apocalypse room.)

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Zombie Apocalypse Room

Those houses were beautiful.

But here’s the deal. Since we never intended to stay in those homes and chose some design elements for the purpose of making them more appealing to a buyer (stainless steel – oh how I strongly dislike you…), sometimes I felt like I was borrowing the house from a future owner. And because I grew up in a century old house in which my dad was always in the middle of a remodeling project, maybe I felt slightly out of place in the new. I think I’ve been longing for this different kind of housing adventure and didn’t even realize it.

So now I live in this 20-year-old house (which I realize is not very old) that needs some Harms TLC. And I love it. Even though – 

  •  Some crazy person painted all the grout. (Seriously. How many hours did that take? What in the world?)17125634_627051914170579_1753522107712536576_n  IMG_20170330_095855850
  • A flower garden exploded on the guest bath walls. (I could only stomache that for about 3 weeks before scraping it all off and painting.)
  • Light switches were installed on the wrong side of the doors.
  • Every single interior door has a keyed lock.
  • The laundry room is accessed through a bathroom. (Kudos to me for living here for two months without dropping a sock in the toilet.)
  • The mudroom is, oh wait, we don’t have one. 😦
  • The kitchen has this crazy big oddly placed island.
  • And the master bath was designed by someone who has never had to pee in the middle of the night.

But this place is still a gift. It’s just a little rough around the edges.

I’m excited to reimagine all the awkward spaces with Corey. I love that I’m married to a guy who gets an idea and then just goes for it.

He can see beyond what is visible and it doesn’t bother him when people give him weird looks or when his brilliant ideas end up acting like second full-time jobs for a season.

He has the end goal in sight from the beginning, and he sacrifices to get to that place. He just does the thing that will get him to where he wants to be. And he doesn’t let the crap stop him. (Though sometimes he lovingly waits patiently while I take my sweet time warming up to his brilliance.)

And I fully expect to see some of that brilliance here at 804 Timberlane…

…after we take care of the crap.


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Talking Breast Cancer and Marriage at Christianity Today Women

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When I started writing my article that went live today at Christianity Today Women, my intentions weren’t to share the story with the world. I was writing for myself. Therapy on paper.

But in the midst of it, the call out came for marriage articles, and I knew (if Corey would give me his blessing) I needed to submit a query.

We are in this marriage thing together, Corey and I.

Last year we met in sickness head on. (Dang you breast cancer.)

As we walked with in sickness, we also met up with for worse.

We fought them both and won. But it wasn’t a cake walk. Thinking of it still makes my heart hurt. And probably always will. It is a hard hard thing to find yourself in a gridlock with the person you love most in the world. But God is good. And he not only got us through it, but made our marriage stronger for it.

I have been learning this year, and have mentioned before, that sometimes the good gifts come through the hard things.

I hope that’s what you see as you read my words at CT Women.

How Breast Cancer Marred My Picture Perfect Marriage


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Just a Mom Shamelessly Promoting Her Boy’s youtube Channel

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He’s being creative (albiet crazy) and it makes me happy.

This one involves basketball, tabasco sauce, a freezing cold creek and 30 seconds of oh-my-goodness-my-son-has-lost-his-mind at the end.

Watch and give Owen a like if you feel so inclined.

EXTREME GAME OF PIG CHALLENGE (Flip Shots youtube channel)

 


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Without the Hard Things

Given a choice between the hard things and the easy things, I’d pick easy. But sometimes God doesn’t let me choose.

One year ago today Corey and I faced a really hard thing. A 5-hour surgery to remove my cancer and my breasts.

I remember it with an ache in my heart. But right beside that ache there is joy. JOY. Because God is good and the giver of the good things. Even in the wake of bilateral mastectomies and reconstruction.

  • The good thing of experiencing  peace that passes all understanding deep down into my bones as I was poked, prodded, injected with blue radioactive dye and wheeled around the hospital before surgery. I have felt the peace of God many times in my life, but never have I experienced it like that.img_20160225_181228780
  • The good thing of Corey sitting beside my bed that first night in the hospital, holding my hand all night long, as I slipped in and out of sleep. (Seriously, the man pulled the recliner right up beside my bed and sat close enough to hold my hand for the entire night, only releasing his grasp to scratch the incessant itch that I could not reach at the end of my nose.)

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  • The good thing of my boys visiting me in the hospital because they needed to see for themselves that I was going to be okay. (My boys, and my mom who brought them to see me, are the best. Also, Carter and Owen have each grown like a foot and turned into man creatures since this photo was taken.)
  • The good thing of the hazy, nearly silent, but super-naturally peaceful hour with my bff, Marti, who came to sit with me while Corey met a friend for lunch, so I wouldn’t have to spend one minute of my hospital stay alone.
  • The good thing of the 20-something nurse who, at the end of her shift, said to Corey and me “You guys are so cute. I just had to say it.” (And we are cute, darn it. She was speaking truth.)
  • The good thing of the release nurse saying “You have a very nice husband; how he takes care of you. Not all husbands are like that.” (Truth again. He’s the real deal.)

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And look at us now. Because of what we endured together, this year’s family photos will probably always be my favorite. (Plus I think we would make a sweet Under Armour ad.)

I believe what it says in the book of James, that every good and perfect gift comes from above. From my father in heaven. I also believe that sometimes those good and perfect gifts can only be delivered through the hard things.

So I will endure the hard things. And I will find joy in the good things that saturate the hard things in light.

 

 

 

 

 


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My Son is Pretty Cool – Trick Shots

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Thank you Dude Perfect for inspiring my 8th grader. Love that he is actively creative in setting up trick shots and mentally creative in editing video footage. Below is a link to Owen’s latest trick shot video on his youtube channel Flip Shots.

CRAZY MINI HOOP TRICK SHOTS


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Love Proven on a Twisty Slide @ Inspire a Fire

My monthly blog post is up at Inspire a Fire.  It’s a little tiny blip of the whole story of my friendship with my best friend. I think about 16 years ago, God was like, “Well, these women are going to need each other because I’m going give give them a boatload of boys. I should probably I’m going to introduce them before that first boy arrives.” (We met when I was 8 months pregnant with my oldest.)

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A photo of those 6 boys before they became giants.

Love Proven on a Twisty Slide

A cute little story I wrote about my friend Marti and me was published in Guideposts a couple years ago.

The photo shoot is actually more exciting than the story, so I’ll take you behind the scenes.

It took place in mid-February. Outside. At a park. On a twisty slide. In Iowa. No coats allowed. What?!?

I suggested a photo at a coffee shop, because drinking a hot caffeinated beverage in a warm locale is more our style than balancing precariously on giant plastic playground equipment in arctic temps. But I guess they wanted to give Marti the opportunity to prove she is the friend I claimed her to be in my article. (A fair-weather friend never would have agreed to such unpleasantness. )

It was 20 degrees with an Iowa take-your-breath-away winter wind. The kind that forces tears out of your eyes and makes your nose drip.

In the photo my hand is nicely relaxed on the slide. It had been clenched in a fist in an effort to calm my shivering body, but the photographer told me it made me look like I was cold. With my other hand I held onto the red slide pole for dear life. Marti too was clamping her hand around that pole with all of her strength. (You can see that photo here.)

Read the rest of the story at Inspire a Fire.