Blazing.

One of the pitfalls of having an introverted personality is that I've developed a keen eye to my surroundings.  And sometimes the world around me isn't such a magical place.  Sometimes it's down right ugly, filled with hurting people.  I should know, for a long time I was one of them.

One of the greatest joys of being saved by grace is that I no longer wallow in my pain and suffering.  Instead I want to counter the ugly with beauty and light until it is so bright that it shines right through me, onward and upward, radiating God's love for me out of every single fiber of my being.

I live for the small moments.

I want to pick wildflowers from my backyard and soak up the summer sunshine.  I want to wake up every single morning to two sweet little boys climbing into bed with me and rousing with good morning snuggles.  I want to sit down with a favorite book and a hot mug full of coffee.  I want to sit on the back porch with my husband and count the stars in the sky; never making a wish because what we have is already a dream come true.

I want to find whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, anything that is excellent or praiseworthy and I want to completely immerse myself in those things.

Life is tricky.  And it's hard to navigate through all of its twists and turns. And on my journey through it I want to grab ahold of every last morsel of its sweetness and try my best to remember that the Light of the World is a steady and constant thing.  It's not set on dimmer switch.  He blazes. Always.

Giving it to God

I've had this post written a thousand and one times in my head and before I knew it it's been something like a month since I've last checked in here.  I've having a hard time organizing my thoughts and I knew I couldn't post anything else until I got this out, I just never anticipated that it would take so long.  I apologize for my absence.

In March of 2011 I cornered my husband.  Around that time I had been feeling very strongly that God was calling us to expand our family.  I had been dropping little hints here and there for months, telling Mike that I wanted to have another baby but I was always met with some resistance.  That day in March though, we sat down for hours and really discussed it. 

While Mike was slightly apprehensive about having another little one, it was because I had two fairly rough pregnancies with both Brayden and Gage and he was worried about me.  Aside from that, we were both on the same page and we both decided that it would be best to go with a Give it to God approach.  If it was meant for us to have another baby, God would take care of it.  That way there would be no planning or stressing on our part.

Soon my IUD was removed and we were on our way.  I secretly imagined us getting pregnant right away, rocking a new little baby to sleep at night, decorating a nursery.  I would browse etsy and totsy for hours, looking at all of the sweet little baby things and picturing them in our home, on our baby.

Weeks turned into months.  Months turned into a year.  And so on.

I didn't understand why things didn't move in the direction I was at this point so desperate for. We never had any sort of problem getting pregnant with either Brayden or Gage. I was emotional and angry. All around me friends were announcing their pregnancies, MOPs moms were rocking their newborns or showing off their beautiful round bellies, and I was being invited to showers to celebrate new little lives. My kids were getting older and I was stuggling see how a new baby would even now fit in our family dynamic thanks to the passing of time.

After my IUD was removed I had some strange side effects, the worst being a complete loss of having a monthly cycle.  And while many women would consider this a blessing, when you're trying to get pregnant it's a nightmare.  Even though I never officially got a period we were told by the doctor to go ahead and try for a baby.  And because I didn't have a regular monthly indicator to tell me whether or not I was pregnant, I found myself buying over the counter tests every few weeks like clockwork.  Months and months and months of negative results were gut wrenching and heartbreaking.  Each time I would spend the few minutes that it takes the test to work in prayer, pleading for this time to be the one with the positive result. But I never got it. I started to fall into a fairly deep depression.

In that time I had consulted my doctors office who had me seeing a practitioner.  On the first visit she told me everything was fine and we should just keep trying.  On the second visit she told me perhaps I was "too overweight to have a baby and that I should lose some weight first and then try again".  I left the office in tears that day, feeling like an enormous fool.

One afternoon I had apparently reached my breaking point.  Mike was at work and both Brayden and Gage were at school.  I was in the kitchen listening to KLOVE (Christian Radio) and cleaning.  I remember what happened next quite clearly, and it's something that I think I'll always in some way, shape, or form carry with me.  A story came on about a mom delivering her baby inside of a Wal-Mart, or something to that effect, that part isn't important.  What was important though was how sensitive I was at this point to anything baby related and upon hearing this seemingly innocent and sweet story something inside of me just snapped.  I starting crying, walking away from what I was doing and sitting down at the table in my dining room.  It was then and there, with wet soapy hands, that I prayed to God and begged him to take it all away.  I still desperately wanted to grow our family and I was still completely sure that this was the direction we were supposed to be headed in, but I had to find a way to get passed all of the hurt, anger, and jealousy that kept tripping me up.  So I prayed and asked God to give me the tools to let it all go.  And He did. 

After my horrible last doctor appointment and my emotional breakdown, Mike and I decided to just stick with the Give it to God plan.  We would keep going as we were, trying to get pregnant, and leaving it in His hands. 

Unfortunately, by this point, a year and a half had gone by since I had my IUD taken out and I had still yet to get period.  And in June I started to get deep pains in my pelvic region. 

I went to a new doctor.  And this time he took the time to listen to the past year and a half of my medical history.  Within the week I had an ultrasound done which determined that I have PCOS, making it very hard for me to ovulate regularly.  While this isn't the best news to hear when you're trying to have a baby, it was an absolute answer to prayer to finally have an answer to what had been going on with my body for so long.

I've spent the better part of this summer on fertility medicines.  One to make me regain my period, and one to make me ovulate, and hopefully get pregnant.  It's made me an emotional mess, the combination of the ordeal that I've gone through to get to this point and the hormonal effects of the medicines themselves. 

It was just my luck when I turned out to be allergic to one of the fertility medicines, causing me to be covered in angry looking, itchy red welts across the better part of my body.  I hadn't come this far to stop now though, and decided to continue taking the medicine anyways, dealing with the allergic reaction. 

The emotional highs and lows combined with the allergy have caused me to be something of a shut in for the better part of the Summer so far.  But my moods are finally starting to even out and the reaction is all but gone.  I'm hoping to spend the rest of the season making memories with my family and friends.

Am I pregnant?  No.
Will I ever be pregnant?  I honestly don't know.
Are we still trying?  Yes.

We are still Giving it to God.  Because He is faithful and He has a plan.

Earthly Treasures

I have a confession to make.

Most days it feels as though I am floundering my way though life.

I am a mother of two strong willed children.  Brayden and I are in a constant battle over talking back to his father and I.  Gage is extremely social, so much so that sometimes he's disruptive at school.
I am the wife to a man who I don't always have patience for.  I expect too much out of Mike a lot of the time and when he doesn't live up to those expectations I get frustrated with him.
My clean laundry is unfolded and in a mountain in the middle of my living room floor, where it has been for three days now.
I haven't actually cooked a meal for dinner since Friday.
I start a million projects at a time and take my sweet time finishing them when I really should be focused on other things. (case in point my Project Life album and the new quilt I'm sewing)
I'm part of a leadership team in MOPS and more often than not I feel like the weakest link in the chain, as in perhaps my faith isn't strong enough to be there, or my self assurance is lacking in the extreme and maybe I'm not the best person to be in the position that I'm in.
I've also alienated so many friends as a result of my depression and anxiety that I'm leery of making any new ones for fear that they too will leave.
And I've all but abandoned this blog and any friends I've made through it.

A lot of the time I feel like a girl who is still struggling to find her place in the sun. 

I admit that I coveted the picture perfect family, with two kids who were always respectful and mild mannered.  I wanted the neat and tidy house and to prance around like Donna Reed in a skirt and heels with an apron around my waist cooking three course meals for my doting husband.  I wanted the popular blog who a million people subscribe to, all because they thought that the things I have to say have some sort of merit.   And I wanted the life long girlfriends that I can laugh and cry with fifty years from now.

I've had a pretty nasty habit of collecting earthly treasures and comparisons of the people and things around me. 

But let's be real for a minute here.  Say I had all of that stuff.  Say that my life was picture perfect.  What would it truly get me?  Happiness?  Contentment?  Fulfillment? 

The answer is nothing.  It would get me absolutely nothing.  I can't take any of it with me when I die.  And holding on to the wish of having it all has prevented me from seeing what is truly important. 

I'm striving to be the absolute best mother that I can be.  We have our hills to climb, but God loves me anyways.
I'm trying so hard to be the wife that I was designed to be for my husband.  It's a work in progress, but God has never left my side.
My house is messy and I start projects without finishing them.  But God still wants to come inside.
I'm self deprecating, but with God at my side I'm (albeit slowly) learning that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.   For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Every single day is a battle.  And every single day that I wake up I am choosing to put my trust in the Lord.  Because really, it's the heavenly treasures that I want: the love, ultimate acceptance, and rest that I find in Him.

About a month ago I got this tattoo (Psalm 143:8) on my left forearm because I needed the reminder that with every morning I get a new chance.  I get the opportunity to roll out of bed in the morning and start the day fresh and new, and I get a Savior to guide me through it. 

I'm not proud to admit that I don't always listen to Him when He speaks to me.  And perhaps the strife in my life is a direct result of that.  But each and every morning when I start fresh I know that He loves me that same that He did the day before, and that love is enough to keep me moving forward.

Numbering My Days

I have a habit of not sleeping at night.  It's something that I've dealt with forever.  And even though at times it's not fun, I can't find it in myself to hate the insomnia that has plagued me for most of my life.

 

There is beauty in the night.  There is something magical about being awake when the world around me is asleep.  I get the witness the silence of the late hour.  I get to be still and reflect on the day.  I get to look to the stars when I spend my quiet time with God. 

 

Last night was no different.  Long after everyone went to bed and was fast asleep I found myself awake.  I was up and wandering around my dark house when I popped my head into my boys' bedroom.  To see my sleeping kids, no matter what age they grow up to be, still takes my breath away. 

 

When did they stop being babies and start being little boys? 

 

I remember when I was a little girl how my dad would tell me how the days of this life would just melt away before my eyes and how I should always make the most of the time I have because it is fleeting, moving like the wind and taking us all along with it.  I also remember scoffing at him.  It took having children of my own to see just how right he was. 

 

 

All this to say, my life is a blur. A blink of the eye. I cannot yearn for yesterday's events more than I can pause to take in today's. Time keeps on ticking no matter how hard I try to convince it to take a break, put up its feet, and just stop for a moment.

Motherhood is teaching me a lot about time. How do I value it? What is really important? How can I savor this every moment? Unless I come to understand life's brevity and properly value the time that I have, I will never have a grasp on the moments that so effortless fly by.

Time is precious. We will only be able to grasp how truly precious it is when we are no longer able to take advantage of it. How blessed are we to have a God who gives us opportunities to learn the value of our time?  I yearn to constantly be made aware of its preciousness.  And I pray for that often.  With those little boy faces changing every single day, I think it's safe to say that I will have ample opportunity to gain a wise heart.

Value today, my friends.  And take the time to thank God for blessing you enough to live it.

Listen Carefully

Recently I was asked by someone what my favourite sounds were.  In that moment, I was surprised when I found it difficult to answer.  I'd never actually taken the time to consciously make note of the sounds that make me smile. Since then, I've made list of my most favorite to share.

The sweet peals of laughter that come from my boys.
Mike telling me each and every day that he loves me.

The wet smooch of good night kisses before bed.
Pages turning as I get lost in my most beloved books.

The peaceful snore from Mike as he drifts off to sleep on the couch at night.

Silence, as I spend time with God.

It's not the rain that I love, nor is it the wind blowing through the trees.  It's not a complicated concerto, or the hustle and bustle of a big city.  But to me it's music all the same.  There is no composer greater than God, and the song that he weaves together in the sounds of my family is what truly makes me smile.

A Post on Perfectionism

(These pretty vintage glasses from Goodwill make me happy)

I stress out over really silly things.  Does anyone else do that, or am I the only one?  I stress out about our morning routine: packing lunches, eating breakfast, brushing teeth, getting dressed, catching the school bus, etc. I stress out about being on time for things and making sure that I'm always 100% prepared.  I'm the queen of really dumb things to get all worked up over. 

You know that saying "Don't sweat the small stuff"?  I'm pretty sure that I'm the exception to that rule because I stress more about the small stuff than I do the big stuff.

Ironically enough, I like to think of myself as an all-around, pretty easy-going person rather than this high maintenance monster that I've created in my head. What I think is happening is that I'm still trying to be perfect in every aspect of my life.

Perfect Wife

Perfect Mom

Perfect Friend

Perfect Cook
Perfect Artist
Perfect Sister

Perfect Daughter
Perfect Christian

I'm not too proud to admit that I want to say the right thing at the right time in the right way and that I want to do the right thing at the right time in the right way.

Being a perfectionist is not a happy profession because there was and is only one perfect person to ever walk this earth, Jesus.  And we can never attain even a shred of that perfection until we go to Heaven.

We are all infected and impure with sin. When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags. Like autumn leaves, we wither and fall, and our sins sweep us away like the wind.
Isaiah 64:6

So why in the world am I disappointed with myself and my life when it is not perfectly perfect in every way?

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity around here between school, the boys' extra curricular activities, getting ready for a dear friends bridal shower and wedding, MOPS, small group, and so much more that I can't even seem to think straight.

These are all things that I love, and are all things that I signed up for and said yes too because they bring me joy.  But lately it's been those small things that are getting in the way of me actually being happy.

I am not perfect.

I will never be perfect.

The sooner I get on with not trying to achieve perfection the sooner I can get on with living, and smiling genuine big smiles of happiness.

Today's goal: smile more.

Book Review: Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer

I'm a reader. I've always been a reader and it's pretty certain to say that I'll always be a reader. Honestly if it weren't for my husband and kids I wouldn't even own a television because I watch it that infrequently. Television is too easy for me. I need a book to be able to flex my mind. So obviously when I find a good one, I pounce.

Enter Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer. I have to admit, I was a bit hesitant when I approached this book. I read quite a bit of Christian literature, but as a contemporary Baptist, the subject matter of this book (icons, ancient prayers, etc.) was a bit foreign to me.

The more I read the more fascinated I became as the book shares the history and practices of the mystical tradition of The Jesus Prayer, which is no more than a sentence long. Also this book is packed with amazing photography for a slew of holy sites where photography is normally not allowed.

Norris and Father John McGuckin, a priest of the Orthodox Church, wrote Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer: Experiencing the Presence of God and a Pilgrimage to the Heart of an Ancient Spirituality as a travelogue and companion to the film documentary they shot on a spiritual pilgrimage to monasteries and convents in the Middle East, eastern Europe, and Asia. Their goal was to learn what they could about the origins and practice of this prayer and bring what they learned back to the West.

Prayer is a very personal thing, or at least for me it is.  It's also something that I've had to condition myself to do.  It's not always easy and it's always forthcoming.  Sometimes I get distracted and sometimes I don't get the answers that I'm looking for when I speak with God.  It can be discouraging.  But it's also the root of a love so amazing that we don't always understand it.  And that's ok.

My personal perspective on prayer, its practice, history, and its value has been enriched profoundly by reading this book. I recommend it to anyone interested in delving into the history of prayer and how that history can inform and mold our faith today.

Morning Light

I need mornings.  Even though I am not a morning person by any means whatsoever, I still need the beginning of a new day that each one brings.  The sun streaming in through my living room window, the coffee brewing in the kitchen filling the house with it's warm scent, two little boys rubbing their sleepy little eyes as the wake to greet a new day, I need it all.

Before the time change I used to wake up before the sun when the house was still dark and quiet.  Sitting on the couch that overlooks our large living room window I'd see my own reflection staring back at me in the glass while the sky outside rapidly changed from black to orange.  Slowly the light that only a new day can bring consumes me, taking my tired reflection away and replacing it with the illuminated landscape outside

I need to live in that light.  I need to wrap it around me like warm blanket and feel its comfort throughout the day. 

Rain Storms



Sometimes at the end of the week I'm too run down and tired to be of any use to anyone or anything.  Sometimes I'm like that at the beginning of the week too.  And sometimes I'm like that during the middle of the week as well. 

I call these my rainy days.  Days when the kids were particularly rowdy.  Days when I wake up with a headache or sore limbs thanks to parathyroid disease.  Days when the sky never turns bright with sun.  And days where the only way to go is up. 

There are more times than I can count where I do that the sink full of dishes needs taken care of and the mountain of laundry needs washing, but making the effort to do so is too large particularly when sitting on the couch with my feet up is just so much easier.  It soothes me, to sit a spell and be still, relishing in a few moments of quiet time.  Sometimes I need to recharge, because if I don't the rain will turn into a flood and take me away.  

There are days that come with a slight chance of rain. These are the days that come fast and come often, with no warning.  Days like this start with a late start and missed school bus, spilled milk across the kitchen counter that's dripping and pooling onto the floor, arguments between kids, and a collection notice in my mailbox. 
And so the water rises.

And soon the clouds turn grey and heavy and large droplets of water begin to fall hard and fast and I just can't seem to find my umbrella, because when it rains it pours and I am bound to get wet.  These are the days that have recently involved an emercency room trip for a sick child, being powerless to help someone close to me who struggles with addiction, and battling the nagging feelings of inadaquacy that all too often find their way into the forefront of my mind.  These are the days where I find myself at the of realizing that I haven't even once thought about or even thanked God for the blessings of my life, because during days like these the bad clouds my vision of the good and makes it extremely hard to see straight.

Again, the water rises.  And before I know it the water has risen clear up to my waist as I wade through the storm of my life. 

All because I am made of sinews of muscle that tire and flesh that gets hungry and lungs that can’t seem to catch their breath. And all that is laced through with sin that wants to trap me in my tiredness and tell me I am no good.

A year ago, that very same flash flood would have carried me away, my only saftey net being the bottles of prescription pills I took daily to keep my head above water. 

Nowadays, I've learned how to swim.  It also doesn't hurt that I've got the best life preserver out there.

So I sit down and steal away for a few quiet moments in spite of the rain rather than in the midst of it and I pray.  And God takes my empty spaces and fills them with peace.  And even though I know I'm not waterproof I will make it through.  Because after the rain comes the most beautiful rainbow.

Being Fruitful

I've found that life can come at you hard and fast in the mornings.

Most days begin in a blur. Before I even know it Brayden is out the front door on his way to meet the school bus and Gage has long since taken off into the playroom to happily push little wooden trains around. Meanwhile, this mom here still doesn't even remember rolling out of bed yet thanks to my internally ingrained autopilot mode. Soon enough Gage is trotting through the kitchen calling for a snack and I still haven't even gotten it together enough to butter myself a slice of toast.

Some days remembering to make myself breakfast is a victory.

And from that point on the day can wash over you like a tidal wave where it’s hard to catch a breath, look around, and plan a way forward. It can become nothing more than defense all day long.

I’ve been trying to change that.

Life in our house is a rush, kids zipping by all day long, needing your attention and love. Sometimes it makes me dizzy. Most times I sit down at the end of the day wondering just where the hours flew to, because they passed in a flash. We're always running on full speed. This mom's engine is seriously close to blowing.

Every morning, still in my daze, I head over to my Keurig and make myself a cup of coffee. Some days it's a bold roast, packed full of zing to get me going. Some days it's a flavored treat, like today's Cinnamon Roll was. And some days it's just whatever I happen to grab at the time because I'm too tired to care and just need the boost of caffeine that I'm sure it will bring.


But more than that, I'm choosing to fill my cup up to the very top with life. I brew then sweeten with milk and sugar, stealing away for a few moments to not only savor it but also to center myself. I drink deeply those few moments of peace. And then I do it all over again, after the sun has set and the children are tucked into their beds, only this time I've swapped out the coffee for tea.

Each and every time I steal away and bring the mug to my lips I stop and ask myself, what am I filling up on right this very second, because it's so much more than just coffee or tea. I need to fill up on fruit.
And so these are the things that I strive to pour into my empty self. I want them to fill me up from my toes to my hairline and then let them spill over my head and into this house and into the people who live with me. Some days even just one of these fruits poured only as far as my ankles can make all the difference.

I do not want to live my life in a frenzy anymore. I want it to be fruitful and I want to savor it like the saving grace that is my morning coffee and my evening tea. And I'll do just that, right there, between last night’s bedtime meltdown and this morning’s accident all over the bathroom floor.

Choosing Faith

As of late I've been seeing broken people everywhere I look. I think perhaps it's because the last few days I've been broken too, and you know what they say about misery loving company. We're hurting. Our hearts are broken. And it's makes a person so bitter to think about of the obstacles out there that we will for certain encounter in this life. I'm one of those people. I'm bitter.

A few days ago a person extremely close to me did something very very stupid, something that almost took them away from me and everyone else. (It's not my story to tell, so please don't ask me to) I've done nothing but crawl up the walls with worry the last few days, busy rationalizing how this person could do such a thing. But this isn't about me and my feelings. It isn't even about that person and their poor choice. It's about God. And as bitter as I am, I still realize that, because I am His.

I'm so thankful that there is a God who loves us all, in spite of our short comings. He wants to be our protector and comforter, our provider and healing power. But in order for any of that to come to fruition we have to let Him in. And as His child, it cuts so deep to see someone turn away from His love and turn down the wrong path. It's painful to watch.

But try as you might, the only things that you'll be able to fill the void in your life will be temporary, because we were designed and made to love and serve.

As terrifying as the past few days were, I'm extremely thankful that this horrific event has so far lead my loved one into the arms of the Savior, one he now knows is very much real. Why? Because God answers prayers. That much was proven when someone who for all accounts and purposes should be dead is still very much alive.

Sometimes even the most painful events were laid out by God for a purpose, to draw us back to him. And as bitter as I might feel, I rejoice at the same time.

Who Am I

Sometimes, well most of the time actually, it absolutely amazes me that people come here, read that things that I've written, and can find a part of themselves relating to them. I love it that you come here, and I consider you all my personal friends, even though I've never had a real conversation with most of you. Life is funny like that though, sometimes the inspiration that you take is from a perfect stranger.

I feel like I know all of you know, like really know you. I know your families and your children. I know your habits and the things that you love. So why is it that sometimes, being so sure of everyone else, I forget the things that make up who I am, those little idiosyncrasies.

Sometimes I wonder, who am I?

Every single night I thank the Lord for my boys. I have a really awesome husband who would bend over backwards just to see me smile and two amazing children who never cease to amaze me. I'm truly blessed, and when I say that I live a charmed life I really do mean it. I pray often, and I am always thankful for my family during my quiet times with God.

Even still, I'm a cynical, negative, glass half empty person who is in love with Jesus. Obviously this creates a problem, one I've been working a great deal on fixing. I strive to see the good in everything, and I wish that it was my natural reaction to do so. I want His love and how it shines through me to be the first thing about me that people notice. I write about Jesus because he's impacted my life in a way that I've never before thought possible. It wasn't too long ago that I saw only grey. I may have to dig a bit for the colors of my life, but at least now I can see them shining brightly for me.

On My Heart

God has always placed certain things on my heart during different times in my life and right now I feel like he's telling me to look at what I already know. Sometimes I ask questions that have simple answers. Answers that are right in front of my eyes if I look around and take in the simple joys of life. We, as humans, tend to look so hard for something not in sight that we have a hard time seeing the things that are already in front of us, myself included.

•The problem can always be solved with love.

And true love means loving someone during their most unlovable moments. When my boys fight and cry and leave the house looking like the aftermath of a tropical storm, I have to smile because God has entrusted me with molding their lives.

Today I will be slow to speak and eager to listen.

Hello 2011

The tree has been de-ornamented, de-lighted, torn apart, and placed back it's home for the other 11 months of the year, up in the attic. The decorations around the house are all boxed up and put away, leaving the house bare after a month of lights and color. Brayden is back to school today after spending too many hours to count immersed in his new toys, books, and puzzles. And even Mike is back to work today after a week long vacation at home (which would explain my absence from blogging). It's back to life as we know it, with just Gage and I running the roost today. I have an inkling that 2011 will bring much of the same. And that's ok. Because where we're at right now is a pretty great place to be.

I don't usually make resolutions. Mostly because I don't keep them. Heck, normally I don't even make it a point to try and keep them. I'm one of those people who hope that it magically just happens. Unfortunately that's not at all how life works.

This year though, will be different. Even though I know that any sort of radical changes are not in my future, I've been seeking a new ways that I can draw myself closer to God.

2010 brought me MOP's and singing in my church's contemporary choir, both things that I love doing and have proven to be a part of who I am. In 2011 I will continue them both.

On New Year's Eve my family and I went out to eat at a Chinese food restaurant. At the end of the meal they of course brought out a fortune cookie for each of us to open. Mike's said something about being happy while both Brayden and Gage's said something about building relationships with others. Mine, however, was a sign. As I sat there on the last day of 2010, reflecting on what an amazing year it had been, and thinking about all of the possibilities that 2011 will bring, I certainly was not expecting anything so amazing and altering to be nestled inside of a cookie that tastes more like cardboard then it does a cookie.


Pretty cool right?

And then, a few days later, I got an email. I had signed up for an online adventure, challenging people to read the Bible in 90 days awhile ago. Unfortunately though, in the midst of the holiday madness I plum forgot all about it.

So what is in store for me in 2011? More devotion. More love. And a growing relationship with my Lord and Savior. I can't think of any better way to kick of the new year.

Crazy Love

I read, like a lot. No seriously, I'm talking a LOT. It's what I do. And I do it fast. I devour books in a matter of hours rather than days. Once I start a good book I just can't stop until it's over. Heck, the same is true for a bad book, just because I know that if I don't get through it I'll be annoyed with myself for not finishing it.

The only exception to this is A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I HATE that book. It literally took me months to read, and truth be told I'm sure I skimmed through a few of the dull parts. Oh, and maybe Hemingway too ... I really don't like Hemingway.

But anyways, that's not what this blog post is about. Lately my reading has taken on a new path. Rather than reading for enjoyment, or for even education, I've been reading for spiritual enlightenment lately. My heart is thirsty.

Have you read this book yet?
For some reason I can't find my pace while reading Crazy Love. It challenges everything about me. I'm finding it hard to just keep reading, flipping page after page, just to see what comes next, because quite honestly what comes next is a scary thing. Although this book is not mighty in terms of length, it's the hardest thing that I've ever read. And I am bound and determined to devote the time necessary to this book. In fact making the necessary changes in my life as outlined here is my 2011 resolution. And it's hopefully the first one in the history of my life that I'll keep.

I can guarantee that this book will shake everything that's inside of you up. It will make you uncomfortable, but in the best definition of the word.

So friends, what are you reading?

No Apologies

I've noticed an increasing trend on my blog over the last few months, something that I've just sort of overlooked, brushed off as a fluke, and maybe even not published a post or two because out of fear. It's something that's weighed on me for awhile, and brought a sort of weight that I'm struggling to carry.

I've lost many readers. Like, a lot of them. Some of them were people whom I considered to be good friends, after all, it's an intimate thing we do as bloggers, sharing our families and our hearts desires so publicly like this. You people know me. If you're a devoted follower then you know the ins and outs of my life and found them interesting enough to keep coming back to see what tomorrow brings for myself and my family. I know this, because it's the way I feel about most of you and your blogs (trust me, even if I don't comment every single time, I'm there in the shadows reading about the ins and outs of your life too. There's just probably a four year old hanging on me while I'm doing it, preventing me from typing.)

So when did I start seeing this trend, these peoples presence start to fade? When I started talking about Jesus.

It would be easy to just stop. I could keep writing fluffy little posts day in and day out and show you all some cute pictures of my boys and be done with it. But I know that's not what those who still read come here for. You come here because in one way or another, as a mother, a wife, a crafter, or a friend, you and I are relatable. And I hope that when it comes to my life and the things that I write about, you can appreciate the honesty in them. Because life is not always easy and it's not always pretty. In fact it rarely ever is. But the Lord is my constant encouragement and is the biggest part of my life. How could I exclude him from any aspect of it, let along this journal of my life, loves, and thoughts.

So while I was at first confused, I am now strong. I will not be afraid to have such a loving presence in my life that shines through every little thing I do, including my posting here. I make no apologies, because this blog is authentic to my everyday. And everyday I am thankful for the one who died so that I could live to experience all of the ups and downs that I share here with you each and every day. And every day I pray and turn to Jesus for his guidence and love. And it's my hope that you can relate to that or appreciate it in a way that makes you want to keep coming back for more.

And for those of you that don't, well I'm sorry to see you leave, but don't let the proverbial door hit you on the rump as you go.

God Bless.

God and Children

My mother has this old picture of me as a baby. In it I'm dressed in a long white gown and am laying in her arms with my father and a few other family members surrounding me, all looking down towards the little babe whom was that days main event. That photograph was taken the day of my Catholic baptism.

Ironically, from what I can remember, that was most likely the one and one church visit that I had with my parents. My mom and dad were more of the non-practicing variety or maybe they were home-based Catholics, stealing away a few quiet moments that I've never seen, which I would like to believe is true. Either way, the topics of God and the Bible were not a present ones during my childhood.

It pains me to say that for a long time I grew up not believing in anything at all. I was good at questioning authority, history, and literature, but most certainly not my own existence. I never had the comfort of prayer and the joy of knowing that I was loved and that I was placed on this earth with a purpose.

And then I was on the receiving end of not one, but two miracles: the births of my children. The first time I was able to stare into their eyes I just knew that something much much greater than myself not only existed, but was in complete control of my life. It was like a long dormant light switched on inside of my heart and I was really able to see the world for what it is, temporary.

And so I became more invested in educating myself, and in learning about the world my curiosity about religion began to expand. Literature, sciences and philosophy created new questions, all of which I needed to find the answers to. Over the next several years I engaged in a quest for answers and began to pray. I questioned everything, not out of cynicism, but in honor of independent thinking, and freedom of thought. So when the time came for me to introduce my children to God, it felt natural and it felt right for me and for our family.

I don't want my children to grow up as I did, without a set of ideas and beliefs and without the comfort of knowing and loving Jesus. I don't have any of those beloved baptism photos of my children. And truth be told I probably won't for awhile. When I was placed in that water I was just a baby and had no idea what it stood for. I'm choosing to educate my boys on the love of Christ first. And then they will decide for themselves, if they choose to do so.

Each night, after I lay my head down upon my pillow, I close my eyes and I pray silently to God. I know that he hears me and I know that he is answering those prayers. I ask him to walk with my boys and to lead them in the right direction on the path of this life. I ask him to deliver to them the overwhelming joy of knowing that God is real and that he loves them unconditionally.

Because to feel loved, honestly and truly loved, by the Lord is the most amazing feeling that there is.

Let Go and Let God

image courtesy of one of my favorite shops tankandtink

Lately it seems like my to-do list is longer than the amount of hours in the day. I know that's not the case, but I feel overwhelmed. I need to learn to let go and let God.

When I see the pattern of my days molding into the pattern of my life I know that it is God who is arranging it for me and that I must follow his plan. There is a lesson to be learned and He wants to make sure that I am there to learn it. From the series our church and our small group is doing, to the book suggested and lent to me by our women's ministry director, and the women's retreat I just got back from. God is speaking to me, loud and clear, and I need to just slow down really pay attention and absorb what He has to say.

During last weeks small group meeting, one of our discussion prompts was to ask ourselves why we hang on to our emotional baggage when God has already forgiven us for it. That question threw me for a loop. So much so that it's still fresh on my mind five days later when normally I can't make it five minutes remembering something that was asked of me. I think that, perhaps, we are emotional beings because that's whom God created us to be and he did so with the purpose of us having self reflection, so that we might learn from our mistakes.

That path that God has placed me on is not a light one. It's hard. I'm finding myself asking some very tough questions and am finding answers that are not so pretty. But with the Lord by my side I know that I will come out of it a better person. So I'm opening my sails and I'm ready to soar under the wing of the God that I love.

Morning Devotions

I wake up early most mornings nowadays. After getting the boys up so that Brayden can begin getting ready for his day of school and grabbing myself a cup of coffee or tea I make my way to our front window to gaze out at the fields, which are becoming more and more visible as the leaves from the trees in our slowly drift down to the earth. If I can see the bleak outline of the the hills, covered in an early morning fog, in the distance then I know that today will be an exceptional one. Each and every morning I give thanks for the beauty that I'm surrounded with.

I woke up this very morning and did just that. I need the rejuvenation in the AM that only a few stolen moments of quiet prayers can bring.

There are other days though, and those days are more often than not. Days when the sky is grey and bleak and raindrops the size of grapes litter my spot on the earth. The boys are cranky and the sunshine is nowhere to be found. On those days I look out towards the horizon but am only met with thick fog. On those days my prayers become less of thanks and amazement and more of "I might go insane being stuck inside of this house with these stir crazy kids! Amen."

It's difficult to see it, and even more hard to remember it when the odds are stacked up against me on those days, but beyond the grey skies and storm clouds still lies something beautiful and amazing. Past the sour children, the fog, and the rut of the day is still something worth seeing, I just need to have the eyes to search for it all.

I cherish those amazing mornings where the sky is clear and the sun is shining down straight from Heaven. And while those days can often times be far and few between I'm learning to cherish the grey ones that are the norm.


For those that asked and emailed me,because I have no clue how to reply via email to your blog comments (lame, I know), the book we're studying in our Small Group is Life's Healing Choices by John Baker of Saddleback Church, and let me tell you, it's amazing!

Life's Blessings

I hate to admit it, but I'm one of those people who lose sight of their blessings. And I do it often.

I've always been a glass half empty kind of girl, never getting my hopes up over things and never trying to find any sort of silver lining. It's just who I am, it's ingrained in me. I'm a realist. Because of that I often overlook some of life's simple joys that are staring me right in the face.

The way the morning sun hits the pavement and explodes into a billion sparkles.
The simple joy of two brothers getting along and laughter floating down the halls of our home.
Lazy afternoon naps in an unmade bed.
Puddles of rain that cast rainbows across the walkway in front of our house.
Cuddling up beside the one you love for a peaceful nights slumber.

These are the things that become normal when in fact they are anything but. They are extraordinary. They are amazing. Today, rather than overlook my blessings, I'm making an effort to recognize and love them. Won't you do the same?