Equipped.

Funny story – two days before the incident I spoke of in my last blog post happened, I wrote this:

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.

Colossians 3:16

The deeper I get into God’s word and the more frequently I read it, the more I truly understand what this means. I love being so rooted in the Word that whatever I’m going through, I can recall an applicable verse or reference. I love the comfort God’s promises give me when I’m going through difficult times or having doubts. And I love how God uses it to point out my sins and teach me lessons. I am very thankful that I can rely on His word.

This also tells us to use it to help and bless others. When other people see the Word in us, they can’t help but be changed somehow. I pray that I always use and portray God’s word this way.

Huh, who knew that I’d be living this out in just a couple of days? God did. And He gave me words to remind myself to cling to Him, to not get bogged down by circumstances. He has been training and equipping me for this very season, and I’m so very thankful.

Rubbish.

Something I wrote in April that spoke to me again when I read it the other night:

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ…

Philippians 3:7&8

Jim reminded us that if anyone was on the fast track to “making it”, it was Paul. He had the right social standing, he appeared to be righteous under the law, he was going places according to the world’s standards. Jim also pointed out that Paul never names anything specific that he gave up in this passage, as if it didn’t matter anyway. [Link to devotion] Jim challenged us to think about what we hold “most dear” and where we find our identity.

When I first thought about this, I honestly got a little defensive. A lot of my identity is being a wife and a mother. But, I know God has called me to these things, so why would I have to give them up? They are important to me. I was also thinking that my birthright and social standing couldn’t compare to Paul’s, but then a thought occured to me: I was born in a country that was built on freedom, I have food on my table and a roof over my head, I have money to do and buy the things I need and want. How much of my identity is in all of these things? Much more than I care to admit. What if God called me to give it all up? Would I still praise God if I were on the street, hungry, and being persecuted for my beliefs?

I think one important thing, probably the most important, is perspective. When we truly see Jesus for who He is, literally nothing else can compare. He is so big that our titles, our money, our lives seem so small in comparison. We realize that following Him should be our whole identity. In His power and presence, the biggest problems don’t even seem like minor setbacks. In a heavenly, divine perspective, worldly things seem minute. It’s all rubbish.

So, I’m not saying that my roles as wife and mother aren’t important, but they are just that, roles that God gave me to fulfill His purpose. My identity should be found in Him.

I’ve been thrown into working on the whole perspective thing… our family has been dealing with an issue the last few days. It’s not life-threatening, but definitely potentially life-changing. I was driving yesterday, and remembered a thought I had several months ago. Life was so good and my heart was so full. I remember thinking that I needed to praise God for these good times, because there are inevitably bad times too. I was trying to hold onto that feeling of joy so that I could remember it the next time joy and praise didn’t come so easily. Well, that time is now. One of those inevitable bad times is now. And I’m trying to cling so very tightly to God’s goodness and promises.

We got some good news today, but it’s still a waiting game. I fully believe that God heard the prayers of everybody who prayed for us over the last few days – and it was a lot of people. I know He will continue to be with us as we go through the next few weeks (and forever), but I already have such peace about this situation. I already have assurance that God answered the cry of His people, and He will continue to bless us immensely through this ordeal. I KNOW that He can use this for our good. I just pray that we don’t get so distracted by our circumstances that we forget to look for the blessings and the lesson. I pray that we can use this to help someone else some day. I pray that we can continue to cling to our faith in God’s unending goodness, because it is abundantly present in our lives.

End.

This is a lengthy post I wrote in February about breastfeeding. This was just a couple weeks before we completely weaned. It may be TMI, but I wish I had read something this real when we were starting out. It didn’t come easily to me, and if I can help just one other woman decide to give it a little more time, then sharing my story is worth it.

Jealous cat often wanted in on the cuddle action.

We didn’t breastfeed today. She slept in, and I took the opportunity to go straight to breakfast. We had been doing just the one morning feeding for a month or so now, and that was already killing me. I’m so emotional. I’m happy, because I don’t have to plan my day around my boobs, and I can drink all the coffee I want again (finally!) But, this thing I wanted to do for my child, this sacrifice I made for her, is coming to an end. What I used to dread, I’m going to miss.

I didn’t worry too much about breastfeeding when I was pregnant. For one thing, I thought it was weird. I knew it would be best for my child, but a liquid coming from my boob just sounded so strange, and I didn’t really want to think about it. Secondly, it’s a natural thing, so I assumed it would just click.

Having her early threw me for a loop. I had eaten chili the night before my water broke… ya know, you’re not supposed to eat before a c-section… so when I got back into the room after having her, I was so sick from the anesthesia. They gave her to me and I held her, then they told me I needed to try to nurse. Poor [hubby] has the memory forever etched in his brain of me holding [baby girl] on one side, trying to get her to latch, and me puking into a barf bag on the other side. I was so so sick. And I was so so tired. We had barely slept, I had just had a tiny human cut out of of me, and I was exhausted from retching. I felt bad, but I was so selfish, I really did not want to try to nurse. The lactation consultant is telling me to make a sandwich with my breast? What? Can I sleep now please?

The next few days weren’t much better. [Baby girl] had interest in trying to nurse, but we weren’t doing so great. And no one told me how much breastfeeding HURTS. The lactation consultant kept telling me that the latch “looked good”, but also that it shouldn’t hurt if we were doing it right. Bull crap. It hurt so bad. Finally a nurse came in and asked how it was going one day, and I expressed concern about getting blood in the baby’s mouth, because my breasts were so incredibly cracked. She looked so sympathetic, called me honey, and asked if I had any lanolin. Lano-what? No…. she brought me a tiny tube, and at the moment I seriously thought it was the best thing ever invented. I’d read blogs and birth stories, talked to other people vaguely about breastfeeding, seen ads for “nipple cream”, but I was in no way prepared for why it was important to take care of your nipples. Ouch.

I felt so bad at the hospital and later when we got home, I dreaded feeding my poor baby girl so much. I would put it off as long as I possibly could. In the hospital, the nurses would come in and fuss at me for letting her go so long without eating. But, I was sleeping, she was sleeping… do I have to? At home, it wasn’t any better. I would have frequent emotional breakdowns from the guilt of not wanting to feed my child. For at least a couple of months, I really was miserable. It made it worse that she was so little, and the nurse practitioner we were seeing at the time wanted me to feed her even more often than I already was – every two hours. I don’t know how we got through that, neither of us got any sleep. She would take so long to nurse, I’d barely get 30 minutes of rest in before we had to start all over again. I was exhausted. The pain that accompanied those first few months was excruciating. I would get these sharp pains, like hot knives, radiate up my breasts frequently. I felt like I kept heat on them as often as I could, especially at night. Also, after I finished breastfeeding, I would get the worst chills. The first time it happened was at the hospital, and I thought I was coming off some of the strong medicine they had given me or something. I had violent shivers and just felt like I would never be warm again. That continued for a while after I got home, and I still do it from time to time. During this time of pain and dread of feeding my own child, I gave myself a goal of six months. If I could just last that long, that would be good. But, six months came and went, and I felt sort of proud of myself. We had made it that far, and didn’t show any signs of stopping.

Somewhere around 3 months, something happened. I’m not sure if it was because she grew and her mouth got bigger and she could finally latch better, or what, but it got better. We finally got to where we could nurse and I didn’t feel like I wanted to die. However, she still took FOREVER. It’s just been in the last 3-4 months that she really cut back. Our normal feeding sessions were always at least 30 minutes, most of the time more. We were at a funeral, and [hubby’s] cousin had her baby there as well. We both were in the nursery at church nursing, and I kid you not, her daughter ate like 5 minutes on each side and then they left. I was sitting there a little jealous and a lot in disbelief. Why does my kid take at least three times as long?!

Going back to work was kind of pointless because of how long it took her to eat. According to my app, her average was about 4 hours of eating time a day. And that was strictly mouth to nipple time, that didn’t count the burping and distractions in between. I had a full part-time job of just sitting. Isn’t that a ridiculous amount of time? I got literally nothing done. [I had a super distracted baby who would unlatch at the tiniest noise or movement, so multi-tasking was always out of the question.]

Of course, I would so do it all again in a heartbeat, misguided expectations and mental breakdowns included. We figured it out, created a bond that only could have come from breastfeeding, and I truly believe it was what was best for her. It was so hard, and so very painful, but now I’m going to miss it.

After I started writing this, the next day she threw a fit when she woke up until I went to the chair with her and nursed. I don’t think she’s quite ready to give it up yet, and frankly, I’m not either. I never would have thought that we’d still be doing this at 13 months. Pregnant me sure wouldn’t have believed it, because she thought a few months of that weirdness would be good enough. New mother me wouldn’t believe it either with all the pain she went through. But, here we are ❤

As I said, we only went a few more weeks after I wrote this. It’s still weird to me how much breastfeeding consumed my thoughts and my time, and now I never have to give it a second thought. As miserable as I was, and as strange as it sounds, I miss it. Being a woman is so weird sometimes.

Also, in case this needs to be said, I’m not suggesting anything I did or didn’t do is best for anyone else. I realize that I’m super fortunate to have a flexible job I can do mostly from home, and an amazing support system that picks up my slack. I’m simply telling my story in hopes that it encourages someone else!

Muffins.

I have a love-hate relationship with baking. Actually, no, I don’t – I love baking. What I hate is baking in my kitchen. With each move, our stuff has become increasingly more disorganized. Example: there are measuring cups in the drawer by the kitchen door… there are also measuring cups in the cabinet by the sink. Half of the stuff we don’t use every day is STILL packed up, like a year and a half after we moved here. We have a plan to renovate the kitchen, dining room, and den, so I keep telling myself there’s no point in putting everything away just to move it again soon. But, ugh, I get so frustrated. You couldn’t tell by looking at my house right now, but I really do get joy out of having a neat, tidy, clean house. Something about having everything in its place makes me feel more put together in other aspects of my life. But… for whatever reason (or excuse) I just haven’t made any of those things a priority the last few years. It’s circular, and I’m not sure what started first, but having a messy house makes me feel like a mess, which makes me not want to do anything, which makes everything more of a mess. I get so mad at myself when I finally walk by the table and put a piece of mail where it goes or put the dirty bib that’s been sitting on the chair for days in the laundry. It takes like two seconds, and the amount of relief I feel is tremendous. My husband and I both note all the time how much better and less stressed we feel when we simply clean off the coffee table. Our power went out briefly like three weeks ago, and the clock on my bedside table has been flashing ever since. What is wrong with me?

Back to my point… (because nothing is ever just what it is with me. A muffin is not just a muffin, there’s a big huge emotional ordeal that comes with it.) I had been putting off making these muffins for a week. I had the strawberries, and they were starting to get a little old. I HAD to use them or throw them away. I begrudgingly dragged myself in the kitchen, trying to remind myself how much I would enjoy the finished product and how I wanted to make these for myself and my family. As I was mixing everything, I felt exasperated at how long it was taking me because everything was all over the place. But, as I put them in the oven, I felt calm. I remembered that I really do enjoy baking. I enjoy putting just the right ingredients together to make something delicious, and I find the mixing and stirring relaxing. I like feeling as if I have accomplished something. I like the simplicity of the work and resulting outcome. I like preparing food for my family. I also find the end product pretty tasty 🙂

I get so frustrated with myself about things like this. Why can’t I remember my blessings? I have a wonderful home that has a kitchen in it. I have a kitchen with a full (albeit unorganized) pantry. I have legs that can carry me into my kitchen, and hands that can pull bowls and ingredients from the shelves. I have breath in my lungs. I have everything I need and so, so much more, and I complain. I complain that my house doesn’t look like a picture from a magazine. I complain that my body is tired from working to provide for my family and from taking care of baby girl. I complain because I’d rather sit on my butt and not have muffins than to get up and do the little bit of work it takes to make them. God has given me infinitely more than I deserve, and I complain.

I pray that He opens my eyes to see each and every aspect of my life, no matter how big or small, as the blessing it is.

Focus.

Confession time: I have been in A FUNK the last few days. I haven’t felt good, I’ve been overly lazy even for me, I’ve had the worst self-esteem, and I’ve just felt blah. I’ve been looking for a previous bible devotion to put up here. I spent a good 30 minutes the other night poring over my own words, only to close my journal feeling discouraged and inadequate. Nothing seemed to be important enough, intelligent enough, or organized enough to present to other people. I was getting frustrated with myself, because a lot of the entries seemed to say the exact same thing. But, I realized, that was me identifying my struggle in whatever verse I happened to be reading that day; it was me clinging to God’s word for guidance through my battle. After another day to think about it, I think it’s important to share my (ongoing) struggle. I wrote this at the beginning of January:

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.”

1 Peter 5:6&7

This devotion was from New Year’s Day, and I missed doing it. But man, I needed this verse this morning. I realized the other day that I was letting satan tell me that certain things in my life were too small or petty to bring to God. I let him tell me that God was too big to be concerned with baby girl’s nap schedule or the piles of dishes and laundry that need to be done. I let him whisper to me that it was all up to me, that I have to get this done on my own, and that I’m not good enough [there’s that, again.]

When I came to this realization the other day, I prayed for forgiveness and for God to remind me to bring EVERYTHING to Him. A few days later, and what am I doing? I couldn’t sleep last night and was literally having a panic attack. Over what? Planning my one year old’s birthday party, mostly. I was also stressing over stuff I have to do today (long story for another day.) I finally got to sleep after midnight and then some little peanut woke up whining at 4:30. I was unreasonably angry, and then immediately felt so very guilty. After eating and going back to sleep for a couple of hours, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I think, so did I! Between several minor inconveniences (i.e. I dropped my muffin in the floor) and a baby who has cried all morning, I’m so nervous and anxious that I’m shaking. Enter this passage from 1 Peter – just the reminder i had prayed for…

…baby girl woke up as I was writing yesterday and I didn’t finish. Looking back on yesterday, it got better. That 25 minute morning nap made a world of difference, and then the two and a half hour afternoon nap was exactly what she and I both needed. She got some much-needed rest, and I was able to get some work done, which made me feel like a more productive member of the family.

I honestly don’t know why I let satan tell me that certain things have to be done on my own, that they aren’t big enough or important enough to matter to the Creator who knows my every insecurity. But He does care, and He wants to carry my burdens. I have to stop listening to the whisper that tells me I don’t matter and my problems don’t matter. God cares about me and for me. In reality, my worries and anxieties are just there to distract me from God and the purpose He’s given me. God definitely wants to clear my mind of all that stuff. I need more room in there for Him and His will.

Living intentionally is something I’ve always struggled with – I’m so good at skating by with minimal effort. My word for this year is FOCUS. It doesn’t come easily to me anymore, and I’ve got to do better. I’ve got to live more intentionally, with a clear focus on God.

So, we’re nearly halfway through the year, and focus is still something I’m struggling with. A funny thing happened as I was reading my journal entries from earlier this year the other night, the same word kept popping up over and over again; if I didn’t use it every time, it sure was close to it. You know what that word was? Distraction. No matter what verse I was writing about, I somehow just kept relating it back to how satan distracts us, how we have to focus on God.

Life has changed so much since we’ve had baby girl, and I feel like I’m juggling so much. Before, all I had to worry about was me, and what I had going on – being a wife, doing my part of cooking, cleaning, etc.; working, doing Avon… that was about it. On top of all that now, I’m also a mom and have a child to worry about and everything that entails (worries and concerns included), plus, I’ve started this blog. I feel like I’m being pulled so many different directions every minute of every day. I have so many distractions. Besides praying, I’m not sure what else I can be doing to help myself with this struggle. I just keep praying for God to show me these things that are distracting me, and to make me able to see them for what they are. Obviously, looking at all these journal entries where I just keep using the word, “distraction,” I’m starting to see them. But noticing them after reflection is entirely different than noticing them in the moment. I’m doing better, but I’ve still got some work to do.

Rooted.

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.

Colossians 2:6&7

This is pretty simple and straightforward: I received Christ? I need to live like it! It’s so much harder to actually do; satan is constantly distracting us, telling us that something else is more important, and telling us we’re not good enough.

I feel like it’s telling us here that everything is rooted in our thankfulness. When we see God’s blessings for what they are, our whole perspective changes; what once was a burden or inconvenience is now an opportunity to grow, and what once was something pleasurable we kept to ourselves becomes an abundance we can share with others. It is so much easier to rise above satan’s attacks when we look at life this way.

I originally wrote these words in October of last year, but I easily could have written them today. What was I just saying about how it’s hard to accept grace because of satan persistently reminding us of our past? Also, I can’t be the only one who is constantly reminded that they’re not good enough… that’s pretty much satan’s daily narrative in my ear. The thing I have to remember is – no one is good enough. We ALL fall short of the glory of God. That’s exactly why we need Jesus. I pray that I can cling to His mercies, even become confident in them, the next time satan inevitably whispers those words to me again.

Grace.

Sometimes, I have the best intentions but, I don’t get to my bible time like I plan. Life gets in the way, and although there’s really no excuse for not making time for God, it happens. On those days, however, I have to remind myself that even though I’m not in the Word, I still have small moments throughout the day where I’m focusing on God. Most days that I miss my devotion, it’s because I have to go somewhere, so I’m usually in the car at some point. And let me tell you about the mini worship sessions I have in the car… they’re pretty great. I love cranking up my favorite worship songs and just belting out with all I have to God. [More on my absolute love of music later.] I was having one of these earlier today (baby girl was giving me some serious side eye from the back seat), and a song that I love and have heard a thousand times came on, and really got me thinking. Needtobreathe has some of the best worship music, in my opinion. It’s not traditional worship music, for sure, but their lyrics are just the best. This is from their song “A Place Only You Can Go”:

We were born to love
And we’re born to pay
The price for our mistakes
Grace, she comes with a heavy load
Memories, they can’t be erased
Like a pill I swallow, he makes me well
And leaves an awful taste

I’ve always loved these lyrics, but something just hit me hard in the gut when I heard them today. I think so many of us Christians know that Jesus died for us, that we have accepted that, and that we are saved. But, we’re human. Our past doesn’t seem to go away. Our memories are still there. God actually removes our sin as far as the east is from the west, and doesn’t think on it for another second. We’re not God. Although we know what He’s done, it’s bittersweet, because we can’t forget what we’ve done. We’re given supernatural forgiveness that our human minds can’t even begin to comprehend. It’s exactly why we need the Holy Spirit. I think that’s why so many of us have trouble “living like” we’re saved. Satan likes to give us constant reminders of what we needed saving from, and we tend to fall into that same hole all over again. Does that even make any sense? Probably not.

I’m so thankful for God’s grace, but it is hard to swallow sometimes. It’s hard (for me anyway) to get over myself, to give myself a break, cut myself some slack. I make grace such a difficult thing, when it should be the easiest thing in the world.

Baby girl’s middle name is Grace. We needed a good, one-syllable name, and kept coming back to it. I know, everyone and their granddaughter has the same middle name… I knew it wasn’t uncommon, but apparently it’s super common. Anyway, after all we had been through with the miscarriage, Grace just seemed fitting. God has given us such grace through our difficulty, and has blessed us with our daughter. I pray that I always remember this when I look at my sweet girl’s smile.

Temporary new normal.

The husband has been off since last Friday, and it has been absolutely wonderful having time with him at home. I haven’t had to touch the dishes in a week, he’s literally done them the whole time. He’s played with baby girl while I worked. We’ve gone on little adventures. And we got to have a date tonight (thanks momma!), and end the night around the fire pit. I’m so sad he has to go back to work tomorrow, but the upside is that it’s Friday and then we’ll have him back for two more days!

This week has really made me think. It has felt so normal and right having him here all day every day. I love the way we work together to manage the house and take care of baby girl. He said he has loved being here, as well. I’m really starting to pray for an opportunity for some kind of work that he can do from home. And maybe something we can do together. I tell him all the time that I feel like at some point in our lives we will own our own business or something.

I know for a lot of people, the thought of working with your spouse is anything but appealing, but I don’t get it. I absolutely love spending time with him, whatever we’re doing. It’s a little sickening at times how in tune with each other my husband and I are. At the same time, sometimes I can be pretty narrow-minded about how to approach things, and he will gently present another point of view (that usually makes more sense because he is ridiculously smart) that I hadn’t even considered. I think we would work very well together. So, if you’d like, pray about this with me… I feel like it could lead to something.

Um. Wow.

I was perusing my old Livejournal again and came across this gem. Naivety aside, it tells the story of the beginning of my husband and I, and I’m quite fond of it. Get ready for some wisdom from early twenties me:

“Um. Wow. Life is crazy. I have been married to my best friend for almost four months now.. It feels more like four years. I swear I don’t remember life before [hubby] <3.
So the other night I randomly got on to Livejournal and started reading some old entries from when [hubby] and I were dating. I burst into tears and had a breakdown that lasted the whole night. Partly, I blame it on the PMS I was experiencing, but there was also some truth to why I was so upset. As I was reading, I realized that I had fallen into a spiritual and emotional rut. For a while, I was so hopeful, so optimistic, and so in tune with God. Lately, I feel like I am the opposite of all those things. I have decided to fix this, with God’s help of course. I have re-learned recently that when you try to do things without God’s help, and without the help of people around you, you can quickly slide backwards. I talked to [hubby] about this, and told him something about us that I guess he never knew: That I use how our relationship started as my personal testimony. Everything about how we started dating was God-breathed, and it was the most sure I had ever been about anything in my life. I use this when I am telling people about how I became closer to God. He led me to [my husband], he and I both had prayed for (unknowingly) each other, and God made me realize that things really do work out when you surrender all your thoughts and fears to Him. I was so angry and bitter at the ripe old age of 19, because everyone else had, what I thought was, everlasting love. I felt like an old maid, and I hated the world for it. People kept telling me, “give it to God, He knows what is best for you.” And all the while, I kept saying, “I know,” but I never really, truly gave it all to God. One night, in a moment of sheer clarity, I got on my knees, sobbing, and said, “Lord, I don’t want this anymore, take it! Do what You will with it, I am done!” I instantly felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I had no intention of thinking anymore about it. As it happens, however, it was like God said, “FINALLY!” The very next day, [hubby] and I struck up a conversation on the internet, after we had not talked in over a year. We became good friends, and well, you know the rest. How could that obvious display of God’s power not move me? Anyway, this entry is my attempt, once again, to try to focus my thoughts every now and again. I am not going to commit to writing every day, because I know from experience that just won’t happen. My more modest goal is to write as often as I feel like it, perhaps two or three times a week. I will make lists of what I am grateful for, and I will give any concerns straight to God, for he definitely knows best.
So, here goes nothing, My umpteenth attempt at writing in my journal regularly.”

Taken right around when this journal entry was made. Fairfield Glade, TN

For any interested parties, I still didn’t write in my journal regularly after that… there’s a line to that effect in almost every entry on there. And, can you believe we had been married FOUR WHOLE MONTHS? Oh goodness, younger me, you’re cute. Dramatics aside, I am still constantly in awe of how obvious it is that hubby and I were made to be together. God has the best plans. Also, I realize how ridiculous I sound, you don’t have to tell me.

Vanity.

Vanity of vanities, says the preacher; vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?

Ecclesiastes 1:2&3

Jim pointed out that Solomon qualifies his words with “under the sun.” He’s referring to worldly work and things; without God in our lives, all our work is vain.

Today was a very Monday-ish Monday. I’ve had a headache for days, but it was much worse today. And, I really screwed up something for work. I was feeling ridiculously stupid and lazy, and I was just down. Between my head pounding and the feeling of being the dumbest person in the world, I was not in a good place emotionally. I was sitting in my daughter’s room watching her play, and tried to distract my mind with my phone (looking back, praying probably would have been a better choice…) and saw an Instagram post from Amy Weatherly that about had me in tears:

Good grief, did that hit me hard. I’m sitting here, completely losing my cool over my “job”, and I’m forgetting everything I know. I forgot about my real job, to be found in Christ at all times. There I go again, allowing satan to use other people to get to me; allowing him to distract me is what got me into trouble in the first place. But, there God goes again, too, using other people to speak to me when He knows I’m too distracted to listen directly to Him.

Then, at like 8:30 tonight, I finally sat down to do this devotion (I was craving God’s word at this point, it’s been a day)…and here are these verses from Ecclesiastes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I keep forgetting to give God EVERYTHING. Current example: my work. I’m not trying my hardest, because I’m not doing it for Him. I’m not doing a good job. My toiling is vanity, because I’m doing my job for money, for experience – not for God’s glory. What a hard reminder I had today.