Tag: blogging

Balance.

I think I blame my blood pressure medicine (?), but I just have, like, zero will to write at the moment. I have no motherly wisdoms. I have no funny, relatable story to share. I’m just here, trying to soak up every minute of every day while also being productive. And every day I wind up disappointed because, once again, I couldn’t find the balance. For the last couple of weeks, this means that I’ve gotten so many hours in for work, but my kid is constantly in a mood from lack of enough attention (at least she thinks so, anyway), and my dishes and laundry are piled high. As I’m writing this out, I should be in the kitchen putting away the clean dishes and filling the dishwasher back up, but, I finally just clocked out of work like 20 minutes ago (it’s TEN THIRTY PM) and I really just wanted to lay down. I’m tired. And I feel like I say that a lot, but it’s the truth. I was getting so good about taking a walk every morning… I had even added some running into those walks and was just getting to the point where I didn’t feel like I was absolutely dying when I came inside. But, now, I’m pretty sure it’s been about a week since I did any sort of physical activity, and I’m feeling it. Starting all over again sounds awful. Being out of shape is awful. Ah, the conundrum of life.

Baby girl is going to be two NEXT MONTH, and this mama is having a hard time dealing. When I worked at the daycare, the one year olds were always my favorite – they could interact with you and do activities, but they didn’t sass back much yet. I hated when the kids in my class had to move up, but there were always more kids coming right behind them. A whole new set of kiddos that were the perfect age. The fact that reality is not that way… that my baby will be two, and there’s nothing I can do about it and there’s not another little baby waiting patiently behind her and I have to keep moving and growing with her and she WON’T STOP GETTING OLDER. I’m a mess. I can (just a little bit) understand why some people just keep having babies… mostly, I just want her to be a baby again. Like I said, I’m a mess.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love this stage she’s in… except for when I don’t, haha. She’s so smart and understands so much. We haven’t actually seen Santa yet this year. She’s seen him portrayed on TV, and we’ve read The Night Before Christmas about a thousand times, and we’ve talked about who he is and what he does. This afternoon, I went to get her out of bed after her nap. She usually lays there and talks until I go in, so I didn’t think much of it when I went in there today and she was talking. She jerked around and smiled at me and said, “I was talking to Santa!” I laughed and asked her if she told Santa what she wanted for Christmas. She got so excited and said, “Santa’s awesome! He bringing me books!” So, I guess “Santa” needs to find some books to bring. This makes my heart happy. I love the fact that books make her so happy.

This same sweet kid also yells, “no” at me or, “I ‘note’ want to!” about fifty times a day now… so there’s that. I’m not feeling that part of this lovely stage at all. Asking her to turn her “listening ears” on, complete with pretending to turn knobs on our ears, before I ask her to do something is working wonders for getting her to listen at the moment, but I’m sure that won’t last too long. She’s so emotional about everything, but she can’t convey those emotions properly yet… it just comes out in flops and tears, sometimes the dramatic throwing of her body onto the nearest piece of furniture like she’s a Disney princess, or, my favorite one so far – she put her hand up to her head, fell back into my arms, and said, “I tan’t go on!” Good grief.

Baby girl sitting in her great grandmother’s rocking chair on one of our Thanksgiving stops.

Thanksgiving was good, but busy. We had three places to go and baby girl stayed up way past bedtime two nights in a row… yeah, not pretty. We are so very blessed that we both have so much family close by, but man does it make for busy holidays. When I was pregnant, hubby and I agreed that we would tell people that they could come to our house to see us on holidays, that we weren’t going to drag our kid all over creation. For one, our mid-renovation-for-two-years house just isn’t equipped to handle a bunch of people. For two, it’s just really not fair or feasible to ask everyone else to work around our one small family. So, we trudge from one house to the next, trying not to eat too much and save room for the next stop but failing miserably, and worrying that we’re not giving each stop enough time. As I said, all our family is local, so it’s just a drive across town from one stop to the next, but there’s only so much food and fun you can squeeze in before you have to move on. If we ever get our house together and we have Thanksgiving here, I might change my tune. I might prefer the trudging to having a house full of people. But, I don’t know… I’ll let you know if it ever happens. As far as traditions go, I feel like on both sides of our family, they have changed immensely over the last few years, mostly as grandparents have passed away. The only steady thing is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, I have to watch it every year. I was so excited to share it with baby girl this year… she was not really having it. She kept begging us to go to her room with her and play. It was like we were torturing her making her watch TV. Poor baby. As I’ve said before, the house we live in was the only house I knew for my granny. This was her house. And this was where we came for holidays, family dinners, birthday parties, everything. It feels so weird for it to be empty on special occasions. That’s why I’m hoping someday, it can be that house again. As introverted as my husband and I both are, we’re also both family people, and having a house full of family just seems right. Now, if someone could win the lottery and share a little with us so we could finish our renovations, that would be great! All kidding aside, I love how life has come full circle and we call this house home.

Guilt.

I’m still having trouble writing. I think I’m a little worried about my health, and I’m feeling SO MUCH guilt over balancing work and spending time with baby girl. She’s to the point where she asks me not to work, to stay with her, to play with her. And yes, I get that I’m at least home with her. And yes, I know she will be fine entertaining herself for a while. She doesn’t understand those things, though. All she knows is that she’s trying to talk to me and I’m not responding. All she knows is that she wants me in her room with her while she plays. All she knows is that she’d rather be running around the house than stuck in a pack and play. And honestly, I’d rather be playing with her. I’d rather spend my time planning neat activities to do with her. I’d rather be reading her even more books. But then when I do that, when I spend the extra time with her and do minimal just-enough-to-squeak-by work, I feel awful as well. Then, I’m barely getting any hours, which means hardly any extra money for my family, and I feel like a sub-par employee. Someone please tell me where the balance is. Any activities for an almost two year old that can be done mostly unsupervised would be great too. Most days I’m at a loss anymore.

I’m trying so incredibly hard to hold onto each precious moment of this life we all have together, no matter how small. The other day, we spent a few minutes outside together in the November snow. Baby girl loved it so much, and it made my heart so, so happy. She loved walking in it, she tried to catch it as it fell from the sky, she brushed some off of her swing set and wanted to play on it. We had to almost drag her back inside. Before we went out, she and I had prepared dinner, and she helped me make a piecrust from scratch. I hope cooking together is something that she enjoys in the years to come. As much as her daddy and I love food, she’s probably kind of destined to be in the kitchen. At least, I hope anyway, haha. As much as I enjoyed the special moments we had, I literally worked an hour that day. AN HOUR. Great, now I can buy a fast food lunch out somewhere. Ugh.

My literal snow bunny.

The next day, I managed to get in a whole two hours of work, and only made a small dent in my to-do list. But, I read about a million books, rearranged baby girl’s stuff because we got her a bigger bookshelf, and cuddled a little girl who doesn’t usually like to cuddle. Did the laundry get done? Nope. Well, sort of. It was washed and dried… it just chilled in the dryer for the next few days. Did I get much of anything else done? Nope. I know I need to learn to be okay with these kinds of things, but man, do I get bent out of shape. Like I said, I need to figure out this balance thing. I also need to remember to give myself some grace.

Speaking of that… I wrote the above last week, and just let it sit in my phone. For the life of me I don’t know why I’m struggling with this whole blogging thing all the sudden. But, the other night I was reading through some notes in my phone, trying to remember my inspiration, and came across something I had written for myself and had already decided when I wrote it that I wasn’t going to share it. It was raw, it showed my flaws, and it honestly just made me look like a bad mother (I felt like, anyway.) But today, I was working and baby girl was in the pack and play and we had a moment. She was stubborn and defiant, and I lost my temper. It wasn’t great. I was doing my daily bible and prayer time after she laid down for a nap, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that other people needed to see what we go through. Other people need to see that my child is far from perfect, but more importantly, so am I. So… here’s an account from July that, up until now, I haven’t shared out of fear of judgement.

I stayed home from church with baby girl today because I’m not feeling well and didn’t want to spread my germs. I kid you not, I just spent OVER AN HOUR trying to get my tired, cranky toddler to clean up the blocks she got out.

After a lot of me asking nicely and active avoidance on her part, it got ugly. I used my firm mom voice, then raised my firm mom voice, then just plain raised my voice because I really didn’t feel good and my patience was wearing thin. All of that was met with her attempts to distract me by going to get other toys and trying to give me cuddles. After telling her I wouldn’t ask her again, and her responding by giving me a coy smile and toddling away, I swatted her bottom – not hard, but hard enough to get her attention. She cried for about 5 seconds, and then went back to trying to “distract” me. Whew.

At this point, I’m mentally exhausted and we’re only about 20 minutes into this. I went and stood her in the corner and told her she had to stay there until she was ready to clean up her blocks. She didn’t mind, and started inspecting the tiny bumps on the wall. Only when she tried to move out of the corner did she get upset. I stood in her way and reminded her she couldn’t get out until she was ready to clean up her blocks. She started fussing and I asked her if she was ready to clean up. She said, “yes,” so I took her by the hand over to where her blocks were and told her to clean up. She did a couple, I praised her for good listening, she looked at me, got up and ran across the room to her bookshelf. She’s been obsessed with reading this box set of Disney books lately, so I tried to use that to my advantage. “Do you want to read books?” “Yeah, read!” “Okay, you have to clean up your blocks and then mama will read to you, okay?” She just stares blankly at me. (And before anyone says she didn’t understand, she did. We do this bargaining thing all the time. Ex. If she wants a bite of something we have, we tell her to eat a bite of meat or whatever we’re trying to get her to eat first, and she does it. I frequently give her two step instructions, and she carries them out perfectly. SHE UNDERSTANDS.) So, at this point, I’m quickly losing my cool, and I literally have to leave the room. I look her in the eye and tell her that mama is going across the hall, and that I will come back when she’s picked up her blocks. I leave and shut the door. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best decision to just walk out on an already emotionally unstable toddler and leave her alone with her big feelings, but this mama was about to be emotionally unstable as well if I didn’t take a step back from the situation for a second. She stood at the door and hysterically screamed her head off until I went back in there a few minutes later. Realizing that that probably wasn’t the best way to handle that, I scooped her up, wiped her face, and told her I was sorry. I sat in the chair in her room and just held her for a few minutes. I couldn’t see her face because it was buried in my shoulder, but I noticed her breathing had changed. I kind of shift her to see her face, and she’s sound asleep. Then I feel really bad. She’s just tired. I get grumpy when I’m tired too. So, I just hold her for a few minutes and let her nap in my arms. I shift again and she doesn’t wake up, so I’m thinking she’s super sleepy. I get up, close the curtains, turn on her sound and go to lay her down. I get her halfway into the bed and she starts whining, “mama.” I’m mentally and physically exhausted (she probably was too) so I’m like, okay, but I’ve got to lay down. So I carry her into my bedroom and lay down with her in my bed (which we never do.) She immediately pops up and says, “eat!” [Now, before anyone decides to judge me for what I did next, please keep in mind that she had already eaten a good breakfast, and then, just like an hour and a half before all this started, ate an ENTIRE pumpkin muffie from Panera. She wasn’t starving.]

It was lunchtime, but I told her she had to go pick up her blocks so we could go get lunch. We go back in her room, I sit her on the floor next to the blocks… here comes the screaming banshee again. I literally just sit there and stare at her while she screams. It was just an angry, frustrated cry that I had tried to soothe repeatedly. I wasn’t sure what to do. After several minutes of that, I figured she really might be getting hungry, because it was like thirty minutes past normal lunchtime at that point. I tried one more time getting down on her level, asking her nicely to please pick up her blocks. I got nothing but blood curdling screams. So, I put her hand in my hand and we picked up every single block together. I even had to use my hand to close her fingers around each block, because if I didn’t, she would let it fall back to the floor.

After that was finally over, I picked her up and let her lay on my shoulder and just hugged her. I explained that she had to listen to her mama. Whew. She usually always sits in the high chair to eat, but that almost led to another meltdown, so I chose not to fight that battle. She sat in my lap and ate a baby food squeeze pouch and part of a slice of cheese. A gourmet meal it was not, but it satisfied her enough.

We both were so ready for nap time. I’m hoping this does a world of good. Otherwise, it might be daddy’s turn to deal with the attitude for a while.

So, there’s that. We’ve only had one other huge blowup like this since then, because I’ve tried to not let it get to the point that I did that day. My girl is usually good. She’s usually pretty agreeable, or can be persuaded to do something pretty easily by offering something else. There was A LOT going on in our lives in July to begin with, and I ended up being sick for two weeks after I wrote this, so I really have tried to cut myself some slack. But, I felt awful about it. I literally agonized over how I handled it for days. At the time I wrote it, I was just trying to process it because every time I thought about it my thoughts got jumbled from all the guilt (I know, I’m so very weird). I couldn’t even put it into words enough to really explain it to my husband out loud, so I ended up letting him read what I wrote above. Motherhood is hard, guys. I’m just going to come right out and say it. The sweet moments are worth every second of worry and agony, but it’s still hard.

Me.

I haven’t written anything (besides my bible journal) in a while. I guess my recent anxiety is trying to hold on, because I just haven’t really felt like writing. I started typing out something similar to this the other night and got distracted. I just looked for it, and it was nowhere to be found – my phone deleted it. In talking with the husband, he pointed out that someone (ahem, satan) doesn’t want me writing. I’ve had an excuse why I shouldn’t or don’t want to the last several times I have sat down to do it. I was talking to him just now about it, waved my arms around (as I often do while talking… what can I say? I’m animated) and completely tossed my phone across the room as a loud, thunderous echo resounded through the house and down the hall to where I’m sure my sleeping toddler could hear. I literally started crying. A) because that proved right what he had just said… there have been so many distractions and emotional setbacks over the past few weeks that have prevented me from writing, and B) because I was stinking embarrassed. I’m a spaz, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but GOOD GRIEF. So, I guess I’ll just write. Whether I know what I’m going to say or not, whether I think it’s good or not. I’ve got to start again somewhere.

For those of you following my health, some new things have happened. Keep in mind: I am thirty one years old. I finally visited a primary care physician for the first time in my adult life. My blood pressure during my visit was through the roof, and the nurse practitioner I saw didn’t like it at all. We discussed a few options, and landed on a low dose of beta blockers. She said that not only would it help my blood pressure, but also my anxiety and migraines. So, I’ve been taking those for about a week and a half, and I have been checking my own blood pressure at home at least once a day. I’ve been told that I have white coat syndrome before, and I know that is a lot of why my blood pressure is high when I go to the doctor. I get so worked up about it… I even freak out using the machine at the grocery store. I don’t know what my problem is… I told my mom the other day that it hurts my arm, and I think that is part of the reason I get so upset – because I’m anticipating the pain. She said that it doesn’t hurt her, but that my granny used to always say the same thing – that it hurt. So, I’ve been taking it a lot lately, trying to desensitize myself to the cuff. The other day, I took it five times in a row because it was a little higher than it had been at first. I got it down substantially just by doing it over and over again – it literally went down a little every time. So, that’s where I am… constantly being aware of my heart rate and taking a “grandma dose” of blood pressure medication, as my nurse practitioner called it. I’m going to get labs done to recheck my cholesterol (fasting this time) and some other things this week. Then I will go back for a more comprehensive physical at the end of the month. It’s been so long since I have seen a doctor, I have a huge list of concerns… she’ll probably think I’m a hypochondriac. And she’ll probably be right. Everytime I have a random pain in my arms or legs, I pretty much convince myself that it’s a blood clot or that I’m getting ready to have a stroke. Yeah, that definitely helps my anxiety… The other night, I had sharp pains from my rib cage, up into my chest, and down my arm. I was pretty convinced I was having a heart attack. Then the husband pushed on my stomach, I let out a huge belch, everything shifted a little, and I realized it was probably just a gas bubble pressing on a nerve or something. Ugh.

Some other random thoughts:

Baby girl’s favorite word is “no” at the moment and she will disagree with whatever you say, it doesn’t matter what it is. She liked Halloween, but a boy in one of those blow-up dinosaur costumes really made her day. She keeps talking about it whenever anybody asks her about Halloween, and the last two nights, we’ve thanked God for dinosaurs in our prayers. She kills me. She’s also been very clingy the last few days. And as much as l love to hear her say, “cuddle mama,” I do have a job that I sort of have to do some of the time. It killed me this past week when I was working, and she kept coming over to my desk and saying, “mama play with you [me]?” How can I say no to that? How do work at home parents get work done? My job is only part time, and my new normal the last few weeks has been finishing up my work after she goes to bed (which, by the way, annoyingly cuts into husband time). Balance is hard. I feel guilty when I’m actually productive for work, because that usually means that baby girl has been left to entertain herself for hours, or has been dragged all over creation with me in the car. I also feel guilty when I spend the day with her, because I feel like I’m not contributing enough financially to our family. Mom guilt is rough.

A screen shot of a typical time sheet for me. Clocked in 12 hours, only worked less than five. A lot of times, it’s even less.

Baby girl and I have gotten back to taking morning walks. I love getting to spend the time with her, starting our day exploring outside, and getting in a small workout for me. Twice around our neighborhood is about a mile, and I know that’s not much. But, out of shape me works up a sweat and gets a couple thousand steps in. I figure that’s better than nothing.

Love our morning walks, even if we have to bundle up quite a bit now that the weather is chillier.

Well, now that I’ve broken the ice again, maybe I’ll get back to writing more regularly. I don’t know what kind of writing funk I’m in, but it can go away now. I’ll probably post a bible journal entry or two next time. I have several earmarked that I felt were important to share.

Sufficient.

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9&10

Paul had a thorn in his side – we’re not sure what it actually was, but Paul himself admitted it was a blessing from God, something to keep him humble. But then he still asks God to take it away. Jim challenged us to think about if we ever do this – actually ask God to take away something unpleasant, even if we understand that He has a reason for giving it to us.

Most of the time, being molded by God is uncomfortable, even painful. I can honestly say that the hardest things I’ve gone through have shaped me into and prepared me for who I am today.

As I was writing the verses out, I thought about how there are certain aspects with my relationship with God that I just can’t seem to get a handle on. I tend to mess it up over and over again, and I fall for the same traps and distractions satan lays out over and over again. I get so frustrated with myself that I can’t seem to get it together. I beat myself up, ask for forgiveness (again), ask God to help me do better next time, only to be blindsided by satan once again. The seemingly ridiculous thing about all this? I can boast in my struggles, my iniquities, my many failures. Why? Because God’s grace is sufficient, because only when I’m weak can I get out of the way and let God show how strong He is.

It is my sincere hope that in blogging about my struggles I do exactly that – show the world how great God is and how much I need Him because I’m really not great.

Vacation.

Here are some thoughts from the last few days as we ended our vacation…

It’s our last full day at the beach. I always build up things in my head, then get disappointed when they don’t turn out exactly how I had imagined. I feel like I’m constantly reminding myself that I’m blessed. We’ve packed so much fun and even MORE FOOD into this trip, but I had to come to terms with the fact that there are things I had planned to do that we simply ran out of time to do. Baby girl has to nap (she’s been taking really good 2 hour ones) pretty much right in the middle of the day, so that kind of limits plans sometimes. Also, she and I have gotten up pretty much every day sometime between 6 and 6:30 AM. Her daddy has been getting up an hour or so after that, then her granny and papaw about an hour or so after that, then her auntie sleeps in pretty late. Between the nap and a fairly early bedtime for our girl, it’s hard to squeeze everything into the few hours where everyone is awake.

We have done so much, though. We’ve eaten, and eaten, and eaten some more. We’ve been to the aquarium, where baby girl loved the sharks and her auntie bought her a mermaid. We’ve shopped and browsed. We’ve found a playground. We’ve floated and played in the pool. We’ve looked for and found shells on the beach. We’ve played in the ocean. We’ve taken pictures. It’s been fun.

Today we came home, and the drive was less than stellar. The first half was really good, but by about 5.5 hours in, someone was trying every trick in the book to get us to stop the car and let her out. A couple times, she legit pooped and we had to stop and change her (she would kindly ask, “change biper” after she screamed bloody murder trying to get her poop out.) The third time, however, was a false alarm, and we quickly realized that she just wanted to stop and get out of her carseat. She cried for a couple of hours off and on, only being satisfied when I twisted my arm like a pretzel and held her hand from the front seat. I did that for a solid hour until she finally fell asleep, and my arm was completely numb. It was miserable. During the middle of all that, however, the sunset was gorgeous as we were driving through the mountains, and I couldn’t help but be thankful: thankful for time with family, thankful for safe travels, thankful for the beautiful sky in front of me, and even thankful for being able to twist my arm uncomfortably to comfort my daughter. I told hubby at that moment that even though I was miserable, there was no place I would rather be and nothing I’d rather be doing. Wherever they are, that’s where I want to be. I adore my little family so very much, and I don’t want to take a second with them for granted.

Can we also talk about how amazing it feels to come home after a trip? The same house that felt cluttered, disorganized, and just blah when we left feels so very comfortable and homey and exactly what I like. I think it’s the quintessential wicker furniture and tacky beach decor in every beach condo out there, but our gray walls and wood floors always seem much more inviting after living in a pastel paradise for a week. (No offense to anyone who likes that, it’s just not my thing.) It’s what I’ve made it, and I like it. Sure, it still needs work, but I see its potential.

I can’t help but think about how God sees us the same. Hear me out: the fresh eyes I saw my house with that made me appreciate it more, made me see the good in it and overlook the bad? That’s how God sees us all the time (okay, so this analogy is loose, I realize that He does see our sin, but He is still so willing to forgive us when we repent.) He knows the best version of us. He sees what He created us to be, and doesn’t lose His vision for us when we fall short. That’s where this analogy unravels… while I needed a step back from the everyday to remember why I loved it. God doesn’t. He loves us the same as He did yesterday, today, and as He will tomorrow. Isn’t that amazing? He sees our potential and doesn’t lose sight of His plans for us, for me, even when I stray. I’m so thankful for that, and for the gentle reminders He gives me to see my life that way as well so that I can once again align myself with His will.

Publish.

Hubby and I were talking about technology the other day and how it makes it so very easy to do bad things, say hurtful words, and make poor decisions. Everything and everyone is at our fingertips, and it’s scary sometimes. [Completely unrelated sidenote: this conversation started because of a TV show. Have you all seen the BBC Sherlock series with Benedict Cumberbatch? It’s. So. Good. I don’t know why we haven’t watched it before now. Thank goodness for that Netflix free trial that I forgot to cancel so I felt like I had to get my money’s worth this month. I love it so much!]

Anyway, I was going through my bible journal and found the following, and it made me ponder the upside to technology as well:

Declare His glory among the nations, His marvelous works among all the peoples! (ESV)

Publish His glorious deeds among the nations. Tell everyone about the amazing things He does. (NLT)

1 Chronicles 16:24

[My current bible journal has verses at the bottom of each page.] The scripture at the bottom of the page caught my eye today, especially that word “publish.” Apparently, they got theirs from the New Living Translation, mine was slightly different, so I wrote them both out.

The internet makes it so easy to connect with people halfway around the world instantly. I had a lightbulb moment as I read this verse – my obedience to God in writing this blog is really obedience to this call. I know there are bible apps, and anyone, almost anywhere, can have access to the bible at any time. But, I’m making my testimony available to the world. There are so many people who I would never, ever get to meet in person. They would never get to know me, be able to relate to me, or see how God has worked in my life uniquely without me putting it out there. The modern conveniences of the world can be used for God’s purpose, if we focus on God and don’t get distracted.

So, I’m not saying by any means that technology can be a suitable replacement for human connection. That will never be the case. However, just like anything else in this world, it is a tool. We can choose to use it for selfish purposes, or to spread the gospel. We can make it all about us, or use it to show God’s love to others. I forget sometimes what I’m supposed to be doing here. I try hard to make myself seem funny or relatable. I worry when one of my posts goes without too many views or likes. I get caught up in what other people think of me and the tangible feedback I’m not getting. But, every time, I’m quickly reminded that I’m not “doing well” because my heart is not in the right place. The second I make this about me, I’m doing it in vain, and it’s nothing. I’ve been trying to remember to pray hard over these posts before they ever get published. They’re for God and His people. Not me.

Lamentations.

Y’all get a threefer tonight, because I have been poring over my bible devotions trying to find a particular one, and in the process found other ones that seemed to go hand in hand with it. In going over these, I’ve noticed that Jim has some favorite verses and passages that he keeps putting in front of us, and that I keep writing about like I’ve never read them in my whole life. It’s so funny [amazing] how the same passage speaks differently to me at different times. So, the first one is from November of last year, and the other two are both from March of this year:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22&23

Jim asked what our favorite verse is, if it has changed, and why? For several years now, I have absolutely loved this verse from Lamentations. Once I started realizing how much sin is in my life and how much God continues to forgive me, this verse is overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

I screw up. Every. Single. Day. I try to live as God has called me, but I ALWAYS mess it up. I am so thankful that every new morning is yet another chance, a do-over, to live for Him. I think over the last several years, I’ve become a morning person; not the roll-out-of-bed-with-a-smile-on-my-face kind of morning person, but I do appreciate the time so much more than I used to. I like the quietness of it [yeah, that changed… the sweet baby is up with me then in our current season of life], seeing the sun rise, sipping my coffee and spending time with God in His word. I feel like it’s just the calm reset I need before I take on the day. I think that’s a big reason this verse speaks to me so much now. [Like I said, we kind of roll out of bed into the day now, but I still do love mornings with my baby girl – even if she is screaming, “eat!” at me as we walk down the hallway.]

Of course, hubby gives me a hard time about my favorite verse being from from Lamentations: “of course it is,” he says. I kind of complain a lot and tend to dwell on the negative. Maybe I do like the fact that it’s from Lamentations; it’s a bit of hope in a pretty much otherwise dreary book.

I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.

Psalm 119:11

Jim challenged us to recall our favorite verse or passage, and think about how it keeps us from sinning. The awesome thing is, literally any verse could work if we really thought about it.

I’m pretty sure my very favorite verse is in Lamentations, of all books. 3:23 talks about the steadfast love of the Lord, and that His mercies are new every morning. This verse reminds me that even though I may have had a bad day yesterday, I may have been disobedient, and I definitely sinned, God still loves me, and I have another chance to do the right thing today. It gives me hope every day. As I dig further into God’s word, there are so very many verses and passages that i absolutely love. Also, the more immersed in them I am, the easier it is to recall them.

Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance, to understand a proverb and a saying, the words of the wise and their riddles.

Proverbs 1:5&6

Jim asked, how much bible can we stand? Do we read a couple of chapters and have to put it down? Do we read a verse here and there? I have a distinct memory from my teenage years where I’m sitting on my bed reading the bible. I had just heard about people who read the whole bible in a year, and thought that I would try. I started at the beginning, but remember becoming overwhelmed by the language (I had a New King James version.) Once I got to the pages and pages of “begets”, I was gone. I remember thinking at the time that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to read the bible anymore.

Flash forward to a couple of months ago when Jim used a passage about David for the daily devotion. I think I sat there for at least a good 45 minutes, totally immersed in 1 Samuel, reading all about David and Saul and trying to figure out who the heck Jonathan was – it was like a good book I couldn’t put down.

I still definitely have days where I just really don’t feel like reading God’s word, and it doesn’t speak to me (or so I think at the time.) When this happens, I usually try to write down something anyway, because on more than one occasion, my “uninspired” writing from one day will be exactly what I need to read another day. God definitely works through us even when we don’t think we feel like it.

I have made a more conscious effort to spend time in the word lately (even if it’s not my ideal time anymore. For example, right now it is 10:47 PM…) and I feel so much better because of it. The more I seek His wisdom and understanding, the more I enjoy being in the word, and the more I understand. Huh, imagine that… He gives us what we ask for.

Shew, sorry that was so long, guys. In my head, it made sense that all those went together, sorry if they seem random to everyone else. Also, I have SO MANY things I’ve written, so when I feel like I can post more than one at a time, I’ll probably do it. Aaaannnnd, stand by for my confession that I’ve not been great about going to God’s word the last couple of weeks. How ironic.

Truths.

Here’s the thing. Never, ever on this blog am I going to say, “you should do this,”or, “the [so many] things you absolutely have to do,” or anything like that. I get really defensive when some random person who doesn’t know me tries to tell me that what works for them will work for me. You absolutely do not know that. (I’ve been told that not liking being put into groups is a millenial thing. I’m not fond of that label either…*) I’m not about that clickbait stuff, and I love you all too much to assume anything. That’s why, much to my dismay, you’ll see a lot of “I’s” in this thing. It’s not that I’m trying to be so incredibly self-centered (which I feel it can come across that way sometimes), but I’m simply telling you all what I’ve done, what works for me, what doesn’t work for me, my experiences, and what I’ve learned about myself. Never will I assume that something I’ve done will be the same for you.

With that being said, the ONLY time I will group us all together is when I’m talking about God’s truths. He made us all very different, that’s true, but He loves us all exactly the same and wants us all to be His.

I’m not sure why I felt the need to clarify this… maybe I was afraid you all were thinking that I was super self-absorbed or something. I’m just putting myself out there – my thoughts and experiences. If you can learn from my mistakes or feel solidarity in something I’m going though, that’s great, that’s exactly why I’ve been called to do this. If not, well, that’s okay too. Now you know more about me, and maybe have come away with a different perspective on something you might not have otherwise had. Either way, I’m striving to follow God’s will for my life.

*Random fact about me – when I was in college I thought I wanted a sociology minor, because my mom had one. Well, I took the intro class and absolutely hated it. I hated that there were all these groups you could seemingly arbitrarily put people into without knowing their specific situation. It really bothered me, I thought it was just way too assuming. The next semester I took intro to Psychology, and I was like, yes, this is better. I loved being able to focus on an individual and not having to force people into vague groups. I ended up almost double majoring in French (I know, useless if I’m not teaching) and Psychology, but the timing on classes I needed to do before graduation didn’t match up… and I was ready to get out of there. Sometimes I wonder what I could do if I went back and finished those three Psychology classes. I’m sure I’d need more schooling than that to really make a career in Psychology, but it drives me crazy to say, “I was three classes away from a Psychology degree.” C’est la vie, I suppose. (There, I used some French.)