This year, Easter has looked a bit different. We didn’t have the big family dinner or the egg hunts with cousins like we normally do. We didn’t have the traditional Easter ham or dessert table. With illness, medical procedures, appointments, and the general busyness of life, we just couldn’t make it work this year.
Last night, it all caught up with me: The heaviness of what we’ve been going through over the last month and a half and what we still face, of the feeling of not being able to catch my breath as I move from one thing to the next every day, of the feeling of failure as certain things get put on the back burner, of the disappointment I’ve been feeling as things aren’t working out how I had hoped, of the Easter season and what God’s sacrifice means for me. I lost it last night. Tears flowed as I washed dishes that had been neglected for entirely too long. Anger flew out of me as I bent down to get a ziploc bag out of the drawer and I slammed it shut. Frustration with myself welled up inside as I surveyed our messy, dirty house. I felt responsible for everything all at once and guilt over having dropped so many balls, over not being able to carry it all, not only physically, but emotionally as well. I broke down.
The good thing about knowing Jesus is that you can trust Him to hold your stuff. He’s not only strong enough to do so, but He wants to. We were never meant to do all this alone. And knowing Him means that while I may lose my *crap* for a few minutes on a Saturday night, my emotions aren’t me. They don’t have the final say. I can take my messy, tangled, raw emotions and lay them at His feet. He can handle them. He can sort them out. He can guide my steps in the way I should go, and He can help me carry the things that are too heavy for me to shoulder on my own.
My sweet seven year old fell asleep on me today.
So, I’m thankful for our non-traditional Easter – for my mom coming to church with us this morning, for going out to eat with my mom and sister, for the snuggles I got because our daughter isn’t feeling well (she NAPPED on me!) Because, in the end, it’s not about the way you celebrate Easter. It’s about WHO you are celebrating ✝️❤️
Home. All kinds of people have often defined what home is. Comfort, peace, a soft landing place after a long day, just to name a few. Our daughter is a homebody (we are too). She LOVES being home. She would rather be there than anywhere. It makes going out to eat or going to church an issue every single time. She does not want to leave the house, even for something I know she will enjoy when she gets there [*ahem*, looking at you, school.]
My husband and I planned a trip coming up pretty soon that I KNOW our daughter will be excited about, because she has been talking about it since the last time we went. We told her the other morning, and she literally cried and said she didn’t want to go. She just wanted to stay home. Now, we’ve talked a lot about it since and I think she is getting more excited, but it’s a struggle.
Our daughter feeling completely at home on the grounds of Biltmore Estate a couple of years ago.
Her love of home keeps me so humble, and I just had this conversation with someone yesterday… I always think about that quote that floats around social media every now and then, “Remember that you prayed for what you have now.” And that’s SO TRUE. I have a husband who is my perfect partner in every way. We have a safe roof over our head in a safe neighborhood. We have a healthy, smart, beautiful child. We have a dog. We have enough money to put food on our table, to bless others, to get things we not only need but just want. I did, I prayed for all of this. So, when comparison and discontent creep in, our daughter’s love of our home keeps me in check. We have everything we need, and we’re comfortable and blessed.
Yesterday, we got a new shower installed in our daughter’s bathroom. It has probably needed to be replaced since we moved in, but we haven’t been able to do it until now. We lived with the old, stained, incredibly hard to clean textured tub from the ’70’s, but it always was something that bugged me about our house. Our daughter has cried and cried over the change in her bathroom. She loved the old tub. Last night as I put her to bed, she told me that home felt weird now because it had changed. Then she went into a long monologue about how much she loved home. She finished with, “Mama, can you make everywhere home?” Gosh, I wish I could.
Our home isn’t picture perfect, but it is the definition of comfort to our sweet girl.
I’m so thankful, humble, and blessed. I know that not all people, not all children have that safe space to land every day. And I pray that our home feels that way to anyone who comes into it. It’s a safe space, and you’re always welcome. There might just be dog hair everywhere and the kitchen may not be cleaned up from breakfast. But, people who love each other live here, and that’s really all that matters.
I’ve been really bad about blogging lately. I only wrote this because, yet again, it started out as an Instagram post and I got too long winded for their caption word limit. Anyway, I wrote this almost two weeks ago and I’m just now getting around to finishing it…
The stomach bug got sweet girl at the beginning of this week. It’s been rough. She’s already tiny (not dangerously so, don’t worry) and had just started finally gaining weight after being sick for what felt like most of fall and winter. Since November, she’s had some sort of viral bug, multiple colds, covid, and an ear infection. Now this.
Her room is usually the cleanest, most organized room in the house. When I feel like we’re living in chaos, I can usually go in there and instantly feel better. Well, between having to wash and change her bedding and blankets constantly, keeping the trash can close, her having small spurts of energy and wanting to read only to have to take a nap on my chest in the chair again… it’s A MESS. I walked in there earlier to grab something and thought, “This is an accurate representation of my brain right now.” I feel so restless. I feel like change is coming. I feel like I’ve got a million different things going on. I feel like a mess. But just like the fact that her room won’t always look like this, I won’t always feel like this. I know change is coming. I know God has plans for me, for my family… exciting, scary, wonderful plans. I just have to keep going, and to keep leaning into Him in the waiting.
The other day, I wrote out in the note pages of my planner, a plan. If you know me, you know I’ve never been a super goal-oriented person. Growing up in school, I was that annoying kid that all the teachers loved. I got good grades, I was quiet, I loved to help, and I never got in trouble. I was also that annoying kid that didn’t have to work too hard to get good grades. Most subjects came easily to me. But I absolutely dreaded when we would have career day or writing prompts about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I would always end up saying something like ballerina (although I had less than zero athletic ability, that’s nice and girly, right?) or doctor (because even at a really young age, I knew the grownups thought that was a good job because you get paid a lot.) I always agonized over these things, making up absolutely untrue reasons for my “aspirations.” I learned really early on how to say exactly what was expected of me and how to “B.S.” my way through schoolwork. It served me very well, even through college, haha. The point is, I’ve never been a big dreamer. They would go through this whole list of careers that we could choose from, and none of them sounded like they were for me. It sounds a little shallow as I type this out, but I can remember spending hours and hours pouring over my mom’s Good Housekeeping and Family Circle magazines. I just thought that was how life was supposed to be. Pristine home, home cooked meals, fun activities planned for the kids, family vacations, the works. I loved my family, and from the looks of things in those magazines, that was how you showed people you loved them: by buying the trendiest plaid couch or refreshing the drapes. Y’all, I know how this sounds. I know every feminist everywhere is probably crying right now, but I don’t care. I grew up watching shows like The Dick Van Dyke Show, I Love Lucy, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, and so many more. The only thing that ever really appealed to me was being a wife and a mother. That’s what I wanted to be when I grew up. I know some people read that and immediately rolled their eyes. Some people have probably stopped reading by now, but hear me out. I’m not saying that any of those other professions are worse or better than what I wanted to do. I’m not saying that what I wanted was for everyone, because I’m not that naive, I know everyone is different. But for me, that was it. And growing up in the 90’s, I caught on pretty quickly that being a wife and a mother was not considered “a real job.” My mom has sold Avon for decades. When my sister and I were kids, she was a full time mom and an entrepreneur. But people still had the nerve to often dump responsibilities on her because “she has more time, she doesn’t work.” Um, excuse me? I take offense to this now as someone who stays home with a little and works from home. It’s HARD. It’s TIME CONSUMING. It’s absolutely EXHAUSTING. And just because my schedule may be a little more flexible than some does not mean I don’t have a job. I’m off topic here… anyway. It was obvious to me, even as a child, that I couldn’t express my dream of wanting to be a wife and mother without teachers trying to convince me that something else was better. So I just never voiced that dream. In middle school, we had job shadowing. We were supposed to go shadow someone who had the career we thought we wanted. This, of course, caused me anxiety, but I finally decided to shadow my aunt who was an office administrator at our local university. When I told my teacher who I was shadowing, she said (in the most condescending tone I might have ever heard), “You want to be a secretary?” 13 year old me felt anger for my aunt toward this teacher. I’m not sure I ever told my aunt about that interaction. But you know what? I did like working in her office. I liked organizing and straightening papers. The tiny teacher’s helper in me found it to be satisfying work. What in the world was so wrong with being a secretary?
Anyway, all this to say, the only dream I’ve ever had about my life so far was that I wanted to get married and I wanted to have kids. I remember planning it all out in a journal when I was like 10 or 11. I had each room in my future house designed and color schemes picked out (obviously my tastes have changed a bit and we didn’t in fact paint our bathroom lime green.) I had baby names picked out. I cared about this more than most anything, and I actually documented that dream. I planned for that dream. I hoped and prayed over that dream. And now, as cheesy and ridiculous as it may sound, I’m living my dream. I’m married to my absolute best friend and we have the sweetest daughter. And it may not look like a picture from a 90s magazine (or a current magazine or Pinterest or whatever for that matter), but it’s ours and it’s a dream come true. Never have I ever written out anything else in such hope. Never have I sat down and planned anything else so carefully. Until the other day.
A little (vague, because I’m not mentally prepared to be specific yet) backstory. There is something in my life that molded and shaped me more than I would have thought, especially in my teenage years. I’ve halfway joked for years about something related to that or thought that maybe in a different lifetime I would have done x, y, z. As the years have gone on, my circumstances have changed, I’ve grown and learned and lived, and that joke has become more of an aspiration that has seemed not very attainable at all. But quite recently, it keeps creeping into my mind. I’d love to do it, but I’d be scared, I don’t know where to start, I’d have to learn so many new things, it would be a huge commitment… The other day, I couldn’t concentrate on my work, so I sat down and just wrote the words at the top of the page. I looked at it for a moment, and then started writing furiously. I wrote down vague ideas and specific aesthetics. I wrote down goals. I just kept writing. When I finally stopped writing, I read over it and was more than a lot nervous about a) what I had actually written, and b) the manic state that I seemed to be in for a minute. I sat there and stared at the page, astounded that the words on that page had come out of my hand. Then I started to pray, confused about what had just happened. I literally said to God, “This scares the crap out of me. Is this actually something I can be praying over? Is this actually a thing?” And I immediately heard a “Yes!” What? I don’t know. This happened last week and I’m still processing it. But, you guys, it has to be important. I’m not a dreamer. I’m still that annoying, shy, quiet third grader who doesn’t rock the boat and has “simple” aspirations. I don’t do “big dreams,” so this is so out of character for me. It’s gotta be a God thing. And it’s going to be good. And terrifying.
As soon as the new year hit, I was BOMBARDED with ads on Facebook and Instagram for weight loss programs. When I watched TV, every other commercial was for a diet plan, gym membership, or piece of workout equipment. I get it, I’ve fallen into that “new year, new me” mentality before. I’ve fallen into thinking that the new year was somehow going to bring new focus, new drive, new motivation. And then I was sorely disappointed yet again to figure out that I was still me. A turn of the calendar page did not mean anything. This year was the first year I think I was actually aware of what is going on. I mean, yes, I’ve always known that the big weight loss push happens at the first of the year, but I hadn’t truly ever thought about what it meant. It means that the majority of us are unhappy with our bodies for some reason or another, and it means that we fall victim over and over again to big corporations trying to cash in on our unhealthy relationships with our bodies. I’m not saying that weight loss itself is a bad thing, but it really irks me that we “need” all this help. Why are we not taught practical ways to care for our bodies when we are kids? Why is junk food, fast food, and convenience food pushed on us? So that we will need to buy that diet plan later. And we have all these things that make our lives easier, but sometimes all it does is make us have to move less. We are so sedentary. And then we have to schedule out even more time to work out, we have to buy equipment for it, it’s a whole thing. And now I sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist, but it’s a gross cycle.
As I sat and watched TV the other day, I felt physically ill seeing all of these commercials. “Before” pictures showing unhappy, (sometimes) overweight individuals would fill the screen. One in particular I saw three times in one sitting and I couldn’t get over it. It showed this woman who was talking about how she didn’t like her body anymore and “didn’t recognize” herself, so she had to buy this program. I KID YOU NOT, I swear they bought her the same track suit from her before picture in a bigger size so it would look like she had lost weight. If you really focus on her, she doesn’t look any different. What in the world are we being fed?
I understand the need for our society as a whole to be healthier, I really do. But I absolutely know that these “miracle” programs are not the answer. And the fact that every other ad that is pushed into our faces tells us that our bodies need this or that before they are acceptable is bull. I am as heavy right now as I was when I was nine months pregnant with my daughter, and I’ll be honest, when I realized that, I was freaked out. I weigh so much that it is entirely possible for me to fit a whole [albeit small] other person inside me. I felt the initial shame, disgust, and general unhappiness with my body that the world tells me I should feel. But over the last several months, I’ve come to terms with my body. This body of mine has carried me through every single day. It has held me as I’ve had my weakest, most emotional moments over the last couple of years. It has hugged and hugged and hugged some more. It has laughed, it has cried, it has ached. It has stretched and it has held another human being. It has nourished our daughter and held her as she cried. It is the perfect body that God made for me, and I am done hating it. Now, I’m not saying this is where I need to live forever, that I couldn’t improve. I could definitely be a better steward of the blessing of my body that God has given me; I could do a better job of taking care of it. However, I will not be shamed into thinking that I have to be a certain size or eat a certain meal to be worthy of some arbitrary praise. My body is mine, and I won’t be shamed into hating it anymore.
One of my very favorite wedding photos, taken after the ceremony. I was so completely overwhelmed with emotion and my sweet husband was comforting me.
[My husband just asked me what I was “over there blogging about,” and I told him. He said, “Well, I love your body.” Ladies, find yourself a man who will not only appreciate your body no matter the size, but love it unconditionally. I am definitely not the same size (or shape for that matter) as when we first met, or even when we got married (although I stress ate for like a full month before our wedding and did gain a ton of weight 臘♀️) Anyway, all that to say, my husband is the sweetest.] We need to love our bodies, right here right now, no matter what they look like.
It’s that time of year again when I have to preach to myself about expectation, disappointment, and contentment. I love the holidays. I love the family time, the food, the decorations, and all the accompanying activities. It’s so stinking easy to get wrapped up in wanting to do all the things. It happens to me every year. And every year I learn yet again that time is what you make it and it’s all about perspective.
That awkward, in-between two great seasons look where dead mums and sparkly lights coexist.
October is one of my favorite months. It was over so quickly. I was getting all depressed the other day thinking about all the fall seasonal things I wanted to do and didn’t get to – go apple picking, go to different pumpkin patches, carve a pumpkin… the list goes on. But then I got to thinking about all the things we did get to do: went to our local pumpkin patch three times, took pictures in the sunflowers, picked out pumpkins, went to a trunk or treat at our church, went trick or treating in our neighborhood – just to name a few. We did so much, and we did it together. You all, it really is all about perspective. You can choose to focus on the things you didn’t do, don’t have, etc., or you can look at what you did do and do have and realize that you’re so incredibly blessed.
It feels like November has flown by. For most of the month, my daughter and I have been sick on and off, and I’ve had more migraines in the last couple of months than I ever remember having all together like this. That’s probably part of the reason I feel like I’ve missed it. I’m trying to enjoy every day, but the days are running together quickly. This is the time of year I wait for all year, and I feel like it’s passing me by. This is truly a test of living in the moment, and I don’t want to fail.
On Thanksgiving, like so many others, we watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. I love the tradition and dependability of it- that every year, no matter what’s going on in my life, I can count on the parade to bring me some superficial joy as it signals the beginning of the holiday season. I think my favorite part is seeing the Rockettes, and I told my husband I think it’s because the show seems like a remnant of an earlier time. My husband and I were excitedly anticipating the parade, and I had been trying to talk it up to our three year old. The last couple of years, she has had zero interest in watching it and would get mad that we wanted to watch it. We were talking about it and I told her that she could see Santa at the end. She watched it with us, but about every five minutes asked if it was over yet. After she finally saw Santa, she looked at me and said, “I liked seeing Santa, but I didn’t like the parade.” I said, “Oh, well, it seemed like you liked the dancing.” She said, “I did!” Then I said, “Didn’t you like the floats?” “Oh, I loved seeing the floats!” she said. I explained that all those things made up the parade. She asked, “So does that mean I liked the parade?” “Yes, if you liked all the things about the parade, then that means you liked the parade.” “I didn’t like the parade,” she concluded.
The logic of our three year old didn’t seem too logical, but then I started thinking about how often times we think we are unhappy with our lives; we don’t see that our blessings make up our lives. We basically say, “God, I like that you love me and made me, but I don’t like the life you gave me.” I can almost hear him saying, “Don’t you like the people I gave you to love?” “Well, yes, of course. I love my friends and family!” “And it seems like you like the food I gave you to eat and the mountains, the ocean, the rivers, and the changing seasons.” “Oh, yes,” we would say, “I’m so grateful for those things.” “Well, those things are your life.” I’m not trying to downplay that fact that there are parts of our lives that aren’t pleasant. We all experience heartache. But, it’s our focus that’s everything. During the parade, there were A LOT of commercials and I was kind of annoyed by how many there were, and how often. But, I didn’t dislike the parade itself just because I thought there were too many commercial interruptions. In the same way (this is a loose analogy, go with me here, haha), we have hard times, annoying times, unexpected times, but they aren’t who we are. They are just interruptions in the bigger picture. We are blessed, whether we choose to see it or not.
“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.” -Psalm 139:17&18
We awake, and God is still with us, every single day. Whether we’re driving around looking at Christmas lights and baking cookies, or just sitting on the couch and cuddling in our jammies, God is there. His love, mercy, grace, and blessings follow us wherever we go. He is good always, and nothing in this world can change that. Nothing. Happy holiday season, y’all. I pray that we all look beyond the stuff and all the things we think we have to do, and just bask in the vastness of God’s love.
For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Romans 8:22-25
I’ve got about a million things to do today before we leave on a mini-vacation next week. I honestly was not planning to get very deep in the word today… God had other, much better plans. I hurredly and out of sheer obligation said, “I’ll give you a few minutes,” and He said, “How about more than that?” Ugh, my priorities. I’m so sorry, Lord. Anyway, I really liked the definition of hope in verses 24 and 25, but it doesn’t make much sense without some context. Plus, in verse 22 where it talks about us all collectively groaning? I felt that deep in my soul. Life is so very hard for all of us, and we’re all constantly battling something. To me, it’s so comforting to know that even the first Christians to receive the Holy Spirit felt the weight of it all. But I love what else it says – it’s the hope of something better to come that keeps us going, the same hope that saved us; God’s promises sustain us. The God that we’ve never physically seen gives us the strength to keep waiting. We wait patiently for the Lord because He was first patient with us. Our reward is not fully received this side of heaven. It’s not about this life so much. Our focus, our hope, our strength, rests in the unseen and eternal. The way this works is so beautiful to me. We groan inwardly as we wait eagerly. This is hope.
We hope because we believe God is who He says He is, and because we believe He is faithful to fulfill His promises. That led me to ask myself: What are we doing in the waiting? Praising, telling others, loving, caring for others, praying, learning? Or are we allowing ourselves to be distracted, wallowing in our hardships, being prideful and selfish? Do we make our hope look like something to want or do we push others away with our actions? Some things to ponder for sure, and some I definitely need to work on. I pray we all go into the new week with a renewed hope, waiting eagerly, even if we’re groaning inwardly, enduring because of our hope in Christ ❤
I wrote this last week and wanted to share. Since we’ve been back from our vacation, I’ve been in a funk. I don’t know if it’s post-vacation blues, or a fear of what could come of all the times we were in public this past week, or the fact that I had to come home and jump right back into work for a couple of days. I’ve had this feeling of impending doom, and I’ve felt physically blah. I’ve been irritable, short-tempered, and tense. I’m just not myself. I don’t know what that’s about, but I need it to stop. While we were gone, a husband and wife in our town were shot and killed. If you didn’t know them personally, you at least knew who they were. They were special to a lot of people. I have a family member and several acquaintances who were very close to them. They speak very highly of these people’s faith, love, and hospitality. It hurts my heart that our little town is going through this. And I think it shook me a bit – we don’t live very far from where it happened. If we had been here, would I have been driving by? My “what ifs” have been spiraling. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I don’t know. Prayers for me and for you this week as we all groan inwardly as we wait patiently on the Lord. We can endure because of His strength through the Holy Spirit in us.
I’m going to be really honest for a second, because this has been on my heart a lot lately. All this “treat yo self” crap is just that. Crap. Yes, we need to refuel ourselves, eat right, exercise, spend time in the Word and in prayer, rest if that’s what our souls are needing. But as Christians we are literally called to go outside of our comfort zone. We are called to put others before ourselves. And you know what? That’s exactly the opposite of what the world tells us we “deserve.” Dismissing others’ feelings, opinions, desires because they don’t “make us happy” is a worldly point of view. It hurts others, and it hurts us. What if no one ever challenged what I thought? What if I lived blissfully in my own little bubble while people around me are hurting, maybe even because of something I’ve done? You all, I just can’t even properly find the words for this right now. If you’re tired, by all means, pour into yourself. But, pour Jesus into your cup. Pour His majesty in nature, His word, His forgiveness, His grace in there. Not self-help books, the world’s words, or anything else that the world offers. Those things are like salt water, and will leave you more thirsty than when you started. I’m preaching to the choir. Right now, I’m in a horrible cycle of doing just what I’ve been talking about. I keep looking for spiritual strength in all the places except the one place I can actually get it: Jesus’ arms.
I say to the Lord, “You are my God; I have no good apart from you.” Psalm 16:2
No good apart from the Lord. That is a big truth to take hold of. Nothing in this life is good without Him, and absolutely NOTHING can take His place: not money, not a house, not a better job, not a spouse, not a child, not that trip to Target (hey, me 👋), not that new outfit or haircut, not a TV show, not music. Some of those are a little hard to swallow, but anything and everything that distracts us from the love of the Lord is not good, even if it isn’t inherently bad. Most distractions Satan throws at us aren’t. And it’s so easy to fall into thinking, “If I only had [insert whatever you want here], I’d be happy.” But ask anyone who’s actually gotten what they’ve wanted, there’s always something else that comes along to take its place. If we’re always waiting around for that next thing that we think will “make us happy,” we will miss the joy that God has for us – right here, right now. As Solomon frequently says in Ecclesiastes, “all is vanity.” All is shallow, all will leave us empty. The only purpose of this life is to love God and keep His commandments. I think that’s where people get hung up a lot of the time. We don’t want to give up our stuff, even if it is making us miserable. We don’t want to give up our control, even though we don’t know what the heck we’re doing. We ask ourselves what if what we want to do is different than what God wants us to do? We get stuck on what we’re “giving up” to follow God. But one of the beautiful things about God is that He truly cares for us. He wants us to have joy, which is way better than temporary happiness. We’re trudging through life with a worldly perspective when we’ve been given the power to walk on top of it with a heavenly focus. He can fulfill desires we didn’t even know we had if we just surrender to Him. There is NO GOOD apart from Him. NONE.
And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work. 2 Corinthians 9:8
Grace. Do we really believe that we are worthy of it? Every moment we have is another second of God’s grace. Every breath we breathe is a gift of grace from our Creator. First of all, the verse above hits home, because it really boils down to the fact that God gives us grace so that we can have what we need and then give the rest away. He gives us what we need and then some. Am I accepting that grace and then sharing it with others or just stuck on the fact that I don’t deserve it? I’ve been working on showing grace to others as part of living out a better example of love, but I can’t show others grace if I don’t fully appreciate my own. God spoke to me this morning about someone else I’ve been forgetting to extend grace to: myself. I’m my harshest critic; I’d say that’s true for a lot of people. I have very high expectations for myself, but very low motivation most of the time. That usually results in some major self-loathing. It’s not pretty, and it’s not what God wants for me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been on the wrong side of the fine line between humility and self-deprecating. It hurts my heart to know that seven year old me wrote in her journals about how ugly she was because she had moles, and how disgusting she was because she had an accident at school. I saw myself as disgusting. And I still do sometimes. The world teaches us to be really good at nit picking our flaws, because it’s easier to sell us a product to fix them if we are already obsessing over them. It’s scary how early this seeps into our daily thinking. When I worked at the daycare (have I mentioned this before? I worked at a daycare for eight years), I saw young kids worried about eating too much or that they wore a bigger size than their friends; I saw little faces already convinced that they needed makeup to look pretty; I saw fat-shaming and name calling and pure ugliness in these kids sometimes. I’ve also known young people whose parents have offered to pay for plastic surgery for their child because of a superficial flaw that the parent saw. This world is a mess: we are selfish, we are vain, we are lustful, we are hateful, we are prideful. How in the world can we deserve grace? I’ll let you in on a little secret – we don’t. But God gives it to us anyway. And not only that, He uses our sins to point others to His glory. The other morning, baby girl and I read the story of Moses and the burning bush in her Bible story book. At the end of the story, it said something like, “Moses was special to God, you are special to Him too.” My sweet three year old looked up from her breakfast at me and said, “Mama, but I’m not special to God because sometimes I’m mean.” Oh my heart. That about killed me. I talked to her about how God loves us even when we are mean and hard to love. I told her that was called grace, and that’s why God is so good to us. No one else could love us like that. You all, a THREE YEAR OLD saw that she wasn’t worthy of God’s love. Why does it take adults so long to get it?
Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more… Romans 5:20
Being convicted of our sins is painful, even my tiny girl saw a glimpse of that. God’s law is there to show us when we’re not living the way we’ve been called to live. We are supposed to feel the guilt and shame, but only so we can see the grace that is extended to us. We aren’t supposed to wallow in it, we aren’t made to live in that state of mind. But without first seeing why we need grace, the gift wouldn’t mean anything to us. I love when I see the word “but” in the bible, it usually means God is about to show up in a big way and do something only He can do. No one else, ever, could show us the grace and mercy and love that God shows us. No one could even come close. But we are called to try, to strive to love each other like sweet Jesus loves us. Last summer, I decided to do something about my less than healthy lifestyle. I started out by walking around the block with my mom and daughter, then slowly worked in some intermittent jogging. By the fall, I could run/ jog all the way around our neighborhood once. It is only a half mile, but I got to where I could go around twice and not want to pass out. I’ve NEVER been a runner. I can’t breathe correctly when I run, and my lungs feel like they are on fire. I hurt my knee at some point and had to stick to walking for a few weeks, but I stuck with it. I was so proud of the discipline I had about it – I ran 4-5 times a week. Now, I didn’t eat any better than I ever had, I might have even eaten worse, so I wasn’t losing any weight, but I could tell I was toning myself. My clothes fit differently and my posture was better. I had more energy. I felt better. Then Thanksgiving came along and we didn’t go as often. Then December came and there were colder days and Christmas candy and goodies and I didn’t go at all. Now here we are in February and I’m pretty sure it’s been like two months since I’ve been out to run. And… I’ve been eating my feelings. A lot. I’ve gained like eleven pounds. And I was already heavier than I had been in several years. I now weigh the same as I did when I was nine months pregnant with my daughter, and it makes me feel awful. I feel huge. But I have to give myself grace. 2020 was hard on everyone, and our family was put through the ringer. Life is weird, change is hard, and we’re all just trying to cope. I’m not saying that this is the way it always needs to be, because it’s not. If I continue living the way I am, it will become downright unhealthy. But, I have to give myself grace. I can’t beat myself up over the way I look right now. What I can do is recognize that this isn’t sustainable, take that grace I so often forget I can have, and use it as motivation to do better. The last thing I want to do is let my daughter think it’s okay to put herself down. I don’t ever want to set that example. What I do want her to realize is that we all struggle sometimes, and that’s okay. We’re all a little mean sometimes, but we are still special to God and He loves us anyway. So, that’s why we keep trying, pushing, striving to do better. Because we are given grace.
I’ve been trying to figure out what to write about, I haven’t posted anything to my blog since early November. For some reason, I just don’t have the words right now. I’ve been trying to live in the moment, even if these are not the moments I pictured myself having this year. I know this year has taken a toll on everyone’s souls. I know everyone feels heavy. And I’d like to say good riddance to this year as much as anybody out there. But, I can’t help but think that a number on the calendar is not going to change anything. Yes, we will be entering another year, but what will change from the last day of 2020 to the first day of 2021? What will change literally overnight? Nothing really. Just some number that we assigned to a specific amount of time. Maybe it’s a refresh that we need mentally. Maybe I’ll feel better than I think I will. But, one thing is constant and I’m so very thankful – God’s love for us never changes.
How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light. Psalm 36:7-9
Ugh. It’s been almost two weeks since I went to God’s word and wrote in my journal, and probably even longer since I actually talked to God. I don’t know what my deal is – this whole year has been a spiritual struggle. I think that’s why I was drawn to this passage as I read today.
I looked up the word steadfast: “resolutely or dutifully firm and unwavering,” “not subject to change,” “loyal,” “firmly fixed in place; immovable.” That describes God’s love for us. It is PRECIOUS. And the fact that time and time again I let distractions, lies, and apathy make me look away from this perfect love – that makes me angry. I’m angry at satan for attacking me, but that’s just what he does. I’m even more angry at myself for falling for the same old things over and over again; I’m mad at myself for not being steadfast, even when God is. I’m angry that I can’t stay focused enough on His perfect love to fully appreciate it. Thank God that His love is perfected in my weakness, because man am I weak. God gives us everything we need and then more because he loves us. I love my daughter and I want to show her that love. Sure, I could cater to her basic physical and emotional needs and she would be fine. But, I want to love her abundantly. I want her to know that I would do anything for her. I want to make life beautiful for her. And that’s exactly what God wants for us. He gives us food, shelter, clothing, sure, but He wants us to live and love abundantly too. He didn’t have to give us the amazing amount of flavors and textures of food for us to subsist. He didn’t have to make colors or seasons or different hair types for us to live. But He did those things because He wanted us to see His beauty, His love for us. But, if we lose our focus, it’s easy to overlook these things, these “everyday miracles.” Only when we seek Him can we fully recognize His beauty.
In other “news,” if you’ve been following my blog, you know that a while back I put out into the world that I had been feeling kind of creative, but apprehensive about getting started. My sweetheart of a husband is the best. For Christmas, he got me a new sketchbook with pens and a tablet with a stylus. I made the pink graphic above using an app on my tablet and transferring my handwriting from there into an image I created on Canva.com. I’m excited to see what else I can do with my new toys. I’ve drawn more in the last few days than I have probably in my whole life.
I wrote this a few nights ago with the intention of posting, but I had a horrible headache went to bed instead. I still thought it needed to be shared.
Last night, I posted some pictures on Facebook with the caption “perfect night.” I was going to post this one on Instagram with a similar caption, but my app crashed and I forgot about it until much later.
Last night was really good. Our little family took a walk together, the weather was amazing, the sunset was gorgeous, my husband built a fire in the fire pit, we had s’mores, and did some sparklers leftover from the 4th of July just because. We came in, did all the bedtime things with baby girl, got her to sleep, and my husband and I watched an entire movie in one sitting – something that rarely happens anymore. Those are the kinds of things that most people post about on social media.
Gorgeous sunset!
I started this blog because I wanted to be real with you all. I wanted to put not only the good, but the bad and ugly of our life out there as well so that someone else wouldn’t feel so alone. No one’s life is as picture perfect as they put on social media, so don’t you dare for a minute think it is. What I didn’t post about was the fact that our daughter has been in trouble off and on all week, has had THE WORST time transitioning from pooping in diapers to in the potty, had slept poorly the night before, and didn’t take her usual nap at all yesterday.
My daughter woke up with a blood curdling scream last night as my husband and I were going to bed that scared me to death. She had been a little fussy when I laid her down, complaining that she wanted to cuddle me more even though we had already had her cuddle time. But, she didn’t fuss long and went to sleep. But, it was like she woke up, remembered she was mad, and just got madder. Our kid sometimes. She scares me with the anger that is in her tiny body. She screamed and clung to me for what felt like a half an hour before I realized that she wasn’t in fact hurt or sick, just plain mad. I tried so hard to be patient and reassuring, and I was the first ten times she screamed in my face, whined, kicked, and screamed. But, at some point, I lost it. I yelled back, she pushed me, and I swatted her bottom. I held her so tightly, trying to physically contain all the anger in her body. And then I felt awful for losing my temper. She’s so well-spoken and smart that I forget she’s not even three years old yet. I forget that she’s feeling big emotions and does not know how to control them yet. I forget that she doesn’t know how to react the way I am expecting her to. I started crying and couldn’t stop then- like awful, ugly cry sobs. She kind of calmed down and asked if I was okay. We talked about how when she acts like that, it upsets mama. I apologized to her for losing my temper, she told me she loved me and I reassured her that I loved her too. She calmed down and agreed to lay back down. I still think she thought it was almost time to get up, because she said, “I will go back to sleep for a few minutes until daddy’s alarm goes off.” She slept until 7 this morning, though, so whatever. Today brought more complete meltdowns and timeout. But, she did take a nap and then pooped in the potty. After that, it was like a new kid. I know things are weird and it’s really messing with her. The time change really threw her off too. Even though we tried to adjust her gradually that week before, she is still freaked out about it getting dark before she lays down now. She always says, “I’m staying up too late!” when the sun starts setting. I know she’s just two… I just forget sometimes.
So, the perfect, tiny glimpse of life I posted on Facebook was just that, a tiny piece of what had actually been going on in our lives. You all, nobody’s life is picture perfect all the time. Everybody’s life looks like a crazy mess, most people just don’t usually choose to share that part. I try so hard to remember this – to remember that I have no idea what’s going on in others’ lives. All I know is what they choose to share.
coffeemamabogie 