I’m having some serious cognitive dissonance over here. It’s September, and in my cold-weather-loving mind, it’s (un)officially fall and I’m ready to break out all the fake leaves and pumpkins, amazing-smelling pumpkin candles, and my sweaters. However, it was 90 degrees here today and we’re going on a beach vacation soon. I can’t quite get my mind straight. [Over] half of me wants to just take off running toward pumpkin spice everything and never look back, but the other part of me is trying on bathing suits and packing a beach bag. I’m so lost and confused. As I’ve said before, I am not a summer girl. I’m so, so ready to say goodbye to it. But then, a beach vacation in the fall is just not seasonal. Ugh. I guess I have to hold off on pretending that fall is here until we get back. And, seriously, pretending is all I’m doing, because as I said, it was 90 here today. The weather I’m dreaming of won’t actually be here for at least another month, more realistically two.
[I’m going to show how incredibly weird I am, but does anyone else have a mental seasonal calendar in their head? Mine’s like a square. Fall (September, October, and November) is at the bottom, then Winter is on the right side (December, January, February), and so on, continuing counterclockwise, three months at a time. HOW STRANGE AM I?? Like, I literally picture this in my head every time I think about months or seasons. Maybe I’ll illustrate it one day so everyone else can have a glimpse of how weird I am.]
Picture from last year’s vacation. This hat was too big last year, now it doesn’t fit her head at all. So many changes.
I am, however, excited to go on vacation with baby girl. The beach is not my ideal vacation spot, but I will love watching her experience everything. We went last year, when she was about 7.5 months old. She loved it, but there was a hurricane and we got evacuated after only being there like a day and a half. Pray that there won’t be any hurricanes this year! Baby girl is so smart and expressive, and loves exploring and learning. I think this will be so much fun. And I’m excited for all the amazing pictures we’ll get (bahaha, probably not.) Also pray for this momma and her husband as we travel with a toddler, stay in strange places with a toddler, and royally mess up our routine-loving toddler’s schedule. Yikes. That part is making me more than a little nervous. But, I’m so very thankful and grateful to be able to get away for a while. This summer has not been very kind to my whole family, and I think we all need a change of pace.
It was pretty cool here Friday, like 70 degrees and cloudy. I’m. So. Happy. It has been so hot and dry here lately, I’m pretty sure we went three whole weeks without rain. When I went to write this blog post, I looked up the word, “pluviophile,” because I had read somewhere that it referred to someone who loves rain, and thought, “that’s me!” Much to my disappointment, that’s not a real, Webster’s recognized word. But, it still describes me. I legit start getting antsy when it hasn’t rained in a while, and almost a little depressed. So, the last little while had been adding some extra emotional stress to my days. It has finally rained and I am so much more calm than I have been. I’m certain most people are the opposite, and hate when it rains for days on end. So, either way, someone somewhere is miserable no matter what the weather is doing. That’s a happy thought.
Anyway, I was driving home from the store on Friday and got to thinking. I used the “cooler” weather as an excuse to wear my favorite shirt, which is long sleeved. Baby girl was babbling and singing in the backseat. We had just bought doughnuts. It was Friday. And the weather felt ah-mazing. I felt so full of happiness. I wondered why in the world it couldn’t feel like that all the time, I would be so much more comfortable and happy. God spoke to my heart very plainly and immediately – “you wouldn’t appreciate the cool as much without the hotter months.” Yep, true. No, I don’t necessarily ever get tired of the cooler (even cold) weather (I know, I’m weird), but there is something different about that first hint of crisp air after months and months of sweltering heat; it’s a happiness that just fills my entire soul. I can only imagine that people who love warm weather feel a similar happiness when spring makes an appearance after a cold winter.
That got me thinking – in our lives we go through different seasons as well. We have good, comfortable seasons. We have awful, miserable seasons where it feels like everything is hitting us at once. We have mundane seasons where we’re merely trudging through. We have all sorts of times in our lives that make us experience all sorts of things. Would we recognize the good without having gone through the bad? If we don’t experience hardships to some degree, would we take our good times for granted? I honestly think so. I don’t think we can truly recognize God’s light if we’ve never experienced darkness. God knows the balance, He knows exactly what we need to grow into the exact person He wants us to be. The hard part, for me anyway, is remembering to look for the blessing and/ or the lesson when I’m going through the valleys of life. It’s easy to get caught up in the “why me?!” of it all, that I miss the point. Only after, when the next blessing comes along, do I look back and say, “oh, I get it now.” Or, when times are good, I still dwell on negative, minuscule things that don’t matter, rather than enjoy what’s going on around me, and more importantly be grateful for it. The thing I need to work on is enjoying the present and being thankful for it – whatever it looks like and however miserable I may think it to be. If we’re only sitting around waiting for the good times to come along, we not only miss the present, but we also build up the thing we’re looking forward to so much, that it almost becomes disappointing when it finally happens. Does that make any sense? Maybe it’s just me.
As I was writing this, Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 came to mind, especially verse 1:
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under the sun.
It may be cliché and remind me of a Byrds song, but it’s true. The thing we have to remember is that whatever is going on in our lives, God CAN and WILL use it for our good if we allow Him to. (Romans 8:28)
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for all those who are called according to His purpose.
Do I believe that? Wholeheartedly, but I forget that I believe it sometimes. Plus, I think I’m guilty of applying this in my mind only to big things. But, even small, everyday things like the weather can be used as well. I just have to be open to see it.
My kid has a stuffy nose. Like, the kind where I have to catch the snot dripping from her nose every thirty seconds. The kind that when she says “mama,” it comes out “bah bah.” The kind that makes it hard to eat because she can’t breathe through her nose, so she has to take breathing breaks in the middle of her chewing, causing her to gag on her food and refuse to eat any more. She’s so miserable, but she’s still so positive.
She went with me to work for a while – sat on the desk, got a sticker from my planner, watched the cars go by out the window. She fell asleep on the way home, cuddling an elephant toy that’s probably way too young for her, but it’s her car toy and she loves it. She was a trooper as I dragged her around to do more work. She was pleasant and smiling as we had lunch with family, although she didn’t eat much. She took FOREVER to go to sleep at naptime, but she wasn’t fussing, just singing and talking. She took a good, long nap and then woke up singing and talking some more. She then proceeded to play with her (my) bracelets for almost TWO hours. We laid in the bed while she played with them for a while and sang and talked. Then her granny came over and she played with the bracelets with her. She cleaned up when I asked her to. She quickly ate a very good dinner after her small lunch and not having any afternoon snack. She let me brush her teeth. She freaked out about getting saline drops in her nose, but really liked the vapor rub. She took forever to go to sleep again, but slept all night with minimal fussing.
That was yesterday. Today was… still okay, but we had a couple of battles of will. Today, she thought it was funny to tell mama, “no,” and run away after I asked her to clean up her books. Today, she said she didn’t want chips and salsa and rice (some of her favorites, and mine too to be honest!), but wanted to stay home (we went anyway, by the way, and she ate just fine). Today she said she wasn’t going to listen to me tomorrow, but wanted daddy to get her doughnuts. How old is my child?! Sometimes even I forget that she’s only just over 18 months old. Sometimes I forget that she’s not like, at least 3. Good grief. The conversations we have are ridiculous. The things she remembers after months are ridiculous. I’m seriously doomed. I’m pretty sure she’s already smarter than I am.
Despite her difficult-ness today, she was still pretty good. She was still obsessed with playing nicely with her bracelets. She still kept a pretty good humor as I dragged her back to the office for an unexpected work errand, enduring standstill interstate traffic and a car that was still hot even with the air blasting. She did ask me to sing “mermaid” all the way there and all the way back, and got really upset when I would stop to, you know, breathe and stuff. I kept trying to remind myself all day that she still doesn’t feel very good.
Sweet girl with all her “brabets”.
All that being said, I would not be even half as cheerful as she has been if I had a stuffy nose. In fact, I wasn’t. I was sick for two weeks straight last month and I’m pretty sure I was the biggest grump ever. How can I be more positive like my baby girl? How can I so easily look past the fact that I feel miserable and still see things around me to make me happy? I need a lesson from my one year old.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
This is the current journal I’m using for my daily bible devotions. Literally every day the cover makes me stop and think. I am grateful. No matter what life throws at me, no matter what the day brings, I am thankful. Sometimes, I just need a reminder.
Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Philippians 4:11
That is the first verse I wrote out in this journal, on a day when I really needed it:
“Before I even sat down to write this morning, [my boss] called and needed me to take a check to the office in Lexington, and to run a personal errand for him while I was there. It’s days like this that really stress me out. I had already decided that I could get some background stuff done today on the computer and stay in my leggings… not happening now. I was really upset after that phone call. But then I picked up this brand new journal and on the very front was a reminder to be thankful. And then, Jim’s devotion was from this verse in Philippians… okay, I get it.
First of all, I need to be thankful that I have a job that allows me to make a little extra money for my family. And as much as I get flustered with my job sometimes, [my bosses] have been very flexible with my schedule and me taking time off for baby girl. I’m gaining valuable experience, and they trust me to do what needs to be done. It’s definitely not the worst gig in the world – most days, I can stay in my pajamas if I want, and I can plan my work around caring for my child.
Also, it shouldn’t matter what the day throws at me, I should be more like Paul. If my focus is on the eternal, then I can be content in whatever. What better opportunity than today to live that out? It’s easy to say I’m content when I can stay at home in my leggings all day, because that’s what I want to do. But, can I really put it into practice when things aren’t going the way I want or planned? I want to be so focused on God that I use whatever the world throws at me for His purpose and as an opportunity to live for Him. Lord, help me see things this way!”
coffeemamabogie 