Vanity.

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

Ecclesiastes 1:2&3

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

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

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

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

Expectations.

I expect a lot of my kid – I have since she was in the womb. She had to be tough, because there wasn’t much room in there. The last month or so of my pregnancy, her head stayed in my ribcage pretty much the whole time. They tried to make her turn, but there was just no room. Her poor little head kept getting stuck. I have said since she was born that I honestly think that’s why she had so much neck strength from the get go – she was used to constantly fighting for room. Almost immediately, my sweet girl realized she much preferred sitting up to laying back. She would get so very angry if you tried to cradle her, you know, like a baby. She also didn’t care for being rocked or cuddled too much. We gave up trying to use the rocking chair a few months in, it almost seemed to over-stimulate her rather than calm her down. She is just now getting to where she wants to cuddle for short periods of time, but still mostly just when she’s sick (or when she wants something.) She’s been miss independent for her whole almost year and a half of life. Maybe it was partly because of how big she acted from the beginning, but I’ve always had great expectations for my child.

This got me in trouble a little bit when we were in the newborn stages. The hormones and the lack of sleep made me a super unhappy person. I would get so frustrated with my poor baby when she wouldn’t go back to sleep, or seemed to be crying for no reason. I just wanted this tiny thing who needed me for everything to be able to self-regulate and self-soothe. I wanted her to just know how to do things that tiny babies really don’t know how to do.

I worked with kids for about ten years, and several of those years were spent with one year olds specifically. I learned a great deal about children and their development over those years. The biggest thing I think I learned? They are capable of so much more than we think, and expectation is everything. I would have a giant pile of money if I had a dollar for every time a parent asked, “how did you get him/ her to do that?!” Teaching a child to do something, anticipating that they will actually do it, and offering help when needed is all I ever did. Kids learn really quickly what it is you expect of them, and for the most part, they’re people-pleasers; they just want to do a good job.

For this reason, I expect quite a lot from my kid. And, for the most part, this has worked for us so far. Her mind amazes me all the time. She knows exactly what I’m saying to her. She can walk from one end of the house to the other to throw something away or put dirty clothes in the laundry basket. She can push her basket of clean clothes from the laundry room down the hall to her room. She can go get a specific book I ask for off the shelf, or a specific toy out of her bin. She can ask me to do things, like help, open her Easter egg (she’s still obsessed with these, months after Easter), pick her up, or go “that way”. She can tell me what she wants to eat (which currently is some combination of doughnuts, yogurt, bread, crackers, and prunes [yeah, I don’t know].) She knows so so many words that I’ve lost count. And she hears and repeats EVERYTHING.

My child is also my child, however, and we often have a battle of wills. After being sick for a week recently, she has been winning these battles, simply because getting her to eat or drink or do anything was a struggle. Now that she feels better, setting these boundaries again has been so hard. She really likes to test boundaries. I feel like I keep having to pray for patience, just to have enough to show her how to be patient. She really can push my buttons.

I think sometimes people think I’m too hard on my kid, that I’m not letting her be a baby. I’ll admit, it’s harder than I thought it would be with my own. Part of me wants her to stay a tiny squish for as long as possible. Another part of me, however, sees a toddler who, if left unchecked, could easily turn into the poster child for terrible twos. Yes, I want her to stay little, but I also want to set expectations now for how she should act – at some point, it will be too late.

Another thing I learned during my time with all those kiddos? Children thrive in routines. Again, I think it’s an expectation thing – if they know what’s expected and what’s going to happen next, there’s a comfort there. Another thing I’m not great at with my own stinking kid? Routines. I mean, we have a loose schedule, but it usually gets thrown off by something – a work phone call, a tantrum-throwing toddler who refuses to eat anything but yogurt, a lunch out with friends or family, or something. I keep telling myself that even if we keep the schedule a few times a week, it will stay familiar enough to be routine… but the planner and micromanager in me stays pretty anxious about it all the time.

My poor kid. She’ll either be super smart and a thoughtful, caring human being… or be scarred for life.

Content.

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!”

Home.

I have so many memories of breaking beans with my granny in this house, and this morning I broke beans with my baby girl in the same kitchen. Three generations have passed from my granny’s, and we’re still doing the same thing. I love how God gives us just enough continuity to be able to deal with the change that life throws at us. I also love the memories evoked by living in this house. It may look different now, but it feels the same. It feels like home. Every now and then, I have a familiar feeling rush over me as I walk through the house, and I’m five years old again. I’m spending my Friday night at my granny’s house. I’m here for Thanksgiving dinner. I’m just sitting with her and breaking beans (which I probably didn’t appreciate as a kid…)

As a married couple, we’ve lived in several different places, but none have felt so much like home to me as this house does. The sounds of birds and smells of the flowers in the yard are familiar. My heart is at rest here. I was so unsure about taking on this house. Every time I walked in after granny passed away, I cried. I couldn’t imagine living in this place that made me so sad. But, as time passed, I started to see it in a new light. The sadness turned to fondness, and with the promise of major changes to the inside aesthetic, I finally agreed that this house might make the best home for us. I’m so very glad that my heart finally caught up with my head, because this is home. This is a place that I can share memories with my family, just like I’ve always done here.

Works.

In going through some of my previous bible devotions, I found this that I wrote in March. It reminded me that I already had a heart project going on when I decided to I would finally obey and start this blog… a heart project I had started to forget about in the anxiety of publishing my words.


You believe God is One; you do well. Even the demons believe – and shudder! Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless?

James 2:19&20

This passage always gets me, and makes me think of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (such a good book if you haven’t read it!) Satan himself knows that Jesus is the Son of God, that’s why he attacks us so. Evil in the purest form believes in the one true God, so when people say they believe in God, it’s not really much of a thing to say. We are called to live our lives like we believe in God. That belief should be causing us to act in some way or another.

Where I get tripped up is that when I see the word “works” in this passage, I think I need to be out in the street feeding the hungry or teaching orphans in Africa – and if that is what God lays on my heart, then by all means, I should. However, I forget that it also just means action. How am I living differently than I would otherwise because I believe? Do I have a joy that the world can’t take away? Do I see God as Lord of all, and therefore use my time to praise His name? Do I take comfort that His plan is better when something’s not going the way I think it should? Do I use the talents and abilities He has given me to glorify Him in my day to day life? “Works” aren’t just these grandiose gestures that I usually think of, they are faith in action in our everyday lives. It’s living like we believe, not just saying we do.

Lately, after feeling like I’m not giving God my absolute all, I’ve been praying for Him to show me what I’m holding back. I think I assumed it was one big thing I was holding on to, but He’s been showing me all sorts of little daily things that I keep forgetting to hand over. My work is definitely one of these things, but it has been even smaller aspects like [Baby Girl’s] sleeping habits and what we’re going to have for dinner. I think I just assume that these things are too small for God to waste His time with, and that I can handle them myself. However, these small things are the very things satan uses to get in my head, to tell me I’m not good enough. So, they are definitely things I should be handing over to God, because He wants it all – even the [maybe not so] little things.


I’ve gotten distracted lately by focusing on giving God this big thing (my blog), and have forgotten once again to hand over every seemingly minute aspect of my life. Because of this, I can once again feel satan wedging in, using these tiny worries I have to give me big anxieties and insecurities. I can tell that I’m not giving God my all, only a small, specific portion of my life that I have divided out just for Him. This is a scary realization, and I pray that He makes me more aware of the times I try to “go it alone.”

The new old me.

You know, it’s so funny how we forget things we once knew. I used to have a livejournal… does anyone remember those? I can’t find the one I had in high school… at the moment I can’t even remember what it was called. But, I created a more “grownup” account when I was in college. I got an email from livejournal the other day, reminding me that it was almost my husband’s birthday (he was literally the only follower I had on that account, because he used to be a loser who had a livejournal as well.) I clicked on my account last night from that email and ended up reading my own words for over an hour. I was astounded by how much my outlook on life has changed, how much my writing style has changed, and how much my struggles haven’t really changed. My jaw dropped when I read this from 2013!

Anyway. I really do want to write in here.. or somewhere. I read all these blogs and things that are linked through pins on Pinterest, and I always think, “I would love to keep up a blog like that!” Something inspirational with helpful life tips, things I’ve learned along the way, encouragement for those who need it, etc. I really, really want to. What else do I want to do? Let me tell you: I want to have a job where I can make money from home.. specifically an editing job would be perfect. Where I get to translate a little French? Even better. I want to get pregnant. I want to learn to sew. I want to get caught up on my scrapbooking. I want to be a housewife, dang it!

Goodness. Who knew my blogging journey went back that far? Not me, that’s for sure. Also, quite a bit of that has actually come to pass: I have a job that [mostly] allows me to work from home and is very flexible, I did get pregnant [twice] and now have my sweet girl, and obviously I finally did start my blog. I guess I can still dream about that editing job, and I would have to brush up on my French a lot before I could even think about a translating job. I still haven’t learned to sew. I’m completely terrified of my sewing machine. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. And the scrapbooking thing makes me laugh – I used to absolutely love scrapbooking. I made a book for my husband and made a page for each reason I loved him or all the fun things we did together. Now I don’t even know where everything is. It’s scattered all over the house from our move. Maybe one day when we get our den/ office set up, I’ll get back to it.

Now that I’ve rediscovered my old journal, I might publish some of that as well. I surprised myself with how cheery and hopeful I used to be. It’s like I was wearing rose-colored glasses. I need more of that me back. I need to be reminded of how I was and what I’ve already overcome… apparently I forgot a lot of it somewhere along the way.

Pause.

I have a confession to make. I’ve been listening to the wrong voice. I’ve been letting satan give me pause. I’ve given in to fear and doubt. I’ve been quiet the last few days because, honestly, I’ve been scared.

I started a Facebook page so that my friends and family could follow and share what I was writing about. I made a pretty, new logo and spent an hour looking for the perfect cover photo. I posted my favorite blog posts with eye-catching pictures and shared a couple on my personal page. I even worked up the courage to send invitations to my friends and family to like my shiny new page. I used all the best marketing skills I’ve learned over the last few years at my job. And I felt like a fake. I made it look pretty, I appeared confident about my new journey, but I’m really scared, my thoughts are a mess, and I constantly feel like I’m bothering or annoying people with my words.

Despite the several immediate “likes” I got from friends, family, and even people I hardly speak to anymore, I felt they were doing it out of pity or because they were family and felt like they had to. I started hearing that voice that I heard when I first started this blog, “Nobody wants to hear what you have to say. Who cares what you think? You’re just one voice. Now everyone you know can read your words – what if you inadvertently offend somebody?…” I got quite a few likes on Facebook the first couple of days, but new followers have died down now. And, I’ve gone several days without a single view on WordPress. I let these statistics get to me. I used them as proof of what those voices were telling me: writing is pointless.

But, then I remember why I started this thing, and again I’m reminded that it’s not about me.

So, in striving for complete honesty, I’m letting you in on my struggle. I’m not fishing for compliments, but sometimes I need encouragement. And I really have been getting it – old friends thanking me for reminders to be grateful, private messages from people telling me that my words spoke directly to them. But it’s like I chose to ignore this encouragement and focus on my doubt. I guess the best way I can look at it is that satan wouldn’t attack me if I weren’t doing something that scared him, so that’s exactly why I have to keep going.

It’s taken me two days since I even started typing this out to actually publish it. I’ve gone back and added, deleted, and edited so many times. I’ve read it over and over, making sure I don’t sound too whiny (I still think I do) or like I’m complaining about my calling. I’m not happy with this writing at all, but I’m going to publish it anyway. I told you all from the beginning that this might get messy – well, here’s the mess. I’m trying to be an obedient mess.

Attacked.

Thankfully, I’ve been in a pretty good emotional place as of late, but it comes and goes in waves, it seems. I’ve been trying so very hard to keep my focus on Jesus, the way He loves me, and showing that love to others. Yep, I screw it up every day, but I’m trying. I found this on my phone, however, and felt like it definitely needed to be shared. I go through times where I feel like this every now and then, and if even one person needs to see that they’re not alone in that, then I’m happy to share my bad times as well as my good. I wrote this at the end of March:

“I’m overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed with the things I think I have to do. I am overwhelmed by the pressure I feel as a mother to care for my child, make sure she eats (but not just anything, it HAS to be healthy -haha), keep our home clean and safe for her, and teach her what she needs to know, not just for development, but also laying a spiritual foundation and just teaching her to be a good human being. I’m overwhelmed with what I’m not doing to be a good wife. But then, as I sit here, I’m completely overwhelmed by the way God loves me. It’s not complicated. He doesn’t have a checklist of attributes He’s looking for in me or of things I absolutely must do before He will consider me loveable. In fact, I am very unlovable, but He still loves me anyway. And it’s not a worldly, shallow kind of love. It’s a supernatural kind of love that I can’t even begin to fathom. When I think about this, all the stuff just melts away.

Full disclosure – I started a new birth control the other day after being on the mini pill for like a year, so my hormones are all over the place. I’m happy one minute and crying the next. But, I’ve felt so attacked the last couple of days. I feel like people are judging me (more than usual), I feel like their words have hidden meaning (again, more than usual), and I’ve taken everything to mean the worst possible thing. Poor [hubby] can’t say anything to me without me twisting it to make him sound horrible and judgy. He’s just stopped saying anything, which also sets off my anxiety. I’ve felt worthless. I’ve felt inadequate. I’ve felt stupid. I’ve felt like my opinion didn’t matter.

Then I realized that I am being attacked, but not by the people around me. Satan is in full on attack mode right now, and I haven’t been handling it very well. I just wrote in my bible journal about this the other day. He always seems to use the people around me, and it stings worse than anything else. It’s so very personal. It gets to me, and he knows it. The thing is, it takes me longer than it should to realize what’s going on. I remember the spiritual battle going on around me only after being in the trenches of it for days. And even then, or now I should say, I still try to hold on to control. I still let satan tell me that it’s because there’s something wrong with me, because I’m not trying hard enough, I’m not strong enough. I see that I’m doing it, and I keep doing it. I keep letting him whisper those words to me, and I give them value.

My prayer is to be able to let go, completely. I want to be able to tell satan that I see what he’s doing, and it won’t work anymore. I want to feel victorious in Jesus, because he’s already won this war. I don’t have to fight this battle.”

Words.

I’m kind of annoying myself with the ridiculous marathon of posts I feel like I’m making, but as I’ve said before, I knew what God wanted me to do long before I actually did it.

I’ve been writing for myself about as long as I can remember (cue the backstory about how my favorite elementary school teacher encouraged us to write in journals often, and I’ve been doing it ever since. Maybe I’ll find that journal again one day and give you all a glimpse. It’s really something.) I’ve got at least ten bible journals full of writing that I may or may not end up sharing. But, as recently as this year, when I really started hearing very clearly what I was to do (but still resisting change and attention in a way only I know how), I started typing things out in the notes on my phone. Some were random thoughts, some were memories, some were reflections on life. I’ve already posted a few of those, but there are many more. This blog was a thing before it was actually a thing.

I used to only write for me: mostly to remember – an event, a thought I had, I even tried my hand at poetry and short stories for while after high school (I thought at the time I would want to remember those… yikes); sometimes I wrote to work through something that I couldn’t quite articulate in my head. I’m so much more comfortable writing than I am speaking. I love texting. I love the fact that I can read and reread and revise my text until it says exactly what I want it to say. I stumble over my words when I speak, and I end up sounding stupid or saying something completely different than I actually wanted to. So, as much as I am uncomfortable with writing where others can read it, writing is my comfort zone. I feel more at ease, because I can micromanage word order, language, grammar… I love it.

This new adventure I’m on is still uncomfortable to me, though. I’m not used to being the one who is being directly and so overtly used by God. I’m used to being in the background, and I really like it back there. I’m an empathetic bystander; I’m like a book editor, a product rater, or a teacher’s assistant who grades papers. If you ask, I will give you an honest opinion about something someone else has done. I’m not one who does, I’m not one who creates, I’m not one who innovates, I’m not one who initiates. I’m just not. So to write for others is such a strange concept to me.

I went into this with the hope that other women could read about what my family has gone through and feel like they are not alone. But so very often, God has bigger plans than we do. The day after my husband shared my blog, he told me that two separate MEN told him how much they liked it. So much for my tiny expectations. God said, “watch what I can do!” I’m sure women will be blessed by it as well, but that just blew my mind.

I pray that God keeps doing expectation-shattering things with what little I give Him.

Grateful.

I took this picture in February and just couldn’t bear to put into words what I was feeling when I saw this scene. Everything in it means something to me.

I walked down the hallway one morning and saw this: shoes that hadn’t been put away, a goody bag from a birthday party from several days before, a trim-less wall (a reminder of just how unfinished our house really is), and some dirt that the picture caught that I couldn’t even see in person (a reminder of how I don’t clean as often as I would like.) This scene was not what I wanted to see first thing in the morning. I started to get upset, to put myself down for not picking up after myself and my family. But, suddenly my perspective changed, and I saw our mess differently.

The shoes in the floor didn’t annoy me anymore, but instead, made me feel so incredibly blessed. We had prayed so hard to have a baby; we struggled, we suffered. Those tiny shoes transformed into a symbol of a miracle, an answered prayer. The goody bag became a reminder of the amazing friends we get to share life with, and of how sweet it was that they invited my one year old to their five year old’s birthday party. The crack between the wall and the floor became a reminder of how hard my amazing husband has worked since we moved into this house. No, it’s not done yet, but it looks a lot different than it did when we started. And that dirt and dust – it reminded me that I had more important things to do than to keep my house spotless. I had a life to live and people to love.

The scene that began to cause me anxiety when I first came upon it, was now the best reminder of how amazing my life is, and how blessed I am. I’m grateful for my mess.