Tag: life

On Grief & Beauty

Flowers from the garden at our house.

In the midst of grief, it seems odd that there is still beauty in the world. Sometimes blue skies and the sun and flowers and laughter all seem to exist in vain. How can the world keep turning when it feels like it stopped? How can beauty exist amongst so much pain? I’ve grappled with this more than I care to think about. We live in a broken world, one full of sorrow and pain. God doesn’t promise us a life free from these things, but He does promise two things: 1) He’s right there with us in the midst, He never leaves our side, and 2) For those whose hope is in Jesus, we can look forward to a Heaven where there is no more sorrow and pain.

I’ve learned that grief, while incredibly difficult, is the result of love. And love is the greatest thing that will remain, now and forever. I’d rather be found in love.

“The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.”
Psalm 121:5&6

God is with us every second of every day and knows our hearts. He will never, ever leave our side. And therein lies our hope.

Childhood.

I know I say this all the time, but being a parent is so hard. I love our daughter so much, and my husband and I make decisions about parenting that we have prayed about and talked about and agree on. But, it’s really hard to see the effects of these decisions on our girl. She already feels like she misses out because of her early bedtime (while also agreeing that she needs it, haha), but in the past year certain kids in our neighborhood have stopped coming over and I know it’s because of rules we have at our house. And that hurts my heart. She often asks why her good friend never wants to play anymore, and I’m not sure how to answer that.

Our sweet girl, watching her friend play with other kids from across the street 💔

Our girl is SEVEN, and one of my goals as a parent is to let her stay a child as long as possible. I don’t want her to have to worry about grown up things. I want her to use her imagination, to read books, to play outside. And I feel like I’m fighting a huge battle against most of the world. I’m not saying I want her sheltered, but the word “age-appropriate” is all I can think to say. Tonight I watched a child from our neighborhood put a toy gun to the other children’s heads and repeatedly pull the trigger while they were playing. That would not be acceptable at our house. I’m not judging other people and what is right for their family, I just think, as a whole, kids are exposed to way more than their little brains can handle. They’re still growing and learning, and putting the entire world at their fingertips is overwhelming. It’s overwhelming for me as an adult. The other day at breakfast our girl asked me for a smart watch – she said all her friends at school have one. I asked her what she would use it for, and she thought for a moment, then said, “To play music – my friends play music on theirs at school.” Besides the fact that it blows my mind that FIRST GRADERS have smart watches and are allowed to bring them to school, it also hurt my heart that she already wants things just because other kids have them. She didn’t even really know why she wanted one.

I pray that we can stay strong, that we can instill good values in our girl, that we can model emotional intelligence for her, that we can build a foundation of faith and trust so that she knows where to turn when the world is scary. I pray that we show her what really matters and not what the world says she needs.

Enjoy every second.

S E V E N years ago, I posted this photo on my Facebook with the caption “Current situation.” I remember this day like it was yesterday. This tiny girl usually hated sleeping on me, and I, guiltily, was okay with that. I liked having a few minutes to myself. I liked being able to fold some laundry or do some dishes while she napped. We were having such a hard time with nursing in those early days that I was constantly touched out, and any break I had from her being on my body was welcome. I remember feeling antsy this day. I had her in my lap doing her “awake time,” trying to interact and keep her as engaged as possible. It was so engaging, apparently, that it was exhausting and she passed out asleep in my lap. I remember feeling impatient. I wanted to move her to her sleeper so badly, but I knew it would wake her up, so I let her sleep. I posted this picture knowing what kinds of comments I would get from seasoned parents – “enjoy every second of it,” “it goes so fast,” “soak in all the snuggles…” And I KNEW that advice was true, but I wasn’t feeling it. I felt restless and almost annoyed at the inevitable comments I would receive. But, I posted it anyway. Not really for anyone else (although, cute baby pictures are always well-received), but for my future self – for the mother I knew I would be some day, to remind myself that while my feelings didn’t match my intention, I was TRYING. I knew, that this was something to appreciate, and so I tried to do so.

Being a mother has changed me so much. It has slowed me down, so much so that it often stops me in my tracks. Motherhood has softened me, it has grown my heart in ways I didn’t know it could expand. It has taught me that you can feel and know two different things, and that’s okay. It can be both. In the same way, I am learning that however I’m *feeling* doesn’t dictate what I know to be true – in regards to anxiety, in regards to everyday choices, and most importantly, in regards to who God says I am.

I’m proud of new mother me, because she was doing the best she could and laid the foundation of the mother I am today. Do I wish I had appreciated those baby snuggles more? Of course. I miss them so incredibly much that it hurts. If I had it to do all over again, I would chill the heck out. I was so uptight about schedules and ounces and milestones that it stole my joy. I was so embarrassed about how I was feeling that I stayed miserable. I hate that for myself, but I also want to use it to encourage other new mothers. You’re not broken, we all need help, and you’re not a terrible person for feeling how you feel. You are amazing.

Emotions.

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 Sweet Home.

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.

Overstimulated.

Sometimes I get over-stimulated. Today, I freaked out on my daughter because she was leaning over me to try to see something. I yelled and told her to stop touching me. She looked scared and I immediately felt bad. But do you ever just get touched out?

During a normal day the washer and dryer are going, the dishwasher is running, my kid is yelling, “Mama!!!” for the literal hundredth time, the dog is barking, the TV might be on, the microwave is beeping, the air fryer is on. Plus, the dog is asking out AGAIN, my daughter wants me to play with her and I really want to but I have to fold this laundry and put away these dishes and answer this phone call and actually sit down and do my work at some point. And I wonder what we should have for dinner and are we out of coffee filters? And did I pay that bill? And I need to vacuum, but I’m exhausted and the dog barks at me the whole time the vacuum is running. And I made coffee earlier but I got distracted and didn’t drink it, and now it’s cold. And my daughter is yelling for me again and needs help fixing her shirt, which is on backwards. The dog is now growling at me and licking my leg because he wants me to play. And I look at the clock and only like 15 minutes have gone by and I wonder how I’m ever going to make it through the day.

Sweet girl would prefer it if I would play with her all day every day.

We’re fortunate that *for now* our daughter still takes a nap. I absolutely count on that hour and a half to sit and enjoy the semi-quiet. But even then there are so many things swirling around me. And the days where, for whatever reason, she can’t fall asleep? Those are the worst.

Please don’t get me wrong. I know how absolutely blessed I am to have a home and a family who loves each other and food to eat and clothes to wear (and wash)… really, I know. But, mama is tired. Mama is overwhelmed sometimes. And mama just needs to sit in silence without being touched every now and then. If this resonates with you, please know that you’re not alone. And even if you have to take your coffee and hide in the closet so that you can drink it while it’s hot, I hope you can find a quiet moment today.

Lose.

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.

Hello again.

Um, hi. It’s been a really long time since I made a post. Like, almost three months. I’ve not really had anything to say. I’ve been claiming to be “busy,” but now that I think about it, that’s not really true. Work is pretty slow and I’m in “catch up on background work mode,” which most days actually looks like “it’s nothing too urgent so I’ll play with my daughter instead mode.” I’ve been trying to just be more present, to keep my priorities straight, to put people before stuff, to live in the moment. But I’ve also not been going to the Word every day and as much I try not to base the quality of my faith on quantity of time in the word, I can’t help feeling guilty. I feel like if I’m going to be speaking to you on matters of faith, mine should probably be pretty solid. But honestly, my faith is a little shaky right now and it is all my fault. And I know it. So, I’ve felt like I didn’t “deserve” to come to you all. I know that’s not good either. I know I should lean on my friends and family in Christ during times like these. We all struggle. I know. I’ve told other people the exact same spiel. Uuuggghh. Accountability is hard. And I literally said to my husband the other night that I feel like exactly zero people care about what I have to say. Why would they? I’m just me. But then the very next day, God gently reminded me through someone I don’t even know that no matter how many people He puts in front of me, whether it’s thousands or just a handful, they are my calling. And so I must be obedient.

Anyway, even though the last few months haven’t necessarily been that busy, they’ve been hard. My husband had an especially frustrating and mentally exhausting time at work for a few weeks in there. I’ve been trying to be there for him, to be supportive. Something has to change. You all, we both feel like we’re supposed to work together. I know I’ve talked about this before, but it feels like it’s right around the corner. We’re both dragging our feet about it because we’re both a little scared, and we haven’t really gone to God about it together like I feel like we should. Pray for us, y’all. Change, even change that I want, absolutely terrifies me. All I know is that we both want to put family first, and the way things are right now, that makes it so hard to do. I’m so exhausted from feeling guilty about who is going to get the best of me on any given day. I feel like someone, whether it’s my husband or my daughter or my mom or my bosses or my friends or other family, always gets “end-of-my-rope stretched-too-thin” me. And that’s not fair to anyone. I feel like I’m in survival mode.

My husband and I went to a concert to celebrate our anniversary a couple of weeks ago. We drove to Florence, KY and stayed at the hotel where we stayed on our wedding night. (Neither of us really remembered the hotel very much even when we got there, haha. We were so tired on our wedding night and had to be at the airport the next day. It was all a blur.) We made a dinner reservation at The Melting Pot because we used to celebrate there all the time, but our local one closed. We had a wonderful fondue dinner and dessert, and I drank coffee after dinner because the opening act at the concert wasn’t going to start until 8 PM and mama had to stay awake. We drove to the venue and when we entered they were very strict about checking IDs and vaccination cards. That made me feel better. But, it wasn’t a socially distanced show, so the seats were full. I told my husband I was glad that we didn’t get lower arena seats, because they were all first come first serve and everyone was crowded around the stage. Luckily, two seats were empty in our row, so we got an empty seat on each side of us. But there were people directly behind and in front of us. I was a bit overwhelmed. I hadn’t been in a crowd like that for probably over two years. The only thing that made me feel better was that it was an amphitheater, so we had [a tiny bit of] fresh air blowing through the whole time. But it was such a good show. If you’ve never heard of Nathaniel Rateliff and The Night Sweats, look them up. It’s such a unique, vintage sound. And they put on a great show that was only the slightest bit rowdy, haha. We were pooped when we made it back to the hotel. The next morning we ate breakfast, checked out, then spent the afternoon at IKEA. We bought way more than we went for, but oh well… I got to eat Swedish meatballs.

On the way home I was talking to my husband about how much I appreciate these trips. This is the third little getaway that we’ve been able to have over the last year with just the two of us and I’m so thankful that we are blessed to be able to do so. We were walking through IKEA and I kept saying how much I missed our daughter. The same kid who the day before had me smiling through gritted teeth so that I wouldn’t lose my cool, I was missing terribly after less than 24 hours. These resets are so good for my soul. The time (truly) alone with my husband is so good for our relationship, not only as husband and wife, but also as friends. The time away from my daughter gets me out of the everyday and gives me perspective. The break in the monotony (as much as I actually like monotony) nourishes my body more than you can imagine. Just being somewhere different, seeing different places, even just for a day, is so refreshing to me. I love exploring with my husband – it’s one of my absolute favorite things. By myself? Not so much. At some point, traffic was terrible (if you live in Cincinnati or have visited, like, ever, you know that they are always working on the road somewhere), he looked at me and asked, “You up for an adventure?” He likes to find back ways to get where we’re going and sometimes they work and sometimes we get lost for a while. I smiled at him and said, “Will you be there?” He said, “Well, of course,” and I said, “Always.” I will always be down for an adventure with that man. ❤


As much as I love these trips, and as good as they are for my soul, I had a thought today. Sure, road trips, time away, concerts, good food, they can make me feel better for a while. But where do I turn when I’m in the trenches of everyday life? How do I fill my cup when I’m tired, when I’ve fought with my toddler all day, when the laundry hasn’t been folded and put away for longer than I care to admit? How do I get refreshed when there’s no getaway or vacation? God is there. He’s there all the time. His promises to me are the same as they were that day while I was riding in the car with my husband, and the same as they will be tomorrow as I’m filling up the dishwasher. God’s love for me is there. God’s peace is given to me freely every single day. God’s refuge and renewal is available to me every single second of my life. You all, do we really grasp that? I don’t think we do, or we wouldn’t strive so hard for “the next thing.” Life is hard enough as it is. Why do we insist on making it harder by trying to do things on our own?

Y’all, let’s be so incredibly thankful for the small (and big things) in this life that give our bodies and minds a reset, but let’s be infinitely more grateful for the One who can give our souls a supernatural peace and rest. Without Him, we are absolutely nothing.

When I thought, “My foot slips,” your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up. When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.

Psalm 94:18+19

Waiting with patience.

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.

Still blessed.

I wrote this Friday, mostly so that I could look back and remember this chaos. But, I’m sure we’re not the only ones going through craziness, so hopefully this makes someone else feel a little less like life is attacking just them.
It has been A DAY. I knew I was going to have to take our puppy to the vet today, so I gave him a bath this morning. That’s always an event because he really hates it. My bathroom and I were completely soaked by the end of it. No big deal, I expected it. I took him to the vet, which is all still very no contact and my phone kept doing weird things when they tried to call me about him. But, he did good and we went and picked up my lunch from one of my favorite local restaurants and headed home. He was kind of upset and threw up in the car on the way home… not on the towel I had put down for him in the passenger seat. He laid his head over the console and puked right between it and the driver’s seat. I got home and tried to clean it, but I absolutely cannot reach it. My daughter wasn’t laying down for nap like she was supposed to be when I got home. She was procrastinating and being extra difficult. She had a meltdown over something ridiculous and this stubborn mama was not about to let her win that fight, so it escalated pretty quickly and before you know it we’re screaming at each other… (she is so much like me it’s scary sometimes, so we butt heads a lot.) Anyway, that happened. When she finally got to sleep, I calmed down, read some scripture, and decided that the first half of my day would not dictate the rest of it. When she woke up she was much more pleasant, and we ended up going to a small birthday gathering for some family. She had fun. When we got home, I was going to show my husband the dog puke in the car, and he told me that the garage door broke and wouldn’t go down. He looked at what was wrong with it and decided to tackle it after dinner. We went in and I started chopping garlic for our famous filet and brown butter (I don’t want to talk about how much my husband paid for steak the other day. We HAVE to eat it.) I was halfway through chopping the second clove when he looked at me and said, “We don’t have any salted butter.” Okay, plan B. We would have steak frites instead. He pulled out the brand new bag of potatoes that had never been opened… they were gross. Okay, plan C – we’re eating out. So, he put in a mobile order at Texas Roadhouse and went to pick it up. While he was gone, I let the dog out and he ran around the house. I went after him, because he’s notorious for pooping in the neighbors’ yard and finding the stinkiest thing he can find and rolling in it. My daughter came running out the front door and I yelled at her to go put some shoes on if she was coming outside. I go around to the dog, and after a few minutes I wondered where my daughter was. Just then, she came around the house barefoot screaming because she couldn’t find me. I decided to just let the whole “no shoes” thing slide, I was over arguing for the day. We have a few potted herbs out back and they looked kind of sad, so I offered to let her help water them. I got the hose and we sprayed them down, and the dog tried to eat the water, so he was soaked. I went to turn off the water and roll up the hose and I noticed a wasp on the hose reel. I backed up and waited a minute until I didn’t see it anymore, then went over and turned off the water. As I started to roll up the hose, the wasp flew at me and bumped into my arm. I started freaking out (I know… the opposite of what you’re supposed to do.) My daughter came over to see what was going on and that wasp stung her on the arm. So I’m holding a hysterical three year old trying to wrangle a wet puppy into the house. We finally made it in and we washed the sting and then put ice on it. She was a trooper, and I was so proud of how she handled it. Dinner was delicious and ended up being kind of like a special treat since we don’t eat that kind of thing all the time. After we got our daughter in bed, I went outside with my husband and offered moral support while he fixed the garage door (I tried to actually help at one point, but my arms are about as strong as a wet noodle, so I was no help.) We came in at like 10 PM just absolutely exhausted from the day. Now I’m drinking some sleepy time tea listening to him play on the acoustic guitar and all I can think of is how blessed we are.
Yes, today was crazy and exhausting and a ton of stuff went wrong. But you know what? A ton of stuff went right, too. Our dog is healthy and has had his first round of vaccinations. I had a really delicious lunch. Our daughter is healthy and growing and becoming her own person. We have a great, reliable car that gets us where we need to go. The dog puke didn’t really smell bad, haha 😆. My daughter and I got to spend some time with family we haven’t seen in so long. We had a delicious dinner and were blessed enough to have the money to buy it. My husband is a genius and knows how to fix garage doors, so we didn’t have to call someone and have them come out. So many blessings sprouted from all the craziness.


There were so many days, weeks, months last year that I longed for these kinds of things to be the only sort of thing I had to worry about. In the midst of despair, mourning, and helplessness, dog puke would have seemed like a minor inconvenience – nothing at all. And that’s kind of been my point of view today. It’s alright. God is still good. We are still infinitely blessed.