For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear, but of power and love and self-control.
2 Timothy 1:6&7
The version Jim used said, “…kindle afresh the gift of God…” and that just really resonated with me. I let satan, time and time again, distract me and allow me to forget the progress I’ve made in my relationship with God. I’m so very glad that I write down these thoughts – so many times do I begin to fall away, to question my motivations and my faith, only to eventually remind myself (through God’s amazing planning) that I’ve struggled with the same thing before and grown from it. I feel like I go through different seasons in my relationship with the Lord: sometimes I feel so focused on God and in tune with the Holy Spirit; other times, I feel like I’m clinging to God’s word, trying hard to remember His promises and my joy. At the moment, I feel somewhere in between.
I included verse 7 (Jim only had the first part of 6), because that particular part kind of stepped on my toes. I often blame my humanity for becoming distracted, feeling inadequate, or whatever the case may be. And yes, satan does play on our humanity. BUT GOD GAVE US what we need to overcome it – power, love, and self-control. Ouch. I don’t have an excuse. The Holy Spirit is my power when I feel weak or inadequate. He is my love when I feel judgmental or haughty. He is my self-control when I face temptation. All these things are inside of me – why do I walk around acting all defeated by the world? I shouldn’t. I don’t have to. In the words of my hubby (he often says this jokingly when I do something stupid), I need to “DO BETTER.”
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.
I’m back! After I started this thing with what felt like a marathon of posts, I’ve been semi-quiet in comparison over the last few weeks. Life has been an absolute rollercoaster, and as things calm down, I’m still processing everything. I’m still looking back and seeing new blessings and lessons every time I think about it. I’m still finding the words to say about it. In the meantime, I thought I’d revisit another old journal entry. This one is from April, and it made me think again this morning.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?
John 21:15
Oh, Peter. He had denied Jesus three times before the crucifixion, but he was the first disciple to believe that Jesus had risen. I seriously wonder how much of that faith was built on taking Jesus at His word, and how much was on pure guilt; he NEEDED to believe that Jesus was back, because he was guilty of sending Him to His death.
Jim asked how many times God asks us, “do you love me?” And how many times have we told Him, “no”? Of course I love God. But then I thought about that last part again… “more than these.” Do I love God more than the most important people to me? Do I put Him before my husband, my child, my friends and family? Not always. I’ve told Him, “no,” more often than I’d like to think. Jesus died for our sins, yet we still deny Him with our actions. We need to be more aware that every choice we make is a chance to answer “yes” or “no.”
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 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.
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.
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.”
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.
So, I promised to let you in on how much I detest change. I came across something I had written at the end of March, and I had entitled it “Change.”, so it seemed pretty obvious that I should share that next.
DISCLAIMER: there is a vague reference to some slightly icky things that happen during childbirth, but it’s pretty mild. Also, if you ever want to have a kid, you need to be prepared for these things. I WAS NOT PREPARED. And… if the word “breast” makes you uncomfortable for some reason, maybe skip this one.
Here’s what I wrote, with a couple of edits here and there:
Avon is getting rid of the perfume I’m using, and if you know me, you know that’s a big deal. The last time they discontinued my perfume (which was not long after hubby and I started dating) mom had bought a ton of it, and I kept using it for a year or two after that. Then, it took me FOREVER to settle on a new one. Now I have to do it all over again, and this time I’m not prepared. I had no idea they were doing away with it until tonight, and I already can’t order anymore. I’m so sad. I also thought I had like half a bottle left, and I have about one spray…
I hate change, so very much. Poor hubby usually just has to drag me through life, me resisting all the way. My mom used to always tell me that dad had to do this with her, and now I completely understand, because I’m exactly the same way. I know that change can be good. The best example of that is baby girl. Our lives are not the same, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But, I still struggled with it. We put off even trying to have a baby for so long, just because I could not wrap my head around it. Even as I was starting to go into labor at the hospital, I literally said I didn’t want to do it anymore, and that’s honestly how I felt at the time. I wanted things to go back to the way they were – comfortable, familiar, easy. I wanted to go home and go to bed. My matter-of-fact husband didn’t sugarcoat what was happening either. When I would express my concerns that having a baby would change our relationship with each other, he agreed that it definitely would, that our relationship would never be the same again. And that scared me. I liked the way things were, we were good.
Now that we’re on the other side, I can truly say without a doubt that having a baby changed our relationship. We’ve experienced being new parents together, he’s seen me completely out of control emotionally, and I’ve seen him look at me with fear in his eyes, not knowing what to do or say. I’ve seen him go buy lanolin and breast pads for his new-mother wife. I’ve seen him study the directions to figure out how to use a breast pump, and then show his wife who is scared to death of it. I’ve seen him reference the nursing guide they sent us home from the hospital about a thousand times, trying to help me be more comfortable and confident. He’s seen me puking while trying to nurse my newborn [if you can help it at all, DO NOT eat before a c-section! My poor, sweet husband, that’s literally his first memory of baby girl and I together]. He’s seen me freaking out on the hospital bed because I’m afraid I’m going to poop while I’m contracting. [Yeah, it’s gross, but it’s legit. Sorry, like I said, you need to be prepared.] He’s seen me so very out of it and so very helpless. I’ve seen him as a caretaker. I’ve seen him as a father. He’s seen me as a mother. We’ve learned so much about each other in the last couple of years (probably some things we could have done without). All these things have made us closer. These things have made me fall even more in love with my husband, and I didn’t think that was possible.
Our love for each other has only changed in that it has gotten stronger, which is a truly amazing thing. The way we got together was definitely a God thing (different post for a different day!), so I couldn’t imagine us being closer than we already were. But, here we are. And I love it.
coffeemamabogie 