Tag: truth

Tithe

Last week was a crazy week. This week has been much more calm, and I’ve had some time to process. So, it all started two weekends ago, actually, when a car that we normally couldn’t afford showed up at my husband’s work (he works in the automotive industry) in exactly our price range. We had been discussing needing a new one in the near future – ours has the possibility of some transmission issues and our extended warranty has expired. We’ve always had issues with the air conditioning not being cool enough, and there’s no rear A/C, so it takes baby girl forever to cool down in the backseat in the summer. Plus, the paint looks awful (and I know that doesn’t affect how well the car drives, but it literally looks like I drove through an acid hail storm.) I did not think, however, we would be thinking about purchasing another one so soon. Anyway, this car turns up and it checks all the boxes on my “must-have” list for a new car: heated seats (we had these in a previous car and I miss them so much), heated mirrors, rear heating and air, and enough room for all our stuff – especially the mound of stuff we take on vacation with us. My husband inquired about the car and turns out, it was priced that low by mistake, but they’re willing to honor it. Well, that seemed too perfect. So, that night he and I discussed it, then I prayed about it before bed. I had a very clear dream that night that I asked God for a sign that we should buy this car, and He provided it. But, still clearer in my dream, God told me to give Him what was His first. We’ve been spotty tithers the last few years. At first, I blamed it on the new baby, then “mom brain” made me forget, but somewhere along the way I let it become of little importance in my mind. I’d give when I remembered, and sometimes not even then because we had extra bills that month or whatever. You don’t have to give me a tithing sermon, I know deep in my soul the importance of giving God back what He so graciously gives us. I just let it become a wedge. It kept separating me further and further from God’s plan for my life. It wasn’t good. Then a few months ago, hubby told me that our church was now doing automatic withdrawal for tithing. I know, it sounds sort of cold, but it was exactly the commitment and accountability I needed. I wanted to give, I just either let it slip my mind, or rationalized my way out of it when it came time to actually do it. I was not a “cheerful giver.” He and I both agreed that this was something we needed to do, but, again, for whatever reason, we hadn’t done it yet. So, when I had my dream, I knew exactly what we needed to do before anything else. Sunday we got the form and set up our tithes to be withdrawn from our account automatically.

Monday was incredibly warm for a February day. Our hot water had been running out pretty quickly for some time, so hubby went to Lowe’s and got an element to change out to see if that helped. Baby girl and I had already played outside, but daddy was going and she wanted to go too. I really had more work I needed to do, but I put it off until later and took her back outside (a 10 or 11 PM clock out time is pretty normal for me anymore.) Hubby got under the house and started working on the water heater. He came out a few minutes later and told me that the whole bottom of the unit had rusted out, and there was no way to fix it. My mind immediately started spinning. We had talked about, down the road that included a home improvement loan, putting in a tankless water heater. I start trying to figure out how to make something work, but my head just kept getting fuzzy. Too. Much. Big. Decision. Making. We talked about calling a plumber we know and discussing our options with him, but it was already like 5 PM, and it was supposed to rain the rest of the week. Hubby ended up finding a tank that would fit in our short crawlspace in stock at Lowe’s, so he went off to get that while I fed baby girl dinner. He got home and started working while I put baby girl to bed. I finally went out to check on him and I felt so helpless. I asked what I could do to help, and he said, “just keep me company.” There was a lot of crawling around in the dirt under the house, turning on faucets, and walking back and forth through the yard. My sweet husband was under the house on his hands and knees in the dark working so hard so that we could have hot water. He’s literally the best.

Tuesday morning baby girl woke up a few minutes earlier than usual screaming her head off. She had a stuffy nose, but other than that seemed fine. She ate a few bites of breakfast and said she was done. As the morning went on, I could tell she was congested. I called the pediatrician to find out the correct dosage for some benadryl, and we turned the shower on really hot and sat in the steamy bathroom for a while. When we got out, she really started acting pitiful. I could hear that she had some drainage in her throat, and she ended up gagging on it and throwing up. I thought that was all it was, but she ended up vomiting about 10 times throughout the day. She couldn’t keep anything down.

Wednesday she was almost more pitiful because you could tell she felt better enough to want to play, but she didn’t have the energy to. She barely ate all day, but did eat a fairly good dinner. We sat on the couch and cuddled most of the day.

Thursday she was much more like herself, with only a few pitiful moments in between. She still hardly ate anything. That morning I had so much energy. I changed the sheets and washed the dirty ones, started straightening up a spot in our bedroom that has been a mess since we moved here, did more laundry, did some proactive and productive things for work, did the dishes, and just straightened up anything else out of place along the way. I was so stinking productive. I was sitting on the couch working when baby girl woke up from her nap. I went to get up, and I noticed I was kind of sore all over. My throat had been a little scratchy that morning, but I figured it was sleeping with my mouth open. That afternoon, I could feel constant drainage running down the back of my throat, and it was getting progressively worse. By the time 3 o’clock rolled around, I was pretty miserable. That night I laid in bed and my arms and legs just ached. I could barely swallow and when I did I gagged on what was in my throat. My poor, sweet girl… no wonder she was pitiful. It was miserable. Luckily I skipped the vomiting part, but it’s now Monday night and I’m still not 100%

Sweet girl starting to feel better. Dressing up and a good book are a great remedy for the yuckies.

Baby girl and I stayed home from church yesterday so we didn’t spread our germs and I’m glad we did. She had a meltdown after she woke up from her nap that lasted an hour. I’m still not exactly sure what was wrong, but she acted like something hurt. We finally gave her some pain medicine and after it had just enough time to kick in, she finally calmed down. Even today, she’s had crying spells, she hasn’t wanted to walk much at all but instead wants to be carried everywhere, and we’ve sat and cuddled more than we’ve done anything else. I told my husband today that I’m not going to lie – I kind of like it when she starts whining [okay, I really don’t like the whining part] and says, “I need to cuddle mama.” There were months and months after she was born, maybe even a whole year, where she just did not like to cuddle. So, even though it’s not super conducive to me getting things done, it makes me happy to hear that she wants to cuddle. I do hate that it’s because she doesn’t feel good. We’re going on a week that she’s been off.

Anyway, we made a commitment to give God some of the money He has blessed us with, and look, satan immediately freaked out. He attacked us hard. Nope, I’m not taking that money back to pay for whatever you’re throwing at me. You can’t threaten me. I KNOW that when I bless God, a wonderful side effect of it is that He will bless me right back again. I have no room for your financial strains and sickness. Bye.

The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully… He who supplies the seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness.

2 Corinthians 9:6 & 10

So, obviously it’s Wednesday now…I started writing this last week and finished Monday. Word vomit. I think I write these things to process them, to kind of take a step back and see them from a different perspective than the one I have when I’m smack dab in the middle of it. Also, it’s way easier to recognize satan’s attacks when you take a step back. I think I also just want to remember these things. Broken water heaters and sickness are real life. It may not be the picture-perfect moment that I’ll remember 20 years from now, but it’s still our life right now.

Day.

It’s 11:28 PM and I just clocked out and laid down in the bed with my rice sock, because man do I ache. Today has just been a day. It’s been Monday. I’m exhausted.

I got so much done today… and still feel so very behind. Why are there not enough hours in the day to do everything? I feel like if I excel in some aspects, others get neglected. In a typical day, these are the things that I try to make time for:

• Breakfast

• Exercise

• Laundry

• Work

• Play + read with baby girl

• Lunch

• Dishes

• Bible time

• Dinner prep

• Tidying up

• Dinner

• Put baby girl to bed

• Time with hubby

I put out Avon books (which entails driving like 20 minutes out of town and putting books in paper boxes in our old neighborhood), somehow worked SEVEN hours, and did a lot of other things mentioned above. But I didn’t get to the laundry, and I neglected my bible time. The laundry can wait, I know, but not making time to spend with God is not good at all.

My husband is the best. I know I brag on him a lot, but he deserves it. He saw that I was still trying to work when he got home, so he packed up baby girl and went to the store to grab a few things we needed so I could work in peace for a while. I had also jokingly said I was craving alfredo, so he bought the necessary ingredients to make it and cooked it for me after baby girl went to bed. I don’t know what I would do without him. He sees the dishes need doing and does them. He cooks dinner almost every night. He helps me in so many ways and is just the best partner to go through life with.

I wrote this Monday night, but life hasn’t slowed down since. Last night I clocked out at 10 PM, so that’s an improvement, right? Working from home is not as glamorous as everyone might think. For me, it’s a constant battle in my mind between feeling guilty about not spending enough time with my kid and not being the best employee I can be. Ugh.

Also, can we talk about my husband some more? That night, he made linguine alfredo, last night he made hand-breaded pan-fried cod with fresh fries and mushy peas, and tonight he’s making steak frites. What in the world did I do to deserve this man and his cooking? Yum.

Um, yummy. I’ll just leave this right here.

Comparison.

We had baby girl’s birthday party yesterday, and were so blessed with an enormous amount of friends and family that came to celebrate with us. I ordered a cake from Main St. Bakery a couple of weeks ago, and I was excited to see what she came up with. Hubby went and got it while I put sweet girl down for a nap, then mom came and stayed with her while I went to church to set up. I was so happy with how it turned out. Her cakes are always beautiful, but this was absolutley gorgeous!
Could this be any more perfect?! I was in love with that cake! I didn’t want to cut it.

When we got home I posted a picture of it on Instagram. When I got back on later, I had a comment on my post from the illustrator of the Fancy Nancy books! She said it was brilliant, and I couldn’t agree more. Also, I was freaking out that she had commented on my photo! I may or may not have followed her immediately and now she probably thinks I’m crazy… but how awesome is that?!

If I’ve learned anything from Instagram, it’s that the world is actually pretty small, and everybody is a personal blogger. I see other people, mamas specifically (SO MANY), out there doing exactly what I’m doing, and I get discouraged. I start thinking, “she’s prettier, her pictures are more beautiful, her house looks like a magazine, she’s more outgoing than I am…” on and on. I fall down the comparison hole and it’s hard to climb back out. I wonder why anybody would care what I have to say when there are already so many “better” options out there. But then I’m gently reminded that I’ve been called to this. I don’t have to have the prettiest photos and I don’t have to shout louder than everyone else to be heard. I just have to be me, because God called me to speak in only a way I can, from experiences that are unique to me. And because He called me to this, He will be faithful to use what I’m giving Him; He will put my words in front of the exact person that needs to see them. He will use me if I get out of my own way and let Him.
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God…
2 Timothy 1:6a

Boldness.

…for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

2 Timothy 1:7

I know I’ve done this verse more than once before, and it seems like I even remember doing it pretty recently. But Jim’s message on Sunday [you can watch it here] was about choices, and I thought this related so well. He said that he read somewhere that we make like 35,000 choices a day. That sounds insane, but I believe it. He asked us how many times a day we consider God’s will before we choose?

That got me thinking about my motivation for the choices I make. Most of my choices are made from a desire for comfort. How many times a day do I do something because the alternative seems too scary or I’m too timid and shy to do what I think I really should? ALL THE TIME. I keep quiet instead of complementing someone. I let someone else step up to help that person in need because I’m too scared. For crying out loud, I pass by a Facebook status that makes me happy for or proud of the person posting it and don’t hit the “like” button because social interaction, even behind a screen, makes me nervous. All the time I let satan tell me that my “personality flaws” overpower what God is asking me to do. I let him tell me that it’s okay to indulge myself or to give in to fear. But, the Holy Spirit inside me is stronger that my personality. [Insert a thought I had that I typed out months ago on my phone, waiting for the perfect opportunity to share: “Our emotions, our personality ‘flaws’ are our thorns in our sides. They are there to keep us humble. If we didn’t have to strive for heavenly perfection, if we were already there, we wouldn’t need Jesus.”] As long as I accept and believe that the Holy Spirit is bigger, I don’t have to be bogged down by timidity and fear. I don’t have to let them control my choices. The funny thing is that this is a choice in itself. I can choose to listen to satan’s voice, or the Holy Spirit’s guidance. My choices are not random or arbitrary, though they may feel that way to me as I skate through life. I’m making a choice. I need to be so much more careful about making conscious decisions to listen to the Holy Spirit.

Confession time: during the month of December, I wrote in my bible journal five times. FIVE TIMES. And you want to know what’s even worse than that? I went to God even less. The times I did write were out of guilt, and I let myself become distracted while doing it. I only did it to check it off my list, to be able to say that I did it. And yes, we had a great holiday season and I kept my expectations in check, and I enjoyed each moment as it happened. But, I never went to God with thanksgiving for any of it. I never slowed down and took time to ponder the birth of Jesus and what His presence here on earth means for my life. I neglected going to His word and spending time in His presence daily, and boy does it show. I have felt so disconnected from God and His will lately, and my CHOICES made it happen. God didn’t change, and He surely didn’t go anywhere. He’s still there, waiting patiently for me to come to my senses. If I treated my friends the way that I sometimes treat God, they would be long gone; no sane person would put up with my crap. But God’s love is supernatural, His forgiveness is always waiting, and His mercy is relentless. He loves us like nobody else can and even when nobody else does. We don’t deserve it, but He loves us anyway. I’m so, so very grateful for that.

Satan stayed over for the holidays, but it’s time for him to leave now. I never should have invited him in the first place, but now he’s really overstayed his welcome. Lord, kick him out, and give me power and self-control to tell him, “no,” next time.

My kid looking grumpy about my cute photoshoot idea.

By the world’s standards, we had a wonderful Christmas – we spent time with family, cooked together, had a cute family photo by the tree, lots of presents for baby girl, good food… but what did we do for others? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. AND, the one time of year that secular radio stations play songs about Jesus, did I say anything to anybody? Did I use the season as a conversation-starter to tell someone who otherwise wouldn’t stop to think about it about Jesus’ love? NOPE. I really messed this one up and completely missed the point.

So, in relation to the new year, this is going to be the verse that I focus on. God didn’t give us a spirit of fear, but a bold spirit to overcome our fear. He didn’t create us to sit back and watch others live for Him, but gave us a heart for Him and His people. And he certainly didn’t allow us to be imperfect just to stay that way. We have the self-control we need already inside us through the Holy Spirit. Going into the new year with a renewed spirit of power and love and self-control is exactly what I need to live as God has called me to – boldly.

Guilt.

I’m still having trouble writing. I think I’m a little worried about my health, and I’m feeling SO MUCH guilt over balancing work and spending time with baby girl. She’s to the point where she asks me not to work, to stay with her, to play with her. And yes, I get that I’m at least home with her. And yes, I know she will be fine entertaining herself for a while. She doesn’t understand those things, though. All she knows is that she’s trying to talk to me and I’m not responding. All she knows is that she wants me in her room with her while she plays. All she knows is that she’d rather be running around the house than stuck in a pack and play. And honestly, I’d rather be playing with her. I’d rather spend my time planning neat activities to do with her. I’d rather be reading her even more books. But then when I do that, when I spend the extra time with her and do minimal just-enough-to-squeak-by work, I feel awful as well. Then, I’m barely getting any hours, which means hardly any extra money for my family, and I feel like a sub-par employee. Someone please tell me where the balance is. Any activities for an almost two year old that can be done mostly unsupervised would be great too. Most days I’m at a loss anymore.

I’m trying so incredibly hard to hold onto each precious moment of this life we all have together, no matter how small. The other day, we spent a few minutes outside together in the November snow. Baby girl loved it so much, and it made my heart so, so happy. She loved walking in it, she tried to catch it as it fell from the sky, she brushed some off of her swing set and wanted to play on it. We had to almost drag her back inside. Before we went out, she and I had prepared dinner, and she helped me make a piecrust from scratch. I hope cooking together is something that she enjoys in the years to come. As much as her daddy and I love food, she’s probably kind of destined to be in the kitchen. At least, I hope anyway, haha. As much as I enjoyed the special moments we had, I literally worked an hour that day. AN HOUR. Great, now I can buy a fast food lunch out somewhere. Ugh.

My literal snow bunny.

The next day, I managed to get in a whole two hours of work, and only made a small dent in my to-do list. But, I read about a million books, rearranged baby girl’s stuff because we got her a bigger bookshelf, and cuddled a little girl who doesn’t usually like to cuddle. Did the laundry get done? Nope. Well, sort of. It was washed and dried… it just chilled in the dryer for the next few days. Did I get much of anything else done? Nope. I know I need to learn to be okay with these kinds of things, but man, do I get bent out of shape. Like I said, I need to figure out this balance thing. I also need to remember to give myself some grace.

Speaking of that… I wrote the above last week, and just let it sit in my phone. For the life of me I don’t know why I’m struggling with this whole blogging thing all the sudden. But, the other night I was reading through some notes in my phone, trying to remember my inspiration, and came across something I had written for myself and had already decided when I wrote it that I wasn’t going to share it. It was raw, it showed my flaws, and it honestly just made me look like a bad mother (I felt like, anyway.) But today, I was working and baby girl was in the pack and play and we had a moment. She was stubborn and defiant, and I lost my temper. It wasn’t great. I was doing my daily bible and prayer time after she laid down for a nap, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that other people needed to see what we go through. Other people need to see that my child is far from perfect, but more importantly, so am I. So… here’s an account from July that, up until now, I haven’t shared out of fear of judgement.

I stayed home from church with baby girl today because I’m not feeling well and didn’t want to spread my germs. I kid you not, I just spent OVER AN HOUR trying to get my tired, cranky toddler to clean up the blocks she got out.

After a lot of me asking nicely and active avoidance on her part, it got ugly. I used my firm mom voice, then raised my firm mom voice, then just plain raised my voice because I really didn’t feel good and my patience was wearing thin. All of that was met with her attempts to distract me by going to get other toys and trying to give me cuddles. After telling her I wouldn’t ask her again, and her responding by giving me a coy smile and toddling away, I swatted her bottom – not hard, but hard enough to get her attention. She cried for about 5 seconds, and then went back to trying to “distract” me. Whew.

At this point, I’m mentally exhausted and we’re only about 20 minutes into this. I went and stood her in the corner and told her she had to stay there until she was ready to clean up her blocks. She didn’t mind, and started inspecting the tiny bumps on the wall. Only when she tried to move out of the corner did she get upset. I stood in her way and reminded her she couldn’t get out until she was ready to clean up her blocks. She started fussing and I asked her if she was ready to clean up. She said, “yes,” so I took her by the hand over to where her blocks were and told her to clean up. She did a couple, I praised her for good listening, she looked at me, got up and ran across the room to her bookshelf. She’s been obsessed with reading this box set of Disney books lately, so I tried to use that to my advantage. “Do you want to read books?” “Yeah, read!” “Okay, you have to clean up your blocks and then mama will read to you, okay?” She just stares blankly at me. (And before anyone says she didn’t understand, she did. We do this bargaining thing all the time. Ex. If she wants a bite of something we have, we tell her to eat a bite of meat or whatever we’re trying to get her to eat first, and she does it. I frequently give her two step instructions, and she carries them out perfectly. SHE UNDERSTANDS.) So, at this point, I’m quickly losing my cool, and I literally have to leave the room. I look her in the eye and tell her that mama is going across the hall, and that I will come back when she’s picked up her blocks. I leave and shut the door. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best decision to just walk out on an already emotionally unstable toddler and leave her alone with her big feelings, but this mama was about to be emotionally unstable as well if I didn’t take a step back from the situation for a second. She stood at the door and hysterically screamed her head off until I went back in there a few minutes later. Realizing that that probably wasn’t the best way to handle that, I scooped her up, wiped her face, and told her I was sorry. I sat in the chair in her room and just held her for a few minutes. I couldn’t see her face because it was buried in my shoulder, but I noticed her breathing had changed. I kind of shift her to see her face, and she’s sound asleep. Then I feel really bad. She’s just tired. I get grumpy when I’m tired too. So, I just hold her for a few minutes and let her nap in my arms. I shift again and she doesn’t wake up, so I’m thinking she’s super sleepy. I get up, close the curtains, turn on her sound and go to lay her down. I get her halfway into the bed and she starts whining, “mama.” I’m mentally and physically exhausted (she probably was too) so I’m like, okay, but I’ve got to lay down. So I carry her into my bedroom and lay down with her in my bed (which we never do.) She immediately pops up and says, “eat!” [Now, before anyone decides to judge me for what I did next, please keep in mind that she had already eaten a good breakfast, and then, just like an hour and a half before all this started, ate an ENTIRE pumpkin muffie from Panera. She wasn’t starving.]

It was lunchtime, but I told her she had to go pick up her blocks so we could go get lunch. We go back in her room, I sit her on the floor next to the blocks… here comes the screaming banshee again. I literally just sit there and stare at her while she screams. It was just an angry, frustrated cry that I had tried to soothe repeatedly. I wasn’t sure what to do. After several minutes of that, I figured she really might be getting hungry, because it was like thirty minutes past normal lunchtime at that point. I tried one more time getting down on her level, asking her nicely to please pick up her blocks. I got nothing but blood curdling screams. So, I put her hand in my hand and we picked up every single block together. I even had to use my hand to close her fingers around each block, because if I didn’t, she would let it fall back to the floor.

After that was finally over, I picked her up and let her lay on my shoulder and just hugged her. I explained that she had to listen to her mama. Whew. She usually always sits in the high chair to eat, but that almost led to another meltdown, so I chose not to fight that battle. She sat in my lap and ate a baby food squeeze pouch and part of a slice of cheese. A gourmet meal it was not, but it satisfied her enough.

We both were so ready for nap time. I’m hoping this does a world of good. Otherwise, it might be daddy’s turn to deal with the attitude for a while.

So, there’s that. We’ve only had one other huge blowup like this since then, because I’ve tried to not let it get to the point that I did that day. My girl is usually good. She’s usually pretty agreeable, or can be persuaded to do something pretty easily by offering something else. There was A LOT going on in our lives in July to begin with, and I ended up being sick for two weeks after I wrote this, so I really have tried to cut myself some slack. But, I felt awful about it. I literally agonized over how I handled it for days. At the time I wrote it, I was just trying to process it because every time I thought about it my thoughts got jumbled from all the guilt (I know, I’m so very weird). I couldn’t even put it into words enough to really explain it to my husband out loud, so I ended up letting him read what I wrote above. Motherhood is hard, guys. I’m just going to come right out and say it. The sweet moments are worth every second of worry and agony, but it’s still hard.

False feelings.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Romans 8:1

Without realizing it, I wrote about this verse twice in a month period and only realized it several days after I wrote the second one. When God puts something in front of you, sometimes it’s really obvious.

Jim said something in his devotion that really struck a chord with me: “we are attacked by guilt, shame, judgement from others, and temptations all day long and rather than see the price paid [by Jesus] we see new charges.” When my focus is on my sin, that’s all I’m going to see. When my focus is on Jesus, I will see the victory over my sin that I have in Him. For some reason I get stuck in a frame of mind where I believe that my past sins are forgiven, but these new ones I have to work out on my own. But Jesus died for ALL of our sins – past, present, future. Just because I’m found in Him doesn’t mean I won’t sin anymore, it just means that He has already forgiven that sin. I just have to accept it.

This concept is very hard for me to wrap my head around most of the time. Jesus tells me that I’m holy and righteous, but satan keeps pointing out my sin and shame and I don’t feel very holy or righteous. I think what I need to do is claim it anyway. My feelings don’t even begin to compare to God’s truth. My emotions are human and can’t be trusted. What can be trusted? Jesus’ word and love for me.

I seriously need this reminder every day.

This was a supporting verse in Jim’s devotion today, but it hit home. He was talking about how all God asks us to do is keep His commandments – it sounds easy, but we’re sinners and we mess it up. Jim said something that pierced my heart: “Let’s focus on the pursuit [of God] and not the failures.” God convicts me all the time. He shows me things I could do better or things that I’m not doing that He’s directly calling me to do. He allows me to feel convicted to remind me that I need Him. But, I have a tendency to recognize my sin, ask God for forgiveness, and then hold it over my own head for forever, beating myself up along the way. I’m keeping my focus on the failures instead of the pursuit.

I often say that I don’t feel forgiven, redeemed, righteous, or any of the wonderful things God says I am. The thing is, it’s not because of anything God has done – His promises remain true, always. My feelings are just that – feelings. They are from my human heart and mind – places that satan just loves to creep into. I let him whisper reminders of my failures, and I listen, using them as an excuse to say, “Why bother?” I use them as proof that I’ll never live up, so I don’t even try. I CHOOSE to focus on my failures. Why do I do that?!

I think I would “feel” more forgiven if I cut myself some slack. I have to remember that everyone screws up because we’re all human. That’s exactly why we need Jesus… God knew we would mess it up. But the beautiful part is that He loves us anyway; He offers forgiveness anyway. I have to cling to who God says I am and not what I feel.

So, yeah. God has really been showing me that I can’t trust my feelings, as evidenced by that horrible anxious/ depressive episode I had a few weeks back. My mind is a dangerous place, because it’s only full of what I put in there. I want to be so full of God’s word and promises that there’s no room for doubt or temptation or shame. I want my heart to be so full of His love for me that I can’t help but feel joy ALL THE TIME. I’m so much closer to this than I was even a few years ago, but man, I’ve still got some work to do. Satan still gets wedged in there sometimes, and I willingly move some things around to give him some room.

Me.

I haven’t written anything (besides my bible journal) in a while. I guess my recent anxiety is trying to hold on, because I just haven’t really felt like writing. I started typing out something similar to this the other night and got distracted. I just looked for it, and it was nowhere to be found – my phone deleted it. In talking with the husband, he pointed out that someone (ahem, satan) doesn’t want me writing. I’ve had an excuse why I shouldn’t or don’t want to the last several times I have sat down to do it. I was talking to him just now about it, waved my arms around (as I often do while talking… what can I say? I’m animated) and completely tossed my phone across the room as a loud, thunderous echo resounded through the house and down the hall to where I’m sure my sleeping toddler could hear. I literally started crying. A) because that proved right what he had just said… there have been so many distractions and emotional setbacks over the past few weeks that have prevented me from writing, and B) because I was stinking embarrassed. I’m a spaz, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but GOOD GRIEF. So, I guess I’ll just write. Whether I know what I’m going to say or not, whether I think it’s good or not. I’ve got to start again somewhere.

For those of you following my health, some new things have happened. Keep in mind: I am thirty one years old. I finally visited a primary care physician for the first time in my adult life. My blood pressure during my visit was through the roof, and the nurse practitioner I saw didn’t like it at all. We discussed a few options, and landed on a low dose of beta blockers. She said that not only would it help my blood pressure, but also my anxiety and migraines. So, I’ve been taking those for about a week and a half, and I have been checking my own blood pressure at home at least once a day. I’ve been told that I have white coat syndrome before, and I know that is a lot of why my blood pressure is high when I go to the doctor. I get so worked up about it… I even freak out using the machine at the grocery store. I don’t know what my problem is… I told my mom the other day that it hurts my arm, and I think that is part of the reason I get so upset – because I’m anticipating the pain. She said that it doesn’t hurt her, but that my granny used to always say the same thing – that it hurt. So, I’ve been taking it a lot lately, trying to desensitize myself to the cuff. The other day, I took it five times in a row because it was a little higher than it had been at first. I got it down substantially just by doing it over and over again – it literally went down a little every time. So, that’s where I am… constantly being aware of my heart rate and taking a “grandma dose” of blood pressure medication, as my nurse practitioner called it. I’m going to get labs done to recheck my cholesterol (fasting this time) and some other things this week. Then I will go back for a more comprehensive physical at the end of the month. It’s been so long since I have seen a doctor, I have a huge list of concerns… she’ll probably think I’m a hypochondriac. And she’ll probably be right. Everytime I have a random pain in my arms or legs, I pretty much convince myself that it’s a blood clot or that I’m getting ready to have a stroke. Yeah, that definitely helps my anxiety… The other night, I had sharp pains from my rib cage, up into my chest, and down my arm. I was pretty convinced I was having a heart attack. Then the husband pushed on my stomach, I let out a huge belch, everything shifted a little, and I realized it was probably just a gas bubble pressing on a nerve or something. Ugh.

Some other random thoughts:

Baby girl’s favorite word is “no” at the moment and she will disagree with whatever you say, it doesn’t matter what it is. She liked Halloween, but a boy in one of those blow-up dinosaur costumes really made her day. She keeps talking about it whenever anybody asks her about Halloween, and the last two nights, we’ve thanked God for dinosaurs in our prayers. She kills me. She’s also been very clingy the last few days. And as much as l love to hear her say, “cuddle mama,” I do have a job that I sort of have to do some of the time. It killed me this past week when I was working, and she kept coming over to my desk and saying, “mama play with you [me]?” How can I say no to that? How do work at home parents get work done? My job is only part time, and my new normal the last few weeks has been finishing up my work after she goes to bed (which, by the way, annoyingly cuts into husband time). Balance is hard. I feel guilty when I’m actually productive for work, because that usually means that baby girl has been left to entertain herself for hours, or has been dragged all over creation with me in the car. I also feel guilty when I spend the day with her, because I feel like I’m not contributing enough financially to our family. Mom guilt is rough.

A screen shot of a typical time sheet for me. Clocked in 12 hours, only worked less than five. A lot of times, it’s even less.

Baby girl and I have gotten back to taking morning walks. I love getting to spend the time with her, starting our day exploring outside, and getting in a small workout for me. Twice around our neighborhood is about a mile, and I know that’s not much. But, out of shape me works up a sweat and gets a couple thousand steps in. I figure that’s better than nothing.

Love our morning walks, even if we have to bundle up quite a bit now that the weather is chillier.

Well, now that I’ve broken the ice again, maybe I’ll get back to writing more regularly. I don’t know what kind of writing funk I’m in, but it can go away now. I’ll probably post a bible journal entry or two next time. I have several earmarked that I felt were important to share.

Anxious.

You guys, I haven’t been okay lately. Last weekend in particular was straight up awful. My anxiety has been through the roof. I’m feeling a lot better now, but I still keep having feelings popping up that I have to squash quickly, otherwise, I’m feeling like I could quickly fall into that hole again. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in a LONG TIME. It’s so funny, because I had literally just written about the verse in Matthew that starts “do not be anxious…” on Thursday, and by Saturday I was a mess. The context of that verse was a bit different, but it was still that word, anxious. This past Wednesday I wrote this:

Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God, He will come and save you.”

Isaiah 35:4

This past weekend was terrible. Friday afternoon, the husband went with me to get an EKG. The whole thing only took about thirty minutes, and the nurse said that she didn’t see any irregularities (which was why I was sent there in the first place), just some palpitations (which I’ve been able to feel for years.) We went to eat afterwards, and the waitress recognized us from our high school. I felt really bad, because she didn’t look familiar to me at all. I also had a conversation in the bathroom with a lady about allergies. Friday night, as I thought about the day, I was thankful for the extra time I got to spend with my husband. I was even a little proud of myself for not freaking out too badly over my test, and even for the social interactions I had (I know that sounds a little ridiculous, but social interaction STRESSES ME OUT. Especially with people I don’t know.)

Saturday, baby girl woke up earlier than usual. I COULD NOT seem to wake up. I was so frustrated with the fact that it was so early, and I was frustrated with her whining. We walked into the kitchen and there were dishes all over the counter. I lost it; I started crying. Later that morning, we were at Lowe’s and after a series of ridiculously minuscule stressors I started crying again. The rest of the day I felt awful – stupid, useless, and unimportant.

I had hoped that Sunday would be better, but those feelings crept up again after church. Both Saturday and Sunday, I just sat on the couch for hours, feeling lost. To top it all off, I left my bible at church.

Monday, I felt terrible physically, then my head started hurting and continually got worse throughout the day. My gynecologist called and didn’t like my labs – my cholesterol was high, and my blood pressure had been high the day I went too. I was stressed about that. I ended up getting so very sick that night. It was the worst migraine I have had in a while. The husband offered to go get me ginger ale while I was sobbing in the bathroom floor, but I told him no. Later I admitted that I was terrified that he was going to get in a car wreck and die because he was running out for me, and that’s why I told him no. Yeah.. I told you, I was in a bad place.

Yesterday was MUCH better, but that anxious/depressive episode I had scared me. I haven’t felt that down in a long time. So, I finally have my bible back and I’m glad I found this verse. I forgot for a few days that I was worthy of rescuing.

I also wrote a detailed account of how I was feeling on Saturday, and I feel it’s important for you all to see that too – it’s just a small glimpse of what was going through my head. I often get stressed about little things, but I keep my anxiety in check most of the time. It doesn’t usually cripple me to the point where I literally just sit there not knowing how to process what I’m feeling.

Today was awful. I woke up around 5 AM, looked at the clock, and went back to sleep thinking that I had about 1.5 to 2 hours more to sleep. Baby girl fell asleep late last night, so I figured she would sleep in… I don’t know why, she never does. Just after 6 I heard her whining a bit, then she started crying. Last night, I had seriously contemplated waking up the husband this morning so I could sleep in, but when I heard her so early, I decided not to. She switched from crying for her daddy to mama, so I finally got up and went in there. She was trying to get out of the bed, so I picked her up and tried to cuddle her. She said she needed a diaper, so I changed it. The whole time she was on the changing table, she repeated, “eat,” over and over. I was so sleepy and couldn’t seem to wake up. After her diaper change, I took her and sat in the chair in her room. She had a small meltdown, and just kept saying, “up,” over and over and over again. I started whining like a child, telling her I just wanted to sit… not my proudest moment. She stopped fussing for a second, examined my face and then kind of tapped my chin, and said, “you need coffee.” If I hadn’t been so tired and if that hadn’t been such an incredibly true statement, I probably would have busted out laughing. Yes, yes I did need coffee. She went back to fussing, then finally added a desperate “please” onto one of her “up”s. I got up and carried her down the hallway (she has to be carried in the mornings, it’s just one of those things we do.) We walked into the kitchen, she’s saying “eat” on repeat again, and I look around and there is not a single spot of counter space open- there are literally dishes everywhere because we didn’t do the dishes last night. I lost it, I cried. Baby girl agreed to eggs for breakfast, with the promise of a doughnut after she finished them. I made her some, and while she was eating, I worked on the dishes that were causing me such anxiety. I was emptying the dishwasher and went to put one of my favorite mugs on the drying rack. I dropped it in the sink, it made an awful racket, and the handle broke off. I was trying so very hard to stay calm, but I was pretty upset.

Fast forward to later this morning, we were at Lowe’s. We got there at baby girl’s normal lunchtime, so I was a little stressed out over that. But, she was amazed at all the Halloween and Christmas decorations, we looked at countertops and kitchen cabinets, I thought I was fine. At one point she got in trouble for not holding my hand while walking through the store, and had to sit in the buggy. I diffused that situation with a squeeze pouch I found in my purse. We actually went to Lowe’s so the husband could buy some trim for baby girl’s room. There were no big carts in sight, and he went off to find one. All the sudden, I felt so alone. I was holding baby girl, who kept asking to go, “that way.” I finally let her walk around a bit, hoping it would tire her out because it was quickly creeping up on her nap time. The husband had to walk back out into the parking lot to find a cart, so he was taking forever. Our buggy didn’t have anything in it, and we walked down the aisle away from it. A man carrying several items passed us, browsed the same aisle for a minute, then slung all of his stuff into our empty buggy and kept looking. For some ridiculous reason, that upset me. It was our buggy, even though we didn’t need it. When the husband came back and started loading the wood for the trim, he asked if I still liked it (it has been a while since we decided on a look we liked.) I said that now that I was looking at it, I was a little worried that it might be too tall. He joked about it being a little late to change things, since he had already done the door casings. I felt so stupid for some reason, and started crying again.

When we got home, we put baby girl to bed, and I just sat on the couch. The husband played a game on the computer, and I just sat there. I finally turned on Fixer Upper, but I wasn’t really watching it. Not even that could cheer me up. I just had these awful feelings of uselessness, self-loathing, emptiness. I felt completely lost. Baby girl slept for over two and half hours and I just sat there the whole time. When she got up, we went outside to play, her daddy was working on the trim, and her granny came to visit. All that improved my mood quite a bit. The husband had brought in the totes with the fall clothes in them, and mom entertained baby girl while I worked on that some. I felt productive and a little better.

I don’t know where this sadness has come from – seemingly nowhere. I’m not quite sure really what I’m even sad about, but this is anxious depression like I’ve never felt. I’m quadruple guessing my every decision, I regret every word that comes out of my mouth, and I feel physically awful. This can go away now please.

I feel really exposed putting all that out there, but if it can help one person feel that they aren’t alone, then it’s so worth it. It has taken me over a week to gather all these words and articulate what I’ve been feeling, and I feel like I still haven’t hit it on the head. And, honestly, I’m really REALLY bad at articulating myself. I haven’t even told my husband all this yet, because the words in my head are all jumbled and don’t make any sense. If I had tried to explain it, I can guarentee you that I would have left feeling dumb again. I’ll let him read this first, before you all, haha.

I realized after I wrote all this out, that this was just one more thing in my life that I had a choice about. I could let my feelings overtake me and just get lost in my awful thoughts, or I could cling to God’s promise that He will rescue me and praise Him in the midst of it. I could feel sorry for myself, or I can use it to help others. I choose to do the latter.

More than food.

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

Matthew 6:25

Background courtesy of our sunflower field excursion the other night. I can’t get enough of these pictures!

I guess life is more than food, although I REALLY enjoy it. All kidding aside – when Jesus tells me not to be anxious, I sit up and listen, because I am so very often anxious. I know I’ve done this verse before, and I know I have probably already said what I’m going to say somewhere before, because this verse always reminds me of a specific time in my life. When the husband and I were first married, we didn’t have a lot of extra money. In fact, it was super tight. We lived in an apartment downtown with original hardwood floors that we loved, but it was really probably out of our budget. We miraculously always had enough money for our bills, but not much else. There were times when I honestly can’t tell you where we found the money to buy the things we needed. There were times when I would find a restaurant gift card that I would have sworn that we already used. There were SO MANY times when our families helped out above and beyond what any family should do. Not once did we ever doubt that we would be okay. We KNEW God was taking care of us. There was no other way we could have gotten through it.

In his devotion today, Jim talked about focusing more on the spiritual. He said, “What do we spend more time thinking about? Does it make sense for us to be concerned about the things that serve us or the things that serve God?” Are we seeking first the kingdom or seeking to satisfy our stomachs?

To me, it all goes back to distractions. Yes, God provides for us, and that should be enough. But instead of being content with our blessings from Him, we let the world, satan, tell us that we need more and that we can get it ourselves.

I felt slightly convicted as I read this. Ever since the weather [finally] got cooler, I’ve been justifying to myself (if you don’t know me, just ask my husband… I can rationalize just about anything to death to justify it if I want to. He recently likened it to a superpower that I usually use for evil, haha) why I need new fall clothes: “I’ve had these shoes since 2005, this sweater is baggy on me now, I wore the same shirt twice in one week,” …the excuses go on and on. I keep telling myself that if I’m happier with the way that I look, I won’t be so distracted, I’ll be happier in general, I’ll be more motivated… and all these things may be true. BUT, I don’t necessarily think that my clothes need to change. Maybe, my attitude needs to change. Maybe, I need a more grateful, contented attitude that sees that I’m already taken care of physically, but more importantly, spiritually. How’s that for a thought?

The background to this one I took several years ago on my husband’s family farm. Just like old barns, we can choose to see our weathering as a blessing of life, or as a distraction, something that needs to be fixed up and painted to be worth anything.

Coffee.

Warning: slight mention of breasts ahead.

So this morning, I posted on Facebook about how I felt like I needed more coffee (which is pretty much my sentiment every morning.) This stinkin blog is called coffeemama. I’m kind of obsessed with coffee. I went to the lady doctor today (don’t worry, I’ll spare you the details) and left having had bloodwork done to check my thyroid and cholesterol, and a prescription for an EKG that I still have to go do.

She checked my breathing and heartbeat several times and then finally looked at me and asked, “has anyone ever told you that you have an irregular heartbeat?” I kind of smiled and said, “no, but I’m not surprised.” Heart issues run in my family… on both sides. Plus, I have felt my heart “flutter” many times before and sometimes it just starts beating really fast for no reason. Yeah, I figured. But the next question hurt my soul. “Do you drink caffeine?” Yes, yes I do. After recommending that I cut down a bit, she still ordered all sorts of tests to rule out serious issues. Before leaving, I mentioned that I have been having some breast pain, and wanted to make sure everything was okay with my breast exam. She assured me it was, and then added, “caffeine could cause that, too.” Ugh.

What happened between when I used to drink espresso and go right to bed and now, when coffee makes my boobs hurt? Years happened, I suppose. I was thinking about that the other day. I’ve traded in the late night café mocha of my high school days for an early evening cup of ginger probiotic tea. PROBIOTIC TEA. How old am I? My mind and my body sorely disagree on that subject.