An Open Letter to my Fellow Mamas...

Dear Mama:

You're weary. You're tired. Your clothes are probably rumpled and the laundry is probably piling up. If you're like me, you're avoiding said laundry like the plague. The dust bunnies are running rampant, and you just want a cup of tea, a book, and an early bedtime.

It's hard, this Mom Life. You're constantly running around behind the scenes, making sure everybody is loved, and fed, and cared for. Meanwhile, you're living on Cheerios and coffee and sometimes, you're running on empty.

It's so easy to fall into the trap of "nobody appreciates what I do, nobody loves me." I know. I've been down that road many, many times. I have an amazing husband who's put up with me for nearly 12 (12!!!!) years, who I know for a fact DOES appreciate what I do (because he tells me all.the.time), but I have moments where the self-pity takes over and all of a sudden, NOBODY loves me and NOBODY understands.

Last week, I was having one of those weeks. I'm constantly overworked, both at home and at work. One morning, I sat down to devotions and thought, "Nobody loves me." Not surprisingly, nearly every verse I read reinforced the love of God.

God loves me. He loves you. We are precious to Him. The love He has for us is incredible. Immeasurable. Nothing else compares.

You know what else, Mama?

God created US to love, despite our grouchy days and less than perfect attitudes. Us Moms are wonderful, and nurturing, even though we don't always feel like it. And we pass that love unto our kids. And they love us in return. They show that with every dandelion picked, every little pebble they pick up on a walk and hand to us.

So, Mama...
when you are down and weary...
when it seems like absolutely nothing is going your way...
when you feel like nobody loves you...

You are precious.
You are loved.

A Deep, Dark Secret

I've been with my husband for nearly 12 years. We've been married nearly 10.
I'm going to let you all in on a deep, dark secret.
Two, actually.
I didn't want to marry my husband.
And.
The first SIX YEARS of my nearly 10 year marriage were a nightmare, for both of us.
Let's deal with the first secret first.
We didn't want to be married.
We loved each other. We had a 3 month old together. But...
I didn't want to marry him. He didn't want to marry me either.
We got married at a Court House in Marble Falls, Texas, because his parents made us.
Boom. There ya have it.
Would I have married him eventually? I don't know. I like to think so, because now that we're on the other side of that nightmare bridge, our marriage is strong and good and I love being married.
I thank God every day that when the Justice of the Peace asked us "do you...?" that neither one of us went running for their lives.
I think, that because neither one of us was truly READY for a marriage and all that it brought with it, we were woefully unprepared for all the stuff that comes after.
We both did extremely stupid, hurtful things.
We had some marathon fights, and I'm sure that our daughter heard things she shouldn't have. That's something my husband and I are going to have to live with the rest of our lives.
Marriage was a nightmare. I wanted out. I said as much.
Because neither one of us had wanted to get married in the first place, I figured that he'd give me an out.
Instead, he got sober and begged me to stay. Wait, what?
In 2012, right after I made the tentative decision to stay, I was in a car crash. I called my husband from the hospital and said something along the lines of, "Hey, I was in a wreck. My arm's kind of messed up, but they'll fix it."
My arm was more than "kind of messed up" and I ended up having to go about an hour away to have surgery. I made a brief stop at my husband's workplace to let him know I was headed to another hospital. His eyes got as big as saucers and he said, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad? I've been worried out of my mind about you! Don't you know how much I love you?!"
And I didn't.
Up until that point.
Because all I had seen up until that point were the fights, and the hurt and the disappointment. I failed to see my marriage transforming.
I've been married for nearly ten years now.
I'm going to let you guys in on another secret.
I'm grateful that I got married because we "had to."
I'm grateful for those nightmare years, because now I appreciate what we have that much more.

On Contentment

I am still working on being content in "whatsoever state".

For the example, the state of North Carolina. We came here at a vulnerable time in our marriage, and from the get go, I was not content in this state. I'm from the North, this is SO not the north. I'm extremely private, and we live in a town where people make it a point to know one another. I am used to flat land, and right now, we're in the mountains. So many little things.

Also, it's no secret that I'd like one more child to hold in my arms. The year before Ella was born, we lost a little girl.  We lost twins in November and I just miscarried again last week, and it hurts. Like rip-out-your-heart hurts. I was so sure that this last pregnancy would be IT. I would have my longed-for baby in my arms this Fall, and our family would be complete. I watch as other people have healthy babies, seemingly without trying...how am I supposed to be content with that?

Sometimes, though...just sometimes, God grants my sinful self a moment of stark clarity.

The other night, I was climbing into bed with a book, and this thought crossed my mind, "I have all of this. I have a warm bed, we have a nice little house, Gabe has a job, I have a job...our kid is pretty great. This is what contentment is."

Maybe God brought us here to this particular state, where we don't know many people, where we had to pretty much start over, with just each other, to teach us to be content.

The past few years have been a learning experience. I used to think about all of the things I would do when I moved back up north...because, you know, that's when my life would "start." But...this is my life. The family life. North Carolina is where I learned to slow down, because for a few months after Gabe started his first job here, I had no choice. I had a four year old then, and we were literally getting to know each other. This is where I learned to be a wife, and this is where I fell in love with my husband again.

I used to worry so much about money, and always wanting more than we had. And you know what? It's just NOT worth it. No amount of money is worth my family. Or my sanity. Do I wish we had more money? Sometimes...but not as often as you'd think. Life isn't as expensive as I used to think it was. I don't need or want the latest in everything. If I have twenty dollars to spend, I would rather spend it on something my whole family can enjoy, or a nice dinner for me and my husband, or a lunch date for me and Ella.

And as far as children...only God knows the plan for my family, and whether we will have more kids. I'm choosing to trust him there.

So, tonight, I won't look out the window of my giant mansion at sprawling, impeccably landscaped lawns...tonight, I'll wander out barefoot onto the deck of my little house in the mountains and look at my lawn, dandelions and all...and I'll thank God for every bit of it, and I'll be content.

Why I'm Not Afraid, Even When I Am

On March 1st, I took a home pregnancy test because the tracker app on my Kindle told me I was 4 days late. I remember looking at the little app and saying, "Dude, I'm always 4 days late. What are you talking about?"

I looked at those two little lines and about fainted. Because...wait. No. I had just miscarried in November. Surely, I'm seeing things. Nope. Because my period never came. I was excited, and worried and excited and happy...and just excited.

I told my husband and daughter and my parents right away. I famously said to one of my friends that if I got pregnant again, after my last loss, that I would announce when he or she was born. Instead, we announced about a week after my first pregnancy test.

A few days after I had my pregnancy confirmed, I started bleeding/spotting, and ended up at the E.R. in town. Everything appeared to be fine, but a few days later, at my appointment, we couldn't see much, and I was measuring behind where the doctor thought I would be. We found out that they had miscounted my date of conception...but that there was still reason to worry.

Words like "molar pregnancy" were thrown around. I spent a Saturday in bed, crying my eyes out. That Monday, I woke up and it was just...peace. I've had several more worrisome appointments, with no detected heartbeat. At one point, I was scheduled for a D&C, which I declined. There was such an incredible peace that went along with that decision.

Somebody asked me, "Aren't you afraid?"
NO. Not even when I am. Because God's got me.
He's brought me this far.

He's brought me through loss and grief and tears.

He's carried me through sleepless nights with a newborn.

He's carried me through the troubles in my marriage, and allowed us to stay together and be happier than ever.

God's got me right now. I have no idea what's going to happen, but He does. It's His plan, and it's perfect.

For the first time in probably EVER, I'm choosing to put this in His hands, and leaving it there.

Important Lessons

Yesterday, we delivered soup to people who are home-bound. It was part of Ella's school lesson.
Why? 
Because some lessons cannot be taught in a classroom, nor can they be found in a textbook. 
There are no courses in kindness, no lessons on God's love. 
My 9 year old daughter spent time making a "Happy Thanksgiving" card to each person on our route.
One lady teared up and hugged Ella fiercely and a man told her he would hang up her card on the wall with his "other valuables."
She saw farm animals and played with several friendly dachshunds. She offered each person on the route a friendly smile and asked them about their families, and fell into easy conversation.
Some of the people on our route get next to no interaction with others because they live far away from town, or their family members have died...or, in far too many cases, family just doesn't care.
To have Ella know that these people need love and to see her reach out to them and offer a listening ear...
I know she is learning the right things, and I am proud of the person she is. 

Beating The Slump

I've been in one lately.

Work. School. School. Work.

The home life suffers. I'm not pleasant as a Mom or a Wife. Ugh.

Maybe you've been there, too? Hitting the snooze button as many times as you possibly can, before you roll out of bed, and trudge through your day, having too much coffee, so you veer between zombie and ogre?

Have you ever been so tired and un-inspired during your day that almost NOTHING you wanted to get done, got done?

I've been feeling so emotionally-awful lately, and I couldn't figure out why. Change in the weather, hormones, something, ugh.

My daily Bible reading is what keeps me sane, and for the most part, I had been reading at night. But, I was so tired by the time I sat down with my Bible, I don't think I absorbed much of it.

One day, I decided that I needed to make a to-do list. It was one of those really awful days, where no housework that I wanted done, got done, I was disappointed in myself and just ugh. On the top of my to-do list was "Read the Bible."

I'm reading my Bible in the mornings now, setting my alarm earlier and reading before I even get out of bed. That helps me get a jump on the morning chores and gets me to work in a better mood.

The to-do list has helped too. I put it on the back of each prayer journal page, so the next morning, after I read my Bible, and do my journaling, I can look at my to-do list and get started on it.

This is just a glimpse. I prefer to keep my journaling private, but you can see the highlighted list on one side.

I've also started reading some passages in Polish, because of the awesome Polish Bible I received from my in-laws.

Such a simple change, but it's already made a difference in our lives. My husband says I'm more pleasant to be around (thanks, honey!), I'm more productive at work, and life just goes better in general.

An Open Letter to My Fellow Christians

I've spent the better part of the day rolling this post over and over in my mind, trying to get the wording right. I'm pretty sure I've failed....

But...

Christians, why are we wasting so much time? Why are we sitting in our churches, gritting our teeth and backbiting people who don't think like we do? Why are we blaming the sins of the world on groups of people, instead of acknowledging that we are just as sinful?

God doesn't measure sin by how "big" it is. Sin is sin. Friend, if you cheated on your taxes, you're not any better than that drug addict down the road. You're not better than me. I'm certainly no better than you.

I had someone say to me "Christians are some of the most hateful people I've ever met in my life." And it hurts my heart, as a Christian, because it's true. We may veil it in "oh, it's righteous judgment."  No. JESUS judged with righteous judgment, and guess what? He helped the sinners. He healed the sick.

Christians, why aren't we out there, helping others? Why aren't we out there, catering to the needs of a fallen, broken world? We can sit in the church house all day, thinking "Thank God I'm not like so and so. They have problems." Yup, so do we. One big problem. We're blind. We're blind to what's really going on out there.

If we're truly reading His word...then we need to be following it. We need to be OUT there. Reaching out. SHOWING people Christ's love.

This verse has been on my heart so much lately. If I see someone in need, I try my best to fill it. But, oh my goodness, I am so guilty of saying "Hope everything works out" when there is something that I can do. If I can feed someone, I need to be doing it. If I can clothe someone, I need to be doing that.

Yes, this country is in rough shape. As Christians, we need to do our best not to contribute to the problem.

So, fellow Christians, open your Bibles tonight and go and BE Christ's love tomorrow.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: On Joy

I'm going to confess something to you.

Joy in motherhood hasn't always come easily to me. 

Before I met Gabe, I had my mind made up that I did.not.want.kids.

Obviously, things changed, as I've been pregnant twice and have one beautiful living girl. 

When we brought Ella home from the hospital, and I started to believe that I really really was going to be able to keep this one, a new fear took over. Yes, I had given birth and Ella was alive and whole, but WHAT IF something happened? 

What if she died of SIDS? 

What if I dropped her?

What if I'm not cut out to be a Mom? 

What if? What if? What if?

The first two months of Ella's life were MISERABLE. Awful. I was in a place that I absolutely hated (Texas) and nobody and I mean, NOBODY told me that what I was feeling was normal. When I returned to Chicago, things got better almost right away, but the turning point was when my Dad sat me down and told me

"You need to find your joy. You are going to miss everything."

For the next few months, I soaked up everything about my infant daughter. I took her on long walks and talked to her every step in the grocery store. I memorized every detail of her crooked little smile. I played with more baby toys than she probably did! 

We moved across town from my Mom and Dad and then my husband left his job and a lot of stuff fell onto my shoulders. I worked nonstop, and even took Ella to work with me. And, friends, it's hard to find joy on a deadline night, when you're haulin' a gigantic diaper bag and a one year old up a precarious flight of stairs, not knowing when you're going to be able to sit down and have a real dinner at home. 

One such deadline night, a call came into the office. Being the only one there, I answered the phone. It was my Dad. 

"What on earth are you still doing there?" he practically shouted. "I'll be right there." 

Ten minutes later, the security bell was ringing and my Dad thrust a plate into my hands. 

"Dinner." he said. "Your mother made it and it's delicious. You need to SLOW DOWN. EAT."

I ate silently, while Ella slept in a playpen in my office. That night was a big wake up call. And so, I slowed down. I worked every.single.day, but I made time to see the joy. The little things. A string of beads from the dollar store. A trip to the pizza place across town. A new park. 

When we came to North Carolina in 2010, Ella was 4. Gabe and I hated each other. (seriously, we did. ask him) Life was miserable. I was depressed. I wanted to go home. And one day, Ella grabbed my hand and said, "Come on, Mom. Let's go and explore!!!" So, we did. We explored our yard. We explored the town. We hiked near the watershed, and I stepped in a pond (we actually live near the watershed now and we laugh every time we pass it, because "Mom stepped in a pond!!!") Those days with my daughter are what got me through those tough times of depression, during the awful times in my marriage.

Currently, we've been in North Carolina for nearly 5 years. It hasn't been easy, and the last 2 years, my sanity has taken a hit. My Dad was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, and thankfully, he is in remission and recovering. We've moved 3 times in 2 years, but we're finally in a place that my whole family loves. My marriage, which suffered much since 2006, has been repaired by God's grace. 

The last week was especially hard. Losing a family pet is never easy. Losing a family pet when you're working 3 jobs, have both spouses working AND in school and basically things going a mile a minute is nearly impossible. Doesn't leave much room for joy...

Today, I took Ella to do a craft at the library. I've been feeling off and nauseous since yesterday, and honestly, I did not want to go. The thought of being in a library with a bunch of 8-12 year olds made me even more nauseous. I very nearly said "We'll go next week." But, kids can be persuasive so I went. We made super hero capes. Ella, of course, is Super Owl: Saving the World from Mice Everywhere. 

Two people asked me for use of my drawing skills today. Ella got to see an old friend and made some new ones. 

On the way home, we stopped by the Schwan's truck and bought soup. I was watching her run across a field, cape flying in the wind, when she turned back and shouted, "Mom! Thanks for today!" 

To find my joy in motherhood, I have to stop and look. Look past the immediately visible circumstances. Yes, I'm stressed. Yes, I'm tired (all.the.time). Yes, life goes a mile a minute around here. 

But there is so much joy. I just have to stop and find it.

A Word on Joel Osteen and a Lesson in Job

Anyone who even has an inkling of an idea of who I am knows how mad Joel Osteen's view on grief makes me. It's simply wrong and there is ZERO Biblical basis for it.

Job, a righteous man, lost everything. Absolutely everything. He went from being very very rich to very very poor. Every.single.one of his children was killed in a tragic accident. His beloved wife, in the throes of her grief, told him to "curse God and die."

And Job grieved.

 Job also had some "friends" who were did not support him, gave him some very bad doctrine (God wouldn't punish you unless you had done something wrong), and with friends like those, who needs enemies?

Eventually, God spoke to Job. Here are two things God did not do:

God did not tell Job "why". It probably would have been very easy to give Job the background of what happened, how Satan tried to destroy Job's faith. A lot of people ask "well, why DIDN'T God tell him?" Well, I don't know. Who's to say Job would have understood? I have no idea.

But I'll give you a bit of background on my story. When I lost my firstborn, I had no idea why. And I felt like I needed to know "why". What happened? What did I do? Was it because I lifted that box? Should I have carried all of those groceries up four flights of stairs? Should I have moved that stupid fan? And on and on and on the questions went. Exactly a year later, I gave birth to Ella at 35 weeks and I found out "why." I have an incompetent cervix, which causes me to go into labor early. It's a miracle Ella stayed in as long as she did. There. I had my "why". And it didn't satisfy me. When I turned back to Christ, I realized another facet of the "why". Because God used this terrible event in my life to bring me back to Him. He uses me on a daily basis to provide comfort to those who need it. And I still don't fully understand the "why", but I know that I am not alone. And that's more important than the "why."

You know what else God did not do?

HE NEVER TOLD JOB TO GET OVER IT. Job went on to have more kids, but THEY DID NOT REPLACE THE CHILDREN OF HIS THAT DIED. God never said, "O.k. Job, I'm here. Now stop grieving and get over it." He never said, "Now that you have more kids, you can quit your grieving." You can check the Bible. That's not there.

Isaiah 53:4 says "Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows."

He knows grief. He is near to the brokenhearted. He doesn't drop us on our butts and say "You can't have a full life if you don't move on!" He HELPS us to heal. And healing can take a lifetime.

"Indeed these are the mere edges of His ways, And how small a whisper we hear of Him! But the thunder of His power, who can understand?"

We don't understand God. Why not? Well, simply put, because He is God and we are not. His great plan is beyond our comprehension. I know that one day, everything will come to light and then we'll understand.

Until that day, God is always there. He never leaves us. He doesn't tell us to "quit our grieving", he helps us HEAL.

This is deserving of a title but I cannot think of one

Last night, I listened to a worship song I hadn't heard in a long time.
Today, I listened to it again. And again. And I cried.

I feel like I've lost some huge piece of myself. Not like I've lost Christ, because He never went anywhere. I feel like I've lost my relationship with Him, or at the very least some piece of that relationship. Honestly, that scares me.

I remember when Gabe and I began going to church in Illinois. I remember when I began memorizing Scripture, and how EXCITED I was to have a relationship with my Savior.

I remember doing the Sunday School board for my Sunday School teacher (yes, she will ALWAYS be my mentor and my teacher. ALWAYS) and wanting to learn everything.

I remember how excited I was to get a copy of the Matthew Henry's commentary for Christmas, and how even after reading the Bible cover-to-cover, I wanted more.

What happened to that joy?

I'm not sure.

I feel pretty spiritually dry right now.

One might blame it on the fact that the past two years have been so.incredibly.stressful for my little family, but honestly that's a cop-out.

The blame is on me.

I'm the one settling. I'm the one unwilling to stand up for my Savior. It's my fault.

I need to take a big step back and focus on who's most important: Christ.

I'm done. I'm done being wrapped up in politics and backbiting. If it doesn't bring glory to my Savior, I want no part of it. I don't want a religion, I want a relationship with Christ. I want to help others, not hinder their walk in Christ and  point out their every flaw. I want JOY. I don't want to be a Christian jerk. I pull others into His embrace, not push them away because they don't fit in my little box of what's perfect. I understand not being unequally yoked, but that's not at all what I'm talking about. The Bible commands that we go out and witness, to reach out to everyone at least once. What they do after that is their choice. But I will not drive someone away with judgmental ways. That wasn't me when I got saved. It shouldn't be me now. I have a lot of thinking, and apologizing and praying to do.

Yesterday, while walking through the backyard, I saw a rosebud, and then another, and another.

I looked at them. Like, really LOOKED. When I was a kid, my aunt Gina who lived across the street had tons of roses. They were gorgeous...but truthfully, I liked the buds more than I did the open flowers. So much promise. So beautiful and intricate.

And it hit me, yesterday.

God created those rosebuds. God made them. He made every detail. Look. Look. Look. He loves you enough to put roses you didn't plant RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. Look.  Be excited. Be joyful. Let Christ be your joy. 

I am crying as I type.

I don't need imperfect human ideas of who God is. I don't need to conform to what someone else thinks is the idea of perfection. I certainly don't need to put others down to feel better.

I need Christ. I need my Savior. If He is good enough to save someone so unworthy as me, then He is more than worthy of my praise and my love and my service. If He loves me enough to save me, and even do little things like show me these lovely rosebuds, then I ought to love Him enough to fix my relationship with Him.

Pray for me, friends. I surely need it.

Dear Fellow Parents: An Open Letter

Dear Fellow Parents,

Let me first say that as a Mom, I am not perfect. Not even close. I've had snap-at-my-kid-days, I've had I-need-to-leave-the-room-to-cool-down-days. I am not the perfect skirt-and-apron wearing Mama (although, I have worn both, most recently as a Halloween costume).

Raising kids is not easy.

 They get messy.

They are loud.

They drive ya crazy. They do. I've had meltdown moments in my bedroom, after Ella's bedtime where I've cried and cried. I've had homeschooling days drag down like a snail through super glue.

So, believe me, I'm not perfect. Neither is my kid.

That said, I've noticed a disturbing trend, especially on Facebook. Kid-shaming. Yes, it's one thing to show a picture of your kid when they pull apart a toilet paper roll/are covered in spaghetti sauce (guilty!!!!) or when they dump a truckload of Legos in your living room.

But when people go on endless rants about their children's "shortcomings"...it really saddens my heart. Because I know people who 1) are unable to have children and who would do ANYTHING to have a child to hold, despite their "imperfections" 2) have special needs kids who require their 24-7 attention and they would love a break, but rarely get one...and they still continue to FIGHT for their kids, be their advocates and kick butt for them or 3) have suffered a horrible loss and do not have their children there to "drive them crazy." I'm one kid short. I'll ALWAYS be one kid short. I'd love to have a ten year old here to be a know-it-all, to fight with her sister, to give me a run for my money.

Children are a GIFT FROM GOD.  (Psalm 127:3) And honestly, even if your beliefs differ from mine, you WANTED this child. Just because things don't go your way doesn't mean that it's time to make your child feel bad/worthless/unwanted. Children don't always adhere to your expectations. Sometimes, they make a mess. Sometimes, things are out THEIR control too. Sometimes, as parents, WE are the problem and we have to step back and assess the situation.

Parenting is hard. So hard. But it's rewarding too. So very, very rewarding. I remember the first time Ella, as a baby, pointed out the cars on the road and named the colors. I remember I shouted, "YES!" I remember when, in 2012, after the death of a friend, Ella decided to donate her hair. I think back to last week, on the girls' birthday, in church, Ella ran up to me, hugged me tight and said, "I know it's hard, Mom. I'm HERE FOR YOU." It's those moments that make every meltdown, every mess, every hard moment just melt away for me.

So, please, please, please. Before you hurt your child with words, either on the internet or in person, please think twice. Think of those wonderful moments. Think of the person you want your child to be. Think of the person YOU want to be. The person YOUR child is emulating. And parents, please, please. Love your children. Just love them. Love them with God's beautiful, watchful love. Love them. Spaghetti stains and all.

In Christ,
Jo, an imperfect mother raising a beautifully imperfect child.

In the Midst of the Storm

I remember, sometime in 2011, taking a trip to the grocery with Grandma Jean. It was warm out, in the 70's and we went to the bigger of our town's two grocery stores. As we were getting into her car, Grandma said, "You need a sweater. You should take a sweater." I laughed it off because it's the SOUTH, in the summer. Needless to say, we got to the store and the wind picked up. I gratefully accepted Grandma's sweater as well as a warning that this store's parking lot was "the windiest place in Avery County!"

Fast forward nearly 4 years. Things are a bit stormy in my life right now, and a lot of things are further out of my control than I would like. This week has been particularly overwhelming and I found myself silently praying while I ran to the grocery. You know, THAT grocery store...the windiest place in the county.

I got the cat food and few other items and walked out, praying "Lord, help me make some sense of all of this. Lord, just let me know You're here."

And then the wind picked up. I saw it before I felt it, a cloud of silvery dust, and then another. I closed my eyes and just STOOD there. I felt the wind blow my hair around. Felt tiny grains of sand hit the back of my neck.

But you know what? I felt SAFE. I felt loved.

So, friend, when you are in the midst of the storm, remember. He loves you. When things are raging all around you, and the situation feels out of control, HE is in control. And when you open your eyes after all the dust settles, you just might see this....

Why We Did Easter Differently This Year

In the nearly 9 years that I've raised my living daughter, we've had so many egg hunts.

When Ella was 4, she hunted so hard she got tired out....

Last year, we had a Resurrection egg hunt....

...one year, we even hunted for glow-in-the-dark eggs.

This year, Ella will turn 9. We've been focusing on caring for others, and learning about loving our fellow human beings. Ella knows that the reason we have Easter is not because of eggs and bunnies, but because our Savior made the ultimate sacrifice for us. He gave His life so that we could live. Easter is to celebrate the fact that He triumphed over death.

This year, Ella decided that instead of hunting eggs, she would play Easter Bunny. She willingly gave up her Easter treats so that other kids in the neighborhood could have a nice surprise.

We did a bit of shopping and she loaded eggs with candy and other treats, and then she was on her way.

We almost got busted by one little girl who screamed "THE EASTER BUNNY IS A LITTLE GIRL LIKE ME!!!!"

I had one parent in our neighborhood pull me aside to ask "What's WRONG with you? aren't you doing anything for her easter? What exactly are you teaching this kid?"

For the record, Ella did get an Easter basket. She got candy, bubbles, and some books she's been wanting. And her room got decorated with glow in the dark stars.

As far as what I'm "teaching this kid"....
*I'm trying to teach her to think of others before she thinks of herself.
*I'm trying to teach her that selflessness and sacrifice are important
*I'm trying to teach her about Christian love.

But you know what?
I think this kid's figured all of that out on her own.

Someday, She Will: On dignity and grace

Ever since I was Ella's age, I wanted to be the mom of a little girl.

When I lost Riley Grace, that dream shattered into a million pieces for me.

The following year, when I held a healthy, beautiful, living, breathing newborn Ella that dream was fulfilled.

In the nearly-nine years that Ella has graced my world, I've tried (and so often failed miserably) to be a woman of grace and dignity, and to be a good example for her.

Today, we attended the funeral of a dear lady we went to church with, Ms. Margaret. We were her neighbors for a little over a year. She was good to us, and I'll never forget the sweet red-haired lady in the pink suit who always told me "you look so pretty, but your hands are FREEZING!" every week at church. She truly was the picture of grace and dignity, and we were blessed to know her.

I sat in the back pew and Ella sat next to me. At one point, Ella leaned over and whispered, "Mom, she's home now. She's with her husband. But you know what? We need to pray extra for her family. They're going to miss her so much."

Those words stayed with me as pictures of Ms. Margaret flashed by on a screen. They stayed with me while I watched some kids giggle during the preaching. They stayed with me while my daughter sang "Victory in Jesus" and whispered along with the preacher while he read from the Bible. They stayed with me as she went over to her friend, Ms. Margaret's great-grandson and comforted him while he cried.

I am raising a young lady of grace and dignity.

Someday, she will grow up.
Someday, she will spread her wings and fly away.
Someday, she will have a family.
Someday, she will wonder if she's doing it right.
Someday, she will wonder about being a woman of dignity and grace.

And I hope someday, she will realize she always has been that woman.

Peace Surpassing All Understanding

Have you ever felt that peace?

You know...when everything in your life is anything but peaceful. Things are out of your control. So much is going wrong around you. You think you're going to go mad, or scream or cry, and maybe you do...and then there's this peace. And you're absolutely blown away.


When I was in the seventh grade, my grandfather had a stroke. I remember my older sister and I were sitting in the backyard, waiting for a storm to come in, and my mother came out of the house, screaming that our aunt Gina had just called and that her dad, my grandfather, just suffered a stroke. We all cried. We all screamed. We were thousands of miles away, an ocean apart, from my grandparents. That night, we all gathered together to pray for grandpa's well-being. Somewhere during that prayer, my tears just dried up. This wonderful amazing sense of peace came over me. Grandpa made it through the night. He lived another year.


The winter before Ella turned two, I was having a hard time with my grief. Missing Riley so much I thought my heart would explode. I had spent much of one particular day crying. Like, lock  my office door, stay away from me, swollen eyes crying. I got home and felt no better. Ella was fussy so I put her to bed in our bedroom, and she quickly fell asleep. I was alone with my thoughts and the winter wind. I can remember the sounds of the TV from the living room, where Gabe was. And then, there it was. Peace. The feeling like someone (because I wasn't saved then) was in the room with me. I went to sleep, peaceful and feeling loved.

Sometime that summer, Ella wanted to go to the cemetery. I didn't. It was late, and honestly, I hadn't been there near dusk since after I lost Riley. I didn't want to go. SOMETHING scared me. Something kept me from bringing flowers past dark. But Ella insisted. "After work, we will go! We will buy a balloon!" she told me in her sternest two-year-old voice. And so I went, rationalizing that we would leave it at the front monument if it got "too dark." I breathed a huge sigh of relief when we arrived at the cemetery while it was still light. When we got to the cemetery, Ella pointed out a pinwheel that had fallen over. When I went to right it, I noticed the last name on the gravestone. Riley. No, really. I stood there for a good while. Ella, quite the little Miss Independent, unstrapped herself from her stroller and walked the few feet over to me. Together, we stood there for I don't know how long. When I looked up, it was dark. The moon was overhead...and instead of fear, I felt peace. Sweet, beautiful peace.


About a year later, in the spring, I was headed to the store with Ella, with a full mind and a heavy heart. My marriage was pretty well a mess. I knew it, and I was pretty sure everyone else did too. Nothing made me happy. And worst of all, just as we headed into the store, it started to rain. I wanted to cry. I grumbled my way through the aisles, ignoring the chatter of my almost-three year old. When we got outside, Ella shouted, "Mommy, LOOK!" loud enough to get me out of my head. The rain was gone. The sky was the color of raspberries. Together, Ella and I walked home, swinging our shopping bags between us. My feeling of dread was gone, replaced with peace. I could be a young Mom again, enjoying time out with my daughter.


A few months after that, after I had begun reading the Bible, tentatively, slowly, because I had been raised Catholic and was unsure of anything new, my life pretty much fell apart. Without going into detail, it was a really and truly scary situation. I prayed for the first time in a long time on my way to work. I was alone on the street when I heard a voice (and yes, you can think I'm crazy all you want, I sure did) say "I will take care of you. You are my daughter and I will take care of you." I stopped and looked around, because surely someone was there, right? My Dad? Nope, nobody. Just that feeling of being loved.

When my Dad was diagnosed with cancer in 2013, I felt anything but peace. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Being 700-something miles away from Dad sure doesn't help. One night, I couldn't sleep. Not for the life of me. I put my headphones in and went for a run. It was 3 in the morning. Somewhere between mile 1 and 2, I think, I started crying. And couldn't stop. I don't know how long it took me to calm down, but I came home calm. And I slept better than I had in weeks. At that point, I knew where that peace had come from. God. At that point, I was reading my Bible daily, and trying to understand His plan.

The past few weeks/months/two years have been hard. Probably the hardest ever. And while I do have His joy in my heart, things can get hard. The last few days, partly due to Sparrow's latest disappearance, and partly due to just feeling like things are out of my control (I hate that. I give it to God and take it right back.) I've begged God during prayer time "Show me something, please." I walked out my door today onto a quiet and still, snow-filled street. And that peace came. He's got this. He's got everything. Even when I was far from Him, angry with Him, He still sought me out and gave me peace. At times like this, when I feel alone and isolated, I know I'm not. He is there. Always. That wonderful peace is there. Always.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Unappreciated? or Unappreciative?

That's a title that just screams self-pity, isn't it?

Sadly, it's how I felt all day Tuesday. I got up way too early after way too little sleep and went to work. Then, I put in a full day of homeschooling, and it was one of THOSE days where nothing goes right, where homeschooling is not fun or productive and to spare you any more self-pity details, it just plain sucked.

That night, before I went to bed I told God that the day had pretty much sucked. I felt like nobody appreciated what I did. A little recognition would be nice! (how selfish am I?) I went to bed angry, defeated and turned my back on my husband in bed.

Yesterday morning, with husband and kid still in bed, I made my way to the living room and picked up my Bible. I don't remember where I read, but I do remember the overwhelming feeling that God was telling me that the prior day wasn't the problem, my attitude was.

You're upset that nobody recognizes you?

You're upset because people aren't willing to do things for you?

What have you done for OTHERS lately?

But, Lord, You don't understand. I'm so busy all of the time doing things for others. I'm so busy and nobody notices what I do.

Oh, they notice.

No, they don't! Nobody notices ANYTHING I do.

That's because all they notice is your attitude.

Conviction hit me like a wrecking ball. My attitude? Well...

*I snapped at my daughter
*I rolled my eyes when I realized that we had a minor plumbing problem that my husband couldn't fix, and muttered the whole time I was fixing it.
*While I made dinner, I clattered kitchen implements as loudly as I could.
*And let's not forget, I picked a fight with my husband before bedtime.

Once I got over the shock of what a JERK I've been, I decided I was going to devote Wednesday to SERVING other people. And not in the way I had been.

So, I finished up my Bible reading and set about making breakfast. Cinnamon rolls. Bagels if the family didn't want cinnamon rolls. I prepared Ella's lessons. Lovingly fed the fish and kittens. I sat around for another while, reading a devotional. Ella woke up. We had a long talk about the previous day.

Lessons flew by. There were no problems like the day before. We were nearly done with school time when Gabe ambled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed before work. I apologized, and he looked at me as if I had gone crazy. I never apologize. (yet another fault I need to work on desperately)

I told Ella about me wanting to serve others, and she jumped right on board with that idea. We saw our neighbor Denise and asked her if we could do something for her. She asked us to run to the store for some butter. Happily, we obliged. On the way back, another neighbor handed me a bag out of the blue.

"Here, take this."

Organic peppers. Organic broccoli.
I said, "I can't take this! Don't you need it?"
He replied, "Nope. Besides, you're doing something for someone. I overheard you and Denise talking."

Not thinking anything else of it, I went to church last night. Made it a point to be friendly to everyone. Talked to a lady who had been at Bible Study the previous week but I hadn't really noticed. Turns out our daughters are friends. How had I not noticed this?

Today, I decided to keep on serving others. I was friendly to everyone I talked to. (Apparently, this isn't always the norm for me. What's WRONG with me?) Ella and I helped a neighbor harvest flower seeds.

The seeds. When they are planted, and grow, they will turn into these yellow and orange flowers

 

Aren't they beautiful?

 

I texted my Sunday School teacher to check in. We talked gardening and she told me she would be in my area in about 30 minutes. What on earth for? She brought over some cabbage, potatoes, zucchini and kale...and....

 

 

I now have two arrangements gracing my kitchen table. Aren't they lovely?

 

When I made up my mind to commit to serving others, I let go of my selfish notions of what others should be doing for me. And then...I didn't feel unappreciated. I felt loved. Not because people did things for me, that was something that happened by God's grace, and unexpectedly...but because I saw that one small act from me actually made a difference to someone.

 

My attitude while helping someone made a world of difference, both to me and the person in question. What we do needs to be wrapped in love, whether we're running to the store for someone, or folding yet ANOTHER load of laundry.

 

After all, everything God does for us is wrapped in His love, isn't it?

On Having a (Joyful) Servant's Heart

Let me tell you all a story.

Once upon a time, in a far away country, a boy was born into a family of two parents, two older sisters and one older brother. There was something special about this boy, that much could be said from birth. He was the pride and joy of that family.

The boy grew, and entered school, never forsaking his responsibility to his parents, whose health had begun to get bad, and his siblings. Even though he was the youngest, he was always the first to help others. Even if they were total strangers. Even if their intentions were bad.

The boy developed many talents. He could draw. Animals and birds so lifelike, that you would swear they could come off the paper and walk or fly away. He could do complicated math in his head and come up with the answer faster than any teacher. He could even imitate bird calls. He was a prankster in nature, but again, he would give someone the shirt off his back if he could. His teachers spoke of his endless potential and told him he could be whatever he wanted one day. The boy's dream was to travel, and to study nature.

When he was 15 his father died of a heart attack. With his older siblings either marrying off or working, the house responsibilities were left to the boy. He took care of his mother. He took care of the farm animals. He cooked. He cleaned. He made sure all of the bills were paid. All while finishing school and going on to trade school to become a machinist. Eventually, he met a girl and fell in love. When he was sure his Mom was sufficiently taken care of, he enlisted in the army.

After the army, he married the girl. Only two weeks after his wedding day, his Mom passed away. Eventually, the young man (because he was no longer a boy) and his wife welcomed their first daughter. The man realized that their meager income wouldn't do and so he temporarily left his wife and daughter to work in America because there was more opportunity there.

He began looking for work the day his plane landed. He rejoiced when a company hired him, even though he spoke no English. He worked hard, keeping a tiny apartment and budgeting carefully, so he could send money back to his wife and child. He came back home to visit whenever he could, sometimes staying as long as three months. More children followed.

When it was clear the couple would have no more kids, the man set about working to bring his whole family to America. He worked even harder. He bought a big car to accommodate the wife and children who would be coming one day.

That day finally arrived. There was a happy reunion. A brief reunion. The man had to go to work the next day. He continued to work hard. He was so tired when he came that he sometimes fell asleep on the couch before dinner was even served, but if one of his children needed homework help, or even just wanted to talk, he was right there.

One day, one of his daughters had an assignment for school. She had to interview one of her parents and ask them about their life. She chose her father. He told her about his boyhood dream to travel and study nature.

"Dad, WHY?" she asked, "WHY did you give all of that up? You have all these kids. All these bills. Your life is so HARD."

The man laughed softly then.

"Well, my dear," he replied, "I did it so YOUR life wouldn't be so hard."

That little girl was me, about 20 years ago. The man is my father.

I was struck by the unfairness of that situation. My Dad married young. He had children young. He gave up everything to go to a country where he didn't know the language. He worked nonstop, giving of himself. Even when he was diagnosed with cancer, he still helped everybody he could. Now that he is cancer free, he is helping out his neighbors in their garden. He has a servant's heart. A joyful one. I've often admired that trait. When I was in the 6th grade, my Dad got a new job. His old boss was not happy with that and actually came out to our house to have words with Dad. When his boss left, I turned to my Dad and said, "WOW. He is crazy! When I grow up, I'm going to be the boss. So I don't have to deal with bosses like THAT."

Dad looked me in the eye and said, "That's very admirable, but I think God has something bigger in store for you."

Dad was right. I'm a proud wife. A proud Mom. I also work two jobs and homeschool. I am often tired and sometimes fall asleep on the couch if I sit for too long.  I've been accused of "doing too much" and often am told to "slow it down already." Despite my two jobs, I cook dinner more often than not. Sometimes, I feel like I'm living in a state of constant motion.

Yesterday was one of those days. Where nothing stops. Where everything keeps moving. I went to my first job in the morning, with no time to grab breakfast. I came home to a sick 8 year old and a sick husband. They are both down with the summer cold. Gabe is particularly miserable, as he doesn't get sick often, and gets hit HARD when he does. As soon as I put my handbag down on a kitchen chair, I began lessons with Ella, who worked diligently despite the fact that she is sick. I cooked lunch and dinner for Ella and Gabe and after a quick lunch, I was out the door again.

My first job is cleaning houses. I'm what one would call a professional housekeeper. (aka: I clean up after other people) My second job? I work on a farm. I picked about 20 pounds of shelly beans yesterday. It's hard work. I got home yesterday, took a shower (because farm work is dusty and dirty) and set off to the grocery store to get English Muffins and cough drops.  At some point after returning home, I sat down on a kitchen chair. Maybe I fell asleep because I looked up to see the concerned eyes of my husband and daughter looking at me.

"Do you want me to heat you up some soup?" Gabe rasped. His voice was nearly nonexistent.

"Can I get you anything, Mom?" Ella piped up. "I could bring you your tablet. You could read a book. I got your pajama pants out of the dryer."

"I'm okay. I'll heat up the soup." I replied. "Thanks, honey. I'll get my pajama pants in a bit."

"I've been in bed pretty much all day." Gabe protested. "You've been working all day. The least I can do is heat up some soup for you."

"Yeah, Mom! Sometimes, I think your life is so HARD! Why do you do that?"

A scene from 20 years ago flashed before me as I looked down at my daughter and replied, "I do it so your life isn't."

Yes, sometimes I have days when I want to be the boss, not the servant. There are days where my thoughts aren't fixed upon God, and I begin to feel unappreciated, and overwhelmed. There are days where I want to throw in the towel and stay in bed for a while. But I don't. Because I have the best examples of a joyful servant in my life.

Jesus Christ, who served everybody He met. Healed the sick. Ministered to total strangers. Lifted up those who were down. Died for people who didn't deserve it...

...and my Dad, Edward. My inspiration. My proof that a servant is just as important (oftentimes even more so!) than what the world considers the boss.

If you ever have a chance to minister to somebody, do so. Do so with a joyful heart.

Rambling update!

Because, really, do I ever write updates that are not rambling? (the answer is no).

Ella started third grade today. I am officially the mother of a 3rd grader. Which of course means I am also the mother of a should-be 4th grader. Riley Grace would be going into 4th grade. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have two little book-end girls going to (home)school together.

This morning, I woke up early and went to read my devotions in the living room. I tiptoed out of our bedroom and past a grouchy cat, and then it hit me. Life seems to go so much more smoothly when I take the time to converse with God first thing in the morning.

Today, I asked God for patience as my daughter begins another school year.
I asked Him to make me the mother and teacher she needs.
I asked Him not to let me neglect my duties as a homemaker and wife, in the wake of this school year.
I asked Him to bring me closer to where He needs me to be.
To gather me into His will.

For the most part, school went smoothly. I'm just not ready to be the mom of a 3rd grader. I'm not ready for time to steal my little girl from me.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: Breaking "the rules"

When I was a kid, my outfits were critiqued harshly by my mother and oldest sister.
My mother had a set of rules for me, because unlike the stick thin oldest sister (she's beautiful!), I was practically born with curves that made said sister refer to me (lovingly, I hope) as the "chubby" sister.

In sixth or seventh grade, I starved myself. I wouldn't eat lunch at school for the longest time, until my Dad got a call from the school nurse who was worried about me. That led to a lecture about how I'm "not fat." Dad said his piece, and I went on thinking I was fat.

My mother told me...

*don't wear white, it makes you look fat
*don't wear red, it makes you look fat
*don't put your hair back without bangs, it makes your face look chubby.

Reading the Bible has slowly broken through those barriers put up by my mother, and sister, and the world in general. I am His child. He decides what's best for me. As long as my clothes are glorifying Him, as long as they are an outward profession of my inside faith...He does not care what color I wear.

Today, I broke every single one of the "rules."

I wore white. I wore red.

 

 

I pulled all of my hair off my face.

And you know what?

At church, I had a dozen people tell me how pretty I look.

I live for Him.
I dress to go to His house, for Him.
He makes the rules.
Not my mother.
Not my sister.
My Savior.

Turning my eyes upon Him

I don't know how to explain it, but the last week or so I have felt OFF.

Besides being sick, I mean.  It took a conversation with a dear family friend to figure out why I've been feeling so awful. So hateful. So OFF.

I took my eyes off of what is important. WHO is important. Jesus.

He's the most important person of all.

And when I took my eyes off of Him....

*I started feeling off (I'm talking mood swings, unhappiness, general apathy...I was so hateful I couldn't stand myself)

*My anxiety came back

*Little problems had tried to make their way into our family.

After identifying the problem, it's no co-incidence that I've been singing "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus."....

I can't remember the last time I sang it in choir or at all, but it has consistently been in my head. A gentle reminder from Christ.

This is where my focus needs to be.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
look full in His wonderful face
and the things of earth will grow strangely dim
in the light of His glory and grace."