My daughter was 6 when she first started talking about believing in God, accepting His truth as her truth, and asking to be baptized.  We were concerned. We wondered how could a child fully understand the love of God, mankind's need for forgiveness, the sent Savior's death on the cross, and the resurrection.  We really thought maybe she should be older, more prepared, understand the weight of it all.  

Our then pastor, and still family friend, said to her daddy and me, "When we raise our kids in a home with a foundation that believes in God and follows God's truth, when we invest in their education and send them to a Bible believing school, and when we are committed to attending church and serving as a family in ministry... why would we be surprised when they "get it" and make a profession of faith at an early age."  That’s all we needed to take her seriously.  She was baptized just two years later.  

I don't know why I was surprised this past Friday night when his words rang in my mind once more.  

The kids and I went to dinner after football practice.  We love Taco Thursday, it's kind of our thing.... only we didn't make it on Thursday night but went on Friday instead.  We all order tacos, munch on salsa and chips, and then we just talk.  Daddy works nights so this time is usually just the three of us. We were happily chatting about the day, about school, about practice, and Saturday's game.  We texted funny pictures to daddy as we waited a ridiculously long time for our food.  We played games on the silly coloring mats restaurants give to kids to keep them occupied... and we laughed.  It was great fun.  

Behind me sat a couple, quietly eating and enjoying their time.  Honest mommy moment-I was aware of them when we walked in.  I was aware they were different, part of me was aware that the kids might notice and say something... something that makes parents cringe... something that kids say and then parents should apologize for. 

In the middle of our fun one of them got my attention and told me what great kids I have.  They thought our kids were just so well-mannered and couldn't believe how well behaved they were.  They told me that and they told the kids that.  The kids said thank you and we turned around but they wanted to keep talking to me, so I did.  As someone who loves Jesus, I kept thinking and praying for an opening to share the love of Jesus with them but an opportunity didn't come.  So, I remained friendly and kind.  It was about this time that my son gave them a few strange looks and then tapped on my shoulder... Moms, you know the tap... the tap that helps you remember the original concern for the cringe worthy comments you knew where coming the moment you entered in the first place.  I quietly told him to wait, he could tell me in a moment... I just kept thinking, keep him silent - don't let him say what's been on your mind since you walked in.  

The couple left and then I gave my son permission to tell me what he needed to tell me... what I expected was not what came out of his mouth.  

"Mom, I wanted you to tell them about Jesus."  "They needed to know that Jesus loves them."

My mouth hit the floor and it stayed there. 

Kids get it... ya know?!?  They just get it.  My kids didn't see this couple as I did, with the preconceived notion of judgement I had considered just by looking at them.  Instead, they, with a childlike heart just know that people need to hear about Jesus and how much He loves them.  Period... end of story.  

So, driving home I couldn't help but recall our wise pastor... only this time, in my mind, he was saying, "Your kids know and love Jesus.  You and everyone around them is teaching them to be evangelical and love the lost.  Your son loves the lost and you are surprised when he wants to talk to all people about Jesus; regardless of where they come from, who they look like, or any perceived lifestyle choices."  

I am so grateful for childlike love, innocence, and a heart like His!

I drove, we talked.  We talked about what mommy was doing in her mind when she was talking with the couple.  That mommy had been praying for an open door to talk about Jesus. That mommy also had to consider the surroundings, that they (my kiddos) were with me and the conversation could have gone so many, etc., etc., meanwhile the Spirit had opened the door... He called upon my son to open the door and I silenced him.  We talked about listening to the Spirit, we talked about things he could have said, ways he could have been bold.  And I apologized for not trusting him.

Lessons aren't always for the kids - sometimes they are wiser than they know. Their faith is simpler, their dependence is greater, and their understanding is what Jesus wanted us to know all along...  Love me and love others.  

It’s two am… and it is my dreams which have woken me.  I am all over the place with my thoughts --- we shall start there and see what comes of it.
  
Mom’s "saying" what I am saying. Insecurities, that was my dream. I will give birth to that thought on another page.  Not now. Now is not the time for that.  

I suppose the quiet got to me, I suppose it gets me every time.  We spent the last four days close to the Arizona/Mexico border at Parker Lake.  It is a small lake with nothing around for miles.  If we forgot something there is no running into town. Going to town would require a great distance to travel.  We were only just a few of the families camping this weekend.  The daytime was quiet and peaceful; the nights were even more so and add stars - stars like I haven't seen in years.  Stars so bright and constellations normally hid from view appeared with no lights to dim their glow.  It was so easy to get entranced by their beauty.  

"Then God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night.  He made the stars also."  Gen. 1:16

"He counts the number of stars; He calls them all by name."  Psalm 147:4

In the dark, in the pitch black... with no other light to interfere, the awesomeness of those two verses boggle my mind.  How great is He that made those things?  How great is He that He numbered them and calls them all by name?  

Even typing that memory I get lost in thought...  Back on track - there was no cell service - not one ounce.  There were no emails to check, no social media to keep up on, no news to get lost in... nothing but each moment.  So without all the distraction, my cell phone was left behind, forgotten on the charger in the camper. My best-friend had some, cell service that is, which I was thankful for… it helped us find out that our favorite winery was open through the Thanksgiving holiday and we could stop in and grab our favorite bottle of sangria (which we did on our way home).  She was also the one who remembered to take pictures to commemorate our annual trip… I barely took any pictures so in this blog I will be giving picture cred to her.

We fished and hiked... we laid around on the windy, rainy, and cold day.  We watched the leaves change and fall.  Our kids played laser tag and rode their bikes.  We prepared meals together and laughed more than we had in quite some time.

Returning from a trip like this it would stand to reason that one would be de-stressed, relaxed and ready to take on the world.  Not so, instead I have come home with an internal struggle, an unease... which is blossoming into an understanding with which is counter-culture to all I have ever learned.

Measurables, whose line is it anyway… whose yardstick, whose tape-measure, whose measurable did I buy into.  I think I have realized that my measurable is not mine at all and most days I feel like a floppy plastic pink ruler.   I cannot blame my parents or society…  both just go with the current… 

When I was little my parents and any good teacher told me that I could be anything I wanted to be.  I could aim for the stars and achieve everything I dared to achieve.  Words and statements which were positive, empowering and absolutely true.  We want our "littles" to grow up believing and achieving... and chasing... a measurable... isn't that right?

I have chased my own measurable and have come up empty in most "choose your own adventure" flow-chart I drew.  I have found success in education.  I have climbed up the corporate ladder in titles and raises.  I have found success in jobs and in the accolades of people.  

I have, however, always wanted more...  

Until I didn't and walked away from it all.  Giving it all up to be in my marriage and to be "two somebodies" mommy.    To choosing not to come home every day tired and exhausted from a commute which took too long and giving 100% of myself to a place that will not remember my name.  To saying no to the on-call hours and continual thoughts of work; strategizing and mentally preparing for the next work day.  Exchanging it all to volunteer as a parent helper in art class and being home when "they" are home.  To creating a daily menu board and mostly sticking to it.  To focus my heart and soul on the blessings this life has offered me in the family my husband and I have created.  Finding a job which barely helps to get us by but is more rewarding than anything I've ever had the privilege to do...

When we pulled into town late in the afternoon we stopped at a gas station to service our camper before putting it back in storage. Our oldest, biggest, mutt of a dog bounded out the camper door, past my husband and headed out for the busy intersection... busy from the cars returning home early in preparation for the thanksgiving holiday, busy with people thinking of their store lists for the feast to come, busy with the thought of packing for a late night drive to "be home for the holiday"... Busy... and as I saw our dog bound in the corner of my eye, I bounded out with him... to help my husband catch him... as my door swung open and my foot hit the pavement I was back... back in the busy of this life.  Busy in the noise of cars rushing past and honking for the green light... sirens of the emergency vehicles and first responders. Back in the busy...  Before I could regain my thoughts, my husband handed our dogs leash to me... and my husband said, "I think he's just had himself a bit of a shock that we aren't still up in the mountains, crazy dog."  Him and me both... 

Letting the busy go... Letting ideas of who we could be, should be, go.  Letting go of the measurable created by ideas of having it all... The job, the home, the 2.5 kids, the picket fences... not that it is wrong, if it is for you... 

Yet, still... my measurable is counter-culture.  Which is why, perhaps, I laid with my husband in the quiet of the house fretting about my lost wages, titles, and choices.  Why I feel a guilt for letting it all go...  

Finding my measurable, instead, in something more...  

What if that's what we teach our children.  What if that's what we re-learn for ourselves.  The measurable found in the creator of the heavens and the earth.  Who does He say we are?  Who has He created me to be?  

"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, But to Your name give the glory, Because of Your mercy, Because of your Truth." Psalm 115:1

My high school best friend is not the same best friend I have now. Not even close. My high school best friend journeyed with me from elementary school through junior high only becoming close those last few years. It is said that we will have many friends in life; some for a reason, some for a season and some for life. She was a friend for a season. We did not part as enemies but we did not part as friends either - instead we just parted.

I remember the day I told her, with all excitement, that I was getting married... I hadn't applied to colleges, college was out of my reach. My parents had lost a business and our childhood home, there was no money for me to continue my education at the moment - that could and would come later. Right now, I was excited to be getting married. I met a great guy who I just knew was the one God had for me. She didn't buy that... Neither marriage nor God's plan. So rather than gaining a bridesmaid - I lost a friend.

My friend's opinion was that I should wait, go to school so that I would never depend on a man; men were not to be depended on - my dad nor the loves that she had along the way. Men failed our moms... Her parents divorced. My parents stayed together though my dad remained mostly absent to us, finding the bottom of a bottle instead.

I remember my friend saying, "All men leave, wouldn't you like to be able to support yourself when that day comes?"

That was the first time I heard the "All men..." sentence, followed by the excuse of expected behavior. I remember my heart hurting for her... All men couldn't possibly be like my dad or the relationships she'd had.

There weren't many conversations between us after that.

Fast-forward 10 years... I did get married and now in my late 20s someone I looked up to had cheated on his wife of almost 30 years. He had justified it and excused it... I was blown away. His response to me, "Laurie, all men cheat and yours will too someday."

The second time I heard the "All men..." sentence... My heart broke. Really?!? My husband... My husband of 10 years, someday he will cheat on me? You know that? Those were the thoughts that ran through my head.

My husband and I were battling with infertility and the last few years had been so tough on our marriage, something I will be writing about soon... there had surely been more than once we didn't think we were going to make it and we were already fighting against all odds. To top all of that off, neither of us were walking with God.

I gave my life to God - when I was 13. We (my brother and me) attended church when my mom could take us or on major holidays. My desire to remain close to God waned through high school and before I knew it God was not much of a thought in my mind and my behavior sure exampled it.

Into our marriage we sought Him together and I looked for God with every negative pregnancy test and doctor appointment... God became the lamp of a genie I would rub. "God, if you would only..." "This month, okay God?" Church wasn't much help for either of us... infertility left me angry and alone.

Fast forward to present day, some friends are struggling with their marriage - having some of the same arguments we'd had just 10-12 years ago... the struggle is lust, the places men put their eye, search online, looking outside their marriage. My husband and I struggled with this too in our marriage and somedays we still do - anything airbrushed and made-up looks much better than what home life looks like sometimes.

This time we are walking closely with God, we know His commands, His expectations and yet we still sin. In the heart of all is sin and we will always struggle with these things but we have the work on the Cross, we have Grace... He have been justified through our belief and faith in Christ.

While sin is still ever present and in almost anything; we may lust, we may gossip, we may tell that one teeny-tiny lie so we don't have to commit to that one gathering... We remember to focus on scripture and are transformed by the renewing of our minds, by choosing Gods way rather than our sinful way...

In talking all these things through with our friends I found her husband saying, "All men..."

And something rewound each "All men..." sentence and something in my Spirit stirred... The words came quick out of my mouth.

Maybe all men (and women) on this earth will struggle, maybe we will all fall short time and again. Maybe we will cheat on our spouse, let our eyes wander, fall into a bottle of booze or needle in our arm... Walk away from our children... Give up on responsibilities... Or any number of things that happen in the world but does that make it ok?

Is that the sentence we want our sons and daughters to continue to hear or do we want more for ourselves, for our marriages, for our children and their marriages, relationships and lives? Especially as believers, don't we want to move past "All men..." and change the conversation? Wouldn't it be better to say, "Without God, all men... and with God, His power, His Spirit we can be changed, we can be made new?"

The way it has been doesn't have to be that way any longer... It starts with me, it begins at home... We can change the storyline, break the generational curses... Stand up for abstinence until marriage, faithfulness in marriage and a new life following Christ.

​I wish I had taken a picture, I wish I had captured the moment several times but I was too busy being in the moment. 
 
The last time we camped in the White Mountains just 5 hours from home... The last time we visited Luna Lake where the bald eagle has been nesting for the past 25 years...  The last time the kids were three and we had to watch them so closely. We had to teach them about the dangers of the roads near camp, the campfire and wondering off.  Where climbing the steps into our RV proved hazardous on more than one occasion. 
 
That was almost 6 years ago.  This time we came prepared with new fishing poles, fishing nets and bikes. We also had to let out some reign; they wanted to explore on their own... The first question when we woke up on our first full day was, "Where is our boundary mom?"  50 yards from our camper was the tree line and a drop off to the path which led to the lake... "Your boundary, kids, is the tree line.  From there you can still see the camper which means I can still see you."  With that affirmation they were off... 
 
"The Boundary" quickly became a place.  They could play along the tree line with each other, a place they could run the dogs out to and a place where often times I would catch my daughter sitting silently alone on the biggest moss-covered rock looking out over the lake below.  We'd hear them call out as they ran past us, "Going to the Boundary, mom/dad". 
 
The Boundary became a little more symbolic, if you can't tell... A little freedom for our twins.  Much less dependent on us or being within arm length.  They had their own little conversations and giggles along that tree line, ones we were not privy to.  There were other things on this trip too, which symbolized the passage of time. 
 
They both became pros at fishing... Putting bait on their own hooks, casting and reeling in.  There were some bumps, some cuts and bruises.  There were more than a couple of almost tumbles in the lake.  There was a minor cut with a new "boy's" pocket knife which we said would happen but we still had to try it anyway.  All this they had to learn on their own and we let them. We let them because no matter how much we'd warn, how much we'd caution, how often our own life experiences could predict the future somehow we didn't know what we were talking about; until they learned the hard way and we were kissing boo-boos and bandaging knees.
 
Each passing year The Boundary gets a little further away.  I wanted to stop time several times this trip and make it all slow down.  Instead, we made each moment count...
 
This world says things won't always be like they are today, each passing day brings another challenge in raising our children to be good, honest and God-fearing.  Each day proves moments won't always be this good, there is a harder day on the horizon and some we may not want to tackle.  Fear will creep in if you let it. 
 
Last night as we sat around the campfire, I prayed for them, for their future - one we cannot see.  We want our children to live limitless, to become all they can be and we know they will be mighty in whatever they do.  A mother's heart still pray's.  

I prayed they would live within the boundaries we set up and model for them and when they don't - I prayed God would take care of the rest. 

Seven out of ten...  Yep, seven out of ten.  That's the number of ways the enemy digs his claws into me, shoots his arrows straight to the place I am not covered over; seven out of ten ways he gets to me.  It's a little scary how well the enemy crafts his own strategic plan to get between me and God, me and others and me and the rest of the world.

In Fervent by Priscilla Shirer, she sheds light on the enemy's dark and sinister plan.  She exposes the enemy's plot and teaches how to craft a personal battle plan through fervent, specific - targeted prayer.

Not only does Priscilla expose the enemy for who he is and what he does, she points directly to scripture for the truth... Of who we are, how God loves and sees us... She gets down to business.

Fervent helps me take back my life - through prayer... Strategic - targeted prayer!

In this eye opening book I see how the enemy gets into aspects of my life and creates havoc...  The enemy comes to kill and destroy - and against me he aims his arrow:

 - Against my focus
 - Against my identity
 - Against my confidence
 - Against my calling
 - Against my rest and contentment
 - Against my heart
 - Against my relationships

Those are my seven...  But God...  To quote one of my favorite phrases in her book; We have hope and reassurance... Reassurance that always points directly to God.

In one of my many favorite parts of the book Priscilla reminds us "that the enemy has boundaries and limitations" -  did you read that?  The enemy has boundaries (he can only go so far) and he has limitations (he is limited, unlike God).  I needed to read her words...

   "The enemy cannot be everywhere at once (only God is omnipresent)
        The enemy cannot read your mind, (only God is omniscient)
     He is an illusionist, using cunning trickery to deceive and mislead
        (only God can work flat-out, unmistakable miracles)
     And last but not least the enemy is running out of time (only God is eternal)"

All of that reassures me and I am so thankful for her words! I know these things, I do, but sometimes when I am in the "thick" of life's deepest muck I need to remember that my God is bigger.  He has no equal or opposite.  There is no better time to remember this than during my prayer time - Praise God!

Prayer is so much more than saying Grace before a meal or praying your kids to sleep with request of sweet dreams. It's our direct communication line to God. It's our specific and focused conversations with the Almighty for our needs, our families (husbands and children), our hearts, our fears... Praying on the full armor of faith found in Ephesians.

So regardless of where you are with your prayer life; at the very beginning, where you never pray out loud or a seasoned prayer warrior - this book will expose the ways the enemy targets you.  It will help draw you closer with God and craft your own strategic battle plan...

Now, pick up a copy and head to your WarRoom!

Fervent is available from BHPublishing Group, Amazon or may be found in your favorite bookstore.

 ~~~ I received this book from the publisher.  All thoughts and opinions are my own. I was not required to give a positive review if this book as part of receiving it. ~~~

That is what I am thankful for this year, things unseen. 

Several years ago I was listening to a radio station, it was the new year of whatever year it was... The beginning of January, the station challenged their listeners to come up with a word for the year to focus on, maybe something needing attention in life... something that keeps coming up... after weeks of thinking about it, praying about it - my word became real. 

Real relationships, real people, real tangible outreach...  Real me.  Transformative and yet so simple.  I have tried other words in the years proceeding but none have stuck like real and sometimes I go back to real when I feel myself saying "yes" to things not needing a yes, when I allow myself to get sucked into a situation which doesn't require me... when I have slid away from real in an attempt to fit into someone else's mold of real. 

I am "real"ly me.  I cannot be undone or changed by someone else's version of me... I want and desire real relationships and I want real tangible outreach - I still don't fit into a box but all of that might be for another blog... 

This time is meant for Thanksgiving... real Thanks... 

Thanksgiving is defined as the act of giving thanks, a prayer expressing gratitude, a public celebration of divine goodness.  My personal favorite definition, An act of giving thanks; an expression of gratitude, especially to God.  

Expressing gratitude, especially to God.

Eucharisteo, of Greek origin, meaning to be grateful, feel thankful and to give thanks.

The first time I heard this word was at a Women of Faith Conference, Ann Voskamp was speaking and I was riveted.  Her story was real and I sat on the edge of my seat.  Eucharisteo, thankful in all things, for all things... grateful in all things and for all things.  Joyfully thankful and grateful.  These words, now hang in red in my kitchen. 

Thankful, grateful and joyful in all seasons at all times, giving thanks... even when it's hard to do.  I can think of a few times since that conference when giving thanks didn't make sense... like my husbands sudden job loss, my broken ankle and subsequent surgery, the loss of a friend...  finding joy in those moments for more time at home and organization, the joy in someone sending an unexpected way to pay for groceries, learning how to trust our community of "real" people or celebrating the life of someone so beautiful who touched so many... 

This week, this day,  I am thankful for the things unseen.  For walks and talks with my children.  For being privileged to be their mommy and hold their hands while they make me laugh and cry. 

Thankful for relationships which surpass understanding, those relationships which remain solid when the rest of the world passes judgement and says it's time to throw in the towel... thankful that my husband and I remain faithful and true to our vows beforefore God and have stuck it out.  

Thankful and grateful for the dozen women whom I consider my "porch-people"; those friendships which don't make sense... the women who don't want to "one-up", "climb-over" or "walk-on" someone else to get ahead.  The women who come along side, bear-burdens, hold hands and hold me up when I need it the most and most importantly, allow me to do the same.  Those women who I do life with... locally and across the miles - you know who you are and I love you, am thankful for you and feel blessed. 

I am thankful for my little church and the body that make up the church, we are few but we are mighty.  We do life a little differently than most and it's hard sometimes and messy sometimes but its amazing all the time.... Joyfully thankful and grateful.   

Back to Eucharisteo, the word, meaning something a bit more.  Made up of the word Eucharist, breaking bread - synonymous with the Lord's Supper or Holy Communion.  Remembering Christ's sacrifice for all mankind on the cross.  Something which would cause Jesus harm and pain, though he blessed, broke and gave thanks... 

Most of all, I am considering myself thankful with all joy... that I have been lost and found.  That there is a God who loves me, who never leaves me.  God, who listens to my prayers, who answers them, in His time.  God, who created me, sought after me and a God who has prepared a place for me.  My God who works actively in every detail of my life and the lives of all people.  A God who makes the impossible possible... who molds a life I could have only dreamed of into something He saw all along --- ever present, never ceasing and as I live and breathe, more love than I could imagine.

Walking last evening with my kids, just them and me. They, peddling their bikes - helmets bobbing and wheels turning.

We rode up and around... Through the desert, along the paths and by the pool. They rode up and down the street. I walked along side. They would peddle ahead then circle wide around to come back to me. This was the first walk I've taken with them that I didn't panic when they rode in the street too far ahead. This realization scares me.

There is a wash run off and basin along this path that, since we are in the desert, hardly ever fills.   In the early spring it comes alive with wildlife of all sorts, wildflowers in bloom and sprigs of green grass. My son, he tells me in his peddling, that daddy never trusts him to ride down there... I don't trust him to ride down there... But a soft voice whispers - "It's okay, I've got him." I gently encourage him to go, to ride - "Do, it!", I say. Wide-eyed, he looks at me... "Next time mom." We keep waking and peddling.

There are quite a few houses in our neighborhood for sale, the kids notice this... Signs that say For Rent... "What does that mean?" Still along our walk we come to this house... Not for sale or for rent, with weeds growing tall - at least three feet in some places and all over. I mentally note this home in my head, to visit another day... To gift them with a service project - an effort our church does.

My daughter asks about the weeds and we talk about that for a little bit. All the reasons why and what we can do to help. In the conversation, I smile at them and say, "The things you guys think of amaze me." My son replies, "You don't want to know what I think about." He wasn't joking nor have a hint of teasing in his voice - it was just matter of fact and a bit ominous.   I told them both that I always want to know what they are thinking. That I love them and it's my job... I encouraged him to share with me.

Out of his 7 year old mouth he says, "I wonder what it's like when you die. I wonder if I will go to heaven or hell." Quietly stunned, we walked on for a bit. I held back all my mommy instinct to stop and hold him, to put my protective arms around him and tell him it's not something he should think about or worry about... But that's not the answer.

We walked... I said, "Oh, Buddy. I don't know what happens when you die, but I do know that Heaven is waiting for us. That God had built a house with many rooms which Sripture promises to you and me. I know God loves all His children and He has a place for you there. I know that you prayed to God and acknowledged Him, you told Him you know He died for your sins, that he raised from the dead for you and me. That's all you need. I don't worry about that for you - I know where you will go." We talked about baptism a little after that... And after a drawn out pause, he stops wheeling and says, "Mom, thanks for encouraging me."

They peddled happily home in excited banter. I trailed after in awe of those two. Of the gift God gave me in the raising, loving and encouraging. These are the moments which are hard to prepare for, are never really ready for but are armed with the truth.

I thank the Spirit for speaking truth, reminding me he has them.

I am a praying mommy. I pray with them and over them. My last prayers before I go off to sleep are about them.

I pray for their friends, I pray for their future... I pray that they will be mighty and bold. I pray they will speak love and truth - that God will watch over them all of their days.... I pray for their personal decisions to follow God, for one - I pray she has the courage and desire to stay on His path and for the other, that he decides his God is bigger than his fears. That stage fright can't keep him from the good and noble things.

I don't talk about it much...  I feel like it's all so far in the past... History...  and I don't really know what to say about it now.    Some days I am too keenly aware that I am the product of alcoholism but my parent has put off that old life and is living a new one in Christ, this knowledge leaves me with a faded memory of the tough stuff.

I've written a couple of times about the girl I used to be; she makes me cringe, she makes me sad, some days she makes me ashamed - but she was always a fighter.  I built walls to protect myself, to protect my mom and my brother and even some walls to protect him.  They were weak, I was not.  I didn't need protection, I could withstand...  the heart of a fighter.  Walls, however, are not a foundation.  Walls crack and crumble. Walls are meant to come down. 

My walls are cracking.
 
My husband and I are on opposite schedules four nights a week... he works nights, I work days. I work week days, he works weekends.  I am out of bed getting ready by 5:00 am and he has only crawled in bed two hours before.  It's not completely bad... 

He gets to pick the kids up from school four days a week.  They go out for ice cream and go on bike rides.  He helps them with their math, because, lets face it -- mommy has no clue.  Three nights of the week we get to be a normal family, dinner at home - together at the table.  We sit on the couch and hold hands watching our TV shows. 

But somehow, somewhere in the last part of the week, where we only see each other 45 minutes out of the day...  something changes. 

I am frustrated with the morning routine,  I set timers to remind the kids to get dressed.  I set timers to alert the kids to go wake daddy up so that he can take them to school.  I am frustrated with the evening routine.  I come home and almost always, there is more than a load of dishes waiting for me... and a few loads of laundry... and the kids need a bath... and dinner still needs to be made and I am alone... with the rest of the homework and chores. 

Boy, there were a lot of I's in that last paragraph. 

Anyway, let me tell you...  if my husband were writing the next paragraph, he'd say, "She is always so crabby.  She wakes up crabby... she goes to work crabby... she comes home crabby.  I can never do enough for her and it's never right by her.  I am tired, I work nights, in the cold, in the heat, in the rain.  Sometimes I am driving all over the city in the middle of the night to fix broken buses.  She expects so much and I feel like she just nags... Frankly I don't understand." 

And somewhere in the middle of all of that my husband would say that I don't pay attention to him... especially, when "he'd like me to"...  I know all the women reading this understand what the quotation marks were for...  and I will tell you, he's right.  The last thing I want to do, after I have been away from the house all day, having to come home to make dinner - do the dishes and then do the dinner dishes, plus what ever else needs to be done, is take care of his needs... when my needs are screaming to sit down and just be. 

Then...  the fight happens...  Almost weekly now, like clockwork on Monday night.  I am not sure the trigger; lack of sleep perhaps, the after-effect of two ships passing in the night for four nights in a row, the build up of comments from three days of feeling neglected on his side and my side feeling taken advantage of...  I don't know, what ever the reason... the argument comes.

A few weeks ago it spilled over into Tuesday night.  Nothing was particualarly bad, in fact it was a good night.  We'd just hosted some friends for a weekly Bible study and the study was great.  We were happy and the kids were going to bed.  I made the mistake of taking my phone to the dinner table and answered an email, he thought I should be paying attention to him. 

So we went to bed angry.  He rolled to his side, signaling his attitude and I rolled to my side - the line was driven down the middle.  We woke up,  much the same way... and it was a bad day for that...  my best friend says it will make a good blog, she says, "write about that Bestie'.

These arguments and these moments though are having a lasting effect on us, on our minds... they are starting to leave marks.  I can feel the broken and battered condition of my heart when he speaks.   I can feel the engraving of, yet, another comment into my personage.  If I feel it this way, I am sure he feels it more to some degree.

I am just not this person, I don't hold on to these comments.  I am not often in a situation where I feel so unqualified to walk through.  I feel weak.  I feel out of control.  Arguing I can do, cleaning up after a mess I can handle, hugging a wounded person I can surely do - that's what alcoholism teaches you, to clean up the collateral damage... But when the collateral damage is your spouse, marriage, love-life, your personal best-friendship with the person you married... That's where I don't feel qualified.

Who do you talk to when you are mad at your best-friend... Well, you talk to your girlfriends and when they've heard enough or when you're talked out and they aren't seeing the marks on the inside, when it's not enough... You go to Enough, because Enough was there all along. Enough should have been #1.

Some days, driving into the city for work, when the voices of wounded girls in my head making excuses for how I was reacting to the condition at home. I'd pray and turn my worship music up louder - drowning out Satan and his lies. Changing the condition of my mind and heart in an hour.

These last few weeks I have spent a lot of time on my knees, on my face, down low - humbled before God. Some mornings, when my heart wasn't right for prayer, I heard "go lower"... "Go lower"... And my heart changes - it changed.

Finally this last week... Instead of "I", I thought of him, my husband. I thought about where he is at, the condition of his heart. The places in his life that I know God is working on. He is going through his own learning and changing and God quietly whispers to me, "Where he is going, you cannot follow." So I don't... And instead of thinking of all the ways he's not met my needs today, God has placed my husband's in my heart.

I said to my friends, those who love me and keep the secrets of my heart just yesterday, " I am so thankful for your love and prayers! I am just in awe of God and His perfect plans! That doesn't mean things are better - because they aren't - it just means they are safely in His hands!"

Yesterday, Monday, we didn't fight... Finally a break through in the month long battle. Something is finally working.

Resting in God's plan, changing the condition of my heart.

Remember me?  I don't know whether or not to apologize for my lack of entries this year or just spill my guts.  I don't even remember the last thing I wrote about.  I do think about writing daily.  When I am walking I will think of something to say and start crafting the words in my head.  Other times I will be sitting on the couch and my laptop and I are locked in a staring contest; it's calling out to me - asking me to dive back in and start on the words swirling around in my head. 

Towards the end of last year I was really struggling with a topic, I felt like I was being called write a confessional...  to put all of my sin and shame into black and white for all of --- whoever really reads - to read.  I am not talking about "fluff" sin and shame stuff, if that makes sense to you, but to give a name to, to write the words I pretend don't exist.  What I keep thinking is what will "you" think of me?  Really, it doesn't matter because I know what I think of me and I know what God thinks of me. 

He loves me... and He already knows... He is waiting on me to acknowledge those words and move forward in Him.  Did you expect me to say that?  Maybe you were expecting me to say that I am an abomination with my sin, that it's so bad for Him to look upon that He cannot even look at it - and that is true but He loves me first. 

When I think about my sin... which yes, I will write down in a moment, for those of you waiting to get to my dirty laundry, I think of Romans,  "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God...  ALL have sinned and ALL fall short of the glory of God. It doesn't say, some have sinned... ALL have.  

And sin is evil and wicked in the eyes of God and no - He cannot look on it...  I've been reading in Genesis about creation and the fall.  Creation was so good that everything He made He called it "good" including man and the fall was bad and foreboding, but even in that He still loved us. Man was first cast out because of sin and then was all but anilated in the flood but again, God redeemed mankind and continued to do throughout the Bible through all time with His Son.

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  Romans 5:8

When the thought, "what will people think of me...." I realize it doesn't matter.  When I think about my sin I think about a song...   Jesus paid it ALL and all to Him I owe.  The song doesn't say, Jesus paid some... it says He paid it ALL.  He not only paid and took care of what I do, He took care of what I do to others and what others do to me.  HE PAID IT ALL!  The other part of the song is...and ALL to Him I owe!

But I still have to acknowledge with my mouth and confess those sins... He already knows they're there. So I can hide and deny it from myself, family and friends but I cannot from Him.  Ultimately it doesn't matter what you think of me because I know, I know... it only matters what He thinks about me and He's asked me to talk about it.

Lust.

Pride.

Malice.

In that order. 

I don't have to go into every ugly detail, I thought I did - which is why the silence from me. I do want to talk about these sins... A little bit - lust I believe speaks for itself. For me it's more about how I look and feel and it's never sexy. Because of the way sex was shaped for me early on, it's negative to me. I don't trust that a man can love you for who you are and what you really look like. In the process I have turned to other things and that plays into what my husband does. So. As a couple, we are honest with each other, we speak about how we are feeling and where we are at. We turn off media and turn to God. It sounds unbelieveable but God tells us to do these things.

I urge you brothers, in view of Gods Mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform to the trappings of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - His good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2

Pride, boy that is a doosey! At the beginning of the year, I prayed to God to show me what I needed to change. I wanted to be rid of all the things that hindered me from doing His work. I knew pride was one of them. In one month I have been stripped of ALL that I thought I was based on job performance and who I was to specific people. To say I have been brought low is an understatement and I struggle. Personally and professionally I don't like to be emotional, I don't like to be unsure, it makes me feel weak and so not myself. Pride - snipped off at the trunk and it was a long branch. I am still raw at raw at the site but I understand why pride has to go.

Malice. Awful word right? Awful heart... Ugh! So I really don't want anything bad to happen to anyone but I want to be rectified! If "they" are wrong, I want immediate retribution. Acknowledge, apologize and let's move on. All I can say on that is I know God takes care of those situations. He works on hearts and changes things according to his purpose.

In my Bible reading I have decided to go back to Genesis, I've read it but I want to understand it. And there was a passage in there that I didn't understand. I googled it, tried to reword the question and still never received an answer.

Last night, through reading another book I had my answer and what an answer It was... Victory! Yes, I said Victory in the fall of man. God loved is so amazing that even in the very first book of the Bible He planned to send Jesus to be broken for us on the cross. Redemption and victory played out in chapter one! Again the song plays it's chorus in my head...

Jesus paid it all and all to Him I owe... Sin had left a crimson stain - He washed it white as snow.