Questions for the New Year

The topic of the season is resolutions.
We've all made them. And we've all broken them... on January 2nd. Whether you choose to exercise more, save some money, eat healthier, read more books, or even learn a craft, January brings a time of new beginnings for so many.

History lessons for you folks! 
Years ago, the Romans would make promises to their god, Janus, (think January) at the beginning of the year. The Babylonians would start their new year by repaying debts that they owed and returning borrowed goods. Medieval knights would reaffirm their vows right at the beginning of each year.
Resolutions are in our past and I am sure they are in many of our futures.
If I could list for you all the things I have promised to do on January 1st, you would laugh. I've lost thousands of pounds, at least it would have been so if I stuck it out. I would have about 4 college degrees. And let me tell you, I could knit a sweater like no other if I would have just stuck with it.
But the reality is, nothing ever stuck until I started to ask God what He desired for the coming year.
Now, I have no problems with resolutions. But when we don't prayerfully consider the year we are completing and seek God on where He wants us to go, then everything is done in vain. 

If the plan we follow is not His plan, then it will not succeed. 
I thought I would share some of the things that I consider as I step into a new year. Questions I ask myself, and God. Things I pray over and really meditate on before I make any decisions.

1. Where have I come from this year?

Well, if I was going to answer for this year, I would say it was a year of survival. More so, it was a year of finally understanding that God is not disappointed in us when we do something for ourselves. Not everything needs to be self sacrificing. If I need to say "no" to protect my heart and mind, then that is OK.

Colossians 1:10-11~ "That ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God; Strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power , unto all patience and long-suffering with joyfulness;"

I learned this year that if I am to increase my knowledge in Him, then I must allow myself the time to get to know Him. Patience is necessary when God is doing a work in our hearts and lives. Sometimes, in order for a change to occur, some quiet must come. Fast paced crazy never got anyone anywhere, at least not anywhere worth going to.

2. Where am I going?

Ah, yes. This one is a little bit harder to answer because I just can't see the future. And if 2014 and 2015 was not a lesson in curve balls being thrown, then I don't know what was.
Only the One that holds tomorrow can answer this question. But I have found that when I have asked him every year, during my evaluation time, He's always ready to answer. Of course He doesn't give me specifics, but He is good at sticking a theme in my heart for the year that ends up being the roots I need to endure what is ahead.

3. What saps my energy? What makes me feel rejuvenated?

These are great questions to ask at the end of the year so that a purge can be done in our lives. Things that sap our energy are not necessarily the things that make us tired. Raising babies is tiring, but that doesn't mean God wants us to quit doing it. Going to work Monday through Friday is exhausting, but the bills need to be paid.
So what do I mean by sapping your energy?
The best way to find the answer is to think of the things you tend to procrastinate on. Or the things you get cranky about before doing.
For me, I learned a long time ago that crafting, no matter how great of a woman I may feel when doing it, is not for me. Decorating beautiful Christmas tables or having holiday decor all over the house just stresses me out and I get no joy from it. I don't even do Pinterest. And I am 100% OK with that.
But you know what really gets my blood pumping and excited? Sharing God's Word. Talking to ladies about what God wants for them in their lives. Listening to stories and encouraging others. I just get such a surge when I walk away from a speaking engagement or Bible study knowing that God was there and He used me to be a help and a blessing. 

4. Are their any unhealthy relationships  that I need to readjust or eliminate? 

This is a tricky one, but absolutely essential to the spiritual growth that I desire each year. I am the very last person to bring up unpleasantness in any relationship. I loathe conflict and avoid it at all cost. But this gets me into trouble when I find myself compromising my convictions, tastes, and sanity for the sake of a friend that is just not on the same page as I am. A full on amputation is not always necessary. Sometimes, it just takes an honest conversation to get things set straight. But other times it may take a temporary or even permanent break. Letting God lead here is crucial.
I just remind myself that "Iron sharpeneth Iron" and if this friend is not able to challenge me to be a better person, then they may not be the best person to be around all the time.

5. What verse will set the tone for the year?

I try to pick a verse or passage to memorize and meditate upon for the year. I'm not always successful on the memorization part. This is definitely an area I struggle with. But when I set my heart on mind on a theme from God's Word that is the very area He is pushing me in, then I am strengthened and resolved to continue forward on the path of change that He has for me that year.
In 2014, the year Molly was diagnosed, can you believe I had 6 months to mediate and study on faith?! God had placed that in my heart and boy did the lessons I learn from Him really help when June 17th rolled around and we heard of Molly's diagnosis.
One year, I had the theme of restoration. It was necessary for me to learn about restoring myself to God and restoring relationships that have gone wrong.
This year, well, I haven't figured it all out yet. There are a billion little things swirling around in my brain, but God is continuing to narrow it down to a few choice things that He wants me to learn. I don't HAVE to have them all set in stone by January 1. The point is that I come with a willing heart, mind, and soul. When that happens, then God can do the impossible. I know this because I have experienced it many a time. And I so look forward in seeing Him do it again in 2017.

So what about you? Are you ready for another year? Are you ready to examine 2016 and see where you need to go in 2017?
Just remember, God never disappoints when asked to supply, never gives anything but good, and always knows the future.

So I am raising my coffee cup in a toast to you. May 2017 bring life to your heart and soul. May you walk taller, smile brighter, and love harder as you slowly transform a little more into the beautiful person the Lord designed you to be.
Happy 2017!

Honest Ramblings

I love it when I have plans to be all spiritual and mature and then WHAM! God decides it's time for me to stop faking it and get real for a minute. By now, most people know I am anything but proper, reserved, or got it all together. It's easy to be a mess in front of others when I am staring at a screen and don't need to see the faces.
So here I am.
I had this whole blog planned. I actually have it written out. Besides some grammatical issues and a final thought to add, it's done. And yet here I sit, having this internal battle to push publish. Why?
Well, it's just not authentic.
I've been told my best writing is when I am raw and honest. And even though what I was writing about was really on my heart all week, I find my mind and heart drifting further and further from that topic and resting on the now.
Grief at Christmas. 
I'm a lot of things, but a worrier isn't really one of them. I mean, I tend to believe things will work out. I don't even worry much about what people think about me anymore. When I hit my thirties I realized I have a good man, great kids, and a God who loves me unconditionally. So if someone doesn't like how I do things, that's OK. Can't win 'em all!
But I am seriously self conscious about one area in my life and the opinions of others when it comes to my grief.
I don't even know why I care. But I waste countless hours worrying that people think I grieve too much, too little, too often, not enough. I cry all the time... or I never cry and must be cold.
I'm stuck in the past or I moved too quick into the future.
Honestly, it's brought me close to the point of nervous break down. Ha. You think I am kidding. Welcome to the circus in my head.
But occasionally, depending on the amount of sleep I have gotten, where I am at in my cycle, (it's a real thing, people), and how far away my last meal was, I have this moment of clarity and I remember the answer is just yes.
Yes, I grieve too much.
Yes, I grieve too little.
Yes, I cry like all the time.
Yes, I never cry and I often feel cold.
I'm stuck in the past and have moved too fast into the future.
This. Is. Grief.
There is literally no straight line. No right or wrong. No predicting where it will take me.
Holidays bring on the amplified version. My tears are wetter, my cries louder. My quiet times are much too silent and I just don't want to talk to a soul.
This is where I am at. And I would be doing myself a disservice if I sat here with a happy post about Mary, the mother of Jesus, ignoring the big heavy baggage that is literally blocking my view.

This year is year two without Molly for Christmas. I think the second year is the hardest. The first year, we were so very numb. It was survival mode. It was us, pinching ourselves to see if we were actually still alive. It was smiling because we didn't even know what we felt, so "happy" seemed safe.
But now, I have a better grip on things.
It plain sucks. Yes, I know. That's an icky word. But I don't have a better one.
It started with our Christmas card and just went downhill from there. How to incorporate Molly in our family photo and keep her presence in our family alive in a photo, because God truly knows, she is in our family everyday, every conversation, and every thought.
The social obligations are so tricky. The girls need them. And if I was honest with myself, a part of me does too, but it's so tiring.
There are so many days that I just don't understand why it had to be Molly. Why any child. I'll be the first to raise my hand in heaven and ask that question.
But I don't get answers right now.
I get photos, memories, videos, and stories, for which I am forever grateful, but some days it's just not enough. 

So there you have it. Very uplifting for this Christmas season.(Insert sarcasm font!)
If anything, perhaps it will help those who have little to be upset about, little pain this Christmas season, little regret or sadness to be thankful for what they do have.
I know I am thankful for my girls. I am thankful that I have them with me this year. Peter doesn't. And those who lost their only child don't and nothing could break my heart more than for them.
Honestly though, my most important source of gratitude comes from the gift of Jesus. I would be lost without Him. I may be sad, numb, weary, and alone, but I am not unloved or lost. I am loved and found.

Honesty is the Best Policy

The whispering in the hallway as you pass by. The overheard snickers in the room next door. The rumors of hurtful words and spoken lies. The rejection felt as you walk past, shameful, embarrassed, and lonely.
No. This is not a description of high school.
This is a picture of what you can find in the local church.

Sad isn't it? But the truth is, as ladies of the church, we are in a bad way and something needs to be done. 

There are few things that really rile me up, but when I see women exclude another or gossip and judge in a place that was founded on love.... well, the words, "Shame on you!" are not the first that come to mind. My words are, well, let's say spicier and more forceful.
Listen, it's so very hard to be a woman in 2016. America has bred this unobtainable notion of a woman who is all things to all people.
She is wife, mother, worker. She is church greeter, nursery worker, Sunday school teacher. She is teacher, PTA board member, head of bake sale. She is beautiful, fit, sexy. She is all things and does it with a smile.

Honestly, it's exhausting. And I know very well I am not the only woman that tries to keep up with this rat race.
How is it that we continue to lose our vision as women?
We continually judge ourselves, judge one another, and walk out of church feeling defeated when glimpsing around at all the "perfect women."
I think what we lack is some good old fashion honesty.
Honesty is a hard thing to live out. This means we will be letting down our walls, showing some serious vulnerability, and (gasp), allowing others to see our big, old, hot mess of a self.
I'm going to take the first step.
Listen, I do not exercise. Let's get that clear. Yes, I know. I am  like 50lbs over weight, my body is a mess from multiple surgeries and could use some stretching and strength training. Running a mile has not be done since middle school and that was because it was forced. My family history is littered with heart disease and early deaths. So ya, I know I need to literally get my butt in gear. But before you start telling me to go to bed earlier so I can wake earlier and get in those thirty minutes of cardio, don't bother. I know the statistics, tips, and I've seen every graph. It's really applying it that is the issue.
I love my husband. I've never been shy about saying that. But if I was honest, I don't love him nearly like I should. I've pretended to be asleep when he reaches over to "kiss me good night." I've treated him like a child more times than I can count. And if I told you how many times I've snapped at him in front of the girls, well, it would be a very high number.
Speaking of girls, I will be absolutely shocked if they don't need therapy because of me sometime in their life. I mean, I love them. But sometimes I don't like them. (Can I say that? Well, I just did.) Personalities clash and this girl gets worn out. So I lash out. And nag. And roll my eyes. And snap. And basically every other bad behavior you see my girls do, I guarantee you they saw Mama do it first.
Just because I educate them at home doesn't mean I find it to be the most thrilling job in the world. In fact, there are plenty of days that I gaze out the window and fantasize about going back to school to get my degree and then run far, far away from my school room to go talk to people taller than 4'3.
What I'm saying is, this is me.
When we start sharing our struggles with one another this beautiful thing happens. Those listening start to lose the tension in their shoulders, the tightness in their jaw, and wipe off that fake smile and put a real one on their face.
Why?
It's simple. We all like to know that we are "normal". We all like to know that we are really doing OK. We all like to get encouragement. Because like I have said so many times, this life is hard. No joke. But we have to remember that we are ALL living it. And we are all succeeding, all failing, all kind of getting it right, and all kind of getting it wrong.
If we aren't honest with on another though, then how are we going to make changes and grow in the right direction?
Didn't Paul tell us to pray for one another? Well, if you don't tell me what to pray for, than I can't help you.

"You know girl, I am really struggling today. This boss that I have is going to make me lose my mind. If he gives me one more project, I may just hurl my laptop at him and quit."
"Sister, my days are so lonely. I feel surrounded by people, and yet have no one to talk to. I need a friend. Will you pray?"
"I ate 5 donuts yesterday. This dieting will either kill me or I'll kill my husband. Jesus help me now."

I challenge you today to find a friend, find an acquaintance, heck, find a stranger on your commute home on the bus, and share a little humanity. Perhaps you want to start simple and don't scare them away, but I assure you, you will get a smile, you will hear a sigh of relief, and you will receive a blessing beyond words.
We are in this life together, folks. It only makes sense to lift one another up by encouraging them that they are not alone.
Because you are not alone.
Trust me. I am a Disasterville over here, but we are going to make it through. 

Remember not to forget

Teaching long division is like going to the doctor for an amputation and finding out there are no numbing medications. I find myself often gazing at the wall, envisioning banging my head against it so that I can feel something other than fury and frustration. (Listen, I  know I need Jesus. I'm working on it.) Since I know that bashing my head against the wall is not an option, I decide to swing the pendulum the other way and be super sweet and patient. That lasts for about 4.7 seconds and then I just give up.
Why is it so hard to remember something we learned so long ago? 
If only I could go back to fourth grade and sit in the back of the class while Mr. Galati taught two digit division, my life would be saved, and maybe I would have a few less wrinkles on my forward from thinking so hard.
But as usual, human nature gets a hold of me and I forget. 
This rings true in other areas of life, including much more important lessons.
Two years ago, I wrote a blog that you can see here. It recently popped up in some searching for an unrelated blog and when I saw a picture of Molly and Peter under the tree I stopped.
It's been no secret to my family and close friends that this season has been a difficult one so far for our family, but I think the average person wouldn't have a clue that we are a little bit of a mess. OK. That is an understatement. I put money in stock for Kleenex this past week because we've gone through so many boxes I figure I should start making some money off of this.
Here, though, was a reminder of a lesson that was hand picked for me that I so foolishly forgot.
God knew.
God knew when Molly was born, on June 17, 2014, and on the day we received that train where we would all be this Christmas. Miles and dimensions apart, He knew that we would be struggling as we unpacked the train. When I opened ornaments that had Molly's picture or was covered in glitter by her, He knew my heart would ache. And so, that is why on that day two years ago, He was teaching me to remember.
Remember the smile on her face as the train was assembled. Remember the giggles in the room as the girls watched it go around. Even though we don't have it now the same way, we HAD it, and that is a precious, precious gift.
What is even more amazing is that on that day, He was already preparing my heart to have no more Christmas's on earth with Molly. He was slowly introducing the truth to me so that I can begin my lifelong journey, how ever long that will be, not fully complete on Christmas.
There will be so many beautiful, fun memories ahead, I know, but I am so thankful for the ones we got as a family of five. Dancing like sugar plum fairies in the kitchen, being covered in frosting and stepping over thousands of sprinkles on the floor while decorating cookies, sitting around the Christmas tree, watching the train go round and round as we thank God for the hope of the season.
This is my lesson for today. 
At Christmas, He asks us to remember. 
Of course He wants us to remember Him first and foremost, wrapped up in the manager. Giving away his place on a royal throne to come to this dingy earth and serve us with the ultimate token of service... giving His life.
But I think He also finds it good for us to remember other things, such as the blessings of the year past. The joy of family. The hardships we came out of. The broken hearts that we face too. For from our  broken hearts we can find out more about who He is. What He wants from us. And what He is doing. 

So today, as I pass our Christmas tree and see the many reminders and even when I am working on division for the hundredth time, I want to remember His grace that was supplied two years ago, and His grace that He supplies today. 

'Tis the Season

As we get closer to December 25th, the bells seem to chime louder, cookies pile higher, and the lights get brighter. We are blasted, from November 1st, with the reminder of what the average American thinks of when it comes to Christmas. I'm not talking about the birth of Christ. I am talking about the nostalgia, traditions, and family of the season. 

Family. 

That word rest so heavy on my heart tonight.
Being military, I have always been sensitive to others without family near them during the holidays. We've hosted people over our house almost every holiday. Whether it was a couple of lonely airmen, a new family that just moved to base, or a large group of vagabonds that we really don't know, all have been welcome. 

But there was a group of people that I just couldn't relate to. I didn't fully have the heart to know where they were coming from or how their holiday may feel.
This group was those that lost loved ones.
Obviously, now I am in that group. One that yes, I have been in for a long time, given that I have lost beloved grandparents and a few friends. But never has there been such a year, until last year, where the empty space at the table was like a loud ringing in the ears, reminding me over and over that the seat was empty.
I'm so sorry that anyone else has to face this. 

My heart breaks because I know how deep this pain runs. It literally has taken my breath away and brought me to my knees.
There is nothing on this earth that can mend this wound. The season has torn it open and no wrappings or ribbons can close it.
I'm learning to just embrace it.
I used to feel ashamed of crying.
I used to be embarrassed if anyone saw that I had an ounce of emotion about anything.
Why?
I really have no other answer to that than pride. Letting down my walls means I am human.
But oh, how I wish to look at letting down my walls as a way to show that I live. The amount of tears I drop on the floor are the amount of hours I think of my love for Molly and Peter, who is deployed. I see crying as a way to let out my love for them.
May sound funny to look at crying that way, but the more I love someone, the more it hurts when they leave.
I love Molly so deeply. She began life in my body and ended it in my arms. I have always had her with me her whole life. I knew her breath, her heartbeat, and her song. To no longer have that in my life... well, there really are no words. But there are tears.
I don't know what to do about this season. Usually I have some kind of plan. I usually have a verse or a Bible story to apply to my latest trouble. Heck, I at least have a song. This time, I have nothing.
Perhaps, that is not true.
I have One to cling to. But no words to speak. I fall into His arms, lifeless. He must carry me. Get me to my next destination. Mother for me. Teach for me. Cook for me. Clean for me. He must be the strength that is needed right now, because my strength is spent grieving, just for a season.
Like Christmas, soon after a new year comes. New beginnings. Time of reflection, renewals, and starts. I'm not saying I am out of commission until January, I am just saying that this is a period of time that I will cry. And that is alright. I embrace my grief like a warm blanket. I wrap it around me for warmth and a reminder to feel.
Feel the love. Feel the pain. Feel the loss. 

Confessions of a Reformed Nag

How many times do I have to tell him? I mean, really! It's pretty simple. All I wanted him to do is simply swing by the post office. But no, that was too much of a task to remember. Meanwhile, I am here, kids everywhere, and a house to manage. A clean house at that! Why is it clean? No thanks to him! I wash the dishes, clean ALL the clothes, make the meals, including his lunch when he comes home in the middle of the day. I get the kids down for naps, make sure they are clean, and I even teach them all about the love of Jesus. How else are they going to learn about love?! I got 12 days worth of stuff done today and all he could manage to do was come home. Now I have to get to the post office tomorrow when I have a slew of things to do. I should tell him what I think. Ya! That will make him see. That will teach him. I'm gonna say something...

This was a typical conversation that would go on inside my brain about five years ago. 

Perhaps I am the only one with an inner dialogue filled with questions and responses, or maybe I am the only one to admit to such lunacy, but either way, my crazy is a real thing.
It seemed to always start with a small annoyance. But then it grew and grew until I allowed my anger and bitterness to come out into full blown nag mode.
I realize that the term "nag" is not a very popular one given that it has been overused by husbands throughout generations. Plus, it's harsh. But listen, I am fully allowed to use harsh words and truths when speaking about myself. And truth is what I am giving. 

Let me explain paint a picture for you of my typical nag look. 
Hands placed firmly on hips.
Stance is wide legged and tall.
Eyes rolling into head.
Finger sometimes wagging.
Sound familiar?
(Note: Looks may vary. There is also sitting while tapping toe, sighing, speed walking through house while quickly bending and picking up clutter, and my personal favorite, the look of death. If you do not know this look, count yourself lucky.)
For years, I thought I was the opposite of what we deem a nag. I thought I bit my tongue way more than I really did. I assumed, also, that if it wasn't said, then I was doing OK. However, the seeds of annoyance were tenderly nourished and cared for in my heart. I would remember to feed them with frequent visits to history class in remembering all the things that were wrong with my husband. I would shine MY truth upon them as I replayed time and time again of hurts and wrong doings that were directed towards me, or at least, they felt directed. I loved my seedlings because they affirmed to me that I was in the right and he was in the wrong. I was the sacrificing wife and he was the loser who didn't notice what I gave day in and day out.

Here's the truth.

Nagging doesn't always come in the form of constant verbal scolding. This is the picture we have in our head though. Nagging is really a heart issue that tends to be quiet for a while and then slowly and steadily seep out. 

"A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike." ~Proverbs 27:15

That drip, drip, dripping that drives us crazy is the same one that cracks and breaks away the foundations of a marriage. It's exhausting, really for both parties involved, and yet it's the easiest of pits to fall into. I would often find myself displeased for one reason or another, but instead of waiting for the right time to bring up legit concerns and desires, I would tap away, like a chisel, over and over again trying to make some kind of desired sculpture. Instead, I was clobbering the man God gave me with words for my mallet.
Water in droplet form is not damaging, but you take multiple droplets and put them together, you get a puddle. This will muddy up your shoes. Then you add more drops and you have a pool. From there, when more are added, you find yourself in an ocean with no end in sight. Words are so much like these beads of water. Slowly growing into a bigger problem, little digs here and there, little corrections and nit picks reshape the very thing that is before you. 

It's never my job to reshape my husband. 

That's God's job. My job is to lift him up when he is down. To support him when the load is heavy. To cheer him on as he is conquering the very thing before him. As his wife, his partner, my task is never to recreate or change him through negative words and nagging. 

The day my husband puts Proverbs 25:24 into practice is the day that I have utterly failed as a wife. 

"It is better to dwell in the corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman and in a wide house."

So the question is, what changed? Since this is the confessions of a reformed  nag, I guess I should tell you what happened.
It was one look he gave me.
We had just finished arguing over something so trivial. I mean down right stupid. I was on my normal rant and I barely stopped to breath when he looked up at me and simply looked defeated and tired. I thought that is what I wanted. I thought I wanted to win and feel like I was right. But it wasn't at all what I really desired. To see the man I love look at me with such failure, well, it was all I could do but cry right then and there. How did I get to this point? Why did I feel it more necessary to be right than to help, support, and love?
It was from that moment on that I decided to only move forward and to become better.
I prayed to God to first do a change in me. My heart was oozing with pride and I knew there was only room for love or self. I needed to make a choice. I had to die to self. That's what marriage is all about, really. Continually, daily deciding that they are more important than ourselves and giving it our all. Sounds impossible?

Ha. It sure is. Absolutely and utterly impossible without the Lord. Thankfully, with Him, all things can be done.
I suppose it's time to be real honest here and rename the post to, "Confessions of a  Semi-Reformed Nag" because my real world is still with many moments of nagging. In fact, I just got a blow to my gut the other day, (which inspired this post) that I still need to shut my mouth way more than I do and get a better attitude. What can I say? I'm not perfect. But I strive to be better each and every day, fully taking into consideration my goals for marriage. And I assure you, chasing my husband up to the roof for some peace and quiet is NOT one of my goals.
So here's to another day, another choice, or one hundred, to keep my mouth closed, my heart opened, and make the right decisions on what is more important, being right or doing right.