Back in the saddle

I used to write
Long ago
Before I knew what
Pain and joy really were

Rhymes and passion
In perfect syllabic lines
Bridled dreams
In iambic pentameter

Has it been ten years?
Or eons?

Awaken, old friend:
Life is beautiful.
Dust off your adjectives
And nouns.
We have much to talk about.

procrastination

This is exactly what getting things done has looked like for me these past few weeks. I will get everything I need to sit down and get something accomplished, only to piddle my time away at something completely nonessential . *sigh* I love my life :)


I've put off studying, laundry, time with friends, time with Jesus, and about a dozen other things to do things like study, do laundry, spend time with friends, linger over some scripture, or do a dozen little odd-jobs that caught my attention at the moment. So, whilst I sit here and drink my tall Pike Place w/vanilla, 2 packs of Splenda, and extra creamer at Starbucks and pointedly ignore the textbook sitting next to my cup, I am going to vent just a little about a recent corner I turned this Easter. I've been approaching this corner with Jesus for some time now, and after reading some Facebook posts over the past 24 hours, it feels like some others could use a taste of the slice of life on my plate at the moment.

Procrastination and rushing go together like peanut butter and jelly (or apple pie and ice cream if you have peanut allergies). We rush only to procrastinate, and we procrastinate only to find ourselves rushing. There is no more powerful and destructive force than procrastination in relationships. I feel that there is not any relationship that is excluded here, but for the sake of this vent, I'm going to zoom in on romantic relationships. Let me dig a little deeper for you. . . 

How do we "rush to procrastinate" in relationships? In American society today, all we do is rush. We don't know any longer what it is to wait for something, to log in the time, effort, and energy into something that is important to us. We want what we want and we want it now. We rush head-first into the deep end of a romance, playing house with people when we stay the night with them or go grocery shopping with them, talking about all the things we want to do and to have when we "settle down." We open ourselves up like a 24-hour, all-you-can-eat super buffet (think Golden Corral), figuring/hoping/praying that this person will surely find something appealing enough to stick around for. Within a few short days we feel the euphoria of being adored, and get hooked on that feeling. Our ego is fed by all this attention, gorging to the point of gluttony. And then comes the burn-out. As quick as it came into our lives, it leaves and we are crushed. We feel rejected, unlovable, and undesirable. 

However, if we were completely honest, deep down inside in that place that we don't like to admit we have that always seems to know what's best for us, we knew what we were rushing into wasn't going to last. We procrastinate in calling it quits. We wait, perhaps even diving deeper and faster into the abyss of infatuation, trying in vain to ignore that little voice inside of us that is saying, "this isn't going to last." We put off all wisdom out of fear of being alone or misunderstood or gossiped about. We ignore the red flags that tell us something is wrong instead of just calling it quits. Why do we do this? Why don't we just say, "DEUCES! I'm out!" if we're not so jazzed about Mr/Miss Wonderful anymore? Why do we stay in something we know is not going to just end, but its going to end painfully??

We procrastinate calling it quits because the same ego that gluttonously fed on all the attention is the same prideful monster that whines in protest at the idea of having to back-track over some of the things confessed in the high of an emotional moment, and say "just kidding! I'm not really feeling that way anymore." The pain of admitting we were wrong and that we made a mistake is a direct hit on our own pride and self-love to someone we barely know. And that my friends, is way more excruciating than being dumped in the eyes of that green-eyed lizard called PRIDE. Please don't think I am excluding myself here - I have a few of these t-shirts from 30-day shelf-life "Mr. Wonderfuls" in my drawer of exes. *smh*

**Now don't misunderstand me - I am not saying we shouldn't love and respect ourselves. As a child of God, we have value and worth beyond any earthly price - God gave His only Son for us. Pride and self-worth are two different things. If you require an in-depth discussion of the difference, please feel free to email me. At one point, I also required a deeper explanation and had a wonderful, grace-focused, Jesus-loving person to guide me through to a clear understanding between pride and my identity in Christ. I would love to pay it forward and share what I learned.**

 Then, we have the procrastination only to find ourselves rushing relationships. We meet someone and are fearful - paralyzingly fearful - of the possibility of being rejected by that person because they are so amazing/intelligent/funny/etc so we never, ever, EVER say a word. We put it off, maybe never speak to them, or maybe only in passing. Or worse, maybe we are super masochistic and decide to try and be their friend. Maybe we work with them, or our kids go to the same school, or we go to the same coffee shop. Geez, I've seen this in all shapes and sizes. . .I've done it in various forms myself. I'm queen of the Fear hive. . . anyways, let me stay on my train of thought here. . . so we have procrastinated just being honest and then run around trying to pretend we don't feel anything for this other person by serial-dating. Our hope is that the next relationship we snuff out the candle we're pretending we're not burning, and all will be well again in our little corner of the universe. Nope, my friends. 'Fraid not. We just end up on the "rushing-to-procrastinate" roller coaster instead. Is anyone with me here? I bet so.

Here we are at the corner I've turned. If you've read this far, you're either really lost and bored or you're nodding your head and thinking about the t-shirts, roller coasters, and tears you've racked up in this game yourself. This intersection is at the roads of "Patience" and "Procrastinate." Stay with me a little longer. . .you're this far, may as well see it to the end, right?

At the intersection of "Patience" and "Procrastinate" we can choose which way to lead our hearts. We can turn down the road of "Procrastinate" and feed our flesh and pride with all kinds of instant gratification, like the quick pick-me-ups found in convenience store foods and energy drinks. We can ignore how unhealthy the wares are that the shops that line this road tempt us with, and simply plod on, existing from one temporary high to the next. We can put off being mature and wise and bold and honest just so we have a warm body with a pulse to tell us how wonderful we are. 

Or, we can do a 180 and turn down the road of "Patience" where we sit a fine restaurants and wait for delectable feasts that are nourishing and painstakingly prepared and never served in a plastic sack or pushed through a drive-thru window. We can stroll down this road side-by-side with other travelers or alone, completely content with the leg of the journey we're on and not rely on the validation of others that we're going in right direction. We can weave in and out of delightful experiences without unrealistic expectations or grandiose delusions and just be thankful we had the moment or moments to appreciate how beautiful humanity, in all its imperfection, truly is. 

Here, on this road, we wait patiently for life to bring someone into our lives that is already on the same road, headed in the same direction, that we can share the journey with. We can stroll together and wade into the ocean of love and forever one toe at time, all the while feeling safe and free to come and go as we please. On the road of "Patience" we ave freedom and courage to be different. We don't have to be like everyone else. We can draw the line and say "up to here you may come, but no further" with boldness and peace because we know that while it may sting to see someone walk away, that sting lasts only a moment and then we're glad to see them go because we've felt deeper and darker pain on the road of "Procrastination" and we're done with that road. 


My road of patience isn't all sunshine and daisies, and I don't expect it to be. But it sure beats the anxiety and self-loathing I felt on the path I have been on for nearly ten years. I hate to see women (and some men) put themselves through this over and over again. I wish people would realize how special they are and raise their standards a little (or a lot). I wish they'd stop putting themselves out there so quickly physically and emotionally and protect what is valuable - their own hearts. You bet if their heart was that $600 million lottery ticket they'd be a great deal more careful who put their hands on it. The shame of it is, their heart is infinitely more valuable than that lottery ticket. If only some people lived in that truth instead of the lies the world tells them.


 

broken {hinge}

Have you ever seen a door - of any kind - with a broken hinge? With more than one broken hinge? Car doors, front doors, patio doors, French doors, cabinets, cupboards, refrigerators, freezers, garage doors, take your pick. Until that hinge is repaired, it just doesn't work correctly does it? The door swings back and forth, sure. But us it secure? Is it keeping it's contents safe? Is it protecting what's behind it from the elements, whatever they might be, from weather to toddlers?

What if what was behind the door was priceless, and one singular door-opening event caused a hinge to break, leading to a cascading series of events that caused tremendous damage time and time again to the priceless contents? What if the haphazard swinging on that broken hinge was just accepted, resigning the door to a fate of disrepair, destined to be a shoddy sentinel of the precious treasure it is nevertheless responsible for guarding?

What if that door was on our heart, and the treasure is our joy, hope, and love? What if we were brave enough to prayerfully seek out the event (or events, if you're like me!) that broke us, caused us to trade the truth in for a lie, and ultimately led us down a painful path of poor choices and self-loathing? What if when we found it, we gave it to Jesus to repair, restore, and redeem? What would that look like? What would WE look like? To ourselves, and to the world?

To be continued....

Daring to dream big by starting small

My divorce papers were mailed out yesterday.

For someone who never intended to be divorced once, I must confess that twice has broken something deep within me. I've been sad before, and I've experienced heartache and grief and loss. But this time, my heart shatters because God's heart is breaking too. That being said, I may not be where I intended to go, but I think I've ended up where I needed to be. God has been so faithful to provide for my every need, and the peace I have in Jesus sustains me and fills me with joy.

I'm in counseling with my church and have surrounded myself with positive people I can be transparent and completely myself with as I try to figure out the finer details of who that really is. For the last ten years I consumed myself with being what everyone else expected, doing what they expected of me, never asking myself what I really wanted. Or at least I was too scared to listen to myself, which again, in the spirit of transparency is probably closer to the truth.

My mother would disagree with my choice to share that I am in counseling but let's be honest - we could all use a little therapy now and then. Depression sucks and in the words of Reba, "the world doesn't stop for my broken heart." It keeps turning and my responsibilities don't take breaks. It has been so beneficial for me to have a safe place to face some of the unhealed hurts that have been the impetus behind so many poor decisions. I am thankful daily for the grace that saved me, and for my Savior's unconditional love. I'm learning how to live in freedom of His grace. I'm far from perfect, but I'm also learning that it's okay - I have a perfect God. So if sharing my journey makes some people judge me or choose to treat me differently, God's in control and I'm not worried because if even just one person is encouraged in their journey with depression and anxiety and surrenders themselves to Jesus to find healing and hope, it is worth it.

My most important lesson at the beginning of my journey was to get rid of the ridiculously high expectations I had for myself and others and set expectations more on line with my reality. A year later, I'm here to tell you I have been less stressed, less disappointed, and have felt more peaceful in my spirit. I actually laugh more as a result of more realistic expectations because it allows me to see the humor in the situation when things don't go my way. Who would've thought?

So today a dear friend helped me get to a place of acceptance in something tremendous. She knows the fear I've had of never being enough in just about any endeavor (motherhood, career, relationships), and how many tears I've cried over the past couple of years. This afternoon she bluntly asked as I was rambling about life's latest adventures balancing motherhood, my last year of nursing school, and living in a three-generation home: "well who is taking care of you while you take care of everyone else trying to be 'enough' for them? What about someone being 'enough' for you?" This kind of honesty is a key feature in all of my friendships! We figure if the truth hurts, then you definitely needed to hear it. And wow, I needed that truth today!

She helped me take ownership of my right to dream big and not settle. At the moment, there are so many great things on my horizon with graduation looming, and I have the right to happiness and dreams fulfilled. Something quite unexpected has fallen into my lap recently, and while I haven't the faintest idea where it will go, I'm allowing myself to take hold of dreams I had previously come to terms with never coming to fruition. I am allowing myself this one little thing to pray for each day, taking deep breaths and baby steps, and not suffocating my own hope out of fear of disappointment. This small thing may indeed never lead to something big. . .but then, what if it does? No matter what, I will laugh (It's what I do best) and not let go of dreaming big ever again. It's an absolutely delicious feeling.

{salt}

I recently discovered Pinterest. Yeah, like I needed another online distraction. However, I have found some really fantastic things on there. I've been motivated, inspired, and encouraged by an amazing array of pictures, quotes, and projects. My favorite so far, though, is a painting of the ocean with the quote: 

"The cure for anything is salt water.....sweat, tears, or the sea." 

I have it saved as the background on my laptop, and it reminds me that suffering is a cleansing process that includes peace and rest. Studies have been made of tears and sweat and it has been published that there are toxins in our sweat and tears. And because our body water is slightly salty in chemical composition, when we sweat and cry, the fluid is salty to the taste. We all know, too that the ocean is salty and that swimming in the ocean is much better on our bodies than swimming in chlorinated and heavily chemical-laden swimming pools - hence the birth of the salt water swimming pool. The calming effects of the ocean have been widely acclaimed and millions of dollars have been made and spent on sound machines to help us land-locked folk reap the stress-relieving benefits of its rhythmic pounding surf. 

I personally find my spirit a little restless when I have been away from the ocean for extended periods without vacation time. There is just something that stills my spirit when I sit in soft sand and watch the sun rise or set, with the soothing music of the waves breaking and crashing, then softly rolling up onto the shore. It is a very dynamic illustration of the ever-changing world we live in. Nothing comes to stay. It only comes to pass. The sun rises and sets independent of my feelings and needs. Watching the earth go about its business sitting on a beach, where one part of the earth meets another in a timeless repetition of what God set in motion at Creation, encourages me when my heart is feeling hopeless. I'm reminded that nothing stands still. Waters ebb. Darkness fades. It teaches me how to be wise and watch my step when things threaten to hurt my feet or knock me down, and how to batten down the hatches and ride the storm out. Goodness, I could go on and on with illustrations, but I will stop here. You get the idea. :-)

I am doing a verse by verse study of 1 Peter currently, on a personal journey to understand God's purpose for seasons of suffering. Romans 8:28 teaches me that God doesn't waste my tears. I'm learning in 1 Peter that my tears (and sweat, too!) of suffering refine my faith, and that I should rejoice and be thankful for these sufferings because of the work they allow the Holy Spirit to do within me. Since 2007, I have cried and sweat gallons of salt water over changes and challenges in my son's and my life surviving as a single parent, improving my own health, and throughout my calling to go to nursing school and get my RN. The closer I get to God, the easier I find it is to rejoice and remain joyful and at peace, even in the darkest hours. Its when I am not intentionally and strategically putting myself in His presence through prayer, reading/memorizing God's word, and not having the blessing and encourage of godly fellowship with other believers do I find myself feeling the waves of depression threatening to overtake me again. 

The bible tells me that as a believer and disciple of Christ, I am the salt of the earth. So it follows in light of Romans 8:28 (and many other verses of encouragement and exhortation) that the Lord uses tears and sweat during times of prayerful desperation or exaltation to salt the earth for His glory, never my own. What a glorious thing to think on! Let that simmer for a minute. . . .God chooses humanity - ALL of humanity - at Calvary to be His children, not because ALL of humanity FOREVER has done anything to deserve it, but because HE LOVES US. His choice had nothing to do with my choice to surrender myself to Jesus my senior year of high school. God knew at Calvary what a mess I am. How broken I am. How stubborn and prideful I can be. But He loves me anyway, and if I make myself available, will use me as a part of His purpose and plan to draw humanity closer to Him. The fact that I know what a mess I am, and God knows me better than I do, humbles me beyond description when I think about Him using me to encourage and uplift and exhort another. But that's what He does. I have seen it not only in my life, but in others' lives too. Somewhere, at some point, the Lord will bring someone who needs a slice of Victoria's experience in how Jesus led her through something so that they can get through it too. Its not about me telling them what I did, what my efforts or talents managed to do for me, but what my surrender to Jesus did and what Jesus did through me. 

Lord, let me not lose my saltiness. Yes, that means my sweat of discipline and tears of suffering may never really stop, only ebb temporarily, but I'm okay with that. Why? Because I've been blessed abundantly with disciples of Christ that shared with me a slice of their salty experiences and that encouraged me and helped me surrender to You, Father. Thank you for seasons of suffering. Thank you for challenges that drive me to my knees, praying in desperation for Your provision. I praise You for the provision You have given me and my little family, showing the world - the lost and the found alike - how powerful and loving You truly are. Lord, whatever Your plan is, wherever that takes us, I offer my life as a living sacrifice to You. I give You all my plans for myself; I lay my expectations of life, my ideas of perfection and success, at Your feet, and nail my self-driven dreams to the Cross. Father, protect my little family during times of persecution for following You. By the blood of Christ, I cover my family from all Satan's attempts to steal, kill, and destroy. I proclaim peace over my family, and intentionally devote my heart to focus on the living hope of abundant life in Christ. I confess my fear, anger, pride, bitterness, and laziness and pray for strength and boldness to fulfill the Great Commission in all areas of my life - my relationships, my health, my finances, and my spiritual disciplines. Lord, I can't do it on my own, but You can through me. I pray for eyes and a heart more like His today than yesterday. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

At my kitchen table

I have this farmhouse-style table I was handed down from my brother. It has white legs and a butcher-block top. I absolutely adore it. Because it has seen so much, the surface is worn and gouged in places. There are nicks in the legs and I'm missing two of the six chairs. However, all these things only add to it's charm: it has weathered three families (that I know of) and half a dozen or so relocations and the marks it's life has left behind are a testimony to it's strength and resiliency.

Presently, my table is at a friend's house. While we were forced to sell all our furniture except my son's when we moved into my mother's house due to lack of storage, somehow we managed to hold on to my table and a cabinet.

I read Hebrews 13:1-8 yesterday and verse 2 is sticking with me: "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it."

I'm learning how to broaden my perception of serving and loving like Jesus by shaking off the misconception that modern conveniences like cars and cell phones are now a necessity to serve in the name of Jesus. And now, that list includes my kitchen table.

It's just a piece of furniture. It's not supernaturally blessed by the Holy Spirit to bestow peace in hearts by osmosis when someone sits at my table, props their arms on it to hold up the hands that are mug-hugging the cup of hot coffee, or when someone lays their head in their hands to sprinkle it's worn surface with tears of fear or frustration. Nope, it can do nothing. It doesn't have a heart or a soul sold-out to Jesus. It doesn't have arms or hands or a mouth. Yet I do have those things.....and I have my Jesus.

Has it been awhile since you were listened to? I mean really listened to? Come to my table....in my heart. Sit down. Relax. Listen to the coffee maker and smell the aroma of hot coffee beans. There's a bowl of apples on the table - they are cold because I just took them out of the fridge. But next to them, you see a small dish of Hershey's Kisses and maybe that sounds better to you....

We make small talk as I fill the small tray of coffee fixin's, and your eyes are focused somewhere in front of you, seeing but not seeing, and whispers on your heart battle for air-time like a tug-of-war between letting it all out or keeping it all inside. You see bible scriptures on the wall and those whispers find a new victim: belief in the truth of God's unconditional love. Maybe tears threaten your resolve then. Or maybe they do when you suddenly smell the pot roast in my slow-cooker as I lift the lid to check on it - it reminds you of your grandmother....Maybe what does you in is the box of tissues that is on the coffee tray I place on the table because it is an loving invitation to let go. Or maybe you manage to hold on a little longer and the dark whispers try to keep you in the dark by choosing the black coffee mug in a defiant gesture against the hope you're afraid to put faith into. Maybe it almost works and the tears are finally tucked and locked away....until you read the etching on the mug...it is Psalm 25....."guide me on your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long." Maybe that's when the tears begin to fall and you finally hear a kind voice say, "I can see you are hurting. What would you like to share about it?"

You feel safe at my kitchen table. Accepted. And loved. But it's not really a table, or coffee. It's not the chocolate or the pot roast. It's not even scriptures on the wall or on the coffee mug, and it most certainly isn't me. It's Jesus. It's the way He weaves faces and places together to love on people, give them hope, and free them from chains and shackles of heartache and pain.

Jesus can use anyone, anywhere, anytime. He doesn't require graduate school or country club memberships or six-figure salaries. All Jesus requires is a humble and obedient heart. He takes care of the rest.

So while my beloved kitchen table is not in my possession and I'm not in my own home to entertain freely, my heart is still my own. Lord, forgive me for my excuses. I shall open the doors of hospitality to my heart, and allow you to orchestrate circumstances to bring people to it that I may be a vessel of verbal hospitality where my physical circumstances limit me. Give me words of hope and love to speak, all for Your glory. Amen.

this caged bird is {SINGING}

Not having a car has some challenges in modern-day United States suburbia. Not many cities outside New England are very pedestrian-friendly or have adequate mass transit. It has been interesting and inspiring to see how creative God is in getting our needs met without a car of our own. I can't drive anyone's car in my family due to not being on their insurance, and no one really has the money to add me to their policy, so I don't even borrow a car. I've been 100% dependent on someone else to get to school, clinical rotations, the grocery store, or social and church activities. Let me tell you, this made for an interesting perspective on Thursday, my 30th birthday. 

I haven't been this dependent on another person since I was 15. Where a lack of a personal vehicle has hit me the hardest is not being able to go and visit with people that need a friendly face and some encouragement. There are 5 people that I have not been able to visit and it really bugs me. I also have had difficulties getting to church, and the ripple effect of that is vulnerable hearts and minds to Satan's attacks on our joy. What I have learned though, is that God doesn't change His mind. He gave me a spiritual gift with my powers of speaking and encouraging others. Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I'm silenced. Just because I can't fly doesn't mean I can't sing. 

I have learned so much about accepting the soil the Lord planted you in as what is BEST for you at the moment - despite whatever expectations you might have for yourself of what is "best" for you. If it was best for me to have a vehicle right now, by golly I would have one. God's BEST for me right now is to be dependent on Him and learn how to encourage others without using not having a car as an excuse to not doing anything. 

This experience has made me examine myself further and deeper as well. What else have I used as an excuse? My mistakes? My sins? My guilt? My fears? What other barriers have I placed in my own way of being obedient to the Lord's call? Have there been other ways in which I have put myself far outside God's will because I have forgotten I am a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17 ) and allowed the world's definitions of "useful" distort God's? God uses broken vessels all the time. Why? Because we are humble and dependent upon Him when we feel completely inadequate to the task He has laid before us. Otherwise, we'd prance around proud as peacocks proclaiming our own works instead of His. 

This mini-mester was difficult. I was uncomfortable in the clinical environment because I felt like I had to imprison the disciple of Christ that I am and conform to something I'm not. I initially did not find my fellow students enjoyable to work with, and the rest of class made me feel excluded and unwanted. I had to pray everyday (sometimes several times an hour) for God's eyes for the current situation, and for something, ANYTHING, to keep me encouraged and motivated to learn. Only by His grace and mercy am I able to report that I have not just jumped over the hurdle that felled me this spring, but I've done it with flying colors: I made an A on the final exam, and received an A for the final grade in mental health nursing. I made some new friends after it was all said and done, and while it feels surreal still that I am officially moving past the second semester courses, I give all the praise and glory for this achievement to my Jesus. There isn't a moment that I wasn't in some way leaning completely on Him and it was His strength working through me that I was able to do all I needed to do to meet the demands of my classes and still have something worthwhile left over to give to my husband and son. 

Our God is mighty to save! He is indescribably amazing in His power to help you overcome whatever mountain you are having to climb, valley you are having to crawl through, or storm you are having to weather. I can't tell you how freeing it has been to let go of my pride and fear and say time and time again, "Okay, Jesus. My family and friends are gonna think I'm nuts, and I'm scared to death but I'm facing that fear and squishing my pride and asking you to help me with _____." It has been freeing because all it took was one time for me to "let go and let God" and see Him do something powerful and impossible by human standards for me to keep turning to my Heavenly Father in faith. Each time I do let go and turn to Him, my faith gets stronger and stronger and waivers less and less like a ship on the sea being tossed about by waves of doubt ( James 1:6 ). My experiences give me boldness to pray and humbly proclaim His greatness, and also peace in my heart that somehow God will provide. My faith in Jesus is all that is necessary.  

So, I sing. I sing with joy. I sing because I am free. I sing because my Jesus doesn't have material prerequisites of this world for me to serve Him. All He requires is my faith. I sing because I am dearly loved. I sing with love. Yes. Oh, yes. Even without a car, I sing.

making {changes} 9/15/11

So I'm officially almost half-way through the semester. In two weeks, my psychosocial nursing class will be over! I can hardly believe how the time has flown. We are still getting settled, and in fact, we are still moving things in. This weekend should be the last of it, but due to a number of factors, we haven't had the time or the manpower to get it done any sooner. I'm usually very efficient at moving, so this relocation has been a great source of anxiety for me since I was unable to do much to help since I have been buried in schoolwork. I will sleep much easier once its all finished. 

We have had to make a number of changes in response to our relocation, but the biggest ripple to contend with now is lack of transportation. Our only car broke down on the 10th and we had to sell it since we were unable to afford to make the necessary repair work. We prayed through the decision, and the next morning listed my car on Craigslist and released it to the Lord, praying for His will, not ours. If the car didn't sell, we'd fall back and collect ourselves and pray through the next step. Well, it sold. FAST. In less than 15 minutes in fact. 

When my car broke down, my husband was immediately frazzled. I laughed. Not out of some bizarre coping mechanism attempt, but because I was truly amused. It was this time in the semester this spring when my car broke down and I had to drop psych nursing. Not gonna happen again. Praise the Lord, a dear friend in the program recently moved closer to me and he quickly offered to pick me up for carpooling, AND my clinical assignment is two miles from my house so my dad can pick me up and drop me off. However, in the moment, I wasn't thinking about any of that. I laughed at Satan's attempt to destroy my peace and joy because I trust my God that much. God will provide all we need; He knows better than we do what we need anyway. I knew I had nothing to fear - I was in my Father's loving hands. 

I have absolutely no idea what God's purpose is for this season of my life. I haven't a clue what kind of nursing I want to work in. My Heavenly Father has tenderly and lovingly broken me of my arrogance and pride; it isn't for me to decide what is best for anyone or anything. Including myself. It is up to me to be humble and obedient. It is up to me to stay close to my Father through prayer and reading His word. And what I find when I actually do that is how amazingly at peace I feel with whatever my circumstances are. 

a time for everything

And everything in its time. . . 

Sometimes we outgrow the soil God plants us in, and He must transplant us into other soil better suited for our growth. A dear friend shared that with me recently.

Since my last post, a great deal has occurred in the geographical sphere of my life. Due to many contributing factors, we have to move and relocate back into my parents' home.

I was grieving the path my family's life was turning towards, refusing to admit that it could have anything beneficial in store for my family. She became a valiant, humble, and faithful prayer warrior for me, covering my marriage, motherhood, and academic responsibilities in prayers for wisdom, discernment, and encouragement no matter what God's will has in store. When the fullness of this illustration hit me (which I confess was not the same day she sent it to me, but in fact came a full 48 hours, one argument with my husband, and a full-fledged southern-girl crying fit later), my tender Heavenly Father brought me to this Psalm: 

"He brought me out into a spacious place;
   he rescued me because he delighted in me."  ~~ Psalm 18:19 

I do not get to determine what is "spacious" for me. It is arrogant to assume that we know better than God what spacious soil is for us, or even if we ourselves are fertile soil to His Word. The Creator of all there was, and is, and yet to come determines all of that. The illustration my friend sent me has caused me to recall the many years I've watched my mother spend tending her garden. Countless hours she toiled over dirt and seeds and little green sprouts, tirelessly coaching them through the stages of growth in preparation for their season of bloom and harvest. The seedlings were certainly safe in the confines of her little patio greenhouse, in the little boxes in which she planted them, where the scorching sun couldn't burn them or relentless rain drown them. However, no matter how safe, no matter desirable the conditions were, they needed the very things that could kill them because most of all, they needed room to grow. They weren't meant for safe, little plastic trays. They were meant for spacious places to take root so they could grow, flourish, and bear fruit.

 

I've watched her transplant her little green sprouts into gradually larger containers, thinning out clusters of the little things so they could thrive and not strangle each other. Some plants survived the transplantation and thinning out process - our respective tomato gardens are a living illustration! Many cherry tomato plants this spring survived the transplanting down at my house. Not many of hers survived. Bowlfuls of tomatoes compared to the half-dozen or less hers has produced. We have laughed at the difference a little dirt can make.

My life this year has been a transplanting process. I've been brought out of safety, transplanted into different soil to grow, and now its time to be transplanted again - back into the very soil my loving Heavenly Father uprooted me from. It's painful. My Creator and faithful Gardener has thinned out my life, removing the things and people that strangle my joy and peace with pride, greed, and fake Christianity to reveal exactly what soil conditions are required for my growth so that my life - not my own efforts or my words - bear fruit for the Lord Jesus. 

I have learned how to abide in the arms of my Savior Jesus when the sun threatens to burn me alive, the cold threatens to stop my heart, and the rain threatens to fill my lungs and drown me in misery. I've learned how to breathe Him in when I can't breathe for myself. I've learned how to pray for His heart when my flesh screams to be heard and put someone in their place. I've learned how to serve and love the very people that have shattered my heart over and over again. I've learned how to line up my expectations with my reality so I can serve and love people unburdened by crushing disappointment. 

The most beautiful thing I have acquired though isn't wisdom, discernment, or Biblical history t. It isn't the knowledge my collegiate transcript testifies to, or the battles I have fought and won with my health. It isn't "surviving singleness" and finally getting married. I have been journaling many years now, and for approximately the last year or so my closing prayers include a petition: a heart more like Jesus tomorrow than today. Little did I know what was growing inside me. . .

While I could spend hours sharing my experiences of God's provision, what brings me to tears is the opportunities I've had to share how I have managed to stay afloat amidst numerous emotional trials in my relationships with people: a heart like Jesus. Only the One that died for me is able to come into my heart, heal all the wounds, and love people despite the mountains of reasons not to. Only, only, only Jesus. The little seed my prayers planted inside of me has grown and caused me to have to be transplanted time and time again. And now that I'm aware of what has enabled me to endure and love anyway is His love inside me, it now follows that it is time to be transplanted again so I don't overgrow my little pot and suffocate in complacency and comfort. I have to be planted in a spacious place, in specific place, to grow and glorify my Lord and Savior. 

Someday my growth process may not be so visual. Someday my husband will have a home of our own, and "transplantation" will not include cardboard boxes and packing tape. Until then, I have finished fighting, resisting, and crying like I've been doing. Fighting what is necessary is frustrating and futile. It's like standing on an escalator and refusing to look at the disappearing steps approaching. It robs me of peace. And I want peace, I need peace like I need oxygen. I need my Jesus. 

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. 

~~Philippians 4:11-13

being still

My husband has been busy these past few days with employment opportunities. Suddenly the landscape of available jobs is no longer sparse and dry, but showing signs of lushness and life. He had an interview yesterday, and is following up on three establishments today which he had called yesterday. It's been so hard for him this year going on interview after interview. We've been praying for God's best, however. And His best isn't just laying around, easy to come by. God's best is special. Set apart. If finding His best were easy, we wouldn't need Him because we could find it on our own. Finding things on our own, through independent endeavors and striving in our own strength, is opposite of the relationship our Heavenly Father desires to have with us.

The New International Version of the Holy Bible is the most published version of the Bible in the world. Most everyone has seen the first line of Psalm 46:10 on hospital walls, email signatures, or Facebook posts. It says "Be still and know that I am God." Stillness is the physical act of not moving. An online dictionary gives the following definitions:

1. remaining in place or at rest; motionless; stationary: to stand still.

2. free from sound or noise, as a place or persons; silent: to keep still about a matter.

3. subdued or low in sound; hushed: a still, small voice.

 

I've often quoted Psalm 46:10 in my head when I catch myself in all my Type-A-single-mom-psychosis-control-freak glory, tirelessly trying to manipulate my circumstances to get something accomplished. I then move myself to my knees, tirelessly praying, my mind and spirit all aflurry. There is absolutely nothing wrong with praying frustrations out. Yet what I was doing was turning my physical striving outside-in, and internalizing all that activity. I had the appearance of stillness, but on the inside, I was striving nonetheless.

Yesterday hubbz and I were trying hard not to let Satan enslave our minds and hearts with discouragement. Our conversation led us to recalling the image of Jesus walking on the water in the storm, reaching out to Peter to join him. Instead of sinking in the world's sea of worry and doubt, we chose to stare our Savior's feet, where the water still beneath Him, and keep our gaze where He is, not on the tumultuous waves around us. No matter how crazy it seems. No matter how zealously evil tries to sell us fear and anxiety about our finances, even through well-intentioned friends and family. Jesus asked Peter for blind faith. The faith Peter showed by stepping out of the boat would never have been manifested if the waters were calmer. Faith in the storm lays a firm foundation in our memory so when future storms arise, we can recall His love, faithfulness, strength, and provision. Without faith like Peter exemplified in His first step out of the boat and the focus he kept on his Savior, we will inevitably sink like he did in the waters of turmoil beneath our feet.  (see Matthew 14:22-33 )

I love the New American Standard Bible. A dear friend in my womens' Lifegroup (i.e. Sunday School class) described the feeling it gave me perfectly: "It sings to you." Indeed it does. The NASB version of Psalm 46:10 gives a vibrant picture of God's call to our hearts.

"Cease striving and know that I am God"

Ceasing to strive calls my spirit to be still. How often have we sat in a room of crowded people still and silent, but were actually screaming on the inside? Oh, how I've been there. . .

In less than 30 days, our financial position will be considerably less precarious due to my financial aid refund from my university. I've been in this position before, too. In January of this year, I found myself in the midst of a storm trying not to take my eyes off Jesus and sink in the waters below me that were thirsting for my defeat, with a mere 30 days between where I stood and relief from the burdens I carried. All Jesus wanted me to do then was give my burdens to Him. I did then out of survival and the Lord took care of me and the yoke of Christ was indeed a much lighter load to bear. So now, hubbz and I find it easier to cast our cares upon Him (1 Peter 5:7 and Psalm 55:22 ), decide to be still in our efforts, and choose to cease striving in our spirits. It makes no sense to the world and the people we know that don't know Jesus. In fact, it drives them crazy with speculation and judgement. Quite honestly, we don't really care what they think. As long as our Father in Heaven is honored, we have little use for worldly views of success and failure. Our family of believers hug us and pray for us and give us priceless words of encouragement and affirmation, while we all watch God rain down manna from the heavens and meet our every need. All His love and the love He sends through His other children in Christ make it so easy to be at peace and still before Him inside and out.

Thank you Father, for your Son. Being still in this storm would be impossible without Him. Amen.

I could sing of Your {love} forever!

God answers prayers folks. Maybe not the way you imagined He would. Definitely not always the way you ask Him to, but oh yes. He answers them. 

Yesterday I needed encouragement. He sent it in the form of my friend Ed from school. Little did I know, but while I was tapping my frustrations out on here my beloved husband was chatting with Ed and made dinner plans for that evening. I was hot, tired, and emotionally bankrupt. However, I went along with it because my good manners wouldn't allow me to cancel. 

The evening turned out to be exactly what I needed. Ed walked in the door with two cheesecakes (exponentially therapeutic in and of themselves!) and enough words of encouragement and affirmation to not only get me through the next 30 days until my student loan refund, but to get my attention focused higher than my circumstances. My husband and Ed laughed and traded stories and uplifted my spirits. By the time hubbz and I waved goodbye to our friend, I felt a renewed sense of dedication to my education. 

Today we got to spend the day with some dear friends. They are very musical, and perform every Sunday at church. I mentioned to my friend that I wanted to learn how to play guitar this fall and BAM! I remembered her hubbz plays guitar! He agreed to teach me this fall, and when he joined us later, he brought his guitar and taught me my first chord (D major). While the kiddos played he was walking around strumming, and they sang a couple of worship songs. One of them is called, "I Could Sing of Your Love Forever." Listening to my friend's voice lilt and swing with her husband's guitar in harmony and worship was an audible illustration of my thankful heart. 

 For now, this is the path that I know I'm supposed to be on, and these are definitely the people my family and I are supposed to be surrounded by. After graduation? Who knows. Until then, Lord I will sing of your love. Thank You for answering my prayer with such precious people. I'm so very, very blessed.

{refocus}

I've been feeling lately like I've been looking at my life through something hazy, something that is obscuring the panorama before me. The landscape of my life has changed. I'm no longer a single parent; I have a wonderful husband to share my life with now. The first false truth I debunked going from single to married was that being married was most assuredly not easier. It's just different. I truly expected it to be easier. Not that marriage isn't beautiful, that having a love that has no ceiling to keep it from growing into the stratosphere and beyond is without a doubt breathtaking, but is not easier. The whole "two is better than one" thing has responsibilities. So does being single and parent to boot. I could go on, but I would digress too far into a topic miles away from where I'm headed today.

Being a wife now changes my prayers dramatically. It changes everything. The hopes and dreams I had as a single parent were born from a heart that dared not include a husband. An entire life I built in my head without any room for a husband, as it turns out. Now, not only has the landscape changed before me, but so has the light shining down upon. I can't get a clear view of anything. I find myself squinting and squeezing the eyes of my heart tightly only reopen them to find the same fuzzy, mottled scene before me. 

I confess I'm no longer at peace with the road I'm on, that the direction my life was taking before marriage is the right path for me to be on. Not that I don't love what I'm doing, but I'm mature enough in my faith to know that just because a person loves what they are doing doesn't necessarily mean that it has the Lord's stamp of approval. I can't help but wonder if all the struggling we're going through is the result of forcing our square dreams into God's round hole of His will. . .

After sharing my feelings with hubbz (translation: I southern-girl-snotted for about 15 minutes on his shoulder), and given the current circumstances we are faced with in our life right now, we are dedicating our prayer life to revelation of God's will for our marriage and family. No matter what that means, or what road it takes us down. We know God is walking before us and behind us. All He asks is that we trust the water He's walking on, no matter how torrential the storm is around Him. And I do. And we will. I just need to refocus. Not horizontally. . .but vertically.

Moody blues :o)

One of my many projects I've been working on this summer in my home has been my bookshelves. Here is a "before" picture. . .it's the only one I have in our house, from a fun night we had when the power went out in a rain storm. :-)

These shelves are solid pine, and painted black. I bought them at my local Garden Ridge. I also have the matching coffee table and TV stand - both purchased black. I was in a very modern-monochromatic phase in my early twenties. I've hated them for years now, but never felt motivated to do anything about them. The only reason I hung onto them is because they were solid wood. However, in our home, the visual effect of black shelving was dark and depressing. We decided to incorporate our love for the beach and the ocean into our home, weaving its hues and mood-soothing elements beginning with the shelves. 

Thomas' dad gave us some blue paint to paint his room - three different shades of blue from Sherwin Williams. I fell in love with one blue (its label said Blue Hat) and painted the small shelf and finished our "PRAY" sign above our prayer wall, and one black laminate shelf/drawer combo. We then brought the sign to the Sherwin Williams store to match it to a deeper blue in the same color. Mr. Sherwin Williams guy was fantastic and zoomed in lighting fast and found it and we purchased the little $5 sample jar. I fairly bounced back to my car!

It took almost two weeks to finish the shelves between playdates, errands, and preparing for my mother's GI surgery this past week. I finally got the last coat painted on the tall shelf in my new deeper blue yesterday morning. In the before picture, you can see the ridiculous textbook collection on the tall shelf. I decided that since I was homeschooling Thomas this year, we needed to have a more central location for all things educational - the only room left is the dining room, where I usually end up spreading out with my nursing school stuff. 

My #1 goal in my home is to create a soothing environment for my busy family and a welcoming place for friends and extended family to relax. A refuge for the senses and a delightful place to fellowship and make memories. To achieve this, de-cluttering and grouping like things together is key so the brain doesn't have to work to make sense of it all - it can just soak it in and focus on what matters most: the people and relationships. 

Here is my finished product: Ta-da!!! I will edit post to include pictures of the other two shelves, so stay tuned!

Nursing school books have been relocated to the dining room where they will be placed in low, shelf/bench (I'm thinking EXPEDIT from Ikea). I have a ridiculous shell collection, which with a dear friend's help, was pulled out of my bedroom and repurposed for living room decor. I also found a fun little fish-shaped glass plate at my favorite Salvation Army store and arranged some smaller shells on, which can easily be relocated if small children visit. (I've since moved the lamp cord so it is less visible)

I ditched a dark, espresso stained desk I had in my dining room because it wasn't deep enough. It had turned into a clutter catch all, so I sold it on Craigslist. I then moved a Freecycle desk I painted white from the living room (I was using it as a sewing table) into the dining room in a corner. Dining room pictures coming soon. . .but the effect in both rooms is breathtaking to me! Lighter, brighter, and more spacious! Hubbz and I spent the evening watching a movie and marveling at how much more relaxing it made us feel to have the shelves completed and the clutter gone. aaaaahhhhhh. . . .

while I'm waiting...

Mom is at the hospital, and just getting out of surgery. My husband and I decided to stay the night at their house and take care of their dogs since Dad will be with her overnight. While I don't necessarily mind, its easier to stay occupied since my house is a disaster area right now. We are rearranging some furniture and painting bookshelves so right now there are piles of stuff EVERYWHERE on the floor. My husband is ready to just throw it all in a closet, but alas, his love for me outweighs the temptation. Or so I keep telling myself. . .he was making faces at the dining room this morning. Hmmmm. . .

Truth is, while most of our activity occurs 12 or so miles north of where we live, I'd much rather be there. Oh, well. While I wait to go home, I will make the best of it. There's plenty to distract me from looking at the clock, like text my friend and see if she's ready for us to come over. :-)

technologically impaired

Wow, it has been FOREVER since I've been here. . .my laptop cord needed to be repaired, so I've been without extended computer access. It was very difficult at first, but God kept me busy. I've been spending my summer so far with my teenage in-laws and my girlfriends and their kids on regular rotation. My backdoor has been a revolving door of activity of little feet and swimming gear and hungry adolescent tummies. There have been movie nights, campfires with S'mores, pancake breakfasts, and sleepovers. While there have been days where we had to stay home due to an empty gas tank, once we settled into the day at home it was a wonderful relief to not have to drive anywhere (especially since my car has no A/C since the wreck this spring). My only complaint is that I always seem to be one or two seats short for whatever adventure we are taking next. I find myself looking longingly at minivans instead of trucks. . .

Its been challenging, too. Mostly because I've had to adjust to all the free time. About a week ago, sleeping in and low productivity got on my nerves. So, I'm back to 8pm bedtimes and 5am mornings. Its felt more like me than I've felt in awhile. A year ago, I was in the best shape of my life - due to hard work and discipline. Yeah, my old friend "discipline." She's been on the shelf too long. I've had to dust off "discipline" and reintroduce myself to her. I'm still me, but some things have changed. Every morning, a fresh list gets written on the chalkboard in my kitchen - 5 things or less. Its a slow start, but its making a difference. Jesus is helping me everyday remember who I am in Him. Though I get restless without my classes, its not too long before blessings in the shape of family and friends remind me of how special this summer break really is, and how very much I needed it.

Well, tonight is karate for T-man at church, so I'd better get a move on. Hope your summer nest has been as blessed as ours. : -)

Finally summer

Aaaaah. It's finally summer!

I'm on a mission to make over my house on the inside. I have jars and jars of seashells and its my intention to spread them all over the house and fool my senses into thinking we're at the beach. . .as long as we don't look out the windows. :-) I have a palette of blue paint I'm going to use to repaint my black bookshelves, and huge piece of blue fabric I'm going to sew into more valances for the living room and dining room. It's going to be delightful!

Today was my son's end-of-the-year party at school. Kind of bittersweet. But I must confess, I'm very much looking forward to a break from the commute to his school. It was a wonderful party, and we had tons of fun! I have a very tired little boy who has been napping for about 2 hours now. He drank about 3 cups of water before he finally zonked out. The rest of us are relaxing under the ceiling fan watching Chronicles of Narnia, sipping peach sweet iced tea. *sigh* I do love summer....

A week of Wacky Wednesdays and a confession

I've had about a week of Wacky Wednesdays and its been truly beautiful. Jesus sent my family angels last week, and we've been very busy! Prayers have been answered all around me and my family in our little part of the universe, and we've been humbly and joyfully trying to keep up and praise God all along the way. More on my angels later. This morning, my spirit is on fire and I just have to get it all out before the fire dwindles inside of me from the trappings of the earthly responsibilities I am tied to no longer wait for my attention. 

I must begin with a confession. Earlier this year I stepped into the world of clinical depression after spending an entire Thursday night sobbing into the early hours of morning and walking into class the next day to a failing grade on an exam. That day I had the first panic attack I have had in almost a decade as I walked myself across campus to one of my most beloved professors and fell to pieces in her office. I knew what she would tell me but I needed to hear it: Its time to get help. So I did. 

The next few weeks were excruciating. I had to dig the semester out of the dumpster my depression had put it in academically, while digging open wounds too long neglected in the darkest caverns of my soul and getting used to the medications I was prescribed to manage the crippling anxiety attacks and crying jags. By the time the second half of the semester began, I was just beginning to feel like I was keeping my head above water and could breathe a little easier. However, a new class was beginning - Psychosocial Nursing. I was actually looking forward to this class because of my psychology background and the new dimension of the human condition the nursing perspective would bring. However, my first week of clinical rotations left me feeling very vulnerable. 

I could see the pain in the people's eyes vividly. Years of heartache and suffering showing lifetimes upon lifetimes on their faces and bodies, making them appear eons older than they really were. My heart bled for them as they shared the stories of their battles with addiction. Jesus showed me time and time again the frailty of the human soul. One of the counselors put it very clearly: Each one of us is one phone call, one event away from any one of these people. No one is immune. Pain can do this to anyone. 

I was assigned to the adolescent unit my first week. While my own battle with depression made me feel totally inadequate in any therapeutic role, with them I felt a little more confident in my abilities. At least I had some life experience behind me I could share with them, some wisdom I could offer from my own mistakes in addition to my textbook knowledge. 

I had a couple of amazing "God appointments" before I had to drop the class, but one young man stands out because of the wisdom he imparted to me that finally came to full recognition today. I will call him Carl. 

Carl is a 17 year old young man who has been in and out of the adolescent unit several times for suicide attempts. Carl is a cutter. He feels such immense amounts of pain he is unable and incapable of expressing verbally. Instead, he uses knives, razor blades, and the like to cut his own flesh to physically relieve the pain he feels on the inside. Carl is incredibly intelligent, well-spoken, and very well-read. You can see he has been gifted with creativity in his books, music, and clothing. I'm told each time he as come to the facility, he looks different - his hair, style of clothing, etc. Carl struggles with his identity, and feels misunderstood by all who surround him. 

My last day of clinical he made a powerful statement in group. "I wish people would realize that cutting is an addiction."

This morning, a cannon went off inside of me after reading the story behind a non-profit organization I found about a month ago. Read it here . I had read 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, which speaks of love being the center of all that we do, otherwise all our efforts mean nothing. They amount to nothing. Love is always the answer. 

Addiction sucks. I battled addiction to cigarettes, using them to "relax" me when I was upset. I still battle when things get tough. Its hard to pass the gas station on days when it seems Satan is throwing everything he's got at me and my joy. But my God is faithful. His love exemplified on the Cross is evidence of His unconditional love. My redemption through Jesus Christ is, too. 

I confess love has not always been at the center of my efforts. Lord, please forgive me of my self-love. Father, I love You. Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to write Jesus' love on the arms of the broken, bleeding, and desperate. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

Whew!

I took my pharmacology final exam this morning - school is out for the semester! I get a brief break, then summer classes resume after Memorial Day. 

My brain is numb and my plan is to do as little thinking as possible for the rest of the day. I'm perusing all things beach-inspired online - anything that has to do with the ocean, sand, and sun. My plan is to turn my quaint little home into a beach-style cottage. Goodness knows I have enough shells I've collected over the past few years to decorate the whole house! 

I've been painting what I can white, and plan on sewing and repurposing a light blue tablecloth into valances for my living and dining rooms. I found a wonderful desk on Freecycle that I'm going to turn into a sewing desk. I already started to paint it, but its going to need primer. The white paint has turned a cream color from the stain underneath. *sigh*

Time to go now. I have to go pick up my kiddo :)

Come what may

You know how women talk about their "pre-pregnancy" jeans? Well, I have my "before-nursing-school" jeans. Actually, I have a whole list of "before-nursing-school" things! Yet, the only thing I miss are my jeans. . .

Here is a picture of my husband and I about a month before we started dating. We were just friends (no really. I wasn't the least bit interested in dating him. Or so I kept telling myself.) and I asked him to accompany Thomas and I to a Braves game. Single mom and all, I thought it would be wise to bring someone along, and since he got along so well with Thomas, I thought it would be fun.

 Here is another picture of my friend Kimmie and I. 

Those jeans are a size 12 and that belt? Yeah. It was the only thing keeping them on myself. If I didn't wear a belt, they didn't stay up.

I was in the gym 5 to 6 days a week, doing cardio in the morning (I lived with my brother and his wife, so I wasn't leaving my son home alone. No need to call DFCS.) and weight lifted in the evenings with a great friend and personal trainer, Greg. It was a small gym, and my son would come along, do some schoolwork or watch a movie on a portable DVD player I got on Black Friday. When he got bored, Greg and a couple of the guys would do "push offs" with him. He would drink a chocolate milk while I chugged a Muscle Milk Light afterwards and say, "Yeah, Mommy - we need our protein!" I was in the best shape of my life! However, despite Greg's humble heart keeping me focused on my health, I became a victim of my vanity. Life got tough. I got arrogant. I slipped on my physical and nutritional discipline for silly reasons and expected my body to withstand it. Fast forward 6 months from this picture (taken April of 2010) to mid-terms last fall - my first semester of nursing school. I hadn't worn those jeans in almost two months. 

 By Christmas, I had to buy new pairs of jeans - two sizes larger. I was devastated. The toll of nursing school - mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually - had amounted to a 30lb weight gain. Dude, I'm short. That is A LOT of weight. Here is us this Easter. 

 Once I saw this picture, I knew it was time to get a hold of my health. Stephen and I are working together this May on getting our health back on track. His family history of severe high blood pressure looms overhead, and he also feels the effects of the weight he's gained. While searching the internet for something we can do together, I found two websites: Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans and their May Your Way Challenge and The Couch to 5K Running Plan. I also found The One Hundred Push Up Challenge which he is super excited about. Me? Not so much. But a little healthy competition never hurt anyone, right? Yikes. 100 push ups. He's lucky I love him so much. ;-)

Day One: I did the C25K (Couch to 5K) week one this morning. Very humbling. A year ago, I would have been halfway through it before I started even sweating. By the end of the first 60 seconds, my lungs were screaming "STOP!" which fortunately was at just the right time for the 90 second walk phase. It was tough, but not too tough. Just tough enough to keep going. The little track I was on is surrounded by trees and honeysuckle and is actually quite pretty. No one else was on it, so I found myself praying out loud during my "recovery" walks, praying God's word back to Him, repeating Scripture to myself, reinforcing the Truth of His word with every step. By the time I finished, I must say, I was thrilled. But the best part was what happened when I finished. At the exact point I finished was a tree with the most beautifully fragrant, teeny white blossoms shaped like stars. As I took my final step, a gust of wind blew and I was showered with white stars. I couldn't help but close my eyes and look up and savor the feel of the delicious-smelling confetti from God fall on my cheeks. My Heavenly Father was cheering me on, and celebrated my finish with me. 

Come what may, I'm getting healthy again. Not for my vanity, but to honor God with taking care of the only body He gave me; and not my way or in my own strength, but His way - strengthened, encouraged, and under-girded by the power of the Cross of Jesus Christ. 'Cause really, Jesus is all I need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)

I love my mommy :)

As iron sharpens iron,
   so one person sharpens another.
Proverbs 27:17

My mother is just plain awesome. Our relationship isn't perfect, we have definitely had our rough patches. However, surviving the storms of life with someone makes a relationship stronger. We've certainly survived some storms of life together, and also some of our own making. Humbleness and love are key in mending relationships. Sacrificing self and pride are instrumental in healing hurts between people so relationships may strengthen in trust. God used her a bunch this week!

I'm very excited to say that she has graciously added to my fabric collection with some adorable red, white, and blue prints and has also given me a can of white paint so I can get to repainting some of our furniture!  She also showed me some of her latest finds for her own kitchen. "You inspired me," she told me. Me? Really? Wow! And here I was basking in the inspiration she gives me. It sure is nice to have someone to share all this with, and to be "sharpened" by. :-)

Praying you have some iron to sharpen up against this week! God bless you and your nest!