This Piece of Time

I love Thanksgiving.  It marks the beginning of all things "holiday".  I love the lighting of Christmas lights downtown on Wednesday night, the day of family and food on Thursday, and 12 blissful hours of shopping, and just being, with my mom on Friday.  But my favorite part of Thanksgiving has become the counting of blessings.  The focus on gratitude.  The intentional listing of both great and small.  This has become my joy. The simple act of choosing thanks can transform perspective.  The hardest of thanks can lift a spirit out of the trenches that engulf.  And while I cannot begin to explain this phenomenon as eloquently as Ann Voskamp has in One Thousand Gifts , I have been profoundly changed by it's reach.  For more than five months, I have been marinating in these lessons of gratitude and working to find grace in the hard.  And then yesterday, she spoke straight to my heart. "If I close these fingers, try to hold, hoard the ri...

It's hard to say just how I feel.  After eight months of living in limbo, we are still waiting.  Nearly all of our belongings are in storage, our dog is living with our family, and we have no address to forward our mail.  This is hard.  The waiting. Even still, I am grateful.  For an affordable furnished apartment.  For a school our daughters love.  For the comforts of "home".  For the time to find our next.  For a God who provides beyond our needs.  The waiting has left me tired.  The urgency of my prayer is gone.  I cannot will a house to list, so I have thrown my hands up in surrender.  "Do you know I'm worn out?"  Lately, those are the only words I have to speak.  I have quit asking.  Quit pleading.  Quit hoping.  I just wait. I know He can.  I believe He will.  But do I matter?  Maybe this is all part of the waiting.  For a house, for a child, for a spouse, for ...

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10 What began as a VBS memory verse has quickly turned into the theme of our summer.  As we walk this road of uncertainty, we cling to the truth that God is with us.  He has gone before us and will provide the strength to finish this adventure.  Part of that journey is a new school for our girls.  For Brooklyn, this is just a small change.  Kindergarten is a year of new friendships, schedules, and teachers.  For her, the location has changed, but the experience remains the same.  As a third grader, Paige's year is completely different.  New building, teachers, and, most importantly, friends.  As I drove my nervous girl to school yesterday, we lifted our voices to the Lord and I fought back tears.  I reassured her that she would have friends, t...

What a crazy month!  I would fill you in on all of the nonsense, but quite frankly, I don't have the time.  I am writing this post for one very important reason.  My Brooklyn has turned six.  She actually had her birthday on Saturday while we were moving all of our belongings into storage.  Like I said, no time.  Despite the craziness of our week, we made sure that B got her special day.  A party at Glow Golf with her friends last Friday, breakfast for dinner (aka brinner) with our families on Wednesday, and Chick-fil-a and Cold Stone Saturday evening.  I don't think she noticed that we weren't with her for 90% of her actual birthday.  At least I hope she didn't.  If we could sum up Brooklyn at six we would say sassy, sweet, and sensitive.  She cries at the sight of blood, has a heart for others, and has picked up the phrase "Seriously?!?" and a wicked eye roll.  Her favorite things are her American Girl do...

Ten years of marriage.  3,653 days of learning. Learning that he would rather eat cereal than most any meal.  ...... to button the top button on his shirts when I hang them.  ......the correct way to remove a seat belt (still working on that one) ...... to identify the sound of him gagging when the diaper is too gross ....... and getting there before it's too late ........that the draft will ALWAYS fall on our anniversary weekend.  ........ to fall asleep before the snoring begins.  ........ the art of wrinkle free sheets ........they ways he feels loved ........the delicate art of fighting fair ........to tag team the chaos The list could go on and on.  And it will.  We will never stop learning and we will never stop needing to learn.  This thing called marriage is tough.  Ten years ago we began our lives together in a little townhouse with empty closets and little furniture.  Now, our closets...

I'm having one of those life events that make you want to throw up and cry all at the same time.  Not that anything is actually "wrong".  I'm just so scared of the unknown that I can barely think straight.  For weeks I have been praying that God would make himself known.  That it would be unavoidably obvious the direction we should go.  Yet, the minute that God does something HUGE.  Something completely unexpected and totally obvious.  I FREAK out.  I have no peace.  Seeing the path is no longer good enough.  Now I want the destination too.  I want to see the whole staircase, not just this step.  How quickly I disregard his direction.  My fear and anxiety over the unknown overshadow the gift of known.  Nothing is ever enough.  This afternoon I drove through town with two little ones giggling in the backseat and I poured my heart out. I sang through my sobs and I laid it down.  At his fe...

It's been a long two weeks.  That may be the understatement of the year.  Twelve days at home with sick kids.  I don't even have the words.  What I can tell you is that after a run like we've just had patience is running on empty.  I have been nurse, short order cook, cleaning lady, laundromat, and comforter for 288 hours straight.  Tonight I hit my breaking point.  I won't bore you with the play-by-play, but it basically involved three kids, lots of mud and a garden hose.  I lost it.  Now, I could say that an eight year old knows better than to smear mud on the sliding glass door or to spray her brother with the hose in 50 degree weather, but, as my mother reminds me so often, "she's only eight".  Should she do those things? No.  Did she deserve to be yelled at? I don't think so.  I am so grateful that tonight my attitude didn't get in the way of my guilt. (As it often does.) After starting some mac-n-cheese, ...