"Every Good and Perfect Gift Comes from Above"

I miss him. That has not changed.

The "rule" I discovered about his departure bringing minor calamities has proven true as well. RJ got splinters all over the bottom of her feet (and she won't let me remove them), a big diaper rash suddenly formed, Gabe's laptop just wouldn't turn on so we couldn't use that to communicate, Raychel has bled for the first time from a fall... and then repeated it twice more...

5 Minute Fridays | Opportunity

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking

2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community.

I married a dreamer. A daydream believer. He once asked me (quite sincerely) what I would think about breeding chickens. That was within the first few months of our marriage. My first sign of things to come.

He sees the world differently than most people. Where the average man sees a waste of time, he sees a chance to change things. To provide. To rise above the occasion.

We have been in the pit before. We have struggled to make ends meet. We have been in all but hopeless situations. But one thing I know I do not have to concern myself with is whether or not we will be okay. God is always looking out for us and the way He does that is with this incredible man I married. He works hard, he does things other people are scared to do or are too incredulous to try. He has no qualms when it comes to providing.

Do you know what it feels like to have total peace that your daughter will be fed? That your husband is doing everything in his power to provide? 

5 Minute Fridays | Perspective

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. 

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 When he packed his things in that old Cat bag and I made sure to fold the clothes over a photo in a frame it felt familiar. When he drove away and my heart couldn't take the burden it was an old feeling. When I sobbed into Samson I felt like I was home again - bitterly.

But when the pain subsided quickly. When I went outside to get the coffee my friend had brought over. When I took my daughter upstairs for a good long visit with her Auntie. When I was checked in on, brought food to (McDonald's. Twice. By separate people.), when I spent the night laughing. Those things are new. Those things are appreciated.

I know what it's like to be alone. I know what it's like to say goodbye. I know what it's like to cherish time together. I'm now learning what it's like to be surrounded. I'm learning what a normal business trip looks like. I'm learning that time apart doesn't mean bombs and fear and isolation.

Happy Mother's Day

What I sent my mom for Mother's Day. Just wanted to brag on her a little bit (and show off how pretty she is!! From new-mommyhood to grandma-hood, my Mom is a fox!). 

Folk Tales | Sleep

There are certain things that mothers around the country - probably around the world - argue about.

Vaccines.

Education.

Co-sleeping.

Organic food.

Television.

{In comprising this list, I realized that these are very affluent issues. I'm guessing mothers in the Australian bush argue about very different things.}

One of those controversial topics is the issue of purposely letting a child cry, or the "cry-it-out" method. I have heard extremes on this issue. Mostly on the "no" side. One mother condemned other moms for letting their babies cry even when they are driving. She advised pulling over and doing... whatever they want you to do I guess. I'm not sure how that would play out if you were, say, in LA style traffic on the freeway. I think the extreme on the "yes" side would be a mentally unwell mother who never held her children or attended to their needs. We can all agree that that is not healthy.

5 Minute Friday | Identity

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking

2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

I am constantly finding myself in a battle for identity. Am I a mother? Yes. A wife? I believe so. A daughter, sister, friend? Last time I checked. But my identity is more than those things. It defines me. One word. Christ. 

When I was a kid I learned about Jesus and I loved him. I didn't need any favors or see my need of salvation, I just thought he was wonderful. When I grew up and I realized that I not only loved him, wanted him, but needed him I decided that giving myself over to him was a necessary and desirable action. But it wasn't a one time deal. My identity is that I'm his. I'm not mine, I've been bought with a high price. I'm not Gabe's. I'm not Raychel's. I'm Jesus'. 

It's waning and it's fuzzy. I keep trying to take my life back from him and he doesn't promise not to let me. But when I think about identity I think about the God who has made me his bride and the King whose slave I get to be. Daily. I have to decide this daily.