A Writers Block

This past weekend was the famed “Nutcracker Weekend” for Kayla and her daddy. They left Friday afternoon for Seattle and a beautiful hotel room overlooking the city. She spent most of the week getting all worked up about it. As part of the tradition, Scott and she had a date night earlier in the week to shop for her dress, shoes, accessories, you name it. They arrived at the hotel, hung out and watched a movie and then they were off to Benihana’s for dinner. What a crack up! She and a few of her friends and their dads lit up the place with their giggles and smiles. I can imagine it was quite a sight to see this bunch of grown men with their little princesses. Back at their room, Kayla and Scott had an arrangement. Kayla got to eat candies and watch a bunch of movies while Scott slept. At the end of each movie (you know, the 20 minute cartoon movies) she would come and tap dad, asking for another one. He would oblige and promptly doze off again. The next morning was filled with more fun

Knowing when to go to battle and when to call a truce is sometimes the hardest choice we make in life. Calling a truce and walking away is often easier, less costly, and sometimes the only way to get past something. We can leave it behind and never speak of it again. We can move past it and come out unscathed. But not all situations call for such avoidance and coming out unmarked and unchanged isn’t always a good thing. When I was little (and, I must confess, even now) I loved to out daredevil the boys. Usually, it was my brother and I on our bikes trying to out do, out run, and out jump each other. One day we were out riding and, in trying to get back on the sidewalk, I over-compensated and ended up running straight into a brick wall and over it into a rose bush. Ouch! Not my finest moment but I remember two things… my trying to be tough by not crying and my brother offering to take my bike home for me so I could run home. Concrete and thorns are not kind to skin and bones. I love the

I spoke yesterday with my sister, Jenny, who's friendship I cherish more and more every day. I find that we are in much of the same places in life. Discovering answers and inspiration together brings the Lord's healing in such an amazing way and, I confess, makes me feel less alone. My friend and I talked about some of our greatest challenges of late. "Why don't I feel like I can be real and honest," and "where is my ministry"? It's funny how God answers our questions, even when we may not have asked Him directly. And I'm so glad He does. In my quiet time today came His responses to our queries and frustrations. I'll write a little bit (okay, a lot) from my readings. "Do you ever feel outnumbered? In the midst of feeling outnumbered, do you ever wonder whether your unpopular, minority belief system could be right?... Noah was the only man in his entire generation who held his exact conviction... yet he was right. Majority opinion holds u

I had a light-bulb moment last night. I've felt like I have needed to be active in a ministry or small group or something because I know God could make a difference through me but when I tried to think of something to do, it was so forced and unsupported, like I had nothing to give. So I settled on the idea that my "job" was to pray for my family and friends, to learn to pray specifically and expect affirmative answers. Well, I'm learning that prayer is something... um, duh... that I should do without ceasing anyway. In bible study this past week I encountered a fresh view on what my season might be right now. It totally goes along with the prayer that Jenny sent me earlier by Charles de Foucauld. The bible study speaker talked about how she had just been through a season of sifting which she wished never to go through again, although she couldn't have come to where she is without it. Two years earlier she had spent a lot of time in the Word, memorizing scriptures

This is most likely for all you moms and grandmas to enjoy laughing at me, the one who did this to you. For the life of me I've been trying to figure out why I haven't been able to keep up with my household chores the last few months. I am usually able to work, do the bills, pick up the house, clean the bathrooms (HAH!), do the laundry from start to finish , keep the kids entertained, and do the dishes (although, that is something my hubby has said he would do for me but doesn't do until my head explodes or there's no more counter space... which is pretty incredible considering the amount of counter space we have. (I love you, Sweetie :) )). Lately, I can't tell if anything is actually getting done without great efforts to dig out from under the pile of whatever it is! A usual day's routine is to get everyone ready and out the door to take Kayla to school and then take jr. to the store for groceries or to run whatever errand needs to be run. I return in time to

Jenny's response to my previous post "The Doubt Box" was perfect for me so I wanted to make sure you could read it. I hope it speaks to you as much as it did to me. Thanks Jenny.

Okay, so I'm on a "God in the box" kick. I've been doing Beth Moore's study on Believing God and it seems to be the one thing that gets me tripped up most. If I could live without putting God in my little doubt box He could do so much more with me. If my faith were as strong as my doubt... wow, that'd be amazing! "Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Lemme sum up." HAH! (dork) I feel like I'm at an edge, kind of like Switchfoot sings. "I'm standing on the edge of me. Standing on the edge of everything I've never been before." It's weird but I don't think I've ever been so close to actually punching through past the edge. I know that anything God can do with my life would be better than I could ever do on my own but somehow I'm afraid that I won't like what He does or where He puts me. Like He knows what's best but won't necessarily do what I would be happy with. But what amazing person could I b

Funny... I've been dying to get a blog started so that I could get all my stuff out of my system and now that I'm here... Well, let's just say that my blog title is more than fitting. I started out writing about commitment and the lack thereof that I see around me but I just couldn't write it without it sounding like another blabbity blee session. I am so thankful for the family I have. I guess that's the best way to put it all. We know what commitment means. We struggle through communication. We choose to love... we don't just hope it will happen. We stick with it! I'm sure glad Jesus was more committed than people today or I'd be up Hell's creek without a paddle. He could have walked out saying, "Screw you. Put me on a cross... I don't want you in Heaven with me anyway!" That'd suck royal. And you know, he did have a choice. All I'm asked to do is love and believe! Dying isn't among my requirements to enter Heaven. Here

I wonder... what did I want to be when I grew up? I don't remember too much and mom could probably shed some interesting, if not shameful light on the subject but what did I want to become? An air force pilot? A ballerina? A muscle-lady, as my daughter calls professional body building women? Maybe a teacher. Could it be that I really wanted to be a mom all my life and now I am one? That's too easy. I've had this feeling that there was something more out there for me to do but I just couldn't nail it down. Church always told me that I had to have a ministry, as if my life wasn't full enough without it. Ok, so then who do I minister to? People get along just fine without me so it seems silly to interject myself into their lives for my own self-fulfillment. So, back to my question... what do I want to be when I grow up? Maybe the question should be what does God want me to be? I am a mom and that's a huge job all on it's own. Teach them to walk, talk, love, eat