Anything but Ordinary...

Growing up, I didn't want to be ordinary. I wanted to be the best at everything I did. It wasn't enough for me to be a good writer. I wanted to be the best, and winning the VFW essay contest every year from 3rd through 12th grade was my proof to myself that I was a good writer. It wasn't enough for me to play sports. Highest point scorer in basketball at Peace for the girls and boys teams helped. Best female discus thrower on Olympic High School's track team my senior year was also important. It wasn't enough for me to get good grades. That one A- my last quarter in high school that left me to graduate with a 3.998 and rank 8th in my class of 400 was good, but slightly disappointing for myself. I expected perfection. I expected to be the best. I wanted to be extraordinary. 

These plans carried through into my college years. I was pre-med. I was going to be a pediatric oncologist. I was going to be the best in my field. Plans changed. One slip up on an Organic Chemistry midterm and I knew that medical school was out of the question. My grade would be too low and I couldn't imagine any medical school would accept me as a student. So I started to look for something else to do. I found Speech and Hearing Sciences as a major. It was like the best of both my worlds: teaching and medicine. I'd get to teach like is always wanted, but I'd still get to diagnose too! I threw myself into my major and expected perfection once again. I wanted to be extraordinary. 

In every situation I would find myself in, I would convince myself I was not extraordinary. I was just ordinary.  Nothing special. Nothing spectacular. Just ordinary. 

What is ordinary anyways? The dictionary defines ordinary as something that is "of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional." My life in the last six years has been anything but ordinary. What I wouldn't give to go back and just be ordinary! Life being ordinary is not a bad thing. Same routine. Same comforts. Same people to love. Same circumstances. Just...ordinary. 

And then life became anything but ordinary. Rather than my days being filled with mundane everyday ordinary tasks, my days soon filled with detectives and CPS representatives. Visits with fire chiefs and head of law enforcement. And then it became filled with paying to get my car out of impound and talking with funeral directors. Balancing life with two baby girls and trying to make arrangements to bury my husband. Anything but ordinary...

I would plead and beg God to make my life ordinary again. To please just help me get back to the days when things were ordinary. Where I was just taking care of my babies and going to work and cooking dinner and it was just plain ordinary. To take me back to days where I didn't feel like I was drowning in my own head and I couldn't come up for air. To just take me anywhere but where I was. 

But He didn't. He didn't take me back to where I was. He didn't take me back to ordinary. Because God doesn't do ordinary. It's taken years of fighting with Satan and fighting with seizures and fighting with myself to realize I needed to stop fighting. I needed to let go and let God take over. I needed to stop trying to fix my life, stop trying to get back to ordinary, and let God step in. And it took me a long time to do that, but I finally did! And what an extraordinary life this has become!

I still have the ordinary, typically mundane tasks such as laundry and cooking dinner and work, but I now get to see them through the lenses of my Heavenly Father. I get to take every day as a brand new day, everyday as a new opportunity to live my extraordinary. The extraordinary isn't anything that I have done. It isn't anything that I create. It's the little things that He creates in my days. My girls and I get to live in His shadow and each and every second of every day is an opportunity to see the extraordinary that He has set in our path. The sparkle in Emerson's eyes as we laugh and play on the couch. The perfect form of Amelia's arms and legs as she shows me a new dance move she learned in class. The Spiritual Gift awards that their teachers granted them because they see pieces of God in their souls. The excitement at sitting down to dinner together. God take life...ordinary everyday life...and turns it into the extraordinary. Extraordinary tiny moments built into our day to remind us of His grace and mercy and power. 

Life will never be ordinary again...not when we have our Heavenly Father walking us through. And I'm not saying all days are sunshine and roses because they're not. Yesterday my grief roller coaster took a fast dip downward and my heart was so very heavy all day. Grieving loss or ordinary. But He was present in that moment also, reminding me that He was there to carry me through. Reminding me how important that cycle is. Reminding me that He was right there, and His path for me in all of the mess is anything by ordinary. 

Your path is anything but ordinary also!  Pray! Talk to Him! Ask Him to help you find your extraordinary through Him! And I will pray for each and everyone of you too! Because an ordinary life is a bit overrated. I want to live my extraordinary life with Him!!

Called to Serve...

The end of the school year is probably one of the most difficult stretches for people who work in a school setting. The fresh-faced teachers and students of September are long gone. People are tired and grumpy. We all start taking short cuts. Longer recess. More fun. There are five hundred end of the year activities. Spirit week. School dances. Building traditions. Good-byes to teachers who are retiring or leaving. It's a grueling, long time between Spring Break and Memorial Day weekend. The teachers walk around like zombies a little bit perhaps, wondering how in the world the clock only says 9:30 a.m. on a Monday morning. The students are hyped up and can barely contain themselves, knowing there's only a few more days to check off before they are free for the summer. It's a tough time. 

I love my job! No, seriously! I love what God has called me to do. I grumble about it from time to time. Too much paperwork. Not enough time. Too many mandates. But, overall, when I look at my career that I have chosen, I can't believe that this is my job. I get to teach kids how to communicate! I get to work with kids and their families and get them to a better place than they were when I met them in September. 

The end of the year is exciting for many of the students. Their goals have been met and they are sounding better in their speech, or they finally understand how those verbs work, or they have made a friend that they wouldn't even talk to at the beginning of the year. Sometimes, however, the progress just didn't happen and that breaks my heart. They maybe lost some teeth or got braces so their articulation didn't progress as far as I was hoping. Or they just cannot let go of some of their quirkiness so they still don't have any friends. I take my job seriously. And I take my kids' progress to heart, as a reflection on me and the kids of what kind of therapist I am. 

I truly believe that God has called me to work with these students at this school. This was not what I had planned to do, and looking at the path I took to get here I can see that this is exactly what God had in mind for me. I was supposed to be a speech-language pathologist at the school that I am at right now. I was called to serve. 

So, when I come across people who are not as committed to the job, it makes me a little bit crazy. Read the comment section of any news article on special education and it's typically full of unhappy parents throwing jabs at how awful special education teachers are. I used to read the comments and get so angry. What are they talking about? Special education teachers are the best! We love our kids! We always want what's best for them. We always fight to get them what they need. Perhaps I am very naive but it appears that I have been mistaken. Not all special education teachers, or general education teachers for that matter, have the students' best interests at heart. 

Psalm 100:2 says, "Serve the Lord with gladness..." and I try to take this to heart as I move into each day. Mid-May is a bit tougher to work toward this as we are bombarded with everything that has to be done at the end of the year. But this year, as I have grown in my faith walk and now strive to glorify His name in everything that I accomplish, I speak this verse in my office each and every morning. I want to serve the Lord with gladness in everything that I do at work. 

I know that I am at a different place in my faith and my life and my career as some of my colleagues. I'm only fifteen years into my career. I am a single mom with two little girls. I believe that every event, good or bad, has shaped my path throughout this life. Things were set in motion many many years ago to get me to where I am today. I know that I have no control over how my colleagues perform, but when their lack of care and concern impacts the students that I work with, I react. I get upset. I get angry. I try and overcompensate for their lack of effort. I have taken on the stress and anxiety and sadness and frustration for a lot of events at work lately. I have vented to other colleagues who I know care and are great educators. I have stayed up nights fretting and worrying about what to do in certain situations. I have tried hard to fix things for my families that are upset with events that have taken place.  Finally this morning, I paused. 

I paused because He whispered into my ear. "Why are you trying so hard? Is that your job to fix this? Do you not trust me to make this work out for My good?"  It goes back to the blog post about fixing things. I will be bold and say that I am good at my job. I am good at what I do. I care deeply for my students, their parents, their families. But, it isn't my responsibility. This isn't my responsibility. My responsibility is to do my job and serve the Lord with gladness. To perform my daily tasks to the best of my ability. To love and care for those babies and to give them the best education I can while they are in my room. And then, my job is to pray for them. To pray that God will protect them and nurture them and place them with people that will build them up and make them the best versions of themselves. I have to serve my Lord with gladness and know that His hand is in everything, including what they do when they are not with me. 

I serve the Lord with gladness. And I pray for my babies as they navigate through their days. As much as I look forward to summer, I also dread those final school days because there is so much to do, but even more because many of them are headed to middle school this year. I will miss them terribly. I don't let go of my kids very well. I'm losing eight of my most favorite boys to middle school. And I worry. I worry about what might happen to them as they enter middle school. I worry that maybe their teachers and therapists won't care about them like I care about them. And then, I'm reminded: this is not my battle, not my responsibility. I have to let them go and let God step in. And pray for their teachers and therapists and families. And pray for them. 

The kids I work with mean the world to me. And I hope that God places them with teachers and therapists that also serve the Lord with gladness.  

It's Too Late...

Its been a while since I've pulled an all-nighter. But as I sit in bed and listen to the birds chirping outside my window, I'm reminded of many days of sitting up through the night. I've always been a night owl. I loved the idea of being able to stay up later as I grew up. In high school I would pour over books and study and when I was finished I either would read for hours into the night or I would stay up to watch The Tonight Show. My mom would come into my room and tell me to go to sleep, that it was too late for me to still be awake. 

It's too late...those words cause my stomach to drop. No matter how you look at that phrase it isn't exactly positive. I imagine sitting at a party having a wonderful time and someone sayin "Gosh, it's late...we need to get going." Fun times are over, the party breaks up, and people head for home." Another scenario is being too late to help someone. Like when I got the call that my grandfather was dying. I raced through the streets of Seattle on foot and on a bus, hoping and praying I would be able to give him one more hug. Or one more kiss. To hear his voice one more time. But I was too late. 

There are many things in life I have felt "too late" for. And when you stay up all night with a racing mind, the hopelessness of the phrase tends to creep in even deeper. There were many times in basketball games as a kid when my shot was too late. I didn't make it, or it was blocked, or I didn't beat the buzzer...too late. I thought I loved a boy in high school and when I finally got the nerve to ask him to a dance, he had asked another girl...too late. I made a decision to go to a party in college instead of staying home and studying for my chemistry mid-term. I tried hard to cram the next morning through foggy thinking, but it didn't help...too late. I was too late to get home to my grandfather. I was too late in noticing that my husband and my marriage were crumbling. I was too late to save him. Too late...

And then there's tonight. No sleep. Tears streaming down my face as I reflect on all of these too late moments. The enemy is present in my house tonight, or this morning now, pushing thoughts into my head to distract me and take my eyes off my Heavenly Father. He whispers "It's too late..." into my ear over and over and over. Wanting me to give up. Wanting me to give in. Thinking that it's too late to lose weight and get healthy. You're thirty-eight years old. You've been fat your whole life. You really think you can turn this around now? Pushing in the message that I have spent my whole life being too late. Figuring out things just one step behind everyone else. Feeling worthless and ashamed. So full of guilt and anxiety. Feeling life being sucked away a moment at a time until I don't think I can breathe and all I want to do is put my babies in the truck and drive away where no one will ever find us. 

Satan wants all those thoughts in our head. He wants us to feel worthless and ashamed and hopeless. He wants us to sit in the dark and watch shadows swirl and be afraid. He wants us to fall into that trap and start the downward spiral that leads to sin and self-hatred and turning away from God and death. 

And then, just when I don't think I can handle any more, light streaks in through my blinds in my bedroom. Daylight is here. The darkness and the night are driven out by the day and it's the start of a new day. Psalm 91 floods into my head and I am free at last to breathe and remember who it is I belong to. 

For with Him, it's never too late. Every moment is a new chance to believe and stand firm in His presence. It's not too late to love and care and forgive. It's not too late to turn your life around, no matter what your transgressions are. It's not too late to ask for help and spiritual healing from the soul wounds that threaten to bleed you dry. It's not too late to find rest in his loving arms. It's not too late to start living instead of merely existing. 

There will be many times in life where I will think "it's too late" and as someone who deals with anxiety and PTSD on an almost daily basis, it is super easy for me to get caught up in the "it's too late" mindset. So I pray. And I read my Bible. And I reach out to friends. And with all of those factors in play, I hope that I can always hang on until that first hint of daybreak. And bolstering myself up in the presence of God, reading His word, and remembering that I am the daughter of the King, I will know that it's never too late to be loved by my Heavenly Father. 

It's not too late! He loves us all so very much and He wants to have a relationship with each and every one of us. He wants to carry us through the darkness of night. He wants us to come to Him in our hour of need. He wants to fix things when it's just too late. 

It's never too late! Don't ever give up...and I won't either...

Talk to Me...

I love to talk! I love to be social! I love deep conversations talking about most any topic. I like mindless conversations with friends about nothing. I like sitting on the couch with my bestie in complete silence, knowing that we are having the most heartfelt conversation there could ever be. I love that human connection. 

Emerson came home today broken-hearted because her best friend is moving, a hazard of living in a Navy town with Navy friends. With crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks, she looked at me with her big blue eyes, and sobbed into my arms. "Mommy, who will I talk to now?"

Friends are so important in life. I know I've written about friends before in these pages. Friends are an important part of my life, of my kids' lives. We cherish the relationships that we make with people. And from a young age we learn that talking to our friends is an important function. 

I had the privilege of working with my best friend for quite a while. She was just down the hallway, or just up the stairs whenever I needed her. Something would come up in my day and I'd run to her for advice. We ate lunch together almost every day. If I saw something that reminded me of her, I'd send her a quick email. I came to rely on her presence. She walked and guided me through a lot of stuff, both good and bad. We could sit and talk for hours, in person or on the phone. And she is one that sometimes just sitting in silence letting our hearts do the talking is the best. 

But, she retired and doesn't work with me anymore. It was a rough time for me when she announced she was done. I shed a lot of tears and threw myself into making her last year at our school the best ever. Not sure if I was successful, but it helped me get through my pain of losing her daily presence. 

But I survived her departure. And she and I have had honest conversations lately about how it was most likely the best thing that could have happened because I was running to her when I really should have been running to my Heavenly Father. I do that now! I still talk to my friend, but I also talk to God. 

It talks about prayer a lot in the Bible. Jesus gave us prayers. Holy Spirit filled the disciples and they spoke in tongues. The word prayer is scattered throughout the Bible. As a lifelong Christian you would think that praying is my second nature, something I'd be super good at. Well, I'm not very good at it. At all. Even scripted prayers such as The Lord's Prayer, I panic halfway through that I'll forget lines or stumble over the words. It's not a strength of mine. 

But you know what IS a strength of mine? Talking! I'm great at talking. To anyone usually...even myself! Ha! So, I have turned praying into talking. I haven't given up praying. I still pray and practice and recite the Lord's Prayer in those moments I just don't know what to say. But I have been talking with my Heavenly Father. And guess what? He talks back if you listen carefully. He wants so badly to have conversation with you! You just need to pause and be still and listen for His voice! 

Father or Jesus or Holy Spirit want to be your best friend, whichever of the Holy Trinity you most often turn to. For me, it happens to be Father. On my walks during my lunch break I put my praise music into my ear buds, walk around the school campus, and talk to Father God about life. He cares! He wants to listen! He wants to help you journey through this life and find your way out of the dark. He wants to know your struggles and your passions. He's an always ready friend, waiting for you to share your day with Him. 

I understand there is a different comfort in a flesh and bones friend, a warm body to sit next to and hold hands and laugh and chat and share your life with. I still do that part too. But I have put her back into the friend role rather than my Savior role. She is still my best friend and I still share lots with her. But I don't run to her with everything. I don't expect her to help me fix my problems. I don't have expectations for her other than to still be my best, earthly friend. We still have hours-long conversations filled with nothing and everything. We still laugh and talk and brainstorm ideas. And we have invited God to be part of our friendship and that has made it into something I never would have imagined. 

So, talk to your friends. And be a listening ear for your friends. But don't forget about the Friend that loves you more than anything in the whole universe. He wants to talk to you too. He wants to be your listening ear. He wants to fix your problems for you and take care of you like His child that you are. 

Talk to me...but talk to Him even more...

Who Do You Think You Are...

If you have been reading my blogs for any amount of time you are well aware that I struggle with my weight. And although I have worked hard for the last few months, I still have a long ways to go in my journey to health and wellness. I'm aware of the struggles that still have to come. I'm down 52 pounds since September. It's a great accomplishment. I am so proud of the journey so far. 

There is a WeightWatchers community on Facebook. They post things, and I typically do not post responses. But they recently had a post on weight loss asking how far we had come in our journey. I don't like bragging about weight loss typically. I have family and a few close friends that I share my successes and failures with but other than that I'm pretty private. (other than this blog where I can pretend that no one will read it).  Years of failure have made it difficult to want to share things about my journey. Even with my current success, in the back of my head, I'm waiting to blow it. I'm waiting for the day that I throw in the towel and gain it all back and then some. I've lost 100 pounds before on WeightWatchers. Who's to say I won't do that again and then end up just as fat as I was before I started?

But, I digress...I wanted to share my journey and my success and what better way than to post it to people I don't know in a sea of hundreds of posts. It was like I was being nice and brave but not really. So I commented on the WeightWatchers post. And apparently attracted a troll in the process. In case you aren't aware, a troll is someone who has the main job of saying contradictory, mean, cruel comments on Facebook posts usually just to make someone feel badly. Yeah, this is a thing. And my comment hooked a troll. 

This troll wanted to know who I thought I was. Looking for praise for losing weight when it was my fault I got fat in the first place. Why did I deserve praise for letting myself go? Why was I any more special than someone who took care of themselves from the beginning and was always skinny. The insults went on and on. He put a lot of thought into his comment. And being the insecure person that I tend to be, it got me thinking. 

He's right. Why do I deserve praise for ruining my health and my body in the first place and then working hard to be healthy? He equated me to a drug addict who was in recovery. They didn't deserve any more praise or support than I did. I got myself into this mess, I certainly didn't need support or kind words to help me through my mess. 

The comments, even coming from a complete stranger, stung. But I could see that he was right. Why did I think I deserved accolades? Why should anyone be proud of me in this moment where all I could really say is "Yeah! I'm less fat today than I was yesterday." I did this to myself. Years of overeating with no exercise brought me to a point almost fifteen years ago where I weighed 361 pounds. When I first started working for the school district, that's what I tipped the scale at. I was humiliated. And that was the first time I lost over one hundred pounds. But I didn't keep it off. I didn't gain it all back, but gained enough that I saw the 300s again. 

I wanted to wallow in pity at his comments. I wanted to get angry and lay out all of my excuses for not losing weight. Thyroid problems. Losing my grandparents. Stress. PTSD. Anxiety. Flashbacks. The death of my husband. Raising kids. Single mom. Stressful job. I wanted to be angry and ask him back who he thought he was. But instead? I prayed and I asked Father God what He would want me to do in this situation. 

Instead of showing anger to this man, instead of letting him drive me to an evening with McDonalds and chocolate chip cookies, I prayed. And I gave it time. And I went for a run. I let myself feel every step of my run, my muscles working, sweat dripping down my face and mixing with tears. And I formulated an answer for him:

"You asked me who I think I am. I think I am a sinner. I think I am an imperfect person doing my very best to navigate this world. I am a mother and a widow. I am an obese human being. But I know for a fact that I am the daughter of a King who loves me and treasures me no matter what the number on the scale says. I am not looking for praise or support or pity. I take responsibility for my actions and I am working with my Heavenly Father to walk on the correct path to take care of myself spiritually, emotionally, and physically. I don't need your approval, because I am loved by my Father God." and then I turned off notifications for that post and left it alone. 

I know that I got myself into this mess. But as I've written before, I am always looking for the message in my mess. And this message is something I'm working on. I am just as my Father wants me to be. I'm not perfect. He knows that going in to each moment. But He still loves me with a love that is amazing! He loves everything about me. Whether I'm 361 or at my goal weight. My confirmation verse that was given to me all those years ago was John 3:16. It was chosen specifically for me. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son..." That's a whole lot of love! It doesn't say He loves me only when I weigh less than 200 pounds. It doesn't say that He loves me only when I'm able to run two miles. There are NO conditions attached to His love. He loves me. And He is proud of the things I am doing to take care of myself. He sees my struggles and carries me in His arms, granting me peace and rest whenever I need it. He sees the hurt in my heart from years of turmoil and grief and He wants nothing more than to see me whole again. He sees the pain in my heart from comments such as the ones I received on my post and He wants to heal those hurts too. 

When I am feeling down about myself, when I cannot possibly see my worth, He is there cheering me on, whispering my name, reminding me that I am His princess...the daughter of a King! This world tries very hard to tear people down and when you get sucked into the worldly side of this life, it's easy to feel discouraged and terrible about yourself. But don't get sucked into that thinking. Remember that you are the sons and daughters of a King who loves you so very much, unconditionally. 

So I continue the struggle. I watch what I eat and follow my eating and exercise plan. And by the grace of God, I will continue on my journey to health and weight loss. Because even though I know that God loves me for me no matter what, I need to learn how to love me for me also. And that's what the most important part of this journey is - finding who I am behind all of the fat and pain and shame and finally learning to live the life I am supposed to. So I will plan out my meals, and run my runs, and stop occasionally to straighten my crown and remember the One who loves me more than anyone else. My Heavenly Father! 

For God so loved ME... 

Just An Ordinary Day...

I am truly blessed and it is days like Mother's Day where I'm made even more aware of how blessed I am. I have two amazing little girls who love me and are such good girls. I'm so proud of them. My day was spent with a good friend and it was such a fun day. I did a 5K which would have never happened just a short five months ago. My day was filled with texts messages from other moms who I love, Facebook messages from kids who I have watched grow into men and women over the years. I got to visit with my momma for a bit. Texted my sister a belated Happy Mothers Day in Japan (stupid time difference). I even got to take a little nap. It was an awesome day celebrating my job that I like best...being a mom. 

Looking at Facebook posts from friends, many of them had amazing days also. Days filled with love and hugs and brunches. Travels to visit loved ones. Days filled with flowers and plants and fancy dinners. Days filled with doing simple things just being with our mommas and sending love and good wishes. 

But today isn't about love and joy and happiness for everyone. I also had many friends that were posting about missing their mommas, who are in heaven this year. Or mommas who have lost children and Mother's Day is just another dreadful reminder that they don't have their babies with them anymore. My heart was sad for them too, for if I think too hard about being in either of those situations, I can't even imagine. I am thankful to have my mama and my children and my heart breaks for those with missing people at their tables. 

A different group emerged this year also. There were some moms on my Facebook page that were posting in exasperation. They were stressed and frustrated that they weren't having their perfect Mother's Day like they felt all their mom friends were having. They were counting the minutes down to bedtime. They were pointing out that they didn't want their Mother's Day to go the way it was going. They were asking why moms were so grateful and happy with their children and they were not feeling those feelings. And that made me sad also. 

Mother's Day is a day for celebrating our mommas. But it's just a day at the same time. A day like any other day. An ordinary day. Nothing says that this has to be the day we celebrate our moms.  If you are having a less than stellar mom day, you get another do-over tomorrow. 

My life isn't perfect. My children throw tantrums. My parenting skills sometimes are very lacking. Some days I'm so tired that all I want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep. Start my do-over as quickly as possible. Life gets messy. But when those moments come, I take a deep breath, call out to God for help, and remember that life gets messy. Life is hard. There are days when we look like the quaint perfect family with everything put together. But more often than not, we maybe are struggling. I forget to do homework. As a teacher you'd think I'd be better at reading the teachers' weekly newsletters. Sometimes I pack way too many pre-packaged foods into the girls' lunch boxes. The girls aren't always happy and I give in to too many things I'm sure. But, again, we are given tomorrow as another day! Another try! A do-over. 

But, then there's another thought. Tomorrow isn't always promised. Losing Brian forced life to slow down in my head. Those do-over days don't always happen. Sometimes you wake up and life is altered forever. Sometimes you don't get that one last snuggle. Or the last "I love you" in before life is altered. Those kind of regrets are hard to come back from. Trust me, I've spent hours and dollars on therapy trying to move past those regretted moments. I wouldn't want to do that again. 

I know being a momma isn't easy. I'm a single momma and that's not easy, but I listen to my mom friends that are married and they don't have it easy either. In these times it's difficult to raise babies and feel like you are doing it right. There are a lot of societal pressures to "keep up with the Jonses." There are unspoken competitions for the best birthday parties, or the most talented children. Apps such as Facebook only make this competitive drive worse. I'm guilty of this also I suppose. I happily posted pictures of my day with my friends and girls. Pictures boasting of a wonderful day. Pictures of a great accomplishment in completing the race. But, those thoughts don't cross my mind when I post. I post to document time with my girls. I post to be able to look back and see the memories that have been made. It's not a competition! This isn't who can do things bigger and better. And it's also not a comparison family to family. 

Being a momma isn't easy. But I whole-heartedly love my girls and treasure each little moment with them, as I know each of my momma friends do too. It's not about the grandeur of the day though! It's not about making sure that Mother's Day is over the top. It's not about flowers and brunch and posting the best pictures on Facebook. It's about treasuring the little moments as our kids and families and friends are growing. It's about being together and loving each other and supporting each other through this crazy life. 

Our days are not perfect. They are far from perfect! And I'm sure many of us don't post about those days on Facebook. But as my perspective has changed and molded into something different, something better, I'm finding that even in the moments that I'm frustrated and want to pull my hair out, there are blessings in those moments too. 

Father God is the perfect example of how we should be as parents. I completely mess up every single day. I sin every day and I am impatient and grumpy. I rush my kids through the day and get irritated when they don't move as quickly as I need them to. I lose my temper when they are fighting with each other and get disappointed when they don't follow through with the chores that I've asked them to complete. But He still loves me...unconditionally. He's the perfect model for how we should be as parents. He forgives us in every moment for our mess-ups. He is gentle and tender and wants the best for us. He protects us and shelters us in His wings. And He doesn't ever make mistakes. But whether we are in the role as His children, or as the parents to the children He has blessed us with, He knows we are not perfect. We need help and guidance in both roles. 

Pause for prayer often. Ask Him for guidance in those moments you are struggling. Call out to Him in those moments you are at your wit's end. Allow Him to help you find your message in your mess. And know that you're not the only momma (or daddy) that struggles. 

But also remember to pause and cherish the little moments. For you never know when those moments will go away. You might not get a do-over day. You might not have another chance to tell your babies that you love them. Or to tell your momma how much she means to you. So do that! You can be frustrated and feel like this Mother's Day was the absolute worst. But work hard to pause and think about finding the message in your mess. It's there! I find messages in my mess daily. As you strengthen your relationship with Father God, those messages kind of fly right out at you! There are messages in the messes of the day. Messages to pause and reflect on the time with your babies. Messages to think about why they are reacting the way they are. Messages to just slow life down and be present with them! And if you can't find your messages, pray! Read your Bible and pray! God will guide you through this life. He will guide you to the verses and scripture and devotions He wants you to hear. He will be by your side for the perfect Mothers Days and will be there for the Mothers Days when you don't want to be a mother even. 

I love my life, and I love the messages that I find in my messes. Pausing for just a bit and praying has not only strengthened my relationship with God, it has also strengthened my relationships with my babies, and with others in my life too! 

Ordinary days...my days aren't anything fancy. I didn't get flowers or brunch but I loved spending time with my girls and the burger and tots I had for lunch. Ordinary days are my favorite. And my hope and prayer for all of my momma friends is that you will find the messages in your mess. Be proud of your mess! Be proud of the momma hearts that you have! Be proud of the babies that God has placed with you. On the hard days, remember that you were chosen to be the momma to the kids that you have or had. That God hand-picked you for the journey He planned. That He knew your momma heart could handle whatever mess was thrown your way!

Happy Mother's Day to all of my friends...here's to many more ordinary days for extraordinary people!! XOXO

That's What I Had in Mind...

This morning I rolled over when my alarm went off, turned it off, and grabbed my phone like I do every morning. I logged into Facebook and started scrolling through my newsfeed. And there were several pictures from various groups I belong to. Today is National Widow's Day. Seriously? Not quite as exciting as National Ice Cream Day. Or National Cinnamon Roll Day. I read through the posts people posted and maybe started to have difficulty breathing a little bit. Although my circumstances don't really impact me the way they used to, to pretend I don't have any reaction would be a lie. 

It still seems unbelievable that I am a widow. What a terrible word! It conjures up images of black dresses and veils. Or gross ugly spiders. I still look young enough that I still get shocked expressions when people ask me my marital status. I used to whisper it quietly, hoping they'd just let it go. Now I just say it. I am a widow!

Whenever I hear the term I am immediately taken back to my wedding day. The day I publicly declared my love for Brian. The day we exchanged vows and rings in front of our family and friends. The day we danced to our song together for the first time as husband and wife. Our song was "When I Said I Do" by Clint Black. I loved the words of the song:

These times are troubled and these times are good
And they're always gonna be, they rise and they fall
We take 'em all the way that we should
Together you and me forsaking them all
Deep in the night and by the light of day
It always looks the same, true love always does
And here by your side, or a million miles away
Nothin's ever gonna change the way that I feel,
The way it is, is the way that it was

When I said I do, I meant that I will 'til the end of all time

Be faithful and true, devoted to you
That's what I had in mind when I said I do

Well this old world keeps changin', and the world stays the same
For all who came before, and it goes hand and hand
Only you and I can undo all that we became
That makes us so much more, than a woman and a man
And after everything that comes and goes around
Has only passed us by, here alone in our dreams
I know there's a lonely heart in every lost and found
But forever you and I will be the ones
Who found out what forever means

When I said I do, I meant that I will 'til the end of all time
Be faithful and true, devoted to you
That's what I had in mind when I said I do

The lyrics today don't mean the same thing that they did on our wedding day. That day was filled with love and joy and anticipation. We were going to find out how forever feels. We were going to have the good times and the bad and live forever together, just loving each other. Back then we had the world at our feet and we were going to conquer anything. 

Today, on National Widow Day, the feelings aren't quite the same. We didn't even make it to our fifth anniversary. He killed himself and left me alone to raise our two little girls. He hit bad times and chose to exit this world, this life, our marriage. When I said "I do" I thought it would be forever. I thought I was well on my way to reaching my grandparent's anniversary milestone of 67 years. I never imagined what was just around the corner. It wasn't at all what I had in mind. I didn't picture what those years could possibly look like.

This life is not what I had in mind. At all. My Cinderella fantasy shattered into a million pieces. My glass slipper fractured. My ball gown torn to shreds. 

But, on this National Widow Day, I am reflecting and I am thankful that life didn't happen the way I had in mind. God had a different plan for me, for my girls. The journey that I have been on in the last five years has been life-changing. Completely altering for me and my girls. Life is rich and filled with blessings. There is a quote that I leaned heavily on for the last six years. It says "You must be willing to let go of the life you had planned so as to accept the life that is waiting for you." Truth! Life has numerous twists and turns. Sometimes it feels like your path has been snapped off of the face of the earth completely. 

Life is not at all what I had in mind. It's so much more! Life is wonderful! The girls and I are navigating this new life as a family of three, blessed with an amazing and loving God who is holding our hands and dragging us down this new path He has for us. We have grown as people, grown in love, grown in our faith journey. Not at all what I had in mind. But then I am reminded again and again that it is His plan, His journey. Not mine! Not ours!

So I give the controls over to the one who knows what He is doing. Because it's not what I had in mind. It's what HE has in mind. For HIS plans don't even compare to anything I might want out of life!

So, on this National Widow's Day, I rejoice that I have had the opportunity to be a widow. To help myself, to help my girls, to help others along their journey. And I ask you to reach out to your friends that are widows today. Give them hugs, hold their hand, let them cry. Let them talk about how this is not what they had in mind. But remind them that our Heavenly Father has something in mind. Something that they could never fathom! His love is good! His mercy is good. You just have to have faith that the Master knows exactly what He's doing.

It wasn't what I had in mind. But living in my Father's love? That's exactly what I have in mind for the rest of my journey.