It's Been Fun

On November 3, 2009, I wrote my first blog post. It was short, sweet, and to the point. It explained why I was here, back online again after writing a blog (now long gone) when the Hubs and I were childless, globe-trotting missionaries. 

Over the years I have written about books, finances, recipes, kids, marriage, being an INTJ, spiritual growth, anxiety (that's the post that started to kill blogging for me), and, of course, my love of all things pumpkin. When I had nothing better to do, I blogged five days a week. I was consistent, and even beginning to build up a tiny little following of friends - both the online and real-life kind. 

But seven years ago, our life was turned right side up, and blogging took a backseat. I still enjoyed writing, but even though I would start out strong in January, I always seemed to run out of steam around April. Last year I almost made my goal of writing one post a month, and then over-achieved at the end of the year to make up for the months I missed. 

When I began this venture, blogging was still relatively new. All the "big-time" bloggers weren't that big yet, but compared to my little dot in the online world, it felt HUGE when women like Jessica or Crystal or Anne took notice of me. While they've all gone on to be Life as Mom, Money Saving Mom, and Modern Mrs. Darcy...I failed to find an audience, a following, or a niche that was uniquely me. I joined photo challenges, participated in blog hops, and embraced the William Morris Project. 

And even though I didn't become a big-name blogger who was invited to speak at events or offered a book deal, I did meet some wonderful people along the way. Through a blog hop, I met Molly (who introduced me to the woman I've now worked with for the last 11 years). I met Elizabeth, who became a dear "real-life" (we've only ever met in person three times!) friend and prayer partner. Because of the blog, I became online friends (or Facebook friends) with other women who were kind enough to leave comments over the years, women that I never would have met had I not been bored that November day, 14 years ago...and #iamthankful.

These days my life is anything but boring. Seven years ago we adopted five children from Costa Rica. Three years ago I started homeschooling after COVID shut everything, including their schools, down, which we have continued to do, year-round. Last year the Hubs quit his "safe" office job as an electrical engineer working in the aviation industry in order to become self-employed, working on small engines and automobiles of all sizes, out of the workshop in our backyard. I continue to do freelance proofreading at night, after everyone's in bed. Add to all of that that a need to help aging parents, provide guidance for an adult child, fulfill a desire to practice regular hospitality, and try to find time to catch up with each other, read a book, or do anything else, and the blog just doesn't fit this season.

I've felt guilty about this, and disappointed in myself, but last week I was walking before the events of the day began, and was listening to a podcast by Jon Acuff. He was talking about how we have as much time as we have, but not enough time for everything, and learning how to prioritize it. Honestly, most of what he said wasn't rocket science, but it made me think about the blog again, and I realized...this is something I can say "no" to doing. It's not that I've really been doing it anyway, but officially saying farewell to the idea of it. And that thought, in and of itself, was freeing.

I don't know if anyone will even see this. I don't know if anyone will care. But if anyone is out there...thanks. Thanks for reading, for the occasional comments, and for the support over the years. I still love writing, when the mood hits, but this no longer feels like the outlet for me. I'm not closing it down, just leaving this post as a note, for anyone who stumbles upon it, to know that I have been here, I have tried, and now life is taking me in a different direction. Thanks for stopping by...now go and live life in the real world. Simply, in community, and with purpose.

TTFN. 

("Ta Ta For Now" - Tigger)

The Grace of Small Victories

I started writing a blog post last week entitled, "Stuck." Because that was how I was feeling. Very, very stuck. Stuck in this weight loss journey, stuck in what I was eating, stuck in the habits I was trying to develop and cultivate. I wasn't ready to give up, but I was discouraged and tired of feeling like I was getting nowhere fast. 

And then I did my Saturday weigh-in and was utterly surprised when I was down another 2 lbs. I measured all the parts I've been measuring and had dropped between 1/4 and 1/2" of an inch on three of the four (my thighs, I am sorry to say, have decided to put up a fight, but this is a marathon, not a sprint, so we'll see who wins in the end). And suddenly I didn't feel as stuck anymore. 

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash

Pondering this mental switch, I began to reflect on the fact that one tiny little positive change, one little step of encouragement in the right direction, really does wonders for your perspective. Instead of feeling like denying fleshly cravings and losing sugar wasn't worth my time, I suddenly felt like what I was doing was worth it. It made it easier to say no, easier to reach for the water bottle rather than the coffee pot, and easier to enjoy the freshly ground peanut butter on one slice of the Keto bread. 

Telling myself "no" to a few little things that I had been, unwittingly, using as comforts suddenly felt worth it in order to reach a bigger goal of feeling healthier and liking what I saw in the mirror a little bit more. It was a small victory step that surprised me in its weightiness. Mentally, it was the boost I needed to keep going and not give up. 

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There are all sorts of things that we give up on in life. Challenges to read a certain number of books. Goals to walk a set number of steps. Plans to visit new places, see new things, and try new foods. Or even the intention to forgive past wrongs, break bad habits, or avoid making the same mistakes over and over again. 

We start out strong - we read the first book, we walk the first week, we download the Airbnb app, and we make a list of new restaurants to try. We have every intention of forgiving that person we've been holding a grudge against...until we see them. We make it a day or two without spending money we don't have on stuff we don't need. We stand firm in our resolve...until it's been a long day, a bad week, or a hard month. And then we allow the negatives to overwhelm the positives. 

When it's been several days of not making time to read, it's easy to just throw in the towel and say, "Oh well, I might as well not even try at all," and then pick up your phone and start scrolling through your favorite social app. 

After feeling like you've denied yourself of everything you wanted for a week and then the scale says, "Nothing's changed. Nice try. Thanks for playing," it's not surprising when we shout, "Why even try?!" and wheel into the local coffee shop for a high calorie beverage or stop for doughnuts. 

Or when you extend the hand of love and friendship to someone and get kicked in the pants for your troubles, or get burned again when you lower your guard, daring to hope that this time something will be different, it's not surprising that most of us say, "I knew it," and shut the door to ever trying something like that again. 

So what do we do? Do we give up? Do we cave and then kick ourselves a little bit more when the scale moves up, when the bank account is at $0 but our closets are full of cloths we don't wear, when nothing at all changes and this year begins to look exactly like last year? No. That's when it's time to look for the positives.

Small steps, sometimes so infinitesimal that they'd be hard to see without a magnifying glass, are the small victories that help keep us going. If I was only focused on the numbers on my scale, I would probably have given up by now. But because a friend suggested that I also measure inches (which I've never done before), I knew that even though it felt like nothing had changed, things actually were happening. You wouldn't believe how excited I got when I was down a measly quarter of an inch. But, on the small victory side, I wasn't up a quarter of an inch! 

And when that person disappoints you again, when they fail to show up or they break their own resolutions, instead of shutting down, why not do a little self-reflection? What failures would you like people to judge you by? My guess is...none. Rather than judging the parent/friend/child/sibling/co-worker by their failures to live up to their own expectations, let alone yours, why not consider extending grace to them? You might be surprised. It could be just the boost of encouragement they need to pick up their pieces and try again. Don't blow them out of the water. Give them a small victory. 

Simplifying the Holidays

Feeling overwhelmed by the holidays? Wondering, like Linus, if Christmas is too commercial? 

Welcome to the club.

My pillow (in the background of the photo) says it in many languages...it's Christmas. In December 2019, just prior to COVID taking over the world and forcing us to a sudden stop, I wrote a note to myself. I just stumbled across it again and felt that it was worth sharing with a larger audience because three years later, it still resonated with me. Oh, the stresses are different (homeschooling vs. finding teacher gifts), but the sentiment is still the same. And the reminder...every bit as pertinent. May you find encouragement in what you read below, and take heart...the Reason we celebrate is greater than the chaos of this world! 

This image is the personal property of C.G. Koens and may not be used without permission.

I'm usually super prepared, with everything wrapped and ready to go at the beginning of November. But this year everything's sneaking up on me...teacher gifts (I have them all, just not wrapped, and as to WHEN they'll be delivered...well...that's anybody's guess!), last week of school events ("Mom, are you bringing anything to...?"), gift card exchanges (Wait, what? WHY?), work projects (right, that's due right after Christmas, and I'm not working that week, so I need to turn it in this week, so...), bills (oops, look what got buried on my desk!), and now a feverish hubby (he's actually used 2 sick days - highly unusual for him) who's also out of commission for parenting, which makes me realize just how much I rely on him to help me juggle things when he comes home after work. And then last night, when the 8-year-old came in and said he felt "exhausted" and didn't balk when I suggested he go put on his pajamas and go to bed at 5 p.m., I knew another one was down for the count. I told the girls this morning that none of them were allowed to get whatever bug this is, and that you had to have a "Y" chromosome to pick it up. We'll see how well that works.

At any rate, after dinner and getting everyone in bed, and checking on the two sickies, I plopped on the couch for a moment and appreciated my new birthday shoes (courtesy of my amazing Hubs, who knows me so well) and the Christmas tree and a moment to be still.

I've seen a number of posts this year from people who are feeling overwhelmed, over-committed, and unprepared. I'm sure Mary felt the same way...but NOT for the same reasons. 

Although I thought I'd intentionally slowed down this year, I find myself feeling like I've been wound too tightly. I just discovered a bag of fun Christmas goodies that I bought because I wanted to be intentional and make some fun memories with the kids...but it was hidden under all the STUFF I need to deal with. Life IS busy, especially with five kids, but last night made me realize I don't want to miss WHY we are celebrating. Don't get me wrong...I love the tree and the lights. I love the music and the food (a little too much on the latter!). I love hunting down gifts that will make the recipients squeal. But in the end, the Grinch was right...it's not about the tinsel and trappings, and it doesn't come from a store.

Two thousand years ago (give or take a few years), a teenage girl said, "I am the Lord's servant," in response to a message that would make her a cultural outcast, potentially end her engagement to a good man, and change the course of her life forever. I am thankful for her example, that she responded in this way and opened her life up in obedience to God's calling, no matter how crazy it sounded to her family and friends. I know a tiny bit about what that feels like (believe it or not, some people thought we were a little nuts for adopting 5 kids at once...go figure!), but being available when God called was, much like Mary, one of the best decisions we've ever made.

And so this Christmas, in the midst of busyness and sickness and holiday folderol I want to stop and say the same: I am the Lord's servant. I don't know what that will look like, but I do know it means being open to being pulled in the directions that He chooses. That might mean getting involved with people who need to see His love this season, or it might mean focusing on instructing the kids in what's eternal and what's of this world. Whatever it looks like, He must increase and I must decrease.

If you've read this far, Merry Christmas, everyone!

What Happened to The Twelve?

In January, after reading a post from Jules, I was inspired to set a goal of writing one blog post per month. This felt manageable, albeit a far cry from the days of writing five posts a week, back in the heyday of blogging. I did pretty well, through June, despite some major personal challenges in my immediate and extended family. But when my mother ended up in the hospital in July, while my father ended up with Covid at home, and my eldest child was freaking out about moving out on her own and starting college, the blog (and so many other plans) once again got set to the side for more important things. 

Through August 1st, I wrote a grand total of eight posts, and then something had to give. I shared post #9 last week, an ode to the purge of stuff that is currently sweeping our home (thanks in part to the major move I've been assisting my parents with all fall), and this makes #10. 

One year, twelve months, ten posts. It doesn't feel like much, and yet every time I managed to write something it felt like an accomplishment. Something for me. Something that used another part of my brain, that dug up another part of my old life. Something that fed a desire that is still deeply buried within. Something I don't want to fully give up just yet.

Sometimes when I'm in the middle of reading history with three of my kids or trying to wrap my head around a middle school math problem, I suddenly think of something I'd like to write about. I miss writing. But life must take precedence, and at this point as a homeschooling mom of four, it's more important to ensure that they know how to read and write than it is to get my creative juices flowing or attempt to build any kind of following again. 

And so in those moments when the inspiration for a post comes, I breathe a sigh and realize those days have passed. I will never be a famous blogger or an influencer, other than in my own little realm of influence. But in my 41st year of life, I find that I'm okay with those facts, in a way that I wasn't in my 20s. 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

And so here we are, at the end of yet another year. Hoping to finish well, and looking ahead to the possibilities and unknowns of 2023. I've got a list of smaller, and hopefully achievable, goals going in the Keep list on my phone. From time to time I think of something else I'd like to add to the checklist of small wins, so I open the app and add it. 

Read a book, write twelve blog posts, lose 2 lbs. a month...these aren't big things, but in the grand scheme of my life at the moment, achieving them would feel huge. 

If 2022 (and 2021...and 2020...) and all of its chaotic curveballs have taught me anything it's this: In 2023 I'd like to learn how to celebrate, and be content with, small victories. 

Find the Joy

I've been on a bit of a purging kick since the week of Thanksgiving. Before hosting 22 people last Thursday, I went through my kitchen and pantry and filled six large boxes with items to be donated to our local Goodwill.

It was good stuff, nice stuff, never-been-used stuff. Holiday dishes, mixing bowls, cloth napkins. It represented a realistic look at my fantasy life/family that I imagined I would have when I was in my 20s, and the reality of my (wonderful) life/family in my 40s.

 
I know what kind of mom I am...not the kind that needs 100 cookie cutters. I know what kind of hostess I am...the kind that is a raving fan of the nice holiday paper plates from Hobby Lobby. I routinely choose ease over fuss, simple over hard, and ready-made over made-from-scratch (most of the time...I have my moments).

 
Since then, the purge has continued. Three more large boxes have been packed up since the pre-Thanksgiving load, including more holiday decor as I've been going through the containers from our basement, decking the house. 

I've boxed up Christmas dishes that my mother gave to my grandparents when she and my father were poor newlyweds (a set of four, split between their two parents). One of the plates broke in a move we made 22 years ago, and the other three have been pulled out and used a handful of times since then. They hold memories...for my mom, but not for me. And so they are being passed on to someone who can love and use them, rather than collecting dust in my cabinet. 

In many ways, this purge has been more about examining the reasons I've been keeping these things, and less about the items themselves. It's not about whether they are useful or beautiful (a la William Morris), rather, it's asking myself if the only reason I'm holding onto them is for the memories associated with them, even if they aren't my memories. What I'm realizing (thanks in part to Let It Go: Downsizing Your Way to a Richer, Happier Life by Peter Walsh, $4.99 for the Kindle version as of the time of writing, and worth it if you're simplifying, downsizing, or preparing to move loved ones), is that the memories are enough...I don't need the things too.

While working on dinner this week, I looked up and "saw" this candle on the ledge of the pass-through window to the dining room. I say "saw" because it's actually been sitting in my kitchen ever since a friend gave it to me for Christmas...several years ago. I've seen it almost every day, but never took the time to do anything with it. It just sat there, as life went on. But as I looked at it this time I suddenly knew...it was time. Light the candle. Enjoy the smell, the flame, the reminder to find JOY at that moment. And when the moment is over, toss or pass it on.

 
I am thankful for these simple truths that are being revealed to me this holiday season. Find joy, use it up, share it with others, enjoy it, and cherish the memory without holding onto the stuff. Life, and specifically Christmas, is about so much more.

The Year of Weakness

Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. {2 Corinthians 12:8-10}

When a child made some poor life choices early in the year, I thought, "Well, that's going to be the low point of the year. Glad we got that out of the way early." And then when my elderly mother fell and fractured her hip, I thought, "Lord, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take in 2022." And recently, when another child decided at Easter that Christianity and Jesus rising and us spending eternity somewhere other than a box in the ground is all a hoax and not to be believed...I felt like "What have I been doing the last five and a half years?"  

Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash

Even though I knew better, there was a part of me that thought 2022 would be the year I'd finally have it all together. I'd be on the ball with homeschooling (reality: I'm barely keeping my head above water as I juggle four grades and five kids); I'd get it together with time management (reality: the kids don't coordinate their needs with my neat schedule, and I consider it a win if I get a solid 5 hours of sleep); I would have more time to spend with the Hubs (reality: he changed jobs, became self-employed, is busier than ever, and all of my time is spent with the five kids who need me MORE, rather than less, as they get older). Rather than having it all together, I look far more like the LegoⓇ woman above - broken up, scattered, and utterly helpless. 

When my mom broke her hip, I had a few minutes of being alone in my car as I headed to pick up a child who was late for a Bible study she was supposed to start that night. As I drove the curving mountain roads from my parent's home, I found myself slamming my hands against the steering wheel and crying. Why God? I cannot take any more. I cannot do this any longer. My life is already full. I'm already tired...WHY? WHY? WHY?? Okay, so it was more like a whine than a cry (although there were tears of anger and frustration as well). And it was while I was wiping away the tears that the verses above came to my mind. His power is made perfect in my weakness. 

As I continued to drive, I asked God, "How? How am I supposed to BOAST in my weakness?? I don't know how to do that. I don't know why I would do that. I don't like weakness...and You want me to BOAST in it? Fine. [Insert a snarky, "challenge accepted" attitude here] I will boast. Teach me how to boast in my weakness." 

And God did just that. I instantly knew that if I couldn't boast in it, and if I couldn't rejoice in it, then I was going to miss the lessons He wanted to teach me. The tears dried up, the anger dissipated, and I was able to grip the wheel and say out loud, in the quiet of my empty car, "Yes, Lord. Okay. I see it now. I am weak. I must be weak if Your power is to rest on me because otherwise, it's all about me. And I'm missing the point. So...thank You. Thank You for this opportunity to lean into your power and rejoice in my weakness. For when I am weak, then You are strong in my life." 

When we realized that a child we thought knew Jesus really didn't...it was a blow. And when another child cornered me for two hours in a car and unloaded her concerns about her siblings, I thought, "Wow, if we come out of this with ANY of the kids following Jesus, it will ONLY be through the power of God, for His glory...not mine. Because right now my parenting batting average is taking a massive hit." And you know what? That's exactly where I needed to be. Because let's face it...I'm not amazing. If the kids all graduated magna cum laude and went on to successful careers, and proved to everyone that I was an incredible parent and nurture was, in fact, stronger than nature...then the praise would fall on me. So, as hard as this is to say, I would rather we not look successful in the eyes of the world, if all - or some - of these kids God placed in our lives eventually fully surrender their lives to Jesus and the world sees His power and He receives all the glory for a life or lives well lived. 

You would think that getting this lesson that day in the car, things might begin to turn around. But as the year has progressed, it hasn't gotten easier. And why would it? I still have more to learn.

When the phone call came in that the child had spun off the road and totaled her car (but walked away unscathed)...

When the x-ray showed two level-three sprains resulting in a boot (again)...

When the Hubs is always busy but the paying jobs are not always forthcoming...

When I am outbid by the editing competition and start second-guessing my proposal rates...

When my Facebook feed is filled with smiling, happy couples on vacations in exotic locales while I am sitting at home, cleaning out my freezer and answering the same question for the fourth time...

I am learning to sit in my weakness and find reasons to be thankful. And no, that doesn't always look the way you might think it should. The other day, while I was driving to pick up a kid and stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle, I suddenly found myself yelling. I was angry. I thought I was angry at a child, or maybe just the poor driver who was slowing me down, but as I yelled, I realized...no, it's not the child or the driver...I was angry at God. I was angry that this is the life He gave me. I was angry that things and situations aren't being "fixed" in the ways I think they should be (or not that I can see at this moment). I was mad that I am stuck here, angry at the current circumstances, and generally frustrated by the inability to make any headway. This anger lasted about a mile...and then I found my reason to be thankful: I serve a God who is big enough and loving enough and gracious enough to love me in spite of my anger. My God knew I was angry with Him before I did, and in His mercy, He opened my eyes to see His love. 

Twenty-twenty-two has been incredibly challenging, but it has also been the year that in my weakness, His strength is being made perfect. I am thankful for the year of weakness, and even though I'm mentally, emotionally, and physically ready for a break in the waves...His strength is sustaining, and I'm leaning into it. I'm not sure what your year has looked like, but if you're feeling weak, congratulations...you might be right where God wants you to be. Welcome to the club.

Surviving the Flood

When my phone rang at 11:45 PM on December 31st, I knew it wasn't a good sign before I ever answered it. Twenty twenty-two came in with a bang, and it often feels like it's taken up the challenge of 2020 and upped the ante. 

Photo by Yannis Papanastasopoulos on Unsplash

In February I found myself nursing a bruised tailbone after taking a tumble while proving to my kids that at 40 I could still rollerskate (I earned both street cred and the right to take ibuprofen like they were candy for a while). While worth it to receive their unchecked admiration, my coccyx did not rebound like it did when I was eight.

When I rolled over in our Florida hotel room bed a little over a week ago in the wee hours of the morning and saw multiple missed calls and then started reading the text messages, my heart sank as I realized we were not only right back where we had been on December 31st, but in for a much bigger ride this time. Poking the Hubs and waking the kids in the middle of the night was just the start of the next 18+ hours of driving, praying, and wishing I could wake up and it would all be a really bad dream. 

When my phone rang again a week ago, just a couple of days after our rude awakening in Florida, I knew as soon as I heard my mother's voice that things were not good. And not good turned into a fall resulting in a fractured femoral neck (connecting to the hip), buying walkers, dealing with doctors, and becoming the self-appointed communicator with siblings, Church family, friends, and more. 

Today I posted a notarized letter to a juvenile court in central Florida because they won't talk to me on the phone or over the internet. In 2022, the only way to communicate is through a letter. Bureaucracy at its finest. And even though we haven't arrived there yet, April is already wearing me out with what might be on the horizon. 

So when a friend saw me this weekend and told me about this book I should read, it was all I could do to keep from laughing. Read?? I'm doing good to get through my text messages, much less adding one more book to my stack. Most nights in the last week I didn't fall into bed before one or two o'clock in the morning. 

I am a counselor with no degree, a pastor with no formal training, a medical aid without going to medical school. I am a housekeeper, a personal assistant, a communications expert, and - apparently - I am Google, because I cannot tell you the number of times someone has asked me for the answer to something they could have Googled...which I then proceed to do and then give them the answer. 

This is all in addition to the unpaid gigs of math tutor, science teacher, geography expert, and guidance counselor for the four kids I'm actively homeschooling. And the "normal" stuff that comes with being a mom of five, and a wife... chauffeur, cook, laundry manager, keeper of the schedule, planner of meals, an expert at selecting Amazon Prime next-day shipping for that thing the kid needs that I forgot until now... and a self-employed writer, editor, and proofreader on top of that, just to keep things from becoming boring. And if all of that were not enough, the Hubs is about to leave his job of 20 years to work for himself, and all the changes that come with that transition. Plus, it's tax season. Because...why not?

Everyone needs something...and reading a book that you think might be "helpful" to me is not at all helpful...unless it comes with legs and arms and can drive a car and run errands and give worthwhile advice when one (or more) of my kids are in tears just when I'm ready to crawl under the covers for the day. 

And yet, I am surviving this deluge of busyness, this tsunami of trials. People have asked how I'm holding up...and my answer remains the same: God is sustaining. He always has and He always does. 

One day last week, as I was driving from my parent's house to the pharmacy (with a stop at the medical equipment store), I, the stoic INTJ, burst into tears. It was all just too much. And as I sobbed and snotted all over the steering wheel, I heard God say, "When you are weak, I am strong. Rejoice in your weakness so that My power may rest on you." Being the obedient daughter that I am, I immediately said (out loud), "REJOICE?? FATHER, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REJOICE IN THIS?!?!" And again I heard, "In your weakness, my strength is shown. My power is made perfect in weakness." The tears dried up as I meditated on these truths, and then I pressed on, in my weakness, and in His strength. 

When long nights followed long days, He was there. When the clock ticked slowly past the midnight hour, and my brain had long since shut off, He gave wisdom. And best of all, this gift is not just mine alone - it is available to you, to all of us who believe in Him, who choose to trust Him, who take one step in faith and keep walking. 

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. {Matthew 11:28-29}

The floods will keep coming. The waves will crash and the stormy gales will continue to blow, but, in the words of the song by Andrae Crouch, through it all, through it all...I've learned to trust in Jesus, I've learned to trust in God. I've learned to depend upon His Word. 

Happy March. I didn't organize my pantry (per my list of 12 for this year), but I learned a lot more about leaning into the Lord and taking what comes a day at a time. Whatever happens in April, may I still be found, in my weakness, resting in His power. See you next month...Lord willing! 

Creature Comforts

I love winter. I suspect I may be one of the few people out there who truly feel this way, and it's not because I'm a huge outdoor enthusiast who lives for a week of skiing in the mountains. In fact, I've never been skiing, and have no desire to go. But I am an enthusiast of cozy. Snuggle-friendly blankets, hot mugs of tea, coffee, or cider, comfortable sweaters, early evenings, the glow of candles and the warmth of a fireplace (when you can find one), and - the obvious - a good book. These are my happy place, these are what make me sigh contentedly and think, in the words of Louis Armstrong, What a wonderful world...  

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

However, I've been through periods of my life when no amount of blankets or cups of tea would have brought a smile to my face. The world - my world - felt too dark. But in that darkness, I found the only Comfort that truly matters, and that was the love of my Savior, and His promise to never leave me or forsake me. And when I began to come out of the haze, I remember one of the first things I found enjoyment in again was warming up my tea pot and pouring myself a cup of tea. And I was grateful. Grateful for God's promises and His work in my life, even in the darkest of days. 

I've said it before, joining my voice to a chorus of others, that 2020 was a difficult year that seems to have rolled right over into 2021. But as in any bad situation, there's always something to be thankful for (consider Betsie Ten Boom giving thanks for fleas!), and in the last 12 months, I have learned to be thankful for a slower pace of life, and the little things that bring a smile to my face - such as the Advent calendar of tea that I purchased for the Hubs and I to enjoy during the holidays, or the fuzzy blanket that kept us warm while we battled off a bug. 

So in no particular order, here are a few of the "creature comforts" that have kept me smiling over the last year, and might be of interest to you as we head into the next year of unknown. 

• Scented candles - I always have one burning in our room, or at my desk where I'm working on school stuff for the kids. A recent favorite was the French Baguette candle from Bath & Body Works that smelled exactly like freshly baked bread. Sadly, it is no longer available, but I'd be tempted to give this one a shot if given the chance. 
• Meals in the InstaPot, CrockPot, and rice cooker - With so much time at home, I quickly moved through our repertoire of recipes that most of the family could agree on, so I turned to Google to help me out. Two of our new go-to meals came about as a result of those searches: Easy Slow Cooker Creamy Chicken Chili (we leave out the corn), and Hearty Sausage 'n' Beans (with a couple of ingredient tweaks, and I toss it all in the rice cooker, making it even easier).
• Mood lighting - This past Christmas, I found myself with a short strand of small, clear, LED lights without a purpose. I was about to toss them back in the box when I realized I could wrap them around our headboard. When the holidays were over, I decided the cozy factor was too good to give up, and since they were white, they worked as a year-round addition.

• The Goodreads app - which reminded me that even though it felt like I was spinning my wheels, I was still making progress on one of my 2020 goals.
• Faux fur throw - While browsing around our local TJ Maxx, I pick up one that was similar to the one seen here. Although not typically my style, I love the way it feels and the fact that it's just a bit heavier than a normal blanket. 
• YouTube jazz - whether I'm trying to focus on editing work, or chilling out after all the kids are in their rooms for the night, I love the seasonal jazz channels on YouTube. Check out the Cafe Music BGM Channel for a variety of options, including Rainy Day jazz (one of my favorites).
• Le Creuset Stoneware Tea Mug - this was on my Christmas wish list and my sweet Hubs went for it. I didn't expect for this mug to take the place of my previous favorite (from the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild), but I love the heft of it, the way my hands fit perfectly around it, and its ability to hold heat. 

These are just a few of the creature comforts that have made the last year (and specifically this winter) a little more cozy and fun. It doesn't include the variety of teas that I've picked up and enjoyed from TJ Maxx, Fresh Market, and even Kroger. It also leaves out the baked good that my mother had been dropping off for the last year, or the bag of international snacks that I keep in our room, for those late night catch-up sessions with the Hubs. It doesn't mention the spring days spent laying in our outdoor hammock with a good book, or the sound of the kids playing in the cheap above-ground pool held together with Gorilla Glue tape, but those things also make me smile and whisper, "Thank You, God." It truly is a wonderful world...   

What would you add to this list? 

What makes you smile, brings a sense of warmth to your life (or toes), and helps keep the doldrums away? Leave a note in the comments, because I'd love to hear about it!

It's Up to Us

I shared this on my personal Facebook account yesterday, but thought it was just as applicable to share here, today, as a reminder to us all that we can make a positive impact in our own part of the world, no matter what the politicians do or don't do, or how history books look back on this day in the future.

I think today's going to be historic, for a number of reasons, not all good. I don't talk politics on Facebook, but if I told you who I voted for, I bet I would lose half of my Facebook connections. And yet, here's the irony...the same half that I would lose often comment on my posts, bring joy to my day with their family photos, and have interacted with me in person at some point of my life and we've all gotten along...somehow. 

Friends...it's not about who you voted for on your (private) ballot...it's about how you live your life and treat your neighbor, co-worker, the young teen bagging your groceries, the purple-haired guy/gal handing you your coffee, the little old lady in front of you who's writing a check when you're in a hurry...or the people you know online. I don't care if you voted for the other guy (whichever "other" guy that was, because my vote is still private, last time I checked), I care how you treat others...how you treat me. If who a person voted for makes a difference in how we view them, then the problem really isn't in the vote, is it? 

A couple of months ago I was having a conversation with a gal I've known for a number of years, and she said that God had been changing her to see that only two things mattered in life: Love God, Love People. That really stuck with me, because it's basically Mark 12:28-31, simplified. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. The greatest commandments. 

I am thankful that even though I've failed at both of those things in the past, 2021 is a new year, and God has given me another opportunity to put both of these into practice. It's going to be a challenge, no doubt, because I don't see 2021 getting any easier, but if I can make a difference in my little corner of the world...then I think it will be worthwhile. 

Forgive the picture...it's harder than I thought to make a heart with your hands...it looked good from my side (hmmm...funny, just like our opinions).

The Importance of Getting Outside

I've always been proud of the way that I throw my kids outside on a regular basis, to play, ride bikes, or climb trees. We live on a half-acre in the middle of our small town, so they have room to run and yell and get out all their energy (sorry, neighbors...raising them like it's the 1980's!). But I've recently been reading a book that has challenged my view about how and when I encourage the kids to go outside, and I realized that the words, "It's too cold," or "It's been raining," have come out of my mouth a little too often. As the title of the book suggests, There's No Such Thing as Bad Weather... you just don't have the right clothes. 

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

The book, written by a Scandinavian mom who now calls the American midwest home, outlines how the Scandinavian parenting view of outdoor time differs wildly from the protective, safety first mentality that is so prevalent in the United States. When she parked her baby pram outside the backdoor for her girls to enjoy their naps in the fresh air, her neighbors thought she was insane. When she took her kids to a state park to allow them to swim in the stream, she received a ticket for leaving the marked trails. But when she returned to Sweden with her girls for a six-month stay while her dad dealt with health issues, she was reminded of the freedoms that she enjoyed as a child, and had to relearn the art of letting go and allowing her children to experience life - in all it's dangerous glory. 

From birthday parties in the snow to rainy day walks and letting her kids go to the park down the street on their own, McGurk shares how giving children these types of freedoms is not only good for their mental and physical health, but it allows them to develop independence and learn from their mistakes. In general, the book is a strange dichotomy of liberal thinking (think: save the planet) and the rugged individualism that used to be so prevalent in the U.S., but has given way to the cry of "safety above all else!" And it made me seriously rethink the ways in which I viewed outdoor play and encouraged independence and problem solving in my little brood. Which is why I found myself on Amazon, ordering rain boots last week.

When the boots arrived, I brought them out one at a time for the kids to try on. After the fourth one received his pair, I told them that the reason I purchased them was so they would be able to go out and play in the rain and mud and it wouldn't matter. By the squeals and yells of excitement, one would have thought they were headed to Disney World. Who would have thought that rain boots and permission to go out and get dirty would be that exciting? Except...that's exactly the way I grew up...and nothing was more exciting to me than a day spent outside in the rain. And nothing was more cozy than coming inside from that rain, to dry off and warm up in a blanket, with a mug of hot cocoa. And so the tradition continues...

Do you have any rainy day memories?

2020 Wasn't All Bad... #BookwormsUnite

A bazillion words have been written about 2020, and let's be real, most of them are pretty negative. Never in my thirty-nine years of life have I ever seen the collective world so ready to kick a year to the curb. Even the Bitmojis got into the action. But, as I said earlier, not every year is all bad—or all good—and 2020 was no exception. Along with a whole lot of yuck, there were definitely some highlights, and that's something I've been trying to reflect on as we head into 2021. Because we have no idea what the next twelve months will hold for us, as individuals, or our world, so dwelling solely on the negative of the last year isn't going to help any of us face whatever lies before us. And so I'm spending these first few days of the new year looking for the positive from 2020, and I hope you'll join me. 

One of my positives from 2020 was the fact that I found so much time to read. In fact, after I pulled this graphic from Goodreads, I was able to add an additional book to the year, bringing it up to a grand total of 70, officially, and quite a few more than that, unofficially, as I didn't count all of the books I read aloud to the kids during the year, for nightly reading and school reading. Considering the fact that I barely made my goal of 52 in 2019, I was surprised and pleased with this result, which happened, in part, because I gained extra time in my day by not driving kids to two different schools in another town, and sitting in car lines every afternoon. Thank you, COVID-19. I will never be sorry not to do that drive twice a day (if not more, when someone had an after school activity). 

Since I'm setting a goal for this year to read all of the books on my nightstand, I thought it might be prudent to share my top reads (out of the 70+) from 2020. In no particular order, here are the six that I enjoyed the most—or impacted me the most—over the last twelve months...

1. The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield - this book shook me in ways I didn't expect. I'd read her first book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, and knew that theologically, we didn't agree on everything. However, this book was nothing less than challenging, convicting, and one of my must read recommendations of the year.
2. The Last Castle by Denise Kiernan - I grew up an hour away from the Biltmore House in Asheville, NC, so I was excited to read this one. I felt the writing could be confusing, sometimes finding myself in the middle of a story about a friend of the Vanderbilts, with no idea how I got there or who I was reading about. It was also interesting to me that, although Kiernan mentions spending lots of time at the Biltmore House, she apparently had no access to their historical archives, as all of her sources came from other places. 
3. Orchids on Your Budget by Marjorie Hillis - I had absolutely no expectations about this book when I picked it up, but ended up writing half of an unpublished blog post about the financial tips that I agreed with from this little bit of fun. It's all about choices - where you spend your money, how you spend your money, and why you choose to buy orchids while wearing the same old robe for 20 years. I liked it. 
4. The Way I Heard It by Mike Rowe - This was a total "just for fun" read, and I enjoyed it more than I expected to. I'm not usually a fan of these kinds of books, but I enjoy reading what Mike posts on Facebook, so I thought I might like his book. And, for the most part, I did. Disclaimer that the language can be a little rough at times. 
5. 1984 by George Orwell - to be honest, I HATED this book. I gave it a 1-star review on Goodreads, and finished reading it February 15, 2020. Ironically, throughout the remainder of the year, I was continually reminded of the book, and was stunned to realize that I was beginning to live in a world that resembled that found in 1984. God help us all. I still think it's a depressing and disturbing book, but living it out in real life is a lot more scary. So yes, it should be read.
6. A is for Arsenic by Kathryn Harkup - it took me a while to get through this book, picking it up and putting it back down again for a bit of a breather (lots of scientific stuff in this one, which can be overwhelming for an English major!), but overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this one, probably because of the tie-in to all of the Agatha Christie books (I'm a sucker for Christie!). It was fascinating.

*   *   *

What did YOU read in 2020?

Words of 2020

I've always been a "word of the year" type gal. When I wrote a new year goals post this past January, I talked about how I was looking forward to 2020 being the year when I challenged myself. How little did I know just how true that would turn out to be. Only I didn't challenge myself...the world challenged me.

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

As we come to the end of this year of change and turmoil, I decided to spend some time thinking about the words that actually summed up the year. In an interesting twist, I didn't expect there to be so many good words included in my list. 

Release - the release of busyness, of fear, of holding on to things that were no longer helpful or best for me or for our family. 

Community - this was a surprise to the introvert, but I discovered the importance of people, and the power of friendships - even when they are formed through WhatsApp chats.

Surrender - of my plans, my goals, my dreams, for myself, for the kids, for our world. While my inner control enthusiast was busy screaming, God was reminding me that He's in charge.

Strength - I discovered that, with God's help, I was stronger than I thought, and could do things that had previously felt impossible...like homeschooling five kids.

Togetherness - if you'd asked me last January if I would survive being with all five kids, 24/7, with no built in breaks while they are at school and I could work, I would have told you, "No way!" As it turns out, this forced time together has done wonders for our relationships, and I now view it as a gift...most days. ☺

But it wasn't all happiness, sunshine, and light. I mean, anyone who has gone through this year knows that 2020 threw more than its fair share of curve balls. So words like Grief, Tired, Change, Frustration, and Anger also made my list of words. But even in those seemingly negative responses, there was still growth and learning (another word of 2020), and I can now look back - even on those hard times - and find reasons to be thankful. 

If there was ever a year for keeping track of what I was thankful for, 2020 was the year. I suspect that in one year, five years, 10 years, I'll look back on Facebook memories from this season, and be reminded that it wasn't all bad. No year is, just as no year is all good. Every year has the potential to be challenging—maybe not on a global scale, as we saw over the last 12 months—and every year has the possibility of changing us. It's up to us whether we embrace that change, or expend our energy trying to keep everything the same. Which, spoiler alert, never works. 

What will 2021 hold? Only God knows! And I've just about decided that's the way I like it. Don't tell my inner control enthusiast, though...she'll freak out again. 😉

The Year of More

It's no secret to anyone that 2020 has not been the banner year that everyone thought it would be. One year ago, people were looking forward to this year with all kinds of grandiose expectations. It was a new decade, a time to stretch and grow, an opportunity to take on new challenges and try new things. The funny thing is - that's exactly what it ended up being...for us all, just not on our terms. We were faced with challenges that we never saw coming. We were forced to try new things that were not at all in our plans. We were stretched to the max, and growth inevitably came from that. 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

In January 2020, we started talking about moving all the kids to the same private school. My freelance work was flourishing, and if we cut corners elsewhere, it looked like we could just manage the cost of that change. Having them all at one school would mean less driving for me, a simplified schedule, and the opportunity to get them all into the same routine. It seemed like the perfect plan, and so we began the process of applying and waiting to see if there were spots available in their respective classes. One week before the country began shutting down, just days before the kids came home from school for spring break...and stayed home, I received a phone call informing me that a spot had opened up for our final child, which meant all five were in. We were set. I paid the fees, keeping a wary eye on the storm clouds, and trusted that if this is where God wanted the kids, He would continue to open doors. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, something was nagging me. 

By the end of spring break, the official ruling was that the kids were to stay home through the first of April. My gut told me, even while the schools insisted that it was temporary, they were home to stay. You know the rest of the story. School went online, parents scrambled to figure out how to turn empty corners into classrooms, and toilet paper suddenly vanished from the shelves. By the time April 1st rolled around, I could see the writing on the wall as my freelance contracts dried up, and that persistent nagging in my head got louder. When I officially lost my biggest client (the one that would pay for the kid's schooling) in mid-April, it didn't take long to see that the choice to homeschool had just been made for me. It was the very idea that I'd been fighting for the four years since our adoption...and now it was my only option.

Stretched to the max moments like that often turn into defining moments. The monuments in life that you look back on and say, "Wow...that changed everything." Instead of being in a position where I was comfortable in my field and confident in my knowledge, I was treading water in the deep end of the pool. Not only did I need to figure out legal requirements, I needed to come up with a curriculum and lesson plans, an online option for our high school sophomore, and wrap my head around the idea of being a full-time teacher, when I'd hated every education class I took in college. Not only was I, as an introvert, adjusting to having five kids at home with me all day long, but I was also responsible for making sure they could read, write, and pass 6th grade math. These things were not in my plans last January, but then neither was owning a Christmas-themed face mask.

There are 16 days left in this year, and I know people are counting down because they're sick of this year and all the changes it's required. But you know what? Every new year we all talk about the changes we want to make, how we want to try something new, get out of our ruts, or slow down and enjoy the simpler things of life. We may have hated this year, but 2020 forced us to do ALL of those things, and more. Our family dynamics totally changed as we spent more time together. Of course there were growing pains, and yes, we got sick of one another, but we also learned more about what makes each one of us tick. We discovered new ways to spend our days. We enjoyed slower mornings, longer lunches, later bedtimes, and spontaneous family movie nights. Instead of always rushing to be at the next event or school function, we read longer and played more. We made do with what we had (like Gorilla gluing the leaks in our existing pool when there was no replacement to be found), paid closer attention to how many paper towels and how much toilet paper we used, and realized the importance of community. Rather than 2020 taking something from us, we discovered it became our year of more. 

More time together.
More focus on what really mattered.
More appreciation for the things we took for granted before.  

2021 might be better, it may be worse, or it could be a continuation of the year we've just had. But no matter what, it's probably time to change the mindset of "when will it end" and start giving thanks for all the opportunities for growth that have come about because of it. As for me? Well, I just ordered all the books for my kids to move ahead to their next grade levels, because we can, and I'm anticipating 2021 being another year of MORE. More challenges. More growth. More love. More memories. More new experiences. More opportunities to be stretched to the max, and discover how much more there is for us to learn. 

How about you? Are you ready for MORE?

Finding Contentment

Yesterday I listened to a man talking about being content. In his example, he said that he would walk his neighborhood, praying and thanking God for different things, and as he walked home, he would come down the street and look at the back of his house, and start thinking about things that he would like to change. A bigger deck, some improvements to his landscaping, etc., right after he'd been thanking God for what he had. 

As I sat there, listening, I gulped a little bit. Or maybe a lot. And I started making a list of all the things that I was putting in the place of contentment. It was truly amazing how quickly I wrote down 8-10 things that I was actively seeking--from home additions to Starbucks stops to me-time--that had sneakily become things that were taking away from my contentment. 

If only I had...a day off from the responsibilities of parenthood, a caramel macchiato, a couple of extra rooms in the house, my own office, that sweater that I saw on sale...then things would be better. This stupid virus and the way it's impacting and changing everything wouldn't be so bad because I'd be content in my (bigger) house with (more) rooms for the kids to hang out in so that I would have (me) time to do other stuff and spread out a little while sipping coffee in my (new) office.

Do you see how easily the seeds of discontentment can sneak in? It sure hit me like a ton of bricks yesterday. And I hated it. I hated that I had become so dense to the changes in my outlook, and I hated that I had slipped into the mindset that anything (from more rooms to a coffee) would make me happier, kinder, or more grateful for what I've been given.

We ate a meal with some friends recently, and the wife apologized that our younger kids would need to use the smaller dessert plates for their meals because she only had one set of dishes, and not enough big plates to go around. I thought I had misheard her. Only one set? Really? Even with all of my clean out sessions and purges, I still have enough plates to feed 100 people at once. And, sadly, that may even be a low estimate. And then it struck me, as we were talking, that every time they had been to our house, I had used paper or plastic plates with them...because I didn't want to have to clean up afterwards. All those dishes...sitting in their cabinets and cupboards, and I'm using paper.

If I'm not grateful for what I already have...if I don't take care of what is already in my possession...if I'm not using my existing things...then why would more be better?

As I walked our block this morning, and looked at the back of our house, I listened to Philippians 4, and asked God to help me be content in Him. Content in everything, in plenty and in want. Content in the situation in which I currently find myself (homeschooling five kids - by choice), content at the desk in our bedroom, content with the Starbucks Via coffee that I can make at home for a lot less, content with the clothes in my closet. But not content to stay as I am, in the mindset I'm in, lacking the Fruits that I want from the Spirit.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go dig some dishes out of the cabinets...

All Evil, All The Time

I just shared this on my personal Facebook page, but I thought it was worth turning into a blog post as well, since I'm not friends with all of my readers. 

I'll be honest...I have remained quiet about everything that is going on, primarily because I don't believe the online world is the platform for debate. Nor do I think that "going black" on social media does anything more for the real, underlying issue (sin) other than make those who do it feel better. Yes, that is my opinion. BUT if you chose to do it, guess what? Everyone has their own opinions! 

I may disagree with you--and over the last few weeks, I've started to think I disagree with most of my connections on just about everything!--but I can still accept you as a person, made in the image of God. And that's the heart attitude I hope to convey in what I share below, and I hope that you read it in the manner in which it was intended. 

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

"Then the LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great upon the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was altogether evil all the time." {Genesis 6:5}

Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. No, I'm not colorblind. Why would I want to be? I've lived all over the world and experienced cultures that are vastly different from my own, and the experience changed me. I currently live in a household where we range from pasty white to beautiful brown, and I couldn't imagine it any other way. I love the diversity of colors, shapes, and sizes that God created! No matter what the shade of melanin, each person is a human being, created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27).

"So God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them."

I am thankful that I was raised in a home where people of all skin tones were welcomed in the same way. I know that is not always the case. There is racism and there is prejudice, not just in the U.S., but all over the world. I've seen it when shopping with friends, when store clerks followed my darker-skinned friend but didn't give a second glance to me. I've seen it with our coffee-colored kids, when those same types of clerks come bustling up to them and say, "Can I help you with something?" and then turn red when I turn around and say, "No, thanks, we're just looking." Oh, the white woman is with them...that makes it okay. ☹ So yes, I know it exists...and far worse than what I have seen for myself.

It's prejudice and profiling...and if we were honest with ourselves, we all do it.

In my case, I know the groups of people who I look down on, and they are as pasty white as me, typically. It doesn't make it right, it just means that I am not immune to profiling and making assumptions about people.

Throughout history, we can see how race and religion, economic status, caste and tribe inequalities, even biological sex, has been used as an excuse for mankind doing unspeakable things to each other. Torture, enslavement, persecution, rape, and yes, murder, have been common themes throughout the ages and into present day, all across the globe. People like to say it's because of racism...and yes, I suppose that's one name for it, in some cases, but the bottom line is even simpler: SIN. And none of us are immune. We live in a fallen world, where mankind does horrific things to each other. But there is an Answer, and His name is Jesus.

He wasn't white with blond hair and blue eyes, he was Middle Eastern. He hung out with stinky fishermen and religious scholars, prostitutes and outcasts, women and children. He wasn't politically correct in His day, but He loved people. And so He surrendered to the will of His Father, and gave Himself up to die, taking our place, so that we would have a way to God. A way which didn't require our good works, but our total faith. He was--and is--the Way Maker. He didn't stay dead, and He will return again.

In the meantime, to my fellow Believers, remember that we are the reflection of His light here on earth. We are here to love the unlovable, stand up for the disenfranchised, and open our lives and homes to those who need a safe place and a listening ear. We are here to be truth tellers, in LOVE. We are here to be lights on a hill. I have failed at this many times up to this point, but God continues to work on me, convicting me that my life is not my own to do with as I want, but I belong to Him, and His call on my life has not changed.

The heart of man is desperately wicked (Jeremiah 17:9), but it doesn't have to stay that way. In Ezekiel 11:19-20, God says this about His people, the Israelites:

"And I will give them singleness of heart and put a new spirit within them; I will remove their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh, so that they may follow My statutes, keep My ordinances, and practice them. Then they will be My people, and I will be their God."

In the New Testament, Galatians 3:27 & 28 tells us:

"For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

Our hearts do not have to remain hard, our prejudices can be broken when we allow God to break our hearts and see people, even those who do evil, as human beings--fallen--who are imprinted with the image of their Creator. He created them and He loves them, even if He abhors their actions, and sorrows over their rejection of Him. May we do the same. 

#BeLight

What's My Motivation? Lessons in Humility from the Sick House

For the last two weeks, I've been playing Nurse Ratched...er, I mean, Florence Nightingale, to five different family members, including my poor Hubs, who came down with various forms of fevers, chills, coughs, sinus issues, and general illness that kept them quarantined to different rooms of the house for days on end. While they worked on getting better, I worked on keeping everything going, running children who were well to and from school, staying on top of my work assignments, getting meals on, checking temperatures and doling out medicines, doing the bedtime routines single-handed, and generally rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off before falling into bed to do it all again the next day. It's been hectic, to say the least, but it's also been a fantastic opportunity to do some soul searching about my motivation.

You see, after the first week of caring for everyone, I found myself in a heated disagreement with my sick husband over the lack of appreciation for all that I was managing to do for him, as well as our five kids. I felt underappreciated and taken for granted, and I expressed that in no uncertain terms. The outcome was anger and tears, eventual nose blowing, and finally sucking it all up and realizing that I did, in fact, have the wrong motivations. While the Hubs was working on finding joy in his sickness - something God's been teaching both of us - I realized that I had a hard time serving without recognition. I wanted to be acknowledged for my service, and seen for my ability to juggle so many balls in the air at one time. I wanted someone to say "thanks" or tell me I was doing a good job and that I deserved to treat myself to a specialty $5 coffee for all of my sacrifices on behalf of others. In other words, despite caring for others, I was still totally self-absorbed.

Once I came to this realization last Sunday, week #2 of sickness was a different story. You see, my outlook had changed. My perspective was no longer as the poor martyr, suffering in silence as I took care of the myriad of jobs that needed to be done, but that of a wife and a mother, pulling up my big girl panties and doing what was necessary. Half-way through the week I shared this change in perspective with my mother and then my long-suffering husband. I was suddenly struck by the pathetic nature of my complaints. Sure, they were long days, and yes, I felt pulled in many different directions, but at the end of those days I was still sitting in a comfortable home, able to whip up dinner in a Crock-Pot or even pick up pizza using a gift card I'd been saving for just such a time.

Despite what I wanted to think of as my hardships, I finally had to admit that I wasn't Ma Ingalls. I wasn't following my husband West in a covered wagon, facing starvation, wild animals, and yellow fever while helping him build our one room cabin by hand or living in a dirt dugout along the riverbank. I didn't have to go out and trap my own food and skin it, or save seeds to grow a garden and hope something survived the swarms of locust. No, indeed! I was a 21st century working mom, married to a man who normally goes above and beyond to help out when he's not stricken with fever and snoring on the couch. I had access to easy meals, live within walking distance of a Starbucks, and am able to hand out Tylenol when fevers spike. In other words, I needed to suck it up, buttercup. 

And that started me thinking about how often I incorrectly view perceived hardships and trials. Trials, in fact, being much on my mind over the last month. How often are the trials that I complain about, in fact, messes of my own making that I've either put myself into by my poor choices, or made into a mountain when they should be a molehill? Probably more often than I care to admit - to you, or even to myself. Whatever happened to denying myself in order to pick up my cross (a method of torture and death) and follow Jesus? How could I possibly justify my quest for recognition and praise when Paul tells us in Galatians that we ought to serve one another, humbly in love, not gratifying the desires of our flesh? Or Christ's command that he who wants to be greatest shall be a servant of all? Servant of all...I didn't even want to be a servant to six! 

As I type this, all who have been ill in our house are now well on their way to recovery and back out in the land of the living (which, in this instance, means allowed out of their rooms and back at the dining room table with the others). I, however, am still pondering the selfishness and wrong thinking that God revealed to me over the last two weeks. While they have all recovered health and moved on, I have a feeling that my trek is just beginning, but the outcome, Lord willing, will be one that makes a long-term difference. Here's to serving the Lord with joy, no matter what the situation.

Hello There. It's Me.

When I logged on to my blogger account today, I was surprised to see that my last post was in February 2019. How is that even possible? Time flies.

For those of you who are friends with me on Facebook, you have basically been privy to my micro blogging all year long through my #iamthankful posts that I try to do every Monday - Friday. Whether I'm sharing about what God has been teaching me, showing my quirky side, or letting you in on what the kids are doing, it's become my easier way of blogging my thoughts, with the added bonus of becoming Facebook memories for me to look back on in later years. If we're not friends, I'm sorry that you've missed those posts. 

The fact of the matter is, my life continues to get busier by the day. Or so it seems. Since August, I've been driving an average of three hours a day, taking five kids to two different schools in another town. By the time I drop the last three off and occasionally get my 20 minutes of walking in, I have a maximum of 5 hours to tackle my freelance work, which is really more like 3 hours, after dealing with household chores, getting dinner in the Crock-Pot, and anything else that may need to happen. Throw a grocery shop in there, and we're looking at about 2 hours at home for work before it's time to jump back in the ol' SUV and hit the road to sit in car lines. 

Once I'm home with the five, it's time to oversee chores, homework (which intensifies every year), home schooling that we're doing to fill in the gaps (like reading and math), dinner, taekwondo (at least two nights a week), and anything else that might be on the calendar. And as I collapse in our room each night and stare at my husband and try (unsuccessfully) to come up with some kind of quality conversation that doesn't revolve around the children, I think, "I did this to myself." I make choices that keep me busy. 

I choose to post on Facebook each morning, which eats into the time that I have at home to work and do laundry. I choose to send my kids to two different private schools, located in another town. I choose to pay for taekwondo and cart them there and sit for an hour each time, because I think it's beneficial to their growth and development. I'm making it a priority to say yes to as much as possible - within reason - even when I'm feeling thin, stretched, like butter over too much bread.

And so, in this season of life, blogging has taken a back seat. If you follow my Busy Nothings page on Facebook, you'll probably have noticed that I'm not even posting there on a regular basis. I just don't have the time. And when you wake up one day and realize that nothing that you've written has changed the world, and no one is reading your blog posts, and you'll never be in that 1% of bloggers who become rich and famous and get a book deal, it rather takes the wind out of your blogging sails. Or at least it did mine. But...I'm not going away just yet. 

Before we adopted the kids, I always loved setting goals for the new year, and dreaming big about what I was going to do with this blog. Now, I'm just happy to have clean clothes and food on the table and money in the bank account to pay for things like taekwondo and the occasional ice cream outing. As for any deeper thoughts, I'll continue to share them on Facebook. I know that people read them there, and I know that, in my own little, non-book-deal sort of way, I am making a difference in my corner of the online world. And I'll continue to do that, until something else changes. 

Highlights of 2019...

⇨ I met and exceeded my Goodreads goal for the year - reading 58 books (so far), 6 more than my original goal of 52. 

• Favorite Book: World War I: A Very Peculiar History by Jim Pipe
• Favorite Children's Book: Escape from Mr. Lemoncello's Library by Chris Grabenstein
• Least Favorite Book: The Egypt Game by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

⇨ I did a pretty good job sticking to my walking and calorie-counting habits, and was able to shed around 15 lbs. over the last year (though I'm pretty sure I've put a few of those back on since Thanksgiving, with very little walking occurring and a whole lot of yummy goodness going in...back at BOTH in January!). If you do follow my Busy Nothings page, you might have seen my posts about my one year anniversary of walking and the way it improves my mental outlook when I prioritize that time. 

⇨ Although I was pretty quiet around here, I have blogged a number of times over on the Weaving Influence website (one of my freelance gigs) about book launches and personal values, among other things. One of my favorite posts was probably the one I did earlier this month, about the Icelandic tradition of Jolabokaflod.

⇨ Professionally, I was able to land two freelance writing gigs that helped pay for part of the kid's school fees. After 8 years of freelancing as a writer, editor, and book launch consultant, it's been nice to see some of that experience begin to pay off, and it's always a boost to know that the work I do helps in tangible ways.

I may not have been around here much in the last 10 months, but I've still been very much involved in the world - both online and off. Whether you see me around here or over on Facebook, I wish each of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! May 2020 be a year of growth and learning for each and every one of us, as we learn more about who God created us to be.