Seven. I bought seven different comforters in two weeks.
Not like all at once of course. I am talking about buying one, then returning it, then buying another, then returning it, and so on and so forth until the final count came to seven. Two different stores, one online website, and a lot of loss dignity later I finally found one I could actually live with.
As I survey the fruit in my fridge I can tell you with all certainty, I am the worst “picker”.
An apple is an apple is an apple to me. If it doesn’t have a decaying cut in its side or a worm crawling out of it, it goes in the bag. I don’t stay in the produce section long enough to inspect every angle of my fruit before making my decisions. On the contrary, more times than not you will find me franticly throwing into bags whatever is left on the shelves that’s not utterly disgusting while still pushing the cart to keep me from stopping long enough to have my child even attempt to get out.
One of the greatest joys I remember as a child was running through the sprinklers. Whether it was one of the cool fancy sprinklers actually designed for children to play in, or just plain old yard sprinklers; I loved it.
As an adult, I don't have much time for running in sprinklers anymore, but the other night one of my favorite little guys was taking advantage of the watering time in his backyard (this is California people, it's limited) and asked me to run in the sprinklers with him.
It was nearly five o’clock and the invitations all said seven. I hadn’t done my makeup, or hair, or started baking, or even finished cleaning. However I was sitting on my couch watching one of my favorite television shows that I had missed in the rush of the week and now that my husband had taken the boys for the night so I could prepare for my first youth pastor’s wives “monthly meet up” I had finally had the time to sit down.
Not that I truly had time for sitting, but it didn’t matter. I looked at the clock, calculated the time each task would take, and continued watching.
Paul from a prison cell writes to the believers in Philippi a sobering letter found in the book of Philippians. To summarize his message for them, he begins by writing that he’d be better off dead. I’m serious. He says in 1:21 “to die is GAIN.” He had Christ in his heart and heaven to gain so what was preventing him from just rolling over right there in his prison cell to die? It would have been the best thing for him. He had been beaten and chained, mocked and misunderstood. He had his motives questioned, and his friends leave him. He had been drug so low that his body wanted nothing more than death and to be with his Jesus, but he remained. He remained for them.
YOU, who are fighting.
YOU, who are weary.
YOU, who are being tested...there is grace for you.
YOU, who are carrying the burdens of another.
YOU, who are making important life decisions.
YOU, who are straining to hear God's voice...there is grace for you.
My youth pastor would always say that "delayed obedience is still disobedience" and while I agreed that it was true, I never truly grasped just how much procrastinating could harm us until now.
We have come to the age of bargaining with our youngest son. Honestly we have been here awhile now, but in the past few weeks it has escalated quite a bit. Let me just start off by saying… I am not a fan.
For a great majority of my life I have struggled with anxiety. If you've ever experienced it or struggled with it yourself, you know how crippling it can be. Panic attacks grip you physically and emotionally and are all consuming.
Anxiety looks different for everyone but for me, I picture it as this tsunami like force that is rushing around inside of me. When I'm riding the wave of anxiety it becomes hard to breathe, to stand, and its almost impossible to form words sometimes. For years my anxiety made me feel weak, and I was ashamed of it. I hated the fact that I had no control over it and that nothing I did could make it better. I didn't talk about it to anyone, and I tried to ignore panic attacks to make them go away.
Don’t get caught up in it all ,sweet girls. It isn’t you. It’s him. (The "him" of course being Satan, the Devil, Beelzebub, "Giant Lying piece of poop under my shoe"... you know, whatever you want to call him.) He wants nothing more than for you to keep God in a box and pull Him out only when absolutely necessary and what's worse is that he is using our society to do it. But that is not how we are supposed to live. God isn’t only for the “appropriate” times, He is for “all” times. The good, the bad, and the slept so hard your face is covered in drool and your arms are numb ugly. And if I had one thing to say to our hyper confused society that we live in today, one request for the benefit of us all, it would be this…
That sure is a fun title, isn't it?
Anguish isn't really a popular word today; it denotes pain, sorrow, and a bunch of other negative adjectives. But recently, I was reminded of a sermon by Dave Wilkerson on this very subject, a sermon that was so powerful the first time I heard it, it brought me to my knees, and caused me to take not just one look at myself and at the condition of my heart, but several looks, to evaluate where I was, what I was doing, and what cause, if any, I was fighting for.
Doctor’s offices… I hate them… also any office that requires you to sit in a stuffy, overly crowded waiting room for an appointment that you made weeks before and yet every time you show up you have to sit for an hour (or two) to even be called back. The waiting room, it’s the pits.
I don't know about you, but I love a good fight scene. Not the "bullies taking lunch money" scene or the "troubled kids beating each other up" scene or the ridiculous parking lot fights people film and put on Youtube, I'm talking about... a battle scene.
How is it that we can be around the same people for years and still feel unknown? Unwanted? Or unneeded? I don’t like this super hero business. I don’t like this super power. I’m a girl; I just want to paint my nails and play with makeup. Can’t we leave the play acting to the boys? If only, sweet girls, if only.
Being a middle school pastor with my husband I come across a lot of questions from girls. The top two categories are of course, boys and friends. Recently, I sat down with a group of roudy soon-to-be middle schoolers and they fired their questions at me like a hungry kid throwing Tapatio on a taco. And before I could answer their questions, I pulled out my diary to give them an insider’s look at life as a middle schooler…
I've never been a big math person, from day one I was more inclined to english or history. The way my mind works doesn't really mesh well with math, and even when I was little I didn't really find anything about math all that interesting (Now, if you're a math person PROPS to you because the way your brain works is awesome.)
Being a barista, I come in contact with a lot of people. In a work day, with a constant stream of face-to-face interaction, my responses and conversations can become very routine and rehearsed.
"It sure is nice out there." "Oh it's beautiful. Hopefully you can get out and see this gorgeous weather we're having after work." "I hope so. Although I could do without the wind--it always messes with my allergies." "I feel ya. Well you have a good day now." "You too!" (And other variations of the same conversation)
My body hurled to the earth with impressive force, as I stumbled upon the one patch of mud amidst the grassy hillside on that summer day. It was our second date (SECOND. Date.) and I was about to show Rich the brevity of my clumsiness. He instinctively reached out his hand to lift me up and I, with a backside that looked as if I had had an emergency, quickly waddled away to the bathroom to clean myself off, self-respect in tow. Seriously, Vanessa. You couldn’t keep this side of you hidden for longer than two dates? I returned from the ladies room now looking that I had just peed myself but thankfully it was hot enough to dry my “seat” (if you will) in enough time for me to enjoy the game. It was, you see, well before the baseball game had even started.
Recently I came across the crown jewel of all crown jewels… Wait for iiiitt!!! My 8th grade diary… I know right? Back in the day the super cool Christian band “Point of Grace” came out with an amazing study Bible, devotional, and journal. Which, may I add every girl wanted at the time, including me! Ok, maybe just me… But for my birthday my mom surprised me with the trio, and I began religiously writing in this journal all my hopes and dreams. And now 11 years later, I look back and memories begin flooding into my brain. As I read, I laughed, paused in memory of friendships passed, but mostly cringed at how much of a weirdo I was! (Haha) But seriously, allow me to explain in this 4 part blog titled: Diary of a Wimpy Chick. (See what did there?)
