Life is hard, but God is good… and we choose to focus on the latter. These are the good chronicles.

No matter how similar they were, they were not the same. They could never be the same. I have seen retelling and reimagining of stories that have been pulled off quite well (think Ever After) but I have also seen movies so desperate to be both the same story with a completely different cast that it was on the verge of painful to watch. They tried so hard to force an identical plot that it just became a cheap remake that will probably end up on Netflix one day or in the DVD bin at the Dollar Tree.

It has been said, if you are looking for the negative you will find it and if you are looking for the positive you will find it.. so what are you looking for?  What are you focusing on?  

I was sitting in the sanctuary during an evening church service (like I had done a thousand times before) when both legs started tingling as if they were completely asleep. This of course had been happening on and off for awhile in various parts of my body but was more alarming now that it had been completely unprovoked and had happened just a few short weeks after waking with a completely limp arm that only regained function after flailing it around for what seemed like an eternity but would most likely have only been a few minutes.

If you think about it, all throughout scripture the number of stories that happen unplanned far outweigh the ones they had planned for.  I am so thankful that Jesus wasn't too distracted for me when I needed Him. 

We found out we were pregnant just shy of our one year anniversary. For the lack of a better word it was an unplanned "surprise" to which a plethora of emotions soon followed. At first there was just fear and anxiety but slowly those feelings shifted more toward excitement and joy. I was 21 years old; and it was not in "my plan" but as the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months I began dreaming about my little girl. 

I am a perfectionist.  It is a blessing and a curse.  I not only like things to be perfectly in place but I need them to be.  The Lord has been working on me so I am a bit better now but I can remember when my husband and I first got into ministry and thinking to myself I have to have it all together.  I can’t make mistakes.  I can’t fail because someone might see me.  

I had been journeying with a longtime friend, enjoying this crazy world that we live in, and building mass amounts of new memories for our friendship to enjoy for years to come when it hit. Unexpectedly and without warning our once happy trails had ended and we were in the thick of it. The forceful winds ripped us from the strength we once felt united hand in hand, the thunders erupted into a sound that was almost deafening, and the rain overflowed from the heavens like a faucet pushed to its limit. I was lost, disoriented, and unsure if I could even trust what I was seeing through the dense fog that surrounded me. It was everywhere, no matter which way I turned. There was no escaping it.

I have been on both sides of the irony crazy train. I have caught myself hysterically laughing when a person attempts correcting someone else's grammar by making an even more terrible grammatical offense. Or laughing at how irrational my own personal thoughts can get when I have to travel through darkness to turn off a light that I have forgotten about, so I can be in complete darkness before going to bed. But you see my struggle with social anxiety is ironic, too. I am called to lead and help a group of people all the while being afraid of large groups of people.  

We are a few months into our adoption process, and boy is it a process.  Many things involve huge stacks of paper and long interviews but I think this process is the most rewarding of them all.  Just the thought of holding our little girl puts a smile on my face and brings tears to my eyes.  I love adoption.  Everything about it.  Well… almost everything.

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.