Blessed. That's all I can say...I am blessed. I woke up this morning with a weariness. But as my morning progressed...getting my kids ready for school, looking at the as-yet-to-be-repaired flooring, rushing them out the door, listening to their silly cute-as-heck conversations...God thwopped me again. YOU ARE BLESSED! YOU ARE MY CHILD! WORRY IS A SLAP IN MY FACE! DO NOT PRAY AND JOURNAL YOUR PRAYER CONCERNS TO ME AND THEN TAKE THEM BACK! I DIED FOR YOU. LIVE FOR ME! Its true. I am so guilty of this. Asking God to handle my worries, my concerns, then failing to trust Him enough to toss them away...to the depths of the ocean. I consistently feel the need to dive back into that water to retrieve them. Because they are my cares. They belong to me; with me. Right? Such a difficult lesson. But I'm trying very hard to see in myself what God sees. A beloved, worthy, beautiful child of...well...HIM.
I mean lets face it: I mess up enough in life with things that I have no control over.(don't we all?) Do I really need to add to my mess by holding onto worry too? No. No I do not.
So today marks yet another start of me trying...prayerfully not in vain this time...to let it go and let God. Because at the beginning and end of every day...I am blessed. Blessed beyond all measure.
I am blessed to be married to Jesse. After nearly 16 years of marriage...you come to realize that while it hasn't always been blissful, it has indeed always been blessed. What an honor to be his wife. I don't say that enough...out loud anyway. I need to do a better job of being worthy of him.
Kate...my sweet kooky and quirky Kate. My first baby...my first blessing. What a joy this young woman is! I need to do a better job of relating to her as the teenager she is. Sometimes I forget that she isn't 30:) Thank you God for this amazing daughter who is turning into an equally amazing friend.
Emmy Jean...my Broadway bound beauty! There is quite honestly never a dull...or quiet...moment with her. Whether having an intelligent conversation, doing homework, reading a book, watching tv, or drying her hair...this kid is constantly singing or humming! Its hilarious! I need to do a better job of busting her out of this "middle child" pigeon-hold. She is a force to be reckoned with! And I thank God for every single music filled moment with her.
Jax. Just Jax. Those who know him...love him. Those who don't...have heard wild tale of him! He is my miracle baby. He is quite literally a gift from God...his life marks a huge spiritual awakening for me. I couldn't love this kid more if I had to...at least until tomorrow:)
And these are just the blessings inside the walls of my home! I have so many more God-given gifts in the form of friends and family. I am convicted today of neglecting to tell each of them more often how very much I love them.
God has directed me to neither worry nor fear. So that is precisely what I will try my very best to do. Because the blessings that He has seen fit to give me...show me I am a favored child. His child.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Lessons on Life...from birds. Yes...birds.
I gotta tell ya...I've had better days. Hell...I've had migraines whose company I've enjoyed more than this whole week thus far. I have never been one to mope or worry too terribly much...at least not about the big things. Shamefully, its the little, everyday annoyances that seem to get the best of me. I should have anticipated a biggie when my daily verse this morning centered around 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 "We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."
I am struggling just a touch with a dear friend's perception of me. And by struggling I mean vacillating between the "how dare she" mentality and crying in the bathroom over what is looking like a broken friendship. And by broken I mean into shards...teeny tiny shards of friendship glass that have inevitably scattered under the fridge or stove...making a total healing virtually impossible because you can never ever find every little piece. There are always some pieces that stay lost.
As I spoke to my best friend about this...who is a gift from Jesus akin to my husband and my children... she helped me see roughly the very same lesson that my aforementioned dear husband has always been wont to cling to: "What people think of me is none of my business" Easy for him...he's a man who is perfectly content to have exactly two friends in this world...me and my best friend's husband. And he is so super cool with that, ya just don't even know. My husband has never been one to subscribe to the notion that one should have scads of friends-pals-confidants. His mantra has always been "the fewer people in your trusted inner circle, the better". And I gotta tell ya...The Spy's logic has come to fruition it would seem.
Could it really be true that women who "collect" BFF's are ultimately doomed to collect heart break as well? I don't know. I just don't know. But what I do know is this: apparently I need to face one of my biggest fears...BIRDS.
The last few days I have been re-reading Joyce Meyer's "Battlefield Of The Mind". In her chapter "An Anxious and Worried Mind" she explains that we should look to the birds for a good ole' fashioned slap in the face about worry. Matthew 6:2 shouts "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father keeps feeding them. Are you not worth more than they?" Joyce goes on to teach..."If not everyday, then at least every now and then we need to take to observe and remind ourselves how well our feathered friends are cared for. They literally do not know where their next meal is coming from. Yet I have never personally seen a bird sitting on a tree branch having a nervous breakdown due to worry."
Wow. Just wow. God is forever thwopping me upside the head about something. Sometimes He holds my hand so tightly that I am unaware of how strong His grip on my tongue is...I LOVE it when He does that! Sometimes He gives me a verse or a single word that lights my path for the entire day and I have a clarity like I have never known. Or like today...when He shows me...through Joyce Meyer...that while I may hate birds (because they kinda freak me out) He can still give me a powerful lesson on the destructive power and futility of worry...through birds:)
My "Daddy" is so awesome. He never fails to be my armour and my shield against not only Satan but of Earthly trials as well. So my answer to THE enemy or any enemy is quite simple...when faced with the question of "What now?" I will say "I don't know yet what I am going to do in my situation, but God does know and that is good enough for me. He will give me direction at the right time."
As for my friend and what she thinks...there isn't a thing I can do or say. If my head hits the pillow and I know in the deepest parts of me that I am in line with God, my husband and my children...nothing else matters. Perhaps this is just another way that Jesus is helping me align my life with a more simple and authentic path. I certainly know one thing: God knows more and better than me. I am thankful for journeys taken and journeys to come...
I am struggling just a touch with a dear friend's perception of me. And by struggling I mean vacillating between the "how dare she" mentality and crying in the bathroom over what is looking like a broken friendship. And by broken I mean into shards...teeny tiny shards of friendship glass that have inevitably scattered under the fridge or stove...making a total healing virtually impossible because you can never ever find every little piece. There are always some pieces that stay lost.
As I spoke to my best friend about this...who is a gift from Jesus akin to my husband and my children... she helped me see roughly the very same lesson that my aforementioned dear husband has always been wont to cling to: "What people think of me is none of my business" Easy for him...he's a man who is perfectly content to have exactly two friends in this world...me and my best friend's husband. And he is so super cool with that, ya just don't even know. My husband has never been one to subscribe to the notion that one should have scads of friends-pals-confidants. His mantra has always been "the fewer people in your trusted inner circle, the better". And I gotta tell ya...The Spy's logic has come to fruition it would seem.
Could it really be true that women who "collect" BFF's are ultimately doomed to collect heart break as well? I don't know. I just don't know. But what I do know is this: apparently I need to face one of my biggest fears...BIRDS.
The last few days I have been re-reading Joyce Meyer's "Battlefield Of The Mind". In her chapter "An Anxious and Worried Mind" she explains that we should look to the birds for a good ole' fashioned slap in the face about worry. Matthew 6:2 shouts "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father keeps feeding them. Are you not worth more than they?" Joyce goes on to teach..."If not everyday, then at least every now and then we need to take to observe and remind ourselves how well our feathered friends are cared for. They literally do not know where their next meal is coming from. Yet I have never personally seen a bird sitting on a tree branch having a nervous breakdown due to worry."
Wow. Just wow. God is forever thwopping me upside the head about something. Sometimes He holds my hand so tightly that I am unaware of how strong His grip on my tongue is...I LOVE it when He does that! Sometimes He gives me a verse or a single word that lights my path for the entire day and I have a clarity like I have never known. Or like today...when He shows me...through Joyce Meyer...that while I may hate birds (because they kinda freak me out) He can still give me a powerful lesson on the destructive power and futility of worry...through birds:)
My "Daddy" is so awesome. He never fails to be my armour and my shield against not only Satan but of Earthly trials as well. So my answer to THE enemy or any enemy is quite simple...when faced with the question of "What now?" I will say "I don't know yet what I am going to do in my situation, but God does know and that is good enough for me. He will give me direction at the right time."
As for my friend and what she thinks...there isn't a thing I can do or say. If my head hits the pillow and I know in the deepest parts of me that I am in line with God, my husband and my children...nothing else matters. Perhaps this is just another way that Jesus is helping me align my life with a more simple and authentic path. I certainly know one thing: God knows more and better than me. I am thankful for journeys taken and journeys to come...
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Two Weeks...of Fresh Hell.
Two weeks. A lot can happen in two weeks. You can give notice at your place of employment. You can flit about Europe with your family. You can take a crash course in gardening...only to find that you wasted every penny because you suck big-fat-hairy-ones at anything even remotely related to soil. You can come to terms with the gut wrenching heart break over the ending of a friendship that was sadly very one-sided anyway. But what absolutely CANNOT happen in two weeks is...CONSTRUCTION!!!
If a contractor strides into your home, looks at your home's issues and declares with an authority akin to John Wayne..."Well I can have this hitched up in less than two weeks Mam."...HE IS LYING!!!!!! I so wish people would just give me a straight up honest assessment of things like this. "Mam, your house is pretty fubared. You need to expect us to be in your house and all up in your business for at least four weeks. Maybe five if El Nino rears his ugly head. Six if my gout flares." THAT is a time table I would believe. But two weeks? Um...not so much.
I guess if any good is coming out of my home's latest Bi-Polar episode...it would be that now we don't have to hire anyone to paint the kitchen and the upstairs. We also won't be forking out $2000 for new carpet. Viva la Home Owner's Insurance! The downside being of course that we will have who knows how many smelly, anal-cleft-showin', scraggly handy men clomping all through our home. Ya know what...that's not fair. I'm sure they aren't all like that. I have several friends who ended up with some mighty delightful looking young gentlemen tending their home's various woes. It just seems that MY house prefers em' big, stupid and smelly.
And while we are on the subject of stinky...can I just offer this teensy nugget of advice to contractors? Invest in a Port-O-Potty!!! No one enjoys hearing your breakfast burrito and value meal roaring out of your butt in our bathrooms. Its disgusting actually. Please go poop in your own private closet in the drive way. Or stop eating things that burn a hole through our toilets...and our souls. Seriously.
So as our newest remodel baby prepares for her painful birth...I ask that you keep all us Lavers in your prayers. Cause' we are gonna need them. Especially since Home Depot just called and informed me that the bathroom flooring and carpet we want will be here soon...in two weeks. Awesome. Just fricken awesome.
If a contractor strides into your home, looks at your home's issues and declares with an authority akin to John Wayne..."Well I can have this hitched up in less than two weeks Mam."...HE IS LYING!!!!!! I so wish people would just give me a straight up honest assessment of things like this. "Mam, your house is pretty fubared. You need to expect us to be in your house and all up in your business for at least four weeks. Maybe five if El Nino rears his ugly head. Six if my gout flares." THAT is a time table I would believe. But two weeks? Um...not so much.
I guess if any good is coming out of my home's latest Bi-Polar episode...it would be that now we don't have to hire anyone to paint the kitchen and the upstairs. We also won't be forking out $2000 for new carpet. Viva la Home Owner's Insurance! The downside being of course that we will have who knows how many smelly, anal-cleft-showin', scraggly handy men clomping all through our home. Ya know what...that's not fair. I'm sure they aren't all like that. I have several friends who ended up with some mighty delightful looking young gentlemen tending their home's various woes. It just seems that MY house prefers em' big, stupid and smelly.
And while we are on the subject of stinky...can I just offer this teensy nugget of advice to contractors? Invest in a Port-O-Potty!!! No one enjoys hearing your breakfast burrito and value meal roaring out of your butt in our bathrooms. Its disgusting actually. Please go poop in your own private closet in the drive way. Or stop eating things that burn a hole through our toilets...and our souls. Seriously.
So as our newest remodel baby prepares for her painful birth...I ask that you keep all us Lavers in your prayers. Cause' we are gonna need them. Especially since Home Depot just called and informed me that the bathroom flooring and carpet we want will be here soon...in two weeks. Awesome. Just fricken awesome.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Irish eyes are a' smilin'....right?
Oh my Irish Lord. Its happened again. Spring is the time of renewal and rebirth. And my house has seen fit to take this change literally. Every year...a week after my birthday...which is St. Patrick's Day...my family endures some kind of home related mishap. Whether it be a dishwasher leak that floods the house, a tree bigger than the Cliffs of Moher slamming into our existence, the need for not one but TWO septic tanks to be outfitted in our front and side yards because we are in fact THAT full of shit. Or perhaps its a toilet tank that decides to stop working and floods the ENTIRE upstairs of our home with water...which happens to be the latest in the litany of Irish disasters to befall our humble abode.
What in the name of all things GREEN is going on? Picture this: when stressed and stretched beyond all reasonable expectations, I cry. Boldly, unabashedly, and with little regard to whom may encounter my display of Irish pissiness. I am awakened this morning by my nine year old son walking...very calmly mind you...into our room to inform us that "Hey guys, just to let you know, the carpet is WAY wet outside the bathroom up here. No biggie though. Go back to sleep." Well...Jesse...my adoring husband...springs into action(like the Irish one:) and proceeds to check out the issue. Not quite 10 seconds later I hear "^%^%$#%^%&^*&(()_()*(&*^*^&*^&^$%$!!!!!!" And so began my 2 hour tear fest. I knew this was not to be our usual Saturday morn.
Upon closer and cussier inspection, our ENTIRE top floor was drenched. Carpet was soaked and closets were in the process of flooding. Water was collecting in the ceiling in the kitchen, which is directly below the bathroom in question. My beloved kitchen chandelier was FULL...and I do mean FULL...of water. There was a perfect outline of the bathroom floor on the kitchen ceiling. Water had infiltrated the walls in the kitchen...flowing ever so gently into The Spy's office in the basement. Chaos. Total and complete chaos. We were straight up cursing in tongues y'all...no lie.
So...we called our insurance company for yet ANOTHER claim. They sent out Justin from Service Pro. Lovely lovely man. He pulled up carpet, bathroom tile, base boards...he took care of the issues at hand. Since we are no strangers to the huge industrial dryers they install for water related claims...we knew what to expect: NOISE. unadulterated, mind numbing, make-ya-wanna-kick-a-puppy NOISE. We got it. Its great. Its 4 days of great in fact. But then begins the infestation of contractors to lay new carpet, tile, paint the kitchen...possibly put up a new wall in the kitchen if it fails to dry out properly. Did I mention that I opened up my best bottle of Rothschild at noon today? I so did. And it was GOOD. Very. Very. GOOD.
Now we are left with bare sub flooring, water stained ceilings and walls and the inescapable notion that maybe...JUST maybe...this is God's way of taking care of us.
You see...we have been stressing out...well ok, I have been stressing out...over the fact that we were going to have to use my husband's bonus to pay for routine upkeep and maitanence of our home to ready it for sale. Losing ANY portion of that bonus would have meant losing a down payment on a new home. It would have meant that our daughter would have to wait on getting her first car. It would have meant a lot of little things that would then add up to a lot of bigger things. So perhaps God has allowed our home to stick to its regularly scheduled programming of FUBARING us in the butt so that we could keep that bonus for what HE deems necessary. My husband...GOD love him...is very adept at seeing the bigger picture. He pointed this subtle nuance out to me. I pray that yes... Yes indeed Jesus is shining down on us in ways we cannot possibly fathom while in the middle of stress and strife. I pray that my hormonal...freak first ask questions later...mentality is just giving my Savior a chuckle.
A big fat gut busting chuckle. From my mouth to your ear God. For. Realz.
What in the name of all things GREEN is going on? Picture this: when stressed and stretched beyond all reasonable expectations, I cry. Boldly, unabashedly, and with little regard to whom may encounter my display of Irish pissiness. I am awakened this morning by my nine year old son walking...very calmly mind you...into our room to inform us that "Hey guys, just to let you know, the carpet is WAY wet outside the bathroom up here. No biggie though. Go back to sleep." Well...Jesse...my adoring husband...springs into action(like the Irish one:) and proceeds to check out the issue. Not quite 10 seconds later I hear "^%^%$#%^%&^*&(()_()*(&*^*^&*^&^$%$!!!!!!" And so began my 2 hour tear fest. I knew this was not to be our usual Saturday morn.
Upon closer and cussier inspection, our ENTIRE top floor was drenched. Carpet was soaked and closets were in the process of flooding. Water was collecting in the ceiling in the kitchen, which is directly below the bathroom in question. My beloved kitchen chandelier was FULL...and I do mean FULL...of water. There was a perfect outline of the bathroom floor on the kitchen ceiling. Water had infiltrated the walls in the kitchen...flowing ever so gently into The Spy's office in the basement. Chaos. Total and complete chaos. We were straight up cursing in tongues y'all...no lie.
So...we called our insurance company for yet ANOTHER claim. They sent out Justin from Service Pro. Lovely lovely man. He pulled up carpet, bathroom tile, base boards...he took care of the issues at hand. Since we are no strangers to the huge industrial dryers they install for water related claims...we knew what to expect: NOISE. unadulterated, mind numbing, make-ya-wanna-kick-a-puppy NOISE. We got it. Its great. Its 4 days of great in fact. But then begins the infestation of contractors to lay new carpet, tile, paint the kitchen...possibly put up a new wall in the kitchen if it fails to dry out properly. Did I mention that I opened up my best bottle of Rothschild at noon today? I so did. And it was GOOD. Very. Very. GOOD.
Now we are left with bare sub flooring, water stained ceilings and walls and the inescapable notion that maybe...JUST maybe...this is God's way of taking care of us.
You see...we have been stressing out...well ok, I have been stressing out...over the fact that we were going to have to use my husband's bonus to pay for routine upkeep and maitanence of our home to ready it for sale. Losing ANY portion of that bonus would have meant losing a down payment on a new home. It would have meant that our daughter would have to wait on getting her first car. It would have meant a lot of little things that would then add up to a lot of bigger things. So perhaps God has allowed our home to stick to its regularly scheduled programming of FUBARING us in the butt so that we could keep that bonus for what HE deems necessary. My husband...GOD love him...is very adept at seeing the bigger picture. He pointed this subtle nuance out to me. I pray that yes... Yes indeed Jesus is shining down on us in ways we cannot possibly fathom while in the middle of stress and strife. I pray that my hormonal...freak first ask questions later...mentality is just giving my Savior a chuckle.
A big fat gut busting chuckle. From my mouth to your ear God. For. Realz.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Even at 38, lessons must be learned. Damnit.
Its been just a little bit since I have had the time to write. I have missed it ever so. During the last couple of weeks I have celebrated a birthday...my 38th thank you very much...I have reconnected with a certain member of my family that I love oh so very much (with whom I share a history so deep and profound that to allow "life" to get in our way again would be damn near criminal:)...and I have have realized yet again that while my husband may be a man of few words, he certainly has the uncanny ability to draw a line through all my junk and leave me with an authentic and true outline of what is important in my life.
I also learned another lesson...one that I have known since puberty but apparently life thought it necessary to lob at me once more...just for good measure. WOMEN ARE MEAN! Seriously...its as if some truly never out grow their middle school mentalities and just keep driving the beeotch truck right through their lives and everyone else's. I have so little understanding of this kind of woman...the ones that have to cut you down to make themselves feel better...the ones that look at you as though you are the hired help...the ones who dance around insults because they lack the balls to just say what they want to say...the ones who can afford the therapy they so desperately need, but for whatever reason, never seek. But while I have trouble understanding them, I do have pity on them. Because I fear they will never experience lasting female companionship and all the awesomeness that comes along with uplifting and supporting one another. I suppose its that pity...or even compassion if you will...that prevents me from responding to their venomous attacks in kind. I like to think I am gifted in the way of answering their acerbic calls with a softer, sweeter tasting, retort.
And this brings me to my next point: Ladies...when a friend has a differing logic, an alternate delivery, or simply a situational awareness unlike your own...listen. Do not attack and make the other feel as if their opinion is unimportant or stupid. Or even worse...wrong. As women...and especially women who have daughters, like me...we must always practice acceptance. Not only of the individual, but of their unique opinions as well. I hope I am teaching my daughters that there will always be multiple ways of responding to and handling issues that arise with friends and acquaintances. It can't always be about how WE feel. I truly pray I am giving my girls the tools to recognize that when something starts to become too much about them...prayerful consideration is required to insure that their words don't cause more harm than good.
Because in the end...its not just the bullies we need to look out for. Sometimes, the person in the mirror or the ones we love and call friend or sister, can be the mean woman.
I sincerely pray that my girls will always cling to Matthew 5:39 and have the presence of mind to turn the other cheek and choose their words carefully. And when their humanness fails them...I pray they say two very small but very powerful words. "I'm sorry". Because when they aren't said, hurt and resentment can build. Which totally defeats the purpose of living an authentic life. Lord...let my babies learn this lesson early. Amen.
I also learned another lesson...one that I have known since puberty but apparently life thought it necessary to lob at me once more...just for good measure. WOMEN ARE MEAN! Seriously...its as if some truly never out grow their middle school mentalities and just keep driving the beeotch truck right through their lives and everyone else's. I have so little understanding of this kind of woman...the ones that have to cut you down to make themselves feel better...the ones that look at you as though you are the hired help...the ones who dance around insults because they lack the balls to just say what they want to say...the ones who can afford the therapy they so desperately need, but for whatever reason, never seek. But while I have trouble understanding them, I do have pity on them. Because I fear they will never experience lasting female companionship and all the awesomeness that comes along with uplifting and supporting one another. I suppose its that pity...or even compassion if you will...that prevents me from responding to their venomous attacks in kind. I like to think I am gifted in the way of answering their acerbic calls with a softer, sweeter tasting, retort.
And this brings me to my next point: Ladies...when a friend has a differing logic, an alternate delivery, or simply a situational awareness unlike your own...listen. Do not attack and make the other feel as if their opinion is unimportant or stupid. Or even worse...wrong. As women...and especially women who have daughters, like me...we must always practice acceptance. Not only of the individual, but of their unique opinions as well. I hope I am teaching my daughters that there will always be multiple ways of responding to and handling issues that arise with friends and acquaintances. It can't always be about how WE feel. I truly pray I am giving my girls the tools to recognize that when something starts to become too much about them...prayerful consideration is required to insure that their words don't cause more harm than good.
Because in the end...its not just the bullies we need to look out for. Sometimes, the person in the mirror or the ones we love and call friend or sister, can be the mean woman.
I sincerely pray that my girls will always cling to Matthew 5:39 and have the presence of mind to turn the other cheek and choose their words carefully. And when their humanness fails them...I pray they say two very small but very powerful words. "I'm sorry". Because when they aren't said, hurt and resentment can build. Which totally defeats the purpose of living an authentic life. Lord...let my babies learn this lesson early. Amen.
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