Posts Tagged With: Marriage

So Cluttered and Messy


Blog idea. Blog. Blog, blog, blog.
Maybe if I get more coffee an idea will come…and let the dog out…oh, and check Facebook again.
(stares at keyboard) (sips coffee) (checks hair in monitor reflection)
Blog. Okay.
(looks at ceiling waiting for an idea to fall from it)
Man. My kitchen is a mess. Not a little mess. It’s like—wow—it’s really really bad. Alright. I can blog about my messy kitchen.

Ever wonder how people come up with blog ideas? Well. Now you know my inspiration. You’re impressed, right?
Truth is, sometimes I really am inspired. Sometimes God gives me an idea and I hold it in my head for days developing what I’m going to write. But, there are days, like today, that there is zilch. Nada. Nothing there. So. Let’s see where God takes this—with me?

Looking around my kitchen, I’m amazed and ashamed at what I see. Let me describe the scene for you.
I’m at my table along with two Bibles, two journals, Crayola markers, a calculator, bills, business cards, and a hoodie. Nothing is neatly placed. It pretty much looks like I picked a pile of stuff up, held it over the table, and then let go.
I hesitantly allow my eyes to move a little farther out and see the trash can—full—overflowing. The dog’s bowls have been pushed out of place and his toys have joined them. Our barstools have become storage units.
The island. Let’s see…four sets of keys have found their way to the island, even though they have an antique key holder in the utility room. The business clipboard is napping there along with my husband’s wallet. Umm…a phone charger, two pair three pair of glasses and more bills—AND leftover cornbread, a bowl of apples and a phone are also taking up residence there.
Yesterday’s clean dishes did not get put away, so yesterday’s dirty dishes are in the sink. Two empty glasses are on the counter along with an empty cup AND a half empty cup that no one (me) bothered pouring out yesterday (morning).
I can see into the utility room, but I will spare you the gory details there.
Looking at it is overwhelming. I’m disappointed in myself for allowing it to get so cluttered and messy. What if someone stopped by? I wouldn’t even be able to hide it from them. But, you know what? I bet if I divide the room up and work on one spot at a time it can be cleaned up, picked up and look amazing. (My husband remodeled this kitchen a few years ago and I truly do love it).
Have you ever looked at your life and thought, “How in the world did I let my life get so messed up?” Sometimes it can seem that life is such a mess it will never get better. It’s overwhelming. It’s depressing. It’s hard to see past the current clutter and imagine things can be different.
But, the God who created you knows your original blue print. He knows what you looked like before all the “stuff” took place. And, all you have to do is say, “Jesus help me. I need you.” He will step in and start picking up the broken pieces. He’ll take out the trash and sweep up the hurt and pain. It may take a change here and change there. But, if you will allow Him to, He will make something amazing out of your life.

2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV) Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
Isaiah 43:19 (ESV) Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

(If you don’t know Jesus, and you would like to, please contact us! We would love to introduce you.)

**Originally published on

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Wrinkles. Eye Bags. Fat.

JG 922

I caught myself staring into nowhere as I sat outside. The breeze lifted my hair and then laid it back down. It had a slight coolness to it reminding me that another summer was coming to an end. Another. Summer. How many summers had I seen come and go? Where does time go?

My heart almost ached as I thought of the years that had gone by. My youth had slipped away, almost silently.

Click here for the rest of the story…

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Down for the Count, Or…


I was going to say that my life has been like a MMA fight (Mixed Martial Arts for those of you without boys). After some pondering, however, I’ve decided that it has more accurately resembled a boxing match.

Why? Well, MMA generally goes three rounds. Boxing–about ten rounds.

You know, my childhood (everyone’s childhood, really) was my training for adulthood. I experienced disappointments, hurts, loss–all the things every child goes through. I was like most children. I couldn’t wait to grow up. I wanted to get married. I wanted babies. I wanted “freedom”.

At eighteen, my parents moved halfway across the country. I had my training–I was ready for adulthood–

Ding! Ding! Ding! Round One began.

I came out fighting, full of energy, ready to go.

BAM! Finances punched me in the face.

WHACK! Roommate conflict socked me in the ribs.

POW! (this is starting to remind me of an old Batman and Robin episode) Boyfriend problems.

I couldn’t wait for round one to end. When the bell finally rang, I went back to my corner a little bloody and bruised. But, eventually, life got back on track. I married my sweetheart ❤ and life was going to be easier.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Round Two.

I took an upper cut to the jaw–Marriage. It wasn’t what I thought is was going to be. It was hard work. There were lots of tears and yelling…and silent (treatment) days. We loved each other, but, Wow!

The bell rang once again and I shuffled back to the corner, my head spinning. There was more blood and I think I had a fat lip. But, I was determined. Time to refocus.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Round three.

WHAM! Babies came…along with miscarriage…and with them came postpartum with a vengeance. Tears. Anxiety. Anger. Fear. This time I went down–1…2…3…4… my vision was blurred, but I pulled myself up to my knees and managed to stand.

After a few more jabs which left my ears ringing (sickness, no sleep, money troubles), I heard the bell and staggered to the corner. I was tempted to throw in the towel. But, those three guys of mine–they needed me to fight.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Round four.

By now I could barely feel the mat below me. Sound was muffled. I was hardly aware of what was taking place when I was sucker punched with panic attacks. I thought for sure that was going to be the KO (knock out). No way was I getting up from this. The room was spinning. The noise was deafening. My heart was racing and at the same time it threatened to stop altogether. I tried to reach for help, but my arms wouldn’t move.

Just then as my opponent started to come down toward me, the referee stepped in and called the fight. He told my opposition to back off and leave me alone. The fight was over. He reached down and asked me if I was okay. He helped me up and took me back to the corner. He told me I had fought a good fight, but my time as a career fighter was over.

My referee was God. And He told me I would no longer fight my battles alone. I wasn’t made to be a fighter. I was made to be His child. I wasn’t made to fight my own battles. I was made to give them to Him for Him to fight for me.

It’s not that I never hear the bells at the beginning of another round. But, when I do, I say, “Hey God, You’ve got this fight! I’ll be on the other side of the ropes cheering You on. I’m Your biggest fan, God. I can’t wait for you to knock this enemy out.” 


*****After years of anxiety, depression, OCD, anger and fear, I finally found healing two years ago. I want to encourage everyone of you who struggle with these issues. Please do not suffer alone in the prison of emotional and mental illnesses.

Seek the help of a physician.


Read the Bible.

Think positive thoughts.

Meditate on Scripture.


Surround yourself with positive and encouraging people.


❤ Hugs.


Thank you for the use of this picture, Morgan Nicole. ❤

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Thirty is SO old (Sarah’s Sunday Huddle)


When I was a little girl, bedtime was imagination time. After my mom tucked me in, my mind would take me to all kinds of places. I had a Holly Hobbie doll (which is now considered vintage, but let’s not talk about that!) who came alive after dark. She was about two feet tall and I loved her. Many nights I was her mommy and she was my little girl. We played out all kinds of scenarios…

To read the rest of the story click here

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We Eat Cold Food


I bet some of you are new moms, right? Then, there are some of you who have young children, or perhaps you are like me, and have older teens or young adults at home. Maybe your children have moved out. Perhaps you now have a grandchild living with you. Regardless, we all have a common bond.

We eat cold food.


Someone asked me once if I needed to reheat my food because it had gotten cold while I took care of something. My reply? “Nah. That’s okay. I’m used to cold food. I’m a mom.”

Can you relate? I know you can. The children always take priority. They decide they need to nurse or need their bottle just as you sit to eat. Or, they decide dinner time is potty time. Maybe a homework emergency or clothing emergency takes place at the same time your plate hits the table.

Hey, who needs warm food anyway? It’s over-rated. I mean, you have to blow on it which takes extra effort. And, you know, eating alone at the table because everyone else is done and off to next thing—well, it’s peaceful, right?

Or lonely. Yah. It can be lonely. It’s frustrating. Who am I kidding? I would love to have a warm, even hot, meal. I’d love to relax while I eat and enjoy a laugh or two.

When we are young we fantasize about getting married and having a baby. We dream about the love affair we will have with our children. I remember visualizing making cookies together and singing songs together. What did I get? Cold food.

Children are a blessing. But, they are hard work. We have to pour ourselves into them. They may show us gratefulness. But, then again, they may just spit up on us. Our job is difficult. Our job is endless. Our job is often thankless. Our job is–the greatest job on the planet.

So, enjoy those cold mashed potatoes. They mean you area a Mommy.

Psalm 127:3 Version (NIV) Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him.

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What Does Twenty-Five Years Look Like-A Tribute to Our Marriage


Well, really, it goes back further than that. I was 14 years old when I met my husband. He asked me to marry him when I was 15. Of course, at the time, I think it was just a way of getting a kiss from me. But, I said, “yes” enjoying the little fantasy.

Five years later, I found myself walking down the aisle, looking into his brown eyes, hopeful for a future together. We were anxious to get started on our journey; I was amazed that I was fortunate enough to marry my high school sweet-heart.

Looking at the pictures, I realize now we were technically adults, yet we were still children. We had no idea what “life” really meant.

Another five years later we brought our first son into our family. He has been a joy. He is a near duplicate of his dad: hard-working, strong, intelligent, and loyal. He is a deep thinker. When his words are offered, you know there has been much thought beforehand.

Two years later we lost two babies. The heart-break was deep, but the next year God gifted us with our second son. I refer to him as my sunshine because he is always chatty, full of ideas, compassionate, and passionate. He can always make me laugh and his eyes literally light up a room.

Through the years we have walked mountains and valleys together. We have held each other through the good and the bad. There have been giggles and tears, passion and anger. There have been times we haven’t liked each other much, but, never a time that we didn’t love each other.

Sometimes I look at him and still see that skinny cute boy in his Levi jeans and his sweet smile looking at me from across the hall. He still makes my heart flutter when he tells me I am pretty. He still makes me feel like I am special; a gift.

I dreamed of growing old with him. And, I guess we are on our way.

What does 25 years look like? It looks like for better or for worse. It looks like in sickness and in health. It looks like in good times and in bad. It looks like the choice to LOVE.

I love you, John, forever and for always.

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Parenting Heaven

We took a little four-day mini-vacation this week-end. Our son had a baseball tournament out-of-town and we went along for “support”. Usually we stay in the same motel as the team, but by the time we made our reservations, they were booked. So, we got a room at a hotel about five minutes away.

As we drove to the hotel, I looked at my husband and said, “Is this the first time we have been alone in a motel for…for…for twenty years?!” He looked at me, shaking his head, “yes”. Wow. We sat in silence thinking about the milestone we were about to celebrate.

We walked into the hotel, got our card keys and headed up the elevator in silence. As we walked down the hall, we felt a reverence regarding the moment that was about to take place. Sliding the key in, I held my breath. The door opened and there it was, a King Sized Bed.

We smiled.

Quickly we  laid our luggage down, changed our clothes, slid into bed and…and..and…we took a TWO HOUR NAP!

It was heavenly. HEAVENLY.

We did that the next day as well.


Finally I get it.

When your children grow up, you get to sleep again. Alone. For hours.

It’s a beautiful thing. Beautiful. .

Categories: Encouragement | Tags: , , , , , , | 13 Comments

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