Splash the Puddles

In the book of Luke, chapter 22 verses 31-34 we get a front row seat to Jesus telling one of his most faithful followers, Simon Peter, that very soon he would betray Jesus. He told Simon Peter, "Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when  you have turned back, strengthen your brothers."  A few things stand out to me here. First, Satan asked to manipulate Peter and Jesus allowed him to do so. Second, Jesus prayed for Peter that his faith would not fail and that when  he turned back he would strengthen his brothers. This is significant because it illustrates to us that when we sin, just as Simon Peter did, that does not mean our faith has failed. It does not mean we lose our salvation in Jesus and endless supply of grace. We are separated from God for a season until repentance, but we never lose our assurance of eternal life because of a flawed moment of judgement. He always welcomes us back to him.  This Simon

Have you ever been broken before the Lord? I mean truly broken?  This morning in church, we were singing one of my all time favorite worship songs. It's been a while since we've sang it, and I was excited to hear the  strumming of chords on the guitar, as our new worship leader, Victoria, transitioned into "Forever Reign."  I had no idea what the Lord had in store for me at that moment.  I've been praying lately for a clean heart. If you've followed my writing for years, you may know this is not the first time I've felt this pressing need to just come clean before God, to allow Him to purify me from the inside out.  (It won't be the last, either)  I'm in need of a good cleaning, and I've been sitting in my own yuck for a little bit now.  The chorus to the song came, and I found myself with my arms lifted and voice bellowing, "my heart will sing, no other name..." but just before I could sing the next word, I broke down. "Jesus.&q

Have you ever had your heart pulled in different directions? Perhaps a tough decision you've faced, maybe you've struggled balancing your time and energy between split families. Maybe your child faces a difficult obstacle and you're wavering on whether to let them fight their own battle, or stepping in and saving the day. Perhaps controversial issues of today's time leave you wondering which side of the fence you stand on at times, or maybe newer friendships and relationships have distracted you from older ones temporarily.  Could be that two people you love dearly have come into conflict and you're torn on how to remain loyal and unbiased in both relationships.  Maybe the decision of when to remove the life support is in your hands. You want to hold on, but you have to let go.  A divided heart is tough.  My heart has been divided at times on who I will serve. God?  Or myself?  On paper, it seems so  obvious. God. I choose God. Yet too often it seems, I find myself

I really wish that I didn't care so much what others thought about me, or my family for that matter, but I do. This  is part of who I am, and I strongly believe it's what God uses to keep me fully dependent on Him.  I have a love/hate relationship with my concern over what others think. Most of the time, that concern arises from just feeling like I'm misunderstood, or my children, my husband or a situation we find ourselves in. Maybe even choice we make. Even when I know the truth of who I am, who they are, what we stand for, sometimes a mistake or even just a misspoken word can have me worrying how others perceive me. So silly, in a moment like now when it's not an issue. But so real, when it is.  Just a minor nudge from the enemy, who knows just when to sneak in a punch at me, how to distract me from Truth for just a moment, can set up camp in my mind and vacation there for a moment. I have to be intentional  about allowing these times to be opportunities for growth &

Do you have a favorite Bible story? I'm not talking about Noah's Ark or Jonah and the Big Fish, though those are fine recollections from history that teach us about God's faithfulness.  I'm talking, more along the lines of a story that has traveled through life with you. One that's accompanied you through trial after trial. A story you feel you've lived out physically, emotionally and mentally over and over-one you relate to so thoroughly that you feel the story is really yours, on lend to the characters who actually portray it in Scripture. Your story.  Perhaps my favorite Scripture of all time is the account of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the book of Daniel.  There was a great and powerful king, Nebuchadnezzar who had built an image of gold and ordinated that whenever this music was played, everyone was to bow down and worship the  carven image. The repercussions of not doing so were fatal-death by blazing furnace. That should be pretty convincing.  Only

On the way home from the local high school football game tonight, we had some interesting conversation. First, Walker informed me that the worst day of a mother's life is the day her little boys become men and move away. (I'm sure he's right!  How does he know this? I can't even THINK about that day!!). Then he tells me he will probably move out when he's 33 and won't move too far. Will adds in that he will probably just move next door. He will work at the aquarium and be the guy who feeds the sharks. Then he decides, actually, he will move to Mansfield near Poppy & Grammie and when I have family dinner, he will be close enough to still come to it sometimes. I reminded him he WAS family dinner, and he HAD to be there. Always.  Next Walker decides maybe he will move to Las Vegas and work in a bank, but wants to know if a bank job gives him a lot of time with his family, like Daddy's teaching job does. Alas, he decides he's moving into the neighborhood

I was outside cleaning the dog's kennel and bed for the second morning last week after he apparently had what we will refer to as "massive bowel issues" in his sleep overnight...THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW.  I was REALLY annoyed. This isn't what I wanted to do with my first few moments of my day. I'd much rather have been curled up on the couch with my coffee in hand, doing my devotion time, while a small boy sat next to me sucking his fingers. But alas, "duty" called. (Ha ha-so punny!)  Walker accompanied me to the sidewalk that morning to watch. As I sprayed the hose and tried to avoid splattering poop on Walker & myself, out it came. My own diarrhea. No, not THAT kind. (Like I'd post that here!)  Rather, the type of diarrhea that so often erupts from my mouth. Complaints. Complaints, complaints, complaints. My current situation wasn't ideal and I wanted the trees, grass and flowers to know.  This day came only four or so days after surrendering

I watched across the room as the other children hurdled past him, effortlessly flopping one foot, then the next down the stairs that led to a basement promising much exploration and adventure. Even from my distant stance, I recognized from his profile, the disheartening expression of fear and uncertainty on his face. Stairs weren't normally a problem.  He so desperately wanted to take that next step, the one that took him off the platform of the safe floor and on to certain unknown adventure, but there was a problem-the exposed beams of an unfinished wall and no handrail.  Before I even knew I was moving, I was with him. He turned to come back, resigned to miss the adventure, and as he did, his gaze met my outstretched hand; his protector, waiting patiently for him to reach out and accept my guidance. Instantly his face softened. The certain terror and uncertainty that had momentarily encompassed his face, was replaced with a smile, a captivating tenderness and a new found confiden

I heard you, beautiful mama around that outdoor dinner table, when you shared your struggles of balancing your career and your family. I recognized your feelings of guilt as you recollect your thoughts on leaving  the office at 5, getting home by 5:30 and immediately starting dinner with little ones at your side. You want so badly to have more hours in the evening to snuggle them close, to play on the floor, to do homework with them. But bedtime calls because tomorrow is a new day, and those angels have to be well rested to do it all again. I listened as you shared about sometimes adding fruit to accompany the PBJ your sweet, precious babies had for dinner  on the way to sports practice because you feel guilty it's PBJ night again. So soon. You fall into bed exhausted, with no time for yourself and sometimes feeling you had not enough time with them. You're stretched thin, balancing a career, serving your husband and growing your relationship, and nurturing those babies. My hea

If you'd been in my kitchen around 8:15 last night, you'd have overheard this conversation:  Me: "What if he's getting sick again and he doesn't get to enjoy his party?"  Him: "Are you all worried about THAT now? He just has a cough." (implying previous trends of worry from me) Me: "I'm his mom. It's my job to worry. SOMEBODY has to worry about it." (Implying previous trends of NO worry from him...)  Him:  "No. Somebody doesn't. You don't HAVE to worry about anything." Me: (grumbles under breath...) Him: "Seriously, we've never once has a situation in our lives when your worrying and stressing out actually wound up being warranted. We've never experienced ANYthing that didn't end up okay..." I had no rebuttal. He's right.  I'm a worry wart by nature. I worry about everything. I can turn a mole hill into a mountain faster than I can snap my fingers. It's just my human inclination. 

I tell you what, this parenting thing can be downright difficult sometimes, amiright?  ☺  There are days when I get so bogged down with the frustrations of not seeing the fruits of my labor with one or both of my boys, that I can really wallow myself into a deep pit of self-pity and mommy guilt.   I’ve been there this week.  I’m sure you’ve been there too at some point or another, because aren’t we all navigating through the same struggles, desperately wanting our children to learn to show love, respect, maturity and selflessness as they grow?    I can get down on myself as a mother when my children aren’t compliant or exhibit behaviors and attitudes that warrant a little tough love on my part.  It’s easy to feel like I’m failing.  I know I’m not alone in this, as I recently had a conversation with a dear friend who is desperately struggling with her daughter’s attitude and emotions-a mom feeling completely out of control, heartbroken and embarrassed by some of the things she’s ex

 Cravings.  We all have them.  What do you crave?  I weighed today for the first time in a week hoping to see some progress from all my calorie counting and daily exercising I’ve been doing.  There was progress alright.  Just not in the downward direction. I felt instant frustration.  I climbed into the shower feeling defeated.  I’ve been working so hard!  I’ve felt good about myself and my choices.  Interestingly enough, I didn’t feel fat.  Just defeated.  I wanted the satisfaction of seeing progress on the scale.  Boy was I disappointed.  My dominating thought throughout the morning was, “When I get to work I am just going to eat that cookies-n-cream pop tart that’s been sitting in my desk drawer that I’ve resisted the last three weeks.  What’s the point, anyway?”  It’s funny how God starts working in your heart in an area that you don’t even know needs work before you even realize what He’s doing.  I’m currently in a Bible study called “Made to Crave.”  As I have read

My husband was scheduled to teach the youth aged class during our 8:30 service at church this morning, therefore he would be attending the 10:00 service for worship. My plan was to meet him at the 10:00 service. I was excited to sit with him in church this morning. I realized after he left, that I couldn't remember the last time we actually sat side by side during our worship service due to both serving in various areas of ministry at church between the two services.  Beyond being excited to just be heading to God's house this morning, I was thrilled to know I could squish my shoulder up against Cliff's arm (cause let's be honest, I'm way too short to sit shoulder to shoulder). Just love any chance I get to sit alongside my husband and grow in our relationship with Christ together.  I was calling out orders around 9:45, "Walker get your jacket, Will put your tablet down.." when the front door opened, nearly giving me a heart attack. I wasn't expecting

2014 was an unusually quiet year for our family. I don't mean quiet as it relates to noise-trust me, there's rarely any of that sort of quiet around here, but rather the sort of quiet that sums up a year void of medical emergencies, financial difficulties, major home repairs, or involuntary loss of personal property. We suffered no unimaginable circumstances, faced no heartbreak, and experienced no grief.  Quite gratefully, we experienced a year that just didn't carry some of the hardships we've faced in previous years. On the contrary, 2014 brought many happy and celebratory moments for our family.  As 2015 crept upon us, I found myself feeling thankful for the year behind us. It was a fruitful year.   I've shared before, my tendency to draw nearer to The Lord during the difficult times in my life-those moments that bring me to my knees, where I'm fully aware that I could not face the next obstacle without my Jesus leading me. With the exception of one seemingl