It’s Today. Again.

Today is 9/11. 

I find myself doing the same thing today that I’ve been doing every September 11th since 2001: I’m watching and remembering. Many people probably wonder why I would even want to spend my day listening to survivor stories and memorials for the dead. I often wonder why I’m drawn to disasters and tragedies. I want to hear the stories. I want to feel the sadness and fear. I want to root for the survivors. I want to know how it ends. 

I want to learn the lessons.
.

So, what lessons have I learned, or am I learning, from 9/11?

Foremost, and most importantly, I have learned about love. There is no replacement 

for my family and friends. They should be treated as the most important people in my life because they are. None of us live on this earth forever, so we should cherish the ones God gave us while we have them. 

Next, I’ve learned that everyone has a story, and they’re all different. No two people share the same story, even though they may go through the same experiences and share the same home. Every single person going through this life has a unique perspective, unique challenges, and unique pain. It is a serious disservice to humanity to assume that everyone is the same. We are all fearfully and wonderfully made. And different.

One of the most complicated lessons from 9/11 can be summed up in one word: freedom.

Freedom is such a difficult concept. Most Americans define freedom very differently than the rest of the world. We associate freedom with rights and privileges that we enjoy under our system of government. But, freedom is not just something that government bestows upon us, we are born with it.
It is innate. 

It’s the thing that allows us to help others when we can. It’s what allows us to figure out what we want in life and go after it. It’s the thing that lets us go where we want, say what we want, do what we want, and be who we want to be. Recent times have made many of us forget what freedom really looks like. After 9/11, things have changed so drastically that many contend that we are no longer free as Americans. To that, I say that those people don’t really understand how freedom works. It’s not a set of laws telling us what we can and cannot do, but a state of mind.

What we think, we are.
Or become. 
Or something lofty sounding like that. 

Do we truly believe we are free? How do we secure or maintain that freedom? I believe there is nothing in life that we can’t change. We have the freedom to pursue change in ourselves and the world around us. 

Through love, compassion, empathy, and kindness we can learn the lessons of 9/11. We can use our freedom to change the world, starting with our own lives and families. Life is too short to do otherwise. Make the changes, and do the hard work. 

Be the change.

Lastly, I’d like to leave you with one of my favorite quotes from Mother Theresa which sums up these lessons in a way that only she could.

Time Will Tell

Me at 17

Me at 41

Time flies when you're having fun.

That's what people say, right? What if time flies even if you're not having fun, or if you're just having an okay time? Does it fly even when life is terrible?

Yes, I believe it does.

Lately, I seem to have lost my voice. It feels like life is just happening to me, with very little participation on my part. Every day there is some new catastrophe or urgent matter that requires my immediate attention, and I find myself going through the motions just trying to keep up.

Has that ever happened to you?

No matter what is happening to us in our lives, time marches on. I have never been the person who wants to go back and relive my glory days because I believe my glory days are still being written. However, like everyone else, there are some days I would love to replay.

What I wouldn't give to go back and hold my babies and smell their sweet heads! (Why did I have to be so tired?)

I'd love to relive my way-too-quick wedding. (Do weddings actually last longer than 5 minutes?) 

Can I  breathe in my last first kiss? (Don't you wish you could know when it was the last one?) 

Talking to my grandpa again would be such a gift. (I still miss him.) 

Life is made up of so many breathtaking moments, but it's hard to know when those moments will arrive. Or what to do when we get there. So, we look back with fondness, nostalgia, and sometimes a little (or a lot) of regret.

The last year of my life has been crazy. There is no other word for it. Our little family has been dealing with some very personal issues, and then we moved into a totally new time zone. Everything about our lives has changed.

Well, almost everything.

Today I am celebrating 22 wonderful years with my dear husband. We met and began dating in college seventy eons ago when the world was still fresh with promise and mystery.

Some people didn't think we were right for one another. We were both so immature and young (I was 19, he was 21.) Some people had downright nasty things to say about our relationship. I'm sad to say that even after all this time I can still remember these things. I guess it's hard for some people to believe that you can meet and fall in love with your soul mate in a flash, but I knew almost from the beginning that he was the one for me.

You see time has a way of telling her secrets. Oh, it might take a while, but eventually, everyone else knows what you knew from the start. All of the nasty fades away, and all that is left is the love and the memories.

I think this was taken the Christmas before our engagement. Johnny has always had such a great sense of humor. He makes this otherwise quite serious girl laugh so often.

Neither one of us knew at this point in time, that I was already sick with my autoimmune disease. It would affect so much of our lives in the coming years. It didn't matter. We were happily married 5 years after we started dating. We also moved away from everyone that we knew and loved to start our new life together where John had just gotten his first job as a teacher.

Three years, and three miscarriages later, our first beautiful girl was born. We never knew how painful those first three years of marriage would be, never knew that my body was fighting itself for survival. We thank God for this girl and hope that the worst of it is over, but sadly, another miscarriage happened before we were blessed with this girl.

After daughter number 2, we are done with growing our family. Together these girls bring us more joy and heartbreak than we ever knew existed. They become our lives, and time marches on. 

I look at these photos of myself and my love, and I wonder about the woman in them. It's funny how you can simultaneously be both the photo and yourself. In retrospect, I can see so much life in these pictures, so much love. I also see a much darker picture of my illness. 

One of my biggest livelong struggles has been my weight. Since I started to become ill while still in high school, I never realized that there could be a reason for this struggle. I just thought it was how my body was changing as I aged. I never knew that an autoimmune disease could be responsible for my arthritis, my gallstones, my depression and anxiety, my miscarriages, my weight gain, my decreasing mental abilities, my hysterectomy, or my loss of zeal for life.  

When I look at these photos now, they tell a different story. This last photo was taken in August on my 17th wedding anniversary. This man standing beside me? He's my rock. He's never wavered in his commitment to me or our family, even when my illness was at my worst.

I look back through these photos and see a beautiful love story, but I also see a life well lived.  I can see the shadow of illness, but I also see the glow of grace. It's amazing how time has a way of helping us to see the complete story and the story yet unwritten. What an amazing dichotomy! 

So many people are struggling to make it through the next day, the next week, the next month. I get it. Truly. My little march down memory lane has brought me some newfound perspective, though.

Life is never what you expect it to be.

The last year of my life has been so full of ups and downs, I have found myself lost in the whirlwind of time. I have caught myself coming and going to get everything that I thought was important done so I could move on to the next important thing.

I have come to realize that it is all a mirage.

We struggle to get to the next thing and realize once we get there that something else is waiting just up ahead. If we're not careful, we can spend our whole lives always struggling to make it to the next big thing while never realizing that it's the journey that counts the most. 

Looking back, we remember the journey of life and very few moments.

I think all mothers can remember their babies, but very few of us remember specific nights the baby cried all night. We all remember being teenagers, but few of us remember every single time we were mortified beyond belief. Most of us remember being in love, but few of us remember all the arguments along the way. 

Time has a way of making us forget the specifics and remember the journey. 

Right now, I can't remember every single Keto or not Keto thing I've eaten for the last 10 months, but I remember feeling better. I can't remember every bad thing that happened on our journey to our new home, but I remember how exciting it was. I can't remember every little thing from the last year, but I remember joy.

 I remember life. 

Will this part of my life be like so many others, just a moment to remember, or something transformational for my journey?

Like so many other moments, only time will tell. 

Broken

My friends, I think the most clearly when I can drag things out of my brain either through my hands by writing, or when I can talk about them with someone else. I bet you can guess which one gets me into the least amount of trouble. 😉 I'm trying, but I can't seem to process all of the ugliness and pain that I witness on a daily basis anymore. My heart has reached its threshold, and all of the hate and strife has become too much. 

Jesus, please help!

My life is currently undergoing some major changes and obstacles. As many of you know, our family is planning a move to Florida after the end of the school year. We have many reasons for the move, although health issues and opportunities for our family top the list. My husband and I made the decision during this past summer after much prayer and research, and we are confident in our decision. All of that being said, we were very concerned about Hurricane Irma. Not only does most of my husband's family live in Florida, but our new home is there as well. We had several stressful days of worry about them, and as selfish as it sounds, about our decision to go. While everything turned out okay for our family, the state still has a long path of recovery ahead, and we will be moving right into it. I'd love to say that I have enough faith to not worry about what it means for our family, but that would be a lie. It is disconcerting, to say the least, to take your family into the unknown.

To add to the stress of preparing to move so far away, my Hashimoto's disease has decided to flare up. I've had several sick days, including having to leave work with an anxiety attack a couple weeks ago and a trip to the ER this past weekend. I despise this disease! It makes me exceedingly weak and dependent upon so many others. Of all of the emotions that I feel when I'm sick, the most prevalent is guilt. I feel guilty that my husband has to take on so many of my responsibilities. I cringe thinking about what my girls might be dealing with or missing out on because of my inabilities. Our home is a wreck most of the time, and I doubt all of my work. Honestly, my pride is probably the biggest loser in the whole situation, and my prayer life is the biggest winner. 

Daughter #1 is also dealing with some pretty significant issues at the moment. She is under a doctor's care, so we prayerfully place our most precious blessings into God's hands once again. Our younger daughter's tween season is in full bloom. On any given day you can find me both laughing at her whimsical personality and wanting to ship her off to Grandma for an attitude adjustment. She's lucky she's so lovable! My husband really doesn't like it when I talk about his issues, so suffice it to say that he's got a lot on his plate being a public school teacher in a state where educators are not valued and children are becoming less teachable.

I presented this glimpse into my family's lives for a reason. I don't know what people think about me; it's not really any of my business. But, I do know what I think about myself, and right now I'm a hot mess! My heart is pulled into a million places at the same time, and then it's being torn apart. And it's not just thinking about my family that has me all shook up. Our little town, state, and nation are filled with disasters, controversies, and worries galore. Rumors of school shootings, taxes, budgets, protests, hurricanes, earthquakes, North Korea, Trump, the NFL fiasco, healthcare......

The list could go on and on, and what's an average person to do? While all of this is happening around us, our private lives do not stop. We still have to get up every day and face our responsibilities. Unfortunately, many of us are heading into each day defeated before we even start. The stakes are so high in our personal lives that we cannot bear any more weight from society, or we will break. 

My friends, I believe that is what has happened to many of us, myself included. 

We are broken.

We have filled ourselves with more than we can take, and instead of overflowing, we break. There is so much evidence of brokenness in the world: abused children, homeless veterans, battered women, addiction, and now the non-stop barrage of hate on social media. All of the hurt, suffering, and pain in our lives needs an outlet. While many people find healthy means of expression, so many of us do not. We hide, lash out, or escape by whatever means possible. Unfortunately, our coping mechanism usually just causes more pain. We humans are so fragile. We pretend to be invincible, but our brains and bodies tell us differently. We can't sleep. Our faces break out. We don't eat, or we eat too much. Our bodies get sick. Our hearts stop working right. Suddenly, we have a hard time even getting out of bed. 

What, if anything, can we do then to repair what has been broken inside of us? The Japanese have an art form that I find fascinating. It is called Kintsugi. They repair broken objects with something precious, like gold.

The broken objects then become beautiful and unique. Kintsugi teaches that broken things can become beautiful if repaired properly. I love this idea! Just think about what you would look like if all of your brokenness could be repaired with something precious! I imagine I would look something like this.....

All joking aside, what can we, as humans and not pottery, do to fix our brokenness? I know my futile attempts to fix myself are just that, futile. While opinions differ on this matter greatly, I propose one simple solution: we look up. Instead of wallowing in all that this world is heaping upon us, what if we focus on something bigger than ourselves? God's Word has some interesting things to say about brokenness. 

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. God genuinely cares when we can't go on. He wants to help us when the journey gets too rough. He knows we can't do it on our own. 

My sweet friends, may I leave you with one final thought for today? What would your world look like if you let God heal you like a piece of Japanese pottery? Would you still see the rough and ugly pieces of your broken life? Or, instead, would you see the beauty of a life glued back together with Jesus' precious blood? I know life is hard. No one has it all together, despite how things appear from the outside. We are all broken in some way. Knowing this, it should make it easier for us to listen to others and practice kindness. The way we treat others matters.

Broken people sometimes act in broken ways.

If you or someone you know need help, please call:

The Age of Letting Go

My sweet friends, I hope you've had a wonderful summer. While it may still be in full swing in other locations, it's back to school time here. It hardly seems possible. Where did the summer go? Wasn't it just Memorial Day?!?

No, it wasn't. Our kids have been home from school for almost three whole months. It's weird to think of it that way, isn't it? Our kids spend a full quarter of the year home with us, a whole season almost.

I remember the summers of my youth. They went by so S L O W L Y. Summer took forever. Not that it was a bad thing. Baseball games, trips to the lake, camping, fishing, picnics, and occasional vacations made the summer a blissful time of my childhood.

I wonder sometimes how our children will remember their childhood summers. Our family is not wealthy, so huge and extravagant vacations don't generally happen in our home. We usually try to do something new and fun with the kiddos every year, though. Will they remember all the trips to the park? Will they remember our first plane ride? Will they remember the many trips to Grandma's? I wonder.

This summer has gone by in a blur. The beginning of summer was consumed by softball and volleyball practices, and then games. But since 4th of July......nothing. I can't remember doing much for the rest of the summer. We went to the park today. Does that count? We went to the pool. We went to the library. The second half of our summer was full of the mundane, I guess. The everyday of life was about all we accomplished. Was it enough?

You might be wondering what has brought on this new wave of concern over our kiddos' childhood experiences. Well, today I got a very rude awakening from my dear soon-to-be teenager.

She's not little any more.

My sweet babies are no longer babies. My girls will be starting the fourth and seventh grades this year.

You see, my time is running out.

I, like every other mother on the planet, have forgotten the most important lesson of motherhood-we only get them for so long. They're not ours to keep. They're only on loan from our loving Creator.

You know God must have quite a sense of humor. He hands us these little pink balls of screaming and crying and stink, and he makes us instantly fall in love with them. So we care for them, nurture them, love them, and teach them. We pour ourselves into these tiny beings like it's our life's only purpose. As they grow, we finally get to rest a bit as they start to do things for themselves. We become comfortable in this phase.

Life is good.

Now, I understand that everyone's motherhood journey is different, and it is not all wonder and beauty. Sometimes it's downright awful and we pray for bedtime or nap time or TV time or whatever gets us through the day. But, looking back, something strange has happened. I find that most of the awful has faded away into the mist, and the beauty is what stands out most. Bedtime stories, dinner time talks, tickles, giggles, and snuggles are what I remember the most. To my fellow moms still in the toddler stages, you really will miss some of it. I promise.

God, in his infinite wisdom (and I'm not saying that sarcastically,) has decided that we must move on from this time of comfort. We have entered into a new phase in our parenting journey, and I must say, I'm not really fond of it yet.

We have entered into the age of letting go. 

You know, I thought we were already doing this as we went along. Children as they grow go through so many milestones and changes, you find yourself constantly adjusting to what is happening now, and letting go of what has gone before. A great example would be trusting your kid to quietly play without burning the house down, or letting them play outside without you. When they were toddlers, these things would be unthinkable, but as they grow, we open our hands a bit and they step out on their own a little. As they master these little things, we keep giving them bigger and bigger things. Little by little they are learning to stand on their own. This is how I thought we were parenting. Little did I realize that we were teaching them to live without us, and teaching ourselves to let go.

Man, it's so hard!

I remember standing at the door watching my girls playing outside, and trying not to let them see me. I remember fielding calls from my big girl at every sleepover. I remember waiting outside for them to come back from riding their bikes. If only it could continue to be that easy....

I'm not a fool. I know what awaits me. I know that sleepovers are nothing compared to dates. I know bike rides can't even come close to car rides. And I don't even want to think about college. But tonight as my near teenager pushed me away and meant it, something broke within me. It hit me like a ton of bricks how very little time we have left with these sweet, crazy girls.

We have six summers left with our big girl. Six summers of childhood, and she'll be gone. My heart is having a hard time with this today. I feel like I've wasted so much time worrying about laundry and dishes and rest. Wake up! Wake up! We only have six summers left! 

We have some major changes coming to our family soon, and I'll be sure to reveal more later, but I want to leave you with this one thought before I'm done. Childhood doesn't have to be magical, but it does have to be meaningful for our children. I think most parents would be surprised to learn what really sticks with their kids as they grow up. Parenting is hard, and the dishes and the laundry have to be done, but remember some day you'll have plenty of time on your hands and way too much quiet.

Childhood is fleeting.....

A Little Tough Love

My two beautiful daughters have decided that they would like to try out some sports this summer. Consequently, my sweet husband and I have been busy playing taxi since the end of the school year. Our little is playing softball. For those of you who don't know, she has asthma. This is her first sports endeavor. It's a big deal.

Our big girl is trying her hand at volleyball. Since she was little, people have been asking her over and over if she was going to play basketball or volleyball because she is so tall. It's been a tough time for her lately with some medical issues. Team sports is a big deal for her right now, too.

My girls have been asking me all summer what I think of how they are playing.

I am a good mom.

I try to be reassuring, and point out the positive aspects of their efforts. I try to encourage them. I want them to feel good about playing.

But tonight, oh tonight, they got a dose of my honest opinion, and I'm not sure they enjoyed it. My girls have been working at these sports all summer, but I feel as though they are not really willing to give it their all. They do have their moments, but, in reality, they are just going through the motions.

They are unsure.

They are bored.

They are making excuses.

They don't want to practice at home.

Greatness takes effort. Success usually only comes after many failures. Without trying you don't have to feel the crushing disappointment of failure after giving it your all. You also don't get to feel the amazing rush of winning, knowing you gave it your all.

Fear can trap us all, no matter our age. Fear of failure. Fear of embarrassment. Fear of humiliation. We've all experienced it.

Tonight, I told my girls my honest opinion.

I told them that attitude matters. I told them that effort matters, no matter the results. I told them that practice pays off. You have to work for what you want in life. If you're not willing to work for it, it must not matter that much to you.

Excuses only set us up for failure. If you are already preparing a defense for why you failed, you are not giving it your all!

Don't give up!

Never quit!

You are only in competition with yourself in this life. You may win or lose games, but winning without really contributing is so hollow. Losing after giving up is even worse. We only regret the chances we don't take. We only cherish the things we know we really work for, that's why participation trophies mean nothing to kids.

They KNOW they didn't earn them.

Play games and have fun, but you should do your best.

Always.

Otherwise, you cheat yourself and your team. If you're not willing to do that, maybe you shouldn't play.

Now, some of you might be saying that I was a little hard of my girls. I should only encourage effort.

Encouragement will only take them so far. They were genuinely wanting to know how to get better. They know they are not doing as well as they could. I don't know, maybe some kids have enough self discipline that encouragement is enough for them.

My girls are not like that.

They respond well to a little tough love. I think most people eventually do. Why should I hold that back from them?

God certainly doesn't hold back from showing us tough love. He prunes and trims from us, knowing we will be better when He's done with us. He wants us to grow. He wants us to change for the better. He wants us to mature.

My girls' attitudes need to mature. They need to understand the concept of a team a little better. All of the encouragement in the world will not make it happen.

Tough love.

Amazingly enough, God's ways are best. Again.

Always.

Mom-1/ Mom Guilt-0

Today, I am that mom.

You know the one. The mom that frets. The mom that overprotects. The mom that clears the way for her kid. The mom that brings forgotten things, soothes every owie, and makes it all okay. That mom.

Sigh.

As a mom, some days are just harder than others. Depending on the age of the kid, what that looks like can be quite different. 

Your 9 month old is teething and just won't sleep.

Your 3 year old will not stop climbing on everything.

Your 5 year old cries every day at kindergarten drop-off.

Your 9 year old replies to every request with sass.

Your 12 year old is, well, acting like a 12 year old. 

Ahem.

Some days are just hard. Right now, my twelve year old is having a rough go of it. She loves Jr. High, but it's been physically hard on her. I think she's had more sick days this year than all of the others combined! We are now in the dreaded doctor's note phase of school absences. Every time she misses school, she needs a doctor's note.  Well, okay. But what if the kid just doesn't feel good? What if she's not sick enough for the doctor, but she's running a low-grade fever, has glassy eyes, and is coughing her lungs out? I know she has a cold. It's manageable. She'll be fine. She definitely doesn't need the doctor.

I still want her home.

Every mom is different when it comes to sick days. My own mom was very specific about sick days. If we weren't on death's doorstep, we were going to school. Some other moms don't seem to care if their kids ever go to school. My stance is definitely closer to that of my mom than of the second mom. On the other hand, I don't like to send my kiddos to public school, where they will infect everyone in their path, when I know they are obviously sick. Without throwing up. Without a fever. Come on, my fellow moms, we know when our kids aren't quite right. In our house, if their eyes are glassy, they are staying home. I just don't think that it benefits anyone to have sick kids at school.

But, I digress. 

My girl has missed 13 days this year. That's a lot, thanks to a bout with a strep/influenza combo she acquired earlier this year. That combo left her a bit, well, off. I don't know  how to describe it, but she just hasn't felt well since. We've taken her to the doctor, and they've run some tests. So, for now, she is on an acid reducing medication, and we've had to change her diet. That means she brings her lunch to school.

EVERY. 

DAY.

Now this morning, like all other mornings since this began, I made her lunch and left it on the kitchen table. My girl has to walk past the table to go out the door. See where I'm going with this? Today she walked right past her lunch and left it at home.

We both know she needs the lunch. And yet, there it sat, on the table. As my husband pulled out of the driveway to take her to school, I was left with a dilemma. Do I take the lunch to her?

Part of raising responsible kiddos is letting them fail once in a while. I know this. You know this. Everyone knows this. Isn't this the biggest complaint about this generation of parents? We aren't letting our precious snowflakes fail EVER. Look, I get it. I even mostly agree. What I have a really hard time with is days like today. 

What exactly would I be teaching my sick daughter by not taking her specially packed lunch?  

• She should be responsible for herself. Yes, she should be responsible for herself. When it comes to what she eats every day, she needs to pick up the lunch box. Even if she has to have a special diet, I'm sure she could find something in the school lunch to eat.
• Actions have consequences. Forgetting your lunchbox means eating school lunch. Done. Twelve is old enough to deal with it. Just like missing practice means you might not get to play, learning that her personal actions have real world consequences is a life lesson. I know this.
• Grace is something we learn in church, but it's not meant for you. Ouch.This one stings a bit. Grace is undeserved favor. We can't earn it, it's freely given. Do we only teach grace in church or are we allowed to bestow grace upon the other little humans living in our homes? I don't know about you, but we have always been grace givers in our home. We all make mistakes. I believe sickness is a time of great grace.
• We must never break the rules. You know, this one makes me giggle a little. I am a rule follower by nature, and I have a little one who is just like me. To hear her tell it, there is never a good time to break the rules (unless it's her, of course!) It's a rule in our home that I will not bring a forgotten lunch or homework. It's their responsibility. But, do we all follow the rules all the time? Um, how many speeding tickets have you had? Ever have 12 items in the 10 items or less aisle? We just finished tax season, ahem. Sometimes in life, we bend the rules a little. I refer you back to my previous point on grace.
• Do as I say, not as I do. I forget things. All. The. Time. I actually had to have a dry erase board put up in my kitchen for that very reason! Is it unreasonable to think that our kids will forget things, too? I don't think so. Their days and minds are busy, just like ours. I have come home for lunch many days because of a forgotten lunch. By junior high, I expect them to remember, but mistakes happen for them, just like they do for me.
• You are not important. Nope. I just couldn't let her think this one today. Just. No.

So, as you may have guessed, I took the lunch to her today. The entire time I was explaining to the office staff why I brought it, I knew I had done the right thing. My poor girl needed some grace today, and I was in the position to give it to her.

You know, it would be nice if there was a magical parenting book tailor-made for each child, wouldn't it? We would know what to do all the time, and never wonder or worry if we'd made the right decision. I once had a friend tell me that I was to always remember that I was raising a child to become an adult, not to stay a child. It was honestly some of the best parenting advice I've ever received, but only if I remember that adulthood isn't all about responsibility. It is also about love, grace, faith, and compassion. I want my girls to have those things as adults, so I have to teach them those things as children. 

The best way for my sweet girls to learn these things is to see them in my life. I have the greatest power to influence them, for good or bad. And, while there is no magical parenting book, I do have a book to help me along the way. It's full of everything I need to live a life my girls can emulate with pride. 

A Sure Thing

My sweet friends, this week I'll be turning 40. So many of you have been kind enough to tell me all about how 40 is a blessing. Thank you. I really needed to hear it.

What is it about milestone birthdays that makes us reflect upon our lives?

I don't know, but I can tell you that I don't feel ready. I don't feel 40. I don't feel adult enough for all of the responsibilities that 40 entails. I don't feel mature enough. Adults are supposed to be wise, and I still end up winging most things in life. When is all this wisdom going to show up? Where is the magical adult maker? Where is the responsibility endower? Wait! Come back, youth! I missed something!

Alas, the closer it gets to my birthday, the more I realize that these ideas are just figments of my imagination. There is nothing magical about getting older, except the privileges of living longer and gaining wisdom along the way. As with many things in life, wisdom and responsibility are qualities that are earned, not granted.

Looking back on my life, God has blessed me in so many ways. I have loving parents who are still married and tried as hard as they could. I have had so many truly wonderful friends, many of whom I still speak with often. I have had the opportunity to go to college, which changed me in so many wonderful ways. I have a wonderful husband, who is my true best friend in life. We have two amazing daughters who are so smart, kind, and lovely.

Most importantly, I have Jesus.  

As I sit writing this blog, my beautiful family is still sleeping. I get my best writing done when it's quiet. In the quiet, Jesus can come along with me. He's quietly speaking truth to me as I write this. I sit in this chair writing, realizing yet again that we will miss church because of my illness, and Jesus is still speaking truth.

Quietly.

Quietly, He tells me that I am enough. I am wonderfully made. I am beloved. I am worthy.

As tears roll down my face, he never stops telling me how much He loves me. He reminds me yet again that all of my worries and fears are not important. He assures me that He will be here for me always. He quiets my spirit.

I am so blessed, my friends.

40 is just a number.

Life is amazing.  

If I could leave you with one thought on this beautiful Sunday Morning, it would be this:
No matter what you are facing, God's got it.  

Looking back, it seems silly to have been so stressed out about getting older. It is a privilege denied to many. Sometimes, however, my worries are not so trivial. It's good to know that Jesus goes along with me, no matter the circumstances. He will never leave me.

Of this I am certain.