Almost finished reading The Chronicles of Narnia with Littlefoot and these images are fresh in my mind.

Oh, He is good.

I don’t think much of feelings propaganda, but this particular one keys into something I think we can overlook. Feelings should not dictate behavior (though we often find they do); however feelings are indicators. Like the soul’s “check engine” light, feelings can help push us to take a closer look at what might be going on “under the hood”.

We don’t need to despise our feelings. We just need to keep them in their proper place.

Are you letting your feelings prompt you to check in with the Lord?

There is a famous parable about a master who gives talents to his slaves.

“For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more. So also he who had the two talents made two talents more. But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master’s money. Now after a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them. And he who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five talents more, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me five talents; here, I have made five talents more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ And he also who had the two talents came forward, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me two talents; here, I have made two talents more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.’ But his master answered him, ‘You wicked and slothful servant! You knew that I reap where I have not sown and gather where I scattered no seed? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and at my coming I should have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him and give it to him who has the ten talents. For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Matthew 25:14-30

I’ve read this parable many times and heartily agreed with God how wicked this servant was to do nothing with the gifts He had given. Oh, I would never be like that!, I thought. I will always work hard for the Lord!

How many times I’ve read this parable and couldn’t see myself in that wicked servant, but today I do. How often I have said, “Master, I know You to be a just Judge punishing the wicked, so I have not fully committed to the effort required to work out my salvation, because I am afraid You will judge my failures harshly. It is enough that I fail at everyday things; must I add to my guilt the punishment of such huge failures as educating the children You have given me?”

By His grace, I have not lived in that way of thinking, but I must be honest: I’ve taken long, cold vacations there.

This is my public confession because I have published on here things that came from this wicked way of thinking, and I must renounce this downtrodden spirit I’ve let hang over so many of my words — written and spoken, definitely thought. I may come across many people who are “harsh masters”, but the Lord is not one of them.

The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness. I’ve been saying this for a long time, but I think I really believe it now.

I used to be the one receiving pictures of my kids all day while I worked, grateful for any tiny glimpse I might get into the everyday of their miraculous lives. Today, I finally realized I’m the one sending those pictures now.

I don’t post many pictures of my children, but I do share quite a bit with close family and friends. The days I take more pictures tend to be the ones I remember fondly, even if those pictures are of frowning faces and tear-stained cheeks. Yes, I take those pictures too. Sometimes the only way for me to maintain sanity during a meltdown is to record it in all its meltiness. By the grace of God, for every picture like that I’ve got dozens more of my rambunctious boys laughing and smiling. And I’m the one behind the camera.

What a blessing.

I have a few articles published on this site. Take a look around, it’s a good place to get different perspectives.

Is it homeschooling if you skip as many days as you attempt?

I feel like I’ve run out of excuses. Trip to Missouri (the week before Thanksgiving)…. a couple weeks to adjust to being home…. frustrated with the “curriculum” and lack of measurable progress; scale back to singing days of the week and going over letters, but this sporadically because it feels so insignificant…. Sicknesses. Christmas. New Years.

I’m new to staying home. I don’t have a lot of problem with basic routine; we have set wake, sleep, and mealtimes. I guess I should be thankful for that. I don’t know how people who don’t have any routine cope.

But I’m not used to being the kids all-day, day in day out Teacher, Nurturer, and Play Facilitator. My mom is sometimes able to watch the youngest while I play with the older two, and my mother in law takes all the kids once a week. I feel like such a garbage can for even saying I’m their 24/7 caregiver, because I know a lot of moms don’t have this. I get breaks.

The thing is, I don’t know what to do with the breaks I get. I have a little accounting job that I’m constantly getting behind on because I rely on my mother in law taking the kids to do that work, and it seems like we don’t go more than a couple weeks without an interruption to that. She has friends and family she likes to visit, and she won’t take them when they’re sick (for good reason). For the last month we’ve been sick more than healthy.

I guess I’m just having a hard time since we’ve had so much sickness and the holidays. I’m discouraged. I don’t feel like I’m good for the kids. I cry too much. I lose steam. I let them watch tv simply because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t make plans because I don’t trust myself to carry them out. When I do try to do things, I mess it up somehow. I have cookie dough in the fridge from two different attempts to make cookies. No icing for the sugar cookies. I tried to let the kids play in flour (unrelated to the cookies) and it got all over the garage, and there’s still a mound of gross flour just outside the garage that I’m not sure how to clean up. Our yard looks like a graveyard for toys…I can’t look anywhere without seeing evidence of my many failures.

I don’t have any local friends or hobbies. I don’t even read books anymore. Whine whine whine. Poor me spoiled housewife.

If you’ve read this far, I’m sorry I wasted your time. The update essentially is that I have no idea what I’m doing but I’ll just keep focusing on reading to Joseph (Beatrix Potter these days) and doing letter activities and flash cards. I’m not in any rush for him to learn to read, but given his background he will need support there and is unlikely to just pick it up.

When I started this post I was depressed. I’m not anymore. I’m grateful for a family that loves me. I’m grateful for such amazing, fun children. But mostly I am so grateful that God doesn’t look at me wallowing and say “buck up”. He gets down in the mud with me and out walks with me, all the while telling me about the great laugh we will have over this some day when I see it all pieced together.

But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by His grace we would be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

Titus 3:4-7

Homeschooling is challenging for me, but I will press on.

I blocked someone’s number recently. I hate doing that. But I was continually losing it at the things they would text.

I need rest.

The block lasted three days, and on my way over to their house to help them with an errand, I was pondering if I should block them again after I was done.

I need rest.

But this song came on the radio.

I need rest.

And as I listened it was obvious that I wanted the sword; I wanted deliverance from the “enemy” who threatened my peace.

I need rest.

But He didn’t come as a helpless baby to make my life comfortable here and now. In fact, as the innkeeper experiences in the song, He often interrupts my “peace”. He knows what I need better than I do.

I need rest.

Jesus alone offers the rest I crave. No amount of productivity, relaxation, or balance thereof will end the voices that tell me I’m a failure.

I need rest.

So I remember the helpless Baby. I recall the invitation. I accept that He alone has made me worthy. And in so doing, I enter that rest.

Because I do need rest.

I don’t like the way this song starts, but I’ve listened to it three times tonight because I need to remember that despite all appearances, God is “neither more nor less inclined” to be Savior, Lord, and Friend to a wretch like me.

1. Try to solve problem by googling, planning, talking it out, thinking thinking thinking thinking

2. Fall into a pit of despair so deep it feels like the sun was some myth people just told themselves to make themselves feel better, and while you may be miserable at least you aren’t living a lie anymore

3. Remember Psalm 139: even the darkness is not dark to You

4. Cry. A lot. Admit that really all the anger has just been years and years of hurt that has no proper outlet

5. Pray. Be rescued again.

Maybe one day I will just start with prayer, but I think it’s going to take some time for me to think of praying as a real way to deal with my petty little problems.

And now you see why those “5 easy steps” blog posts make me want to tear my hair out: it just feeds this long-held totally ridiculous belief I’m trying to kill that I can and should be on this mission to find all the hacks and strategies to DO BETTER.

Sorry if this post is awful and discouraging. I’m going to post it anyway because I need to write more and if I post more, maybe more people will remind me to write or give me writing ideas.

I wrote this in January 2020, before life got totally insane…

Keep giving. Keep giving. Keep giving.

We live in a culture that says “stop giving to people who don’t give back”. This is not the Christian way.

Give.

Let your needs be met in Christ and you will never run out of an abundance from which to give.

Stop counting. Stop keeping track of how much time your friend spends talking vs listening. Stop adding up the number of times you have to repeat yourself. Stop counting the hours of sleep. Stop keeping score — who did the laundry last? When is the last time he picked up my groceries?

Not only is this unwise and likely unfair (when is the last time I put the dog to bed? Or did the dishes? Or watched the kids all day for 3 days straight by myself?), it’s disobedient.

Love keeps no record of wrongs.

It seems like a weight, doesn’t it? “You mean I deserve nothing? I don’t deserve my friends to at least listen to me?” But the real weight is hanging onto what ‘should’ be, to the point we can’t appreciate what is.

What freedom to accept what God has for us as a blessing regardless of how much a blessing it appears to be.

This is not something I am expert at, but it’s something God is compelling me to share. This is the ancient path. Trust and obey.

I’m reading this now thinking it was easier then, but no less true. And it’s revealing to me how difficult it is to really overlook an offense or go the extra step for someone who doesn’t seem grateful. Create in me a clean heart, O God.

Isn’t it funny that what keeps us angry, or fearful, or despairing, or all-over-the-place so often is feeling like we are missing the mark?

Whose mark?

Why does it feel like the “standard” is constantly shifting or moving or slowly yet constantly floating ever out of reach?

God is not fickle or demanding. His standard never changes. His mark doesn’t move.

Yet I stand in the kitchen watching my youngest try his hardest to choke on his lunch and my older two glued to screens on this rainy day after an entirely screen free morning, and after sobbing off and on for hours I recall the handful of parents I know who just leave the TV on all the time and how absurd it would seem to them that I am judging myself for having difficulty thinking of some other indoor activity to fill the gap between lunchtime and nap… among other uglier things I am scared to be judged for so I don’t write about them, but trust me TV time isn’t why I was hating myself.

And immediately, knowing Scripture and the commandments that do not shift or change with culture or societal norms, I recognize my foolishness isn’t that I am judging myself too harshly. I am judging myself by literally any other standard than the Lord’s. Because I know I have failed, and even though I know the gospel I forget — and I don’t trust its simplicity.

As I stand watch over my little kids I remember the question I always ask them after I have received their confession of wrongdoing. What do you do when you do something wrong? I’m training my kids but I need this more than they. Like a catechism the answer is scripted: Ask forgiveness. When forgiveness is requested it’s always granted.

When forgiveness is requested of God, it is not only always granted but it is given perfectly. No lingering feelings of broken trust. No coming up short on affection. No barriers put up or further requirements to receive the full extent of His forgiveness.

I like to think I am angry with myself for failing to meet some ideal. I don’t get up at 5am; I spend my fringe time tapping out words on my phone, searching for free things for my kids, or texting friends instead of cleaning or planning the day; I watch garbage comedy or home renovation shows on Netflix most evenings… the list of non-sins nonsense goes on.

God forgives my real sin. Lack of compassion. Harsh words. Laziness. Impatience. Things I want to say I can’t change, things I want to use as evidence in the case against me — things I take to God as proof that He should destroy me. Because my pride says I can make that call. In my arrogance I actively look for ways to destroy myself. But God is not like this. He sees my sin more clearly and with more wrath than I can imagine, yet He forgives.

He sent Jesus to pay for every last harsh word, selfish motive, and wasted hour.

My only plea is Him, and the only thing that matters is that I walk in His way. His yoke is easy and His burden is light, and His is the only work that matters and the only standard that means anything.

Have I failed to meet His standard? Yes. So what can I do? Ask forgiveness. And then get up, pick up my mat and walk.

Mostly to practice the whole idea of having a curriculum, I bought one from A Humble Place. $45 for an entire years worth of lessons in a print book (I’ve gained an appreciation for printed books since losing easy printer access — active boys are a strange blessing).

I’m just going to document how this all goes here for “spits and giggles”.

If anyone is out there listening or caring, bonus. 🙂

People have told me for — wow, a long time — that I’m “wise”. I took pride in that for a long time, which is a patently foolish thing to do. But I’m coming around to a sincere appreciation of wisdom.

I’ve recently started counseling again (this will be my third time with someone trained in Biblical Counseling as described by ACBC). I’ve seen therapists off an on since I was a child in family therapy. You’d think with so much therapy in my life, I’d be one of the most balanced people you could meet. I think I might appear that way to those who don’t know me well. I know all the correct language; I am often surprised about the lack of general knowledge most people have regarding various disorders; I am aware and practice several coping skills that I learned in therapy such as thought management (thinking about what I’m thinking), documenting “triggers”, asking myself why do I feel this way?

When I started seeing a Biblical counselor in 2013, I did not have any real hope that it would help. I just went because I knew if I didn’t do something, I would ruin another marriage. It seemed inevitable. I could see so clearly everything I did wrong; I knew my separated husband had hurt me deeply as well, but to my thinking I had caused all of that pain myself. And when I walked into that small room inside a church about twenty miles out of my way, it came as a huge sigh of relief that this counselor didn’t zero in on the hurts that others caused me and attempt to get me to see how I was a victim of some sort. She determined in one session my deepest spiritual need at that time, and over the next few months worked with me until I had to humbly admit that despite my sin God did love me and that it was only His love that had the power to change me. I still turn to Psalm 139 and Ephesians 1 on a regular basis to remind myself of the most anchoring truths I had ever received in my life up to that point.

And I say all that to say this: I have grown to love wisdom. And I am writing this now because I want to share this love; I want to encourage others to seek wisdom out for themselves. I want you to know that if I seem convinced of anything, it is only because I have been persuaded that God is still performing miracles and He longs so very deeply to share true abundance with His children. If I seem confident, it is not in my earthly abilities or earthly “wisdom”. May God deal with me, as He has, if I boast in anything but Him.

I started this post in response to something that seems far away and unimportant now. May 2020, I started this, after someone was apparently flabbergasted that I would dare to be certain about the spiritual needs of anyone. I was supposed to humbly admit that I could be wrong — about something I am just as certain of as the sun rising in the east. As recently as a few months ago, I probably would have “admitted” that I could be wrong (what a silly notion anyway; should I also “admit” to breathing, to needing rest, to all other aspects of humanity?) and frankly I would never have even expressed that this person (like everyone else) had any particular spiritual need; I would have decided it’s not my place.

The very little wisdom I’ve gained over the last few months is teaching me that it is very much my place to point people back to God and His ways if they tell me they want to follow Him. It’s not only my place, it is commanded. I am failing my brothers and sisters in Christ if I am too afraid of being seen as prideful to speak the truths of Scripture.

July 2021 brings me back here to this draft, and I think I am finally ready to post it. I still struggle with hesitating to speak the truth. I feel as though God asks me to willingly walk on hot coals for the trouble I know it will cause me to dare say, “I think you might be sinning”. I fail frequently.

I need so much wisdom. I am forever grateful for the counselors that have shown me where to find it.

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

— Matthew 7: 1-5

You’re telling me that you can’t do this. The tears are welling up and that spot at the back of your neck is tensing up, that knot. I see your little body becoming rigid, and I know the place your mind is going. You tell me this is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible to me. So I must be deficient in some way. I am a failure.

I understand. It is hard. And maybe you can’t do it right now. That’s okay. You are a human being, not a “human doing”. You are not defined by what you can and can’t do; you are not the sum total of your successes and failures. You had infinite worth from the moment you were conceived; I loved you before you could do a single thing for yourself, and I will love you no matter what.

I won’t ask you to do anything that you cannot do, even though it may take some time for you to learn how. And even then I am right here beside you. You can fail a hundred times and I will never see you as a failure. How can you be a failure when the smell of your hair and the way your hands relax so completely when you’re asleep makes my heart burst with pride?

There isn’t a thing you can do to lose even a tiny shred of the ocean of love I have for you, and likewise not a thing you can do to earn it.

Littlefoot, no matter how big your feet get I will always be here for you to rest your head on. Whether it’s tracing letters or chasing your dream, when it feels impossible . . . Just breathe.

Just a little jot as a nurse…

I just saw the hundredth or so meme on Facebook (yes, my social media is Facebook and I’m cool with how old that makes me) about 2020 being a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad year. I laughed, because I get it. I, too, live on this planet. Not only did we start the year with a pandemic, racial tensions have been further exposed and reignited, tragedy after tragedy seems to be the theme of the nightly news, and… icing on the cake really… it’s an election year.

But in all this, I am not losing hope. And my hope is not that a new year will bring better news or racial healing or even justice. My hope is not that humanity will learn from this pandemic that the burden on mothers who work outside the home is completely untenable. My hope is not in a new president. My hope is not in a future event or even present blessings amidst these trials. My hope is in Christ. That He righted every wrong on Calvary, and that we are just living in the middle of a story already written.

This hope gives me room to laugh at the circus that this year has been without becoming cynical. It allows me to anticipate the future with joy without placing my hope there. It allows me to find blessings in the here and now, sometimes even because of the hardships. My greatest desire is for everyone to know this hope. It’s not an easy road but it’s beautiful.