It has been exactly two months since my last blog post. It feels like time to break the blog silence. I have felt this way before. From hurting to healing to confusion to creativity....where to start? What to say?


September....
...brought numbness. Disbelief. Thick seemingly impenetrable walls went up around my heart. I couldn't feel. I couldn't pray. I couldn't. Life resumed it's regularly scheduled program and I went through the motions. Loved ones wed, my niece had a birthday, laughter, joy. My body was present, but my heart...well, that's another story.

October...
...brought celebrating. Our anniversary. I should have been...jubilant. Expectant. My husband planned this truly extravagant weekend of things he knew I would love, as a total surprise, complete with pre-arranged childcare! Dinner at the Signature Room. A Mario Tricocci massage. Splendiferous romantic details!! It was a big courageous attempt at moving towards oneness and away from the isolation that has plagued our marriage for so long. Have you been there? Isolated? Maybe you have been there for so long you don't even remember how it was...once upon a time. Things are good, but not excellent. You have settled and compromised and so has he. And then you stay there. But God had already gotten ahold of my husband's heart and had brought him to his knees by the time our anniversary came around. Although I still didn't really have any strong emotions because of all that had transpired the month before, I distinctly noticed something else happening. Those concrete heart-walls began to fracture.

As if one weekend away from the daily grind wasn't fabulous enough, I was treated (and surprised!) again the following weekend. The Husband whisked us off to Milwaukee for a Weekend to Remember conference. I was feeling...cautious & curious about what this weekend would hold for me as a wife and for us as a couple. It was *truly* wonderful. (Fracture...fracture...crumble) It was more like a "working vacation" than anything. The sessions were a good mix of humor and pointedness and heart-felt sharing and conviction. I came home feeling...changed.


November....
brought more changing. Of slowly moving towards. God. People. The Husband. Of seasons getting colder. Of appreciating His brilliant spectrum of yellows, orange, reds and browns. Of caring for a baby who needed a place to stay for a week. Of loving reading again! Books, books, and more books! One in particular that has been particularly excellent is When Life is Hard by James Macdonald. Of walls continuing to come down. Of new habits of love and understanding. Of pruning the good in favor of the excellent. Of renewed creativity.

Quite the roller coaster, huh?

Carried

The other night, I looked on as my husband tenderly hoisted my sleeping son out of our bed to carry him back to his own room. I watched as my little boy tensed up at first, but then completely relaxed as he realized that his daddy was carrying him. It reminded me of my own childhood, when I would fall asleep in the car coming home from somewhere and my mom or my dad would carry me inside and tuck me into bed. Even when I was probably awake enough to walk, I loved the feeling of being carried. I felt safe because I trusted the one carrying me.

And just watching my three year old softly curled up in my strong Husband's arms made me think about being carried. Moments of struggle throughout my life slowly drifted through my memory. Heartache. Brokenness. Grief. Even now, looking back, I seriously wonder how I ever survived some of these things without dying of a broken heart. And I believe the answer is...carried. 

The thing about being carried though, is that we must allow it. We must depend on the person carrying us. It will do no good to thrash and struggle, to demand that we get through it on our own strength, to resist it because we have something to prove. We can feel safe in the arms of the One who knows the valleys, who intimately knows our hearts, who loves us enough to carry us if only we will let Him. The world is so broken and I am so thankful for the times when I didn't have to walk through it.

I was carried.

Lessons from a Horse

The movie Seabiscuit isn't just about a racehorse. It's about being broken and finding healing. It's about the underdog. It's about being down-and-out and someone giving you a chance. It's about loss. It's about optimism when facing an impossible situation. It's about "choosing life". Maybe it's because May has swiftly come and is nearly gone, bringing with it the second anniversary of Olivia's death, that I'm feeling particularly...thoughtful.

When Seabiscuit's owners first find him, they, along with the horse trainer, take him for a run around the track to see how Seabiscuit performs.

"He seems fast."
"In every direction."
"He's so beat up it's hard to tell what he's like."

And sometimes people can be the same way. The are so broken, bruised, and beaten down that it's hard to tell. Hard to tell who they really are underneath the layers of pain. Hard to tell what strength and beauty lies beneath. Hard to tell how wonderful they might be to get to know or to embrace in a relationship because all we see is the hardened, prickly exterior.

"He just needs to learn how to be a horse again."

I think sometimes as people, we need to relearn how to live again, especially after suffering or trials. We need to rediscover joy, remember our blessings, risk love again. Time has been a healer for me, but sometimes we don't allow ourselves the room to mend. We jump right back into life's chaos without stopping long enough to reflect, to bring our wounds to God and soak in His healing salve.

"You know, you don't throw a whole life away just 'cause he's banged up a little."

I am fond of quoting this movie line, time and again, because I don't believe that any person or any circumstance is beyond redemption, even if all seems lost and beyond repair. If there's life, there's hope. It might seem naive to some and foolish to others, but even after all that I have gone through, I still believe in miracles. I believe that He can change anyone and anything. I am willing to look beyond the exterior and see to what could be.

"You know, everybody thinks we found this broken-down horse and fixed him, but we didn't. He fixed us. Every one of us. And I guess in a way we kinda fixed each other too."

A Choice

Friday marked 20 months since we said goodbye to Olivia, our third daughter, our fourth and last child, thusfar. That might seem like a long time to most, but there are moments when it feels like it all happened not that long ago. Time is a good cure, but it does not heal all wounds. After much reflection on the subject, I've come to believe this one simple truth: healing is a choice.


Some physical wounds are shallow and nearly inconsequential, take a paper cut for example. It might hurt for a few seconds, but then you scarcely notice it even happened. Other wounds require more attention, but probably can be handled on your own, like a scraped knee. You wash it up, apply a little antiseptic and a bandage, and you're out riding your bike again in no time. Some injuries require professional help, like broken arms and deep lacerations needing stitches. And other situations, say a severe car accident, might need surgery, a hospital stay, and months of rehab.

I think emotional wounds are somewhat similar. Some are shallow and quickly forgotten. Others might require a little more attention. And still deeper wounds....need work and maybe even professional help.

I've often wondered why some people that I've encountered still seem truly bruised, battered, and broken, even years after their loss. Their personal pain appears raw and fresh. While others, although forever changed by their loss, seem to be working towards healing and reclaiming their joy. I remember feeling angry that after all I had endured, I had to actually work towards mending my heart and spirit. WHAT?! It just doesn't seem fair. But fair or not, I believe it is what is required.

One month after Olivia had died, I remember reading something that convicted me into making a distinct choice: I would focus on Christ instead of on my suffering. And it is a choice I have had to make again and again.  

A choice to heal. 

A choice to live. 

A choice to find joy.

Praying for the choices you face,

the Easy button

Sometimes the only way out is through.

How many times in life do we just wish we had an Easy button? Press it and POOF! You are on the other side of the trial, obstacle, or difficult season. I know I have. I remember early on after losing Olivia and being in constant emotional pain, my mom wanted to do something, anything, just to have me feel better. Something to just stop the torrent of grief and pain. She was even willing to pay my way on a vacation, bless her heart, if it meant that I would feel better. But in grief, just like in many difficulties, the only way out is through.

There have been times when I've come along willingly on this journey. There have been other times when I have proverbially kicked and screamed my way through each day. I don't think I will ever learn to embrace suffering or trials, but I do think I can embrace whatever God wants to teach me along the way. Had I pressed that Easy button, I would've missed it. I would've missed my heart becoming more compassionate. I would've missed all the opportunities to share my heart with other broken-hearted people. I would've missed depending on Him like ever before. I would've missed the confidence that comes with knowing that He can get me through.

Because sometimes the only way out is through. And I know that it is just as true for you as it is for me.

I'm Odd.

"A real Christian is an odd number anyway. He feels supreme love for One whom he has never seen, talks familiarly every day to Someone he cannot see, expects to go to heaven on the virtue of Another, empties himself in order to be full, admits he is wrong so he can be declared right, goes down in order to get up, is strongest when he is weakest, riches when he is poorest, and happiest when he feels worst. He dies so he can live, forsakes in order to have, gives away so he can keep, sees the invisible, hears the inaudible, and knows that which passeth knowledge."

-A. W. Tozer

From a 9-year old Heart

This is a word for word copy of a typed note I received last night from my daughter (I added some punctuation for ease of reading). I think it's a pretty clear picture of my own 32-year-old heart as well. 

WHAT'S UP NEWS

There's a song about how God is soooooo big and powerful and how god has a amazing plan. if that plan is so amazing, how come God's amazing plan was for Ricardo Rios age 34 (omitted city/state) to lose his job. he got late off. right now all we have to do is sit here in the house until he finds a job. now  back in the old depression, people started losing their jobs and became hobos. hobos once had houses and jobs. Not only did the people who lost their job become hobos but so did their familys. Lots of peoples jobs.....lost. How do we know what God for us is best? was Gods amazing plan for Rick to lose his job. I did not want this to happen to us. i keep thinking to myself: are we gonna lose the house? What if Rick has to go a long way to find a job? What if someone steals our money? it will be all gone and where will we go to live? Ricks mother and law said we are welcome to live at her house. What if the exact same thing happens to her? then where will all of us go? we could become like those hobos. Lots of rich people still have their houses and their jobs. they think "I have lots of money. i do not need God." but if they think that they'll probely lose their jobs as well. I do not know if that will happen but they probely should lose their job and their house.

That's it for WHAT'S UP NEWS.

**EDITED TO ADD: I am honestly amazed at all the negative and discouraging comments that I received on this post. I am really just dumbfounded at the ugliness of the comments that I had to delete. I didn't make this all up and pretend that a child wrote it. If you knew my daughter, you'd know what a tender heart she has and how spiritually mature she is. It just made me realize how underemployment/unemployment affects everyone in the family, not just Mom and Dad. We have seen God's faithful hand through many times of trouble and have always been open with our children about what difficulties we are facing and how God is working through them. I was both humbled and heartbroken to read these 9-year-old thoughts, but I think it was an immense opportunity to to talk about God, His ways, His plans even amidst the trials. We are thankful for the greatest dependence on God that we have ever experienced and an extravagant love from Him that knows no bounds, despite whether or not we have great jobs. ***

Wanting

I wish I could be the Happy Blog. The one where I get to write about my adventures in home decorating or fabulous dinner parties or the excitement of having beautiful twins. Where I post pictures of extraordinary before/after projects or the latest jaunt to my house on the beach. 

We are experiencing yet another job loss and it leaves me feeling more like the Previously-Creative-Turned-Mildly-Depressing Blog.  It has been about one month (so far) of severe under-employment.

 

*sigh*

Hopefully this explains the blog silence. It just makes it difficult to keep putting on the cheery face and pretend like it's only a bump in the road. When does something cease to be just a season of my life (that will pass) and start becoming just my life? I wonder.

At first, I was admittedly running from God. Maybe not necessarily running from, but definitely not running towards. I've told myself how ridiculous I am to try to run from Him. "To whom else would we go, Lord?" Difficult times can make it hard to keep in conversation with Him, especially knowing that this hard time passed through His hands first.

I read Mark 4:38 yesterday and am crying out the same thing the disciples did:

Jesus Himself was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke Him and said to Him, "Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?"

My family boat has been swiftly taking on water and it seems that God must be asleep at the wheel. Oh, I know all the right answers. God has a perfect plan for me, to prosper me. God cares for me. God loves me extravagantly. Does anyone else have a hard time taking those things to heart when their circumstances don't seem to fit with His truths??

The following verses reminded me of His sovereignty over all. HE calms the storm. The winds and the seas obey HIM. And tucked into verse 40 are some really crucial questions:

And He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

It leaves my heart wanting. Wanting to believe. Wanting to trust. Wanting to hope. Even when my head seems to be saying No.

Real?

I do, sometimes, loathe the internet. Now that that's out of the way, I'll go on to explain myself.

I think I might've been born in the wrong era. I like face-to-face conversations. I like being able to read another person's facial expressions instead of having to infer them from an email or emoticon. I do appreciate online ((hugs)), but can anything really replace the feeling of having another wrap their arms around you in a heartfelt embrace? I love getting personal emails (no forwards please!), but there's just something about a stamped letter arriving in my mailbox, with a scrawled message in the unique handwriting of a friend, that just can't compare.

I marvel at the ability of instant communication. Email, texting, INSTANT messaging, pm-ing. Our family has been enjoying the benefits of IMing, which I will share tomorrow in another post. Sometimes I wonder though, if this ability is actually enabling us to not put as much effort into "real" relationships. Do we make as much time for actual people as we do for our inbox? It's not as easy, but I think it's more rewarding.

We all have busy lives and responsibilities that demand our time, energy, and attention. Real relationships are a sacrifice and something that we need to allow room for in our hectic lives. I can't remember the last time I mailed a hnad-written letter, but I make time for phone calls. I make time for house-to-house visits. Whenever I'm in the town where several of my friends live, I try to stop-by and say Hello as much as possible. I plan get-togethers.  I'm not sure if these gestures go unnoticed or if a quick 3-line email is appreciated just as much. 

I'm the kind of girl who loves to curl up with a hot cuppa something in a quaint coffee shop and spend a few hours chatting about life. Let's sit on your front porch with a cold glass of ice tea while we watch our children play. Let's turn off the hard drives and at least put the cell phones on vibrate for just a little while. I realize that with far-flung family and friends, sometimes this just isn't possible. And email is useful for so many things. It's just that it's so much easier to see the pain, buoy the hope, roar with laughter, share the tears when you're sitting by my side instead of in front of your monitor.

Be blessed,

The Winter Past

Many people are eagerly anticipating Spring. Small children, gardeners, warm-weather lovers, lanscapers, normal-people-who-enjoy-decent-weather. And I used to be one of those people, opening my windows on the first day when the temperatures rose above 50° F. I have come to realize though, that because of my grief, I actually enjoyed winter. Winter just seemed fitting during that season of my grief. Desolate. Frozen.  Icy and beautiful at times. A gloomy cocoon at others. I would look up at the gray-white blanket of low lying clouds and feel insulated. It was as if nature was giving me a nod and telling me it's okay to have a time of frigid slumber.

I never would have guessed in a million years that I would ever not want Spring to come, especially being prone to seasonal-affectiveness like I am. These last few weeks I have been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually preparing myself for Spring's arrival. I'm sure it's no coincidence that the most recent book I read had the following verse as it's theme:

For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over, it is gone:
The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing is come...

(Crazy how God can use something like a novel to reach our hearts, isn't it??) I'm not sure I'm going to be doing any singing, but it will be a time of reflection and remembering. The days when we first received Olivia's diagnosis are quickly approaching, as is the day of her birth. I remember many blue skies during those days. And those same blue skies are coming again. The earth will be celebrating. The laughter of children will float through my window on warm breezes. And I....I will be missing Olivia for one full year. I will be thawing out. I will find new ways to enjoy life. I will grow and I will grow something. And hopefully by the time next winter comes, I might not enjoy it as much.

Preparing for flowers,

Amidst the Flames

"When most people say 'for better or for worse', they really only mean 'for better'."

- from the movie Fireproof

I've given a lot of thought over the years, but especially more so this last year, about what 'for better or for worse' really means. I think back to my premarital counseling and can distinctly remember one of the pastors trying to convey to us, the young couple in love, what the future might hold.

Will you still love him when he's balding and 30 pounds heavier?

Will you still love her when she's pregnant and cranky?

Will you still love him when he's in a bad mood?

Will you still love her when she's old and wrinkled?

If those are the most extreme difficulties that we have ever had to deal with, we would have an easy life. Probably not nearly as rich and rewarding, but definitely easy. I think the questions a pastor should ask an engaged couple should be more probing and probably a lot scarier:

Will you still love him when he is depressed and wants to give up on his faith?

Will you still love her when she has a miscarriage? Again.

Will you still love him when he gets addicted to viewing inappropriate websites?

Will you still love her when she has spent more money than you make in a year?

Will you still love him when he has had no job for months on end? When you don't know where the money will come from to care for your family?

Will you still love her when she has gotten herself emotionally involved with someone else?

Will you still love him when your marriage just seems hopeless to save it?

Will you still love her when you hear the words 'no heartbeat' and find yourselves standing in front of a tiny casket?

Will you still love each other when it seems like the very fabric of your marriage is coming apart at the seams?

Early on in our marriage, a pastor mentioned to us that when we had gotten married that he didn't think we stood "a snowball's chance in hell" of staying married for the long run. Amazing, huh?! I guess what this pastor didn't realize is that the trials that we would go through would make us stronger, that we would come out the other side battered and bruised, but still come out together.  And that just like the Bible story, there would be an extra person amidst those flames saving us from destruction.

"Fireproof doesn't mean a fire will never come, but that when it comes 

you'll be able to withstand it."

- from the movie Fireproof 

Inundated

With 

laundry,

costume alterations,

new blog design for a friend's business,

dishes,

cupcakes (!!),

children needing attention,

husband needing attention,

homeschooling,

grief,

His undeserved blessings,

celebration,

traumatic thoughts from dark days,

friends,

God's love,

parties.

What are you  inundated with?

Dontcha just love how that word sounds so much like what it means?

More details to come,

Of all.

We received a lot of really nice gifts for Christmas. Things that I will truly enjoy. But the best gift of all didn't have a price tag and wasn't purchased at a store. It was from my 83 year-old grandmother; she just didn't know it at the time. While visiting her home on Christmas Eve, we enjoyed a nice Polish meal and began to open gifts. I crossed the room for some reason and noticed a picture frame sitting next to her television. The frame said, "Families are forever" and inside were some things to remember Olivia by: a card that we had given out at her funeral, tiny hand-cut angels, Olivia's footprints hand-cut out of a memory card. My grandma has been suffering from arthritis for God-only-knows how long and for some time now is either unable to do the things she loves, like knitting, crocheting, and sewing and has taken to wearing hand/wrist support gloves for most of the time. I can only imagine the time and (possible) pain that she had to endure to hand-cut all these little decorations and the love that such sacrifice requires. In that very moment, I was nearly reduced to a puddle just thinking about it. And then she proudly declared,

"Olivia is still a part of our family."

And to my husband she whispered under her breath,

"She is waiting for me."

And that made the best Christmas memory of all.

One.

When the calendar turns over, we start thinking about what we can do differently. Or what we need to do. Period. I usually lean towards more open-ended resolutions that allow me to consider them complete, as long as progress was made. For several years, my resolution was simply to not put undue burden on the family budget. So to consider that a success, I could clip coupons, shop at thrift stores, find ways to earn extra money, go without, look for sales, reuse and so on. This year, however, I am straying from my past tendency and chose something much more finite.

I have just one resolution for 2010: to finish my Hope devotional. 

Oh, there are other things I hope to accomplish. Getting my recipes and my basement in order for starters. But I don't think any one thing can really impact my life as much as spending more time in God's Word. I heard a sermon recently that said if we place our time with God in a position of high priority in our lives, that will activate all the other areas in which we need help (or blessing)! The filling up of my spiritual cup will overflow into the rest of my life.

At least, I hope it will.

I have 35 weeks left of devotions in the Hope book. Each day there are additional Scripture readings as well. I have also been memorizing Scripture to build my reservoir. Even plugging along without missing a day will take me through 3/4 of the year. I'm not going to be legalistic about my schedule or beat myself up about skipping a day, but I am going to just try to stay focused.

So, I'm keeping it simple by just making one single resolution. I think it's the most important one I could make.

Got goals?

Free Gifts

These all came together in my mind and heart yesterday and I thought I'd share them with all of you. I've been thinking about things I can give that don't cost anything and this is what God brought to mind. So here are four gifts that can be given this holiday season (and beyond!) and you don't even need your debit card.

The Gift of Grace

For yourself. For others. I think I am hardest on myself and expect more out of myself than maybe I should sometimes. Maybe you are the other way around. Whichever is the case, we all could use a little more grace. Yelling less. Loving more. Encouraging your husband. Appreciating your wife. Focusing on your families good qualities instead of the annoyances. We all have been extended more grace than we deserve.

The Gift of Peace

Ya know that grudge that you've been holding onto for far too long? That fractured relationship that could use some mending? The seed of bitterness that has started to take root? This gift is so easy to imagine, but so difficult to execute. Maybe it can start with just a turn of the heart; going to that family gathering planning to be peaceful despite what comes your way. I am working on this gift myself. 

The Gift of Joy

There has been so much recent pain in the lives of people I know. Grief that I know all too well. One of my favorite verses has been Deuteronomy 30:19 where we are told to 'choose life' and I suppose I kind of equate that 'choosing joy' since the word life feels so arbitrary to me. This could be simply getting out of bed and getting dressed. It could be deciding to smile more. Dusting off His Word that has been laid aside for far too long. Choosing to focus on 'life' instead of on 'death' or whatever has been lost. Joy is a gift that we must choose to give ourselves and will overflow into the lives of others. (In other words, if Mama ain't happy, nobody ain't happy!)

And last but not least....

The Gift of Hope

Hope is such a powerful thing. I know I've said this before, but I just like to say it a lot: As long as there is life, there is hope. Don't give up, look up. Whatever it is you are facing: an unhappy marriage, a desperate job situation, the loss of the life you thought you'd have, a broken spirit, God is our hope and with Him all things are possible.

I don't say it often enough, but you are all gifts to me. Your friendships. Your comments. Your companionship along the road of life.

Thank you.

Which gift do you need the most? I think, for me, it's hope.

Just a Box

I'm sure it must've been a lovely sentiment at the time. In all honesty, it could've been I who bought the item to stash away until the appropriate season. Whoever it was is irrelevant, I suppose. It's just another insight into how something so seemingly harmless as unpacking Christmas decorations can reduce a fully-grown woman to tears.

What should've been Baby's 1st Christmas, as the ornament in the photo suggests, will be the first Christmas without our baby. People say that the first holiday is the hardest. I sure hope that is true.

It's difficult for other people, especially some that love us best, to understand why we are taking a different approach to this Christmas season. But it's because of things like unpacking a ornament or a family photo that doesn't quite feel complete or wondering if Olivia will even be remembered around the Christmas tree, that give us pause. And pause we should, if we are not to miss the true meaning of the holiday.

And as I sit here, blurry-eyed with tears, God gently reminded me that along with being heart-broken about a box, I can be heart-filled about a different box. The one that held a baby some two-thousand years ago. And so, I guess that is just what I'm gonna try to do.

Thinking about a box,

Mingled

Grief and joy can co-exist.

I wouldn't have thought so before Olivia because, at least to me, they seem like polar opposites. But I have found, that even on the darkest day, there is joy to be found. At first, it was probably mostly grief with little bits of joy mixed in, but gradually the days have changed to not include so much grief. There is more joy now, with bits of grief scattered here and there.

The two lessons this teaches are these: just because I'm grieving does not mean that I never smile and just because I am smiling does not mean that I never grieve. I think most people probably realize the first to be true. If you've ever been to a funeral where you're remembering the loved one who has passed, and reminiscing about their antics or stubborn streak brings you to laughter, you'll know what I mean. I know that the second lesson might be a little trickier to understand as many people may see the smile and assume that I am 'over it' or that there are no longer tears lurking beneath or that I have moved on. Which isn't exactly true.

It's freeing for me to realize that the two, grief and joy, aren't mutually exclusive. I don't have to choose between them. I can have a sad day with smiles sprinkled in or I can have a great day with a sudden bout of tears.

And it seems that the one makes me truly appreciate the other.

Agree?

What DOES he do, anyway?

Whenever someone asks what my husband 'does', as in, what job he holds, I laugh. We both do, actually. It happened again last night, as it is an inevitable question when meeting new people. I usually say, "That's a very good question." Maybe when the next person asks what he 'does', I should say, "Whatever it takes."

So, for any inquiring minds out there, I want to answer that question and also update our situation. The simple answer is that the Husband has his own business (corporation). The business would fall under the broad category of 'logistics'. That has included dump truck dispatching, dump truck driving, and most recently, heavy machinery staffing. He has also looked for side jobs, donated his plasma for money, and previously worked overnights for my step-dad driving a sweeper-truck. We have just been going where God directs and pleading that we would hear His voice, that He would make our paths straight, that we would plan, but that ultimately He would guide. It is a really rewarding, yet difficult place to be. The Husband has applied for 'regular' jobs both out of fear and out of faith. We continually ask ourselves the question, "Is having our own business what God wants for us right now?" And even though I dislike the answer many times, we have both felt Him repeatedly say 'Yes'.

Of course this all could change as He sees fit. I have learned to let go of the notion that if the Husband had a regular, full-time, ample money-making job, that my life would then be perfect. Easier? Maybe. We would have missed out on so much quality time together, especially in this last year, when He knew exactly what we needed. As of late, I tell the Husband that I wish we were independently wealthy so that we could just live life together on a daily basis. Because we just love being together. I am not a wife who is chronically annoyed from having her husband underfoot. I have adjusted to having him around and I love it.

All that to say that this last contract our business had (which was also our first BIG one) has just finished up and lo-and-behold, God has provided a temporary driving job for the Husband, which is to last for the next five weeks. He started on Monday! As I was talking to God & saying my 'Amens!' and 'Hallelujahs!', He impressed something specific on my heart: I should not feel relieved.

Yes.  

Not relieved.

Becuase if I really believe that 'it all comes from Him' then this temporary job is just another form of His provision. I shouldn't be trusting in the duration of the job, but in the One who supplied it. My faith should not be in the author of a paycheck, but in the Author of Life.

I do admit that I am breathing a little easier. I will miss not having Hubs around as much and having to manage the household and my three blessings mostly on my own. But I'm sure I'll get used to it. Those first few corkscrew turns and plummeting dives that this employment roller coaster has taken were totally unpleasant and downright scary. After being on this ride for some time though, I am learning that I am safe inside my coaster car and that I can trust the track.

Because as topsy-turvy as this track can be, I know the One who designed it.

More blessed than I deserve,

Good Ole Ben

Excerpt from Exploring American History about Benjamin Franklin:

 He kept a little book in which he wrote down his faults. If he wasted half an hour of time or a shilling of money, or said anything that he should not have said, he wrote it down in his book. He carried that book in his pocket all his life, and he studied it, as a boy at school studies a hard lesson.

Can you even imagine? I would hate to keep track of my own faults for a day, let alone for my entire life AND to study them. Ever since we read this as part of our History lesson last Monday, it has rattled around in my mind. What would we learn about ourselves if we committed to this practice, even if only for a day? Even though part of me shudders at the thought, the other part of me has been chalking up mental tally marks every time I err or waste something or say the wrong thing. Quite a lesson, I tell ya.

And what did Good Ole Ben learn from this practice? Our history book says that his lessons were three: Do the right thing; do it at the right time; do it in the right way. And honestly, it seems like pretty sound advice. Now that I've read about the lessons he had learned, I am analyzing the things that I do or that others do that just don't seem to be quite right and have found that they usually fit into one of those three categories. Either I did the completely wrong thing or maybe my husband had good intentions but his timing was off or perhaps my friend was trying to do the right thing but her message got lost because of an inappropriate delivery. It's no wonder Ben went on to help pen the Declaration of Independence.

Amazing what God can use when we are listening. Like a third-grader's history lesson about Benjamin Franklin.

If Every Day Were an Aldi Day

It all started with an envelope in the mail.

Inside were two Aldi gift certificates and a card with simple but powerful words: Your heavenly Father knows. Thank you. You know who you are.

And then there was an email from another friend asking if we would like another Aldi gift certificate. Thank you. You know who you are.

Guess God owns some serious shares of Aldi stock!

During my first Aldi run, the man behind me was using a gift certificate, but only had about $15 worth of merchandise for his $25 certificate.

"Sir, I can't give you any cash back and you still have $10 left on the gift certificate."

"Well, I don't want any cash back."

"But Sir, why don't you just go buy yourself some meat or something?"

"Nah...... Hey! Can I just give the lady behind me the rest of the certificate?"

"Uh...." Calls the manager over. "This guy wants to give that lady the rest of his gift card. Can we do that?......No, Sir. We can't do that."

Everyone stands around looking at each other.

Well, I couldn't help myself, now could I?

Me: Well, how about if you just ring up that lady's groceries along with his and just let this guy go on his merry way with his groceries?

The manager smiles. The cashier smiles. The guy smiles. The lady smiles. I smile.

And then I nearly start crying. I guess because I witnessed a simple act of goodness that almost didn't happen. Then, while I was still joyful about that random kindness, as I was loading my groceries into my van, a hippie man came up to me and wanted to take my cart. Upon seeing my 40 lb bag of softener salt, he kindly said, May I? Then proceed to load it up for me.

If every day were an Aldi day, we'd give out of our abundance to those who are in need. We wouldn't need unemployment because those making extra would give generously to those not having enough. We wouldn't buy more just because we could, but we'd pay for the person behind us just because. If every day were an Aldi day, we'd help one another without thinking about how we might be inconvenienced.  

And we'd do it with a smile.