Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

How to Survive Raising Tweens

by

I was driving home from work when suddenly my message notifications chimed, and stamped across the screen I saw the words, “I wish I had Wifi so you could come get me.”

At the stoplight I read the messages that followed:

“Mom I feel uncomfortable here I want to go home”

“I’m scared of all these people.”

My heart did that Momma dip, where it falls from your chest, into your stomach, with the weight of concern for your child. I quickly realized she could have typed these words hours ago, anytime really, over the last 8 hours. My eleven year old didn’t have a phone of her own, but I sometimes let her borrow my old one. With it, she could message me at work through a child’s messaging app, if Wifi was available. That day, I knew she had taken my phone to an acting class she attended, so she could video a musical number they were performing.

My only thought (after the jumble of cryptically delayed pleas) was, oh, dear… What happened?!

Y’all, they had been mean to her! Some kids in this class had ganged together and made fun of her. The song they had chosen for their mock music video had cursing, and Chloe had decided she wasn’t going to lip sync the curse words like they wanted. She sat the video out! Then, I discovered, as some of her classmates (many older, since the class wasn’t divided by age groups) had been using cuss words in their regular conversations, she asked them to stop. Even going so far as to ask the teacher to tell the group to stop cussing.

Ouch.

My teen years flew through my mind.

Now, let me just say, we’ve explained to our children that this world contains all different types of people, and they are all precious in the eyes of God. We’ve explained that different families have different values, and just because our family chooses not to do, for our own reasons, certain things, that doesn’t mean it’s bad for other families. They understand that they may not see alcohol in their parent’s hands or hear curses from our mouths (except for the occasional slip, wink, wink), but that doesn’t mean people who choose to do differently are bad, or more importantly, that we are morally better.

We have explained these things, but still, I suppose since she doesn’t hear them from home, it makes her uncomfortable. And she let that be known. And some kids bullied her for it. And… it hurt my momma heart for her. Sigh.

I remember being the different kid in school. The weirdo, the outcast, the subject of much bullying. I never wanted that for my babies. I didn’t want them to experience being the outcast, at a young and emotional age, when self worth was still emerging, but more than that I didn’t want them to feel pressured to try and fit in with the “cool kids.” I had experienced that rollercoaster growing up too. So, it’s like, I was proud of her for being different, and for sticking to her principles, but it also hurt me that she had to experience the ridicule of it.

“It makes me not want to talk to anybody outside of my family,” she had confessed during our conversation.

I could understand that. There were mean people in this world. As a homeschooled kid, only ever being around cousins, church friends, or in Christian Co-op classes, she had not really had to face this yet. We talked a long time about the mean people out there, why they’re mean, and how we love them anyway. We talked about how despite the mean people, you still sought the kind ones, because they were out there too, and friendships of that caliber were worth digging for. I think she got it.

In a way, it was really good for her to experience life outside our safe bubble, something I knew she needed. Yet still, my mommy heart worried. As we laid in bed later that night, saying our prayers together, it struck me…

God was listening!

I mean, of course He was listening. I knew that! But the events of the day reminded me on a deeper level of His hand in the life of my children. Every single day I prayed for my babies. I prayed for God to protect them and keep them healthy, of course, but I also prayed for their relationship with Him. Every night we prayed together that they would hear God’s voice and feel His presence. That they would know they’re never alone. As Chloe grew older I prayed the Lord would guide her, give her wisdom and discernment for His will. I prayed for God to give me and my husband those things as we attempt to parent well.

God was listening. He was answering our prayers, and His Holy Spirit led her each day.

Y’all, this gave me great comfort. I guess my heart will still worry for her feelings, and my mind will still become anxious over how she will transverse this world with all its many different people, but I will also have peace knowing we are not alone in parenting our daughters. Even throughout the emotional tween years, and later the crazy teen years (I’ll probably need to re-read this post at that point). And with His Shalom Peace I can survive this parenting journey.

It’s hard not to worry for your children as a Christian parent. You know that their still-developing, immature mind cannot grasp the truth of the spiritual matters that give you peace. They’re not there yet. But then I’m reminded that God is still present, walking them through their budding relationship with Him. I think of John the Baptist, leaping with the joy of the Holy Spirit, while still in His mother’s womb, and I understand that same Spirit is with my babies too. Today, I’ll take it. And I’ll take it tomorrow. I’ll take all the help I can get as I learn more how to parent each and every day.

The Conversation I Just Had With My Child That Rocked Me!

by

I’m going to share a story with you. I almost titled this “my parenting regret,” but regret is probably a strong word. I know I’ve been a good mom, but do you ever look back, wish you could hit rewind, and do things a different way? Maybe my particular hindsight can help you see things in a different light.

I was driving in the car this past week with all three of my daughters, when my eleven year old said, “I’m glad that I’m getting to know you better, now.”

Confused, I asked, “what do you mean?”

She answered, “well, I just feel like I get to see you more now than I did when we lived in the blue house.”

She was referring to our life before traveling, our life before leaving our small town, but most importantly, our existence before we truly discovered what’s important in life. Allow me to recap for those unfamiliar with our personal life.

Almost five years ago I came to a place in life where I realized I wasn’t happy. I mean, I was happy. I had a great husband, children I loved, a wonderful home, and so much more. Yet… something was amiss. I was stressed, struggling, and considered myself what many women affectionately call one another, a “hot mess.” I was always running, always busy, and stretched on every side. My husband owned a business and worked six days a week, at least twelve hours a day, and even on his off day, he was sometimes doing stuff for work. I worked part-time, 24 hours a week, but homeschooled the girls five days a week, and spent my spare time (I know, hilarious) working a side business to try and earn extra income. Crazy. I felt like I was a single parent, breastfeeding around the clock, and striving to be better at all the things. It. Was. Exhausting. I was stressed, my husband was stressed, and apparently so were my children.

Back to present day, riding in the car, I continue the conversation with my oldest, “that’s weird, cause I work more now than I did then!”

Work may not be the best description here. More specifically, I work outside the home more now than then, but looking back, I suppose I was always working on something during that season of the “blue house” as my child put it.

My daughter replied, “yeah, I know, you work more now, but back then it seemed like I never saw you.”

Interested in this line of conversation I purposely asked, “who do you feel was home more, me or your dad?”

She replied quickly, “Dad.”

You know, the dad who worked six, full days a week!

I continued, “I was home way more than him. You don’t remember me there?!”

I watched her contemplation, and then she replied, “I guess I remember doing school with you, but I hated school.”

Ahh, yes, my initiation into homeschooling. Now, if I did call something a regret, it would definitely be how I handled schooling my child at five to six years old. Instead of looking at her as an individual learner, I compared her to other children. I compared her to her public school cousin the same age. I compared her to my SIL’s child who started reading at four, or my other nephew who had no troubling picking up his phonics in kindergarten. But I think my big mistake was the doubt I had for myself as her teacher. I was afraid I wasn’t doing good enough for her, so I unintentionally pushed her too hard, basing my worth as an educator on her unique performance. She would cry through her reader, and I would yell a lot. No wonder she banished it from her memory!

But it gets worse. The nail in the coffin.

She added, “oh, and you cleaned a lot.”

From the backseat my nine year old chips in, “yeah, you cleaned a lot back then.”

Sigh.

Not to be outdone, my eleven year old continues, “I can remember Dad being home really well! He would take me to Walmart, buy me a toy, and we’d sit on the couch watching Sponge Bob and eating Oreos all day.”

First, I made sure I relayed this to my husband later. He had mentioned to me more than once regret over not being around more when our girls were little. After I told this little story, he had peace that they only remembered that time of his overworking with fondness, and he hadn’t mucked things up too bad after all. I suppose all parents are their own worst enemy.

This conversation in the car didn’t so much guilt me as it taught me. I wasn’t drowning in regret, but it did rock my thinking. My husband had one day off a week, but that one day he made sure was quality time. That’s what our girls, six and four at the time, remembered.

I had focused on the things I thought were important at the time. Housework, ensuring my five year old knew all her sight words for the week, cooking every night, and building my business that was supposed to financially bring both of us parents home. I had rushed us to dance classes and homeschool co-op’s, but I had not taken as much time just to simply enjoy them being little.

Ok, I’ll look at this from all angles. I understand that things need to be done. If I didn’t clean the house, we would have been covered in our own trash. And reading is fundamental! Ha! Building my future via a small business was a wonderful plan, and activities and classes are important to childhood development. So, what’s the takeaway?

Remember when I said we had learned what was important over the past four years while traveling? See, we made a decision to sell our big house, sell our possessions, trade in the two cars for one vehicle, and travel for work so one parent could stay at home fulltime. We realized we didn’t need all the square footage. We realized we didn’t need to work more to have more stuff, but we did really enjoy more time. By doing the above, huge life-shift, we discovered what was important to us. Time with one another.

I can’t turn back the clock on the first six years of my oldest daughter’s upbringing, but I can move forward a little wiser. I can understand that young children won’t remember things like the fully-balanced meals every night or what grade they got in their school subjects, but they will remember Oreos and snuggles. Our relationship won’t be built on a foundation of how many days I was home from work with them, but rather the quality of the days we did have. And I’m telling you, as a fulltime working mom, that’s a huge deal. As mothers, we can often feel guilty for working out of the home, but if my experience teaches you anything, know that sometimes you can be home, but not really be there.

If anything, remember to be there when you’re there. That’s what I do now. As a working mother I don’t focus on quantity of the time with those I love, as much as the quality of the time we have. If you’ve lost a parent, like me, then you’ll understand a grieving child mostly wishes for “just one more day.”

I guess my goal, at this season in life, is to leave a legacy of quality. That the time I shared with my children will be fondly remembered as time well-spent, and while they’ll probably still grieve for one more day, more importantly they will recall fondly the days we had, no matter how many there were.

Nurses, Why Are You Surprised?!

by

Nurses, why are you surprised?!

When a community treats its nurses like it treats its fast food workers, this is what happens. I mean, they don’t wanna flip the burgers, but they’ll be first to complain and ridicule the people who won’t. They desire someone else to take the orders with a smile, work the holidays and weekends, yet stay silent about the wage that isn’t appropriate to the task. You won’t catch a senator running the burger joint drive-thru anymore than you’ll spot them cleaning someone’s granny’s butt, yet they will make the decisions about how it should be done, or how it should be compensated. So, why are you surprised?

Healthcare has become a business of customer service, with profits based on satisfaction scores, but the difference in us and say, a department store, is we also are distracted by the tiny hindrance of keeping people alive while we smile, in between the deliveries of turkey sandwiches and warm blankets. No other career will you be expected to cater to the public’s fancy in such a palate-pleasing manner while also being held legally liable for a simple, human mistake that could end in catastrophic harm. In other words, make sure the customer is always right, but also make sure that you are. In healthcare you can lose your job for customer dissatisfaction, but you can also lose your home and livelihood if your math calculations aren’t up to par. Maybe that’s why we’re surprised. Hmmm.

Twenty years I spent at the critical care bedside, giving my everything to my patients. And while I experienced seasons of burnout, I never stopped loving it. I love it still. But I couldn’t do it anymore. In November I took a 50% pay cut (as in my hourly pay was cut in half), for the same amount of fulltime hours, but in an environment that was less stressful than direct patient care. So, what led me there after 20 years?!

I tried to be nice and say it was things like an aging back, and while it’s true that 20 years of turning obese men to clean their bottom has destroyed my spine, that wasn’t the main reason I had to step away. It’s not the main reason we see a shortage in healthcare across the board. Heck, we never minding wiping pee and poop off people who didn’t appreciate us for it. It was the fact that you, the politicians, the administrators, the voting public at large, don’t appreciate what we sacrifice for our communities. Y’all, that hurts.

The past two years were like a knife in my back from a longtime friend. I saw the public as a whole, who had no problem before messaging me late at night for advice about their sick kid, suddenly decide I had no idea what I was talking about. They trusted me to take care of their father after open heart surgery, but they rolled their eyes at my opinions on a pandemic.

We said, “we’re drowning!”

They replied, “the numbers are a lie!”

We begged them to wear a mask, stay home, or even, God forbid, consider a scientifically proven vaccine.

They laughed. They shared memes making fun of the science they had trusted us to treat them with for decades, and they even used our own faith against us. That probably hurt the most. As a woman of faith, personally, who loves Jesus and people, I couldn’t understand how my service to others in love suddenly meant so little. Ok, I’ll admit it; I was surprised.

Those like myself, working in the ICU, under horrible conditions, to work tirelessly and fruitlessly, combating a virus we couldn’t defeat, were forgotten.

I remember reaching out to family and friends afar, expressing the pain of what I was witnessing, and it was met with monotone, false sympathies.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that bad. I’m so sorry.”

“Meanwhile, let’s remember what’s really important here. This is all a hoax to take away our freedoms and religion.”

So, while we hurt, they swept our lamentations under a rug, shining the spotlight instead on political platforms.

In the midst of our distress, many frontline workers fell away, and to boost the bodies required to fight a pandemic, they increased our compensation. Finally! I always hated it took half a million people dying to prove we’re worthwhile.

But now the dust somewhat settles. Remote workers return to the office, mask mandates are removed, school is somewhat normal operating procedure, and Johnny Q. Public (or politician or administrator) remembers what they’re paying the exhausted frontline, while conveniently forgetting what brought us to this point. Why are we surprised?!

Why are we surprised that the people who complain about the wait at the drive-thru, while thoroughly refusing to work at the drive-thru for minimum wage, are the same people complaining about the wait at their local ER?! They’re not gonna wait tables for pennies anymore than they’ll hold life and death in their hands for what you make as a loan officer or insurance underwriter (who make about the same as a nurse with 15-20 years experience)! In other words, they want to ridicule the fast food workers and waitresses who refuse to serve them for a wage you can’t even pay your increasing rent and grocery bill with, calling them lazy and entitled. In the same vein, they want to call us money-hungry, accuse us of taking advantage of a national staffing shortage, when all we want is to finally be recognized for the pain we’ve endured.

While most everyone stayed home in pj’s, we went to work. When people feared an unknown virus, we faced it head on. When you wanted our advice, you took it, but when it contradicted your politics, you shamed us. When there are not enough servers at your favorite restaurant, you end up having to wait a long time. Inconvenience. When there are not enough servants at the hospital bedside, your lifesaving healthcare is delayed. Death. Death that we will be held liable for. And you are surprised we don’t want a cap on our salary?!

Don’t take something we love and guilt us into killing ourselves physically and mentally for a salary that won’t even begin to dig us out of the legal bills we are crushed under after staffing shortages hasten us to make a mistake. Just don’t.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to leave the hospital bedside, the critical care nursing I still love. Even a wage that blessed my family so much, wasn’t enough to compensate me in such an exhausting environment. The thing is, there are a lot of nurses like me, mentally and physically done after these past few years, no matter the compensation.

How do you think it will go if they cutback the pay for those who remain?!

Will any of us be surprised when there are no bedside nurses left?

Chew on that.

Did You Know This About Your Husband?!

by

I was mopping the bedroom floor with our brand new mop. Man, it was so dusty in there! I’ll start by saying, I was the first one to use this mop. I bought it two weeks ago, and when I pulled it out this morning my husband exclaimed with surprise, “I forgot all about you getting that!”

That kinda sets the theme for this story, y’all.

Back to the bedroom, it was so dusty because my husband rarely did the floors in there. Important to mention, at this point, is the fact my husband sweeps the living room and kitchen floors every single day. We have three children under eleven in the home, all day every day. He homeschools them. They eat about a billion meals a day at the bar, dropping a tsunami of enough crumbs to feed the state of Rhode Island. He does plenty of housekeeping. Remembering this as I mopped our dusty bedroom tile helped me mop with a happy pace rather than the rage against the housework moms can get while they pick up after other people. I mean, seriously, no one executed tasks like a woman!

As I went about my mopping my mind zigzagged through an off-day to-do list as it usually does. You know what I’m talking about, ladies. You have this one day, and you have a list of things you want to complete. The only question is, what gets crossed off and what gets moved to the next day.

Toilet paper, my brain shouted, like a dog who sees a squirrel. We needed it. I’d have to go get it. Why hadn’t my husband offered to go get it?! He knew I worked tomorrow. He knew I hated running errands on my last day off!

Like I had shot a mental arrow, he appeared through the doorway. “Babe, stop. You gotta work tomorrow. You need to chill.”

“That reminds me,” I replied, “I was wondering if you could go get some toilet paper from the store for us? I have been to the store the past two days, and my goal is to not leave the house today.”

“You betcha,” he replied happily. “I forgot we needed some.”

As I finished the last section of tile, already looking forward to reading a book in my favorite corner, I laughed to myself about men and women. In case you haven’t figured it out, we are way different. The problem came when we, as women, assume our men should be like us.

I remember it took me some time being married to learn this truth. Men do not think like women. Not at all. I know there are exceptions to all rules, so to speak, but for the most part, women are better at task completion and multitasking. Sorry, fellas, who may have gotten this far, if you’re offended, but this is how we ladies see it. Lol. We remember the things. We lay in bed at night thinking about the things. Meanwhile, hubby is snoring softly. Know what I’m saying? Point is, women remember things like needing toilet paper, sweeping dust bunnies out of the corner, or calling the cable company about last month’s bill.

I’m not sure why our brain, for the most part, works so differently from our male counterparts, but knowing my Heavenly Father like I do, I know it’s with good reason. I think of my tendency to sweat the small stuff, and how my husband’s chill and nonchalant manner, while sometimes exasperating to me, also helps to keep me anchored towards a kingdom mindset. When my anxious thoughts of things of this world want to run rampant, my spouse is the steady buoy of my mental storm. He’s the steady truth to my sometimes cray-cray, so if he forgets to try out the new mop, he’s forgiven.

One key I’ve found to a happy marriage is not expecting my husband to be like me or to be who I think he should be. He is who God made him to be. In times past, when those differences have been bothersome, I either pray to the One who can change a man’s heart better than me, or I have responded to my husband with love, patience, and understanding. In turn, he responds to me in love and service. Plus, I try and remind myself what’s really important in the long term. Is it a healthy relationship with the man I love or a ball of dirty socks in the floor? Is it always being right, or being humble and happy?

Every day in a relationship we are faced with how we will respond to the action (or lack thereof) by our partner. Yes, there are big issues that warrant discussion! But there are hundreds of tiny, insignificant matters that must be recognized as such so they don’t build up and become big issues. Often when faced with a small nuisance, I can combat that by recognizing my own faults and remembering the many, beautiful sacrifices my partner makes in our relationship.

He’s not like me. He doesn’t think like me. But that’s ok. He loves me. He loves me more than I’ve ever been loved. He takes such good care of me! He protects me, and he would lay down his life for me. If I ask, he does it. He waits on me hand and foot. Y’all, I’m blessed with what I consider to be the best husband and father to my children in the world. If I need to remind him we’re out of toilet paper, so be it. Plus, would I really want to be married to the male version of me?!

Have You Accepted It?

by

Grace. That’s what we’re going to talk about today. We’ve all heard of it, and if you’re a believer in Jesus, then you have accepted His grace over your life. Or rather, we should.

I wonder sometimes how much we have truly accepted His grace, His forgiveness, that covering that rescues us from death, while simultaneously giving us new life. That’s the kicker, you know. New life! His Kingdom, His will. On earth as it is in Heaven.

As I continue on my journey on earth, drawing closer to Christ, my “work in progress” as I call it, I continue to pick up knowledge and maturity for my walk. I’m discovering how I can live a new life, with a kingdom view, where I try and carry the fruits of His Spirit as I abide in Him.

Wow, that sounds like a lot. So, let’s try and make it simple. Dumb it down, if you will. I’ve always been a fan of the For Dummies books. Maybe we could call this Grace for Dummies, and I mean that in the most loving way possible. I’ll admit I’m the biggest Dummy when it comes to matters of infinite importance, but hopefully by humbling myself to the fact that I don’t know it all, I can grow a bit smarter, if you will, every day.

I started my journey by reading the Bible every day, and in following the teachings of Jesus, and the wisdom of New Testament authors, along with the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I have started to see some things more clearly. Like, grace, for example.

Grace is given freely. It’s a gift to the undeserving (us), and it’s not because of anything we’ve done, so no one can boast about earning it (Ephesians 2: 8-9).

How can you tell you’ve accepted a gift? Like, truly accepted it? I don’t mean like when a coworker gives you something at a work party you’ll never use, but you thank them kindly, and later put it in a box in your closet to forget about. I’m talking about the kind of gift that changes your life.

Y’all, we recently bought large, long shelves for our garage, and they are awesome. They allowed me to organize all the Christmas decor I bought, that I really didn’t need, and I was able to look at my newly neat garage without my left eye twitching. I could easily say those shelves are life-changing. At least in the world of my little garage. So, when I talk about grace, and how it changes you, I’m referring to what the recognition of grace in your life does to transform how you see others.

Accepting the gift of grace should change you.

It changes how you see yourself (hopefully, forgiven and worthy), how you see others (also worthy of the Father’s love), and how you see the world (as a temporal venue, with eternal souls walking around in need).

Think on that for a bit.

When someone hurts you, do you harbor a grudge? Hey, I get it! When someone hurts me or makes me mad, I stew about it for a while. But what I try to do is extend grace. It’s a daily thing, but when I find myself reliving my anger towards someone (and thereby giving it power to negatively affect me), I am quick to remember His great grace. I surrender my anger and offense to Jesus, and I remember the mistakes and sins He has died for on my behalf; then I extend grace.

Freely given. And now may we freely receive.

I look around at the world and the reactions of the humans around me. I wonder, do some react in rage and vitriol because they haven’t truly accepted grace for themselves? You can’t give what you don’t have, right?

How many of us say we believe in forgiveness of our sins, yet on a deeper level see ourselves unworthy of entering His presence with peace and joy? Maybe we think we’re not holy enough, that our prayers can’t go high enough, or we’re withheld the blessing of God because of our actions. In that case, we’re living by the law, and the fact we can never adhere to it fully. We will never achieve that level of righteousness on our own.

Through Jesus, we can, though. We can be perfect because He is perfect. That’s a hard concept to grasp. It’s not that we’re claiming perfection on our own merit, but rather through walking and abiding in His perfect presence and great grace. We become one with Him. Imagine if you held two fingers together and they fused into one piece of flesh. He in us, us in Him, together with the Father in Heaven. Yes, I know, this is cosmic stuff, but it’s also Biblical. Through Him and in Him we have our being, our new life, and the fruits of our life should reflect that.

We forgive because we are forgiven.

We are supposed to be the salt of the earth, but we have lost our saltiness when we give off a sour taste by our actions of anger, malice, and judgement. When we walk in peace, love, gentleness, and meekness, we are exercising grace.

We have one enemy, the evil one, and towards one another (regardless of political leaning, skin color, nationality, or status) we should be walking as one who has accepted grace. We have been freely given His grace, and now we should model that grace to others, thereby showing the light of His love.

So, today’s homework is this. Ask yourself, “am I forgiven?” Believe that you are. Think of the worst thing you’ve ever done. Accept that great grace covers that. Then, approach every person and situation with that in the back of your mind. Humble yourself. Remember that pointing out the shortcomings of someone else doesn’t make your own sin disappear. Only His bloody grace does that. And only His grace can do it for others! But the application of that grace begins with us. We are coworkers with Christ, given authority here on earth to lead the lost to the shepherd. We will never lead them by condemnation, but we will point them to forgiveness by grace through our love. But without it, we are just a clanging symbol.

The Look

by

I laid out in my lounger float in the pool today reading a novel, and if what you do on NYE has any indication of what the year ahead holds, I’m good with it. But anyway, at one point I went inside to refill my water. My husband sat at his computer, and I went over to deposit a kiss on his lips. Afterwards, he looked up at me, and y’all. I wish I had photographic evidence of those eyes, but the best I can do is burn the image into my brain. I’m not sure what it is about this man, but his eyes talk. They always have.

His eyes are like a book, or a window into the soul. With a gaze he can proclaim strong words even though they aren’t verbally spoken. I mean, if his eyes were a movie screen, the title that flashed up at that moment would have stated, “I love you.”

See, though, that doesn’t even convey. His eyes said the three, simple words, but they somehow said more. They said it way better than a phrase could utter.

Then he said the words, a confirmation of what his beautiful brown eyes had already proclaimed so loudly. A confirmation I didn’t require, but some good cement anyhow. My heart smiled.

“I love you too,” I said out loud, wondering if my soul-windows carried even half the weight of his own.

I took the vision of “the look” back to my pool lounger (since I couldn’t stand there staring at him googly-eyed all afternoon), and I floated along in my pool of chlorinated water and love-soaked emotion. I might as well have been on a cloud.

I had been reading a novel about a woman unfulfilled. Married to the father of her children, and the daughters now off to college, she felt empty inside. It made me sad that love could fade with time, and even though the book was a work of fiction, I knew plenty of people who could call it their memoir.

As I floated along, book turned over on my bare belly, marking the page to which I’d return, I thought about how easy it could be to neglect the flame. I’d been working a lot more while orienting to a new job. The holidays had rushed by, preceded by the busy work of setting up a new house to call home. I knew it took intention to keep anything going, be it a hobby you enjoyed or a relationship you adored.

This morning I had read a verse in the Bible that said, “for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also (Matthew 6:21).

Jesus was talking about finances, mostly, but I think the wisdom could go for relationships also. Where we devote our time, we see our passions. We invest into what we hold dear, and the things we hold like treasure, are the things we love the most. The verses right after happen to talk about the eyes being the lamp to the body (fitting, I know), and it says if your eyes are generous, then your body is full of light. If not, they are full of darkness. I just knew that when Ben looked at me, he was generous with his love. I could see the light of that love. And I never wanted to not see that!

I prayed, and I also reminded myself to be intentional in my marriage. To continue to store up treasure in my marriage, so that my heart would always follow. To be generous with my love, so much that it shone out the lamp of my body, and my spouse would know what mattered to my heart. I wanted each passing year for my marriage to remain strong, for the fire to keep burning, and for my husband’s eyes to never stop proclaiming loudly the love he felt for me.

Happy New Years, guys!

The Gift of Giving

by

I can remember past Christmas Eves, staying up late with my spouse, and excitedly preparing the presents for our children to find on Christmas morning. There were presents from Mom and Dad, but also the secret ones that would be left by Santa. Of course, we knew they were all from us, but our children would still see the magical make-believe of the jolly fat guy in red. I can recall always being a little jealous of that guy. I mean, he got to receive all the glory without doing any of the work! I was the one scouring store shelves for the precious sought after gift that year, yet this invisible man of our imaginations got all the credit! I remember putting a lot of thought into which present I’d let Santa put his name on, and more importantly, which ones I could sign with my real John Hancock. It came down to the fact that I wanted the good stuff to be from “mom,” and St. Nick could take credit for the socks and undies. I suppose it surprised me when I realized this year I wasn’t quite so obsessed with the possession of accolades. I was gonna give Santa the credit for the electric scooters and the humongous Playmobil school house. Which, by the way, was the thing she wanted more than anything else! So, what had changed?

I recently overheard a conversation between women. One lady was lamenting over the fact that the recipient of her gift each year never said thank you. In light of the lack of gratitude, she had decided to withdraw her present passing. She had come to the conclusion to stop giving where it wasn’t appreciated.

I. Get. It.

This Advent Season, the time of anticipation prior to the arrival of Christmas morning, I’ve really thought about the gift. You know, gift with a capital G… the greatest gift. If it doesn’t fill you with shock and awe, then I’d encourage you to keep thinking. Keep focusing on what really went down, until it clicks. Like, for real.

The One, the beginning and end, the Alpha and Omega, the maker of Heaven and earth, took the form of the weakest among us. The One who had all power and dominion, and a pretty sweet home already, made the decision to lower Himself to our level.

First, He came as a baby. The weakest of all humanity. It wasn’t a magic baby, like that fireball kid on The Incredibles. He couldn’t hold up His head, and had to have Mary change his soiled underpants. We don’t often think of our Savior in such a demeaning position, but He did that. He made Himself like us.

Second, He arrived the child of a young woman much like someone you may know. Mary wasn’t the daughter of a well-to-do congressman, or the sole heir of an oil tycoon. She didn’t have a typed out birth plan, with a personal doula, or even a photo ready nursery where He would lay His head. Point being, God’s son could have come down on a streak of lighting, in His full glory, ready to take the throne, and smite His enemies into compliance, but that’s not how it went down. He lowered Himself to the weakest position, placed in the most undesirable circumstances, from a family lineage of prostitutes, adulterers, and murderers, to begin a revolution that would change the future of all mankind. But here’s the real kicker…

He did it without thought of what we would do afterwards.

A Son was given, as a sacrifice to all. Even the ones who would deny Him.

His love is poured out for the very people who hate Him, even knowing they wouldn’t send a thank you card.

Christmas is a reminder of a gift given, with no promise of accolades or even acceptance. He didn’t sacrifice Himself for Himself, but rather for us, even knowing that many would say, “nah. No thanks, I’m good without it.”

It didn’t come in shiny paper and big bows. But it also didn’t come with a return policy. It had no “use-by” date to prevent expiration (until the wedding feast, that is), and no stern statement by Dad of, “you better keep your room clean or we’ll give it to someone who will appreciate more!”

The gift of unconditional love

He just gave the gift. He simply put it out there. It’s like, He said, “I know some kids will reject it, but I’m gonna give it anyway.”

I’m gonna give this because I love you, even if you don’t love me back.

It’s occurred to me that giving is a gift. To place myself as a servant, pouring out love to others, with no anticipation of how they’ll react, is a blessing that alines me with the character of my Savior. I don’t need to take the credit or receive a pat on the back. I don’t need you to acknowledge that I love you for me to love you well. Jesus died for my grandchildren that haven’t even been born, the grandchildren that will have their own free will to throw the gift away if they so choose. Yet, He gives.

May we all learn a little better each day how to be extravagant givers like Jesus, pouring out of ourselves, yet not requiring to sign the gift tag with our name. Giving in love, with no thought of what we can get in return, or if our present will be received graciously. To love is to give, without expectation. To give is the gift. The best gift of all.

How Christians Should Be Responding to Kyle Rittenhouse and Such

by

I can’t tell you how many times over the past month or so I’ve seen a controversy come across my social media feed and been disgusted. I’ve had thoughts, so many thoughts, but other than discussing them with my husband, I’ve mostly pushed them aside. And I certainly haven’t blogged about them. It’s felt pointless, straddling on hopeless, and I suppose the depressing thought of that has for the most part caused me to crawl into a hole when it comes to sharing my opinion on political/religious matters.

This morning I received an email from a pastor/reader of my posts. Thank you, sir. Your encouragement and comments of camaraderie were a blessing to me. It’s nice to remember I’m not alone in my feelings of sadness for the direction the church has taken. And while disappointing overall, it’s also encouraging to know I’m not the only lover of Jesus who has been attacked or vilified when suggesting we as followers of Christ should carry ourselves in a manner that models our Savior. Yes, I’ve been discouraged to share, even though my words are ones of love, because it’s exhausting to share what you deeply believe is true, in a spirit of kindness, and be met with jeers and laughter from your Christian brothers or sisters. Yet, isn’t that what Jesus did? Despite the angry voices, He pressed forward. When called a blasphemer, He held His tongue. Instead of going with popular opinion of religion at the time, He spoke about things like drinking His blood and eating His flesh. He knew He would lose followers, but He had no choice but to share the truth.

Now, first off, I’m in no way comparing myself to Jesus. Not at all! But I do pay close attention to His behavior. Every day when I read the Bible I absorb His Way. My goal in this life is to be His disciple. Not because I must do this for salvation! His grace is enough. I strive to be a good disciple because I love Him. With that in mind, I follow His example as much as I can. For today, that means speaking truth even when it hurts my feelings and heart at the reception of my words by some Christians. But again, the church leaders of Christ’s time didn’t like being told they were wrong either.

Big news was released today concerning Kyle Rittenhouse, and while this is a very deep subject that sheds a sad light on the inadequacy of our systems, I won’t go into every aspect of the case. As a human, I believe inequality could easily be witnessed in the proceedings, but I only want to touch on a small slice of this pie. That piece is how we as Christians should be responding to situations like this. I don’t care how those who don’t follow Jesus are talking about this case. I mean, I do, but it doesn’t bother me as much as fellow Christians speaking erroneously on earthly matters. Because our words impact Kingdom Matters. Allow me to explain.

As a proclaimed Christian we must understand we are representing Christ. When our words and actions thereafter don’t consistently speak love, we are misrepresenting our Lord. Jesus told His disciples that people would know they followed Him because of their love. We cannot forget that most important commandment, and when we do, we are a stumbling block to the salvation of others.

For example, we cannot say we are Christians, aka, followers of Christ, but then put a bumper sticker on our truck that proclaims, “let’s go, Brandon.”

We cannot choose to say a young man who killed people is a “hero.” We can’t celebrate the very poor decision of a immature mind to take a weapon across state lines to a civil unrest situation.

I mean, we can, but we shouldn’t.

We have to stop “taking sides” based on politics and understand that as followers of Jesus, the only side is love. We have to stop basing our opinions and decisions on our political platforms. When we do this, a sad situation where poor decisions were made becomes more about gun rights than it does the pointless death of fellow humans made in the image of the God we serve. We end up seeing rioters through the human eyes of destruction of property rather than empathetic eyes that try and see how a person can be pushed to make a big demonstration to get the desired results.

It seems like, to me, when I read the life of Jesus, I see a man who was without sin, yet He tried to sacrifice, serve, and love those who did sin. He saw to the heart of why the woman at the well did what she did. He loved her there. That love brought her out of her pit. He knew how to understand pain, and how to help others walk out of that pain. He never told someone, “that happened, like, a hundred years ago. Why are you still mad?!”

He was totally selfless! When something was an inconvenience to Him (like hoards of people following Him when He was just trying to grieve the murder of His cousin, John), He didn’t respond with anger. He didn’t say, “you should have thought to pack your lunch for a desert trek!”

The scripture says, “He had compassion on them.”

Despite His pain, He fed them.

He didn’t tell the woman with the blood condition He was busy with another ministry. He didn’t get angry when she touched His garment without asking. He didn’t worry that the crowd He fed would become dependent on Him for their fish and bread. He saw the pain on Martha’s face and brought her brother back to her, even though He knew the eternity that awaited him. Yes, He did it to lead others to the Father, but He also had compassion. He always had compassion. We are lacking in compassion, and our behavior isn’t bringing anyone to the Father.

We have confused our relationship with Christ with our political affiliations. We have assumed that Christianity and political platforms go hand in hand, but this is causing us to ostracize the people Jesus has called us to love and serve. We have taken a very fleshly stand and it’s having Kingdom repercussions. So, people who would benefit from the love of Christ, are instead being branded the enemy. We have taken a divisive stand rather than a servant heart. When we do this, we make a hero out of a confused boy, and a villain out of a president.

In fact, we laugh at chants of “f*€k Biden,” and we smirk at hateful rants. A political leader (if they’re on your particular side) can share a cartoon of themselves murdering their political opponents with a samurai sword, and we can say, “he didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.”

Because, see, hurtful jokes become ok. Jeers, sarcasm, hatred, bigotry, selfishness, and greed become something we celebrate, and in fact, elect to office. We don’t want a Savior like Jesus anymore. We want a warrior who will annihilate our enemies (if memory serves, that’s what the disciples originally wanted Jesus to do too, yet that wasn’t His way.) How in the world we came to a place where this seems the way of Jesus is beyond me! The only thing I can figure out is people must not be reading their Bibles. I guess they’re simply listening to TikTok videos or their favorite news channel for their beliefs on life.

And that’s fine! If you want to be hateful and selfish, that’s your right. God has given us free will. My problem is when you give yourself the label of Christian, yet forget it means you are a disciple of His way. Not the way of Republicans, Fox News, or Breitbart. If you’re going to use the family name, you have to uphold the stellar reputation set by a man who told His bodyguard Peter to put down the sword. And then He put His abductor and murderer’s ear back on!

This country has become very divisive, but we can never put things back together by choosing sides. Instead we as Christians must understand when to surrender. We have to surrender our earthly ideals to His vision for the Church. We have to understand that servanthood is what He calls us to. We have to remember that the fruits of the Spirit are what we must bear, according to scripture, and that it says very little about bearing arms, unless it’s to lay them down, turn our cheeks, or “forgive them” when they know not what they’re doing.

We have a responsibility as Christians to respond to earthly and political matters in a certain way, and it’s not to “stand our ground” and protect our freedoms or rights here on earth. Our responsibility is to the Kingdom of Heaven and building that Kingdom. The Kingdom isn’t built by politicians, but rather built by love, by healing, and by repentance. Jesus showed us that healing, repentance, and eternal life did not come by earthly matters or the law, but through His sacrifice of love. Now our job, as disciples of Christ, is to show the way to eternal life and freedom from sin. Recently we’ve been pointing a path that while it will lead to religious accolades, will not necessarily lead people to Jesus. We have to work on this.

Don’t Underestimate the Significance of Your Calling as a Parent

by

I fell asleep a little earlier than usual last night. After a long and stressful day at work, I was beat. I said bedtime prayers individually with each of my daughters, and then I fell asleep before my head even settled on the pillow. A couple of hours later I woke suddenly, and keeping quiet I gazed upon my eleven year old preparing for bed. I watched in a sleepy joy while she read from a kid’s devotional book I had bought for her, and then while she proceeded to read from her Bible. I fell back asleep, contentment carrying me to dreamland.

My husband and I recently had a conversation about the amazing plan God must have for one of our children. How else could we explain the course our lives had taken?! We both carried pasts that were the whispers in church circles. An addict and alcoholic having a baby?! But God’s Grace had won. I tried to commit suicide by hanging as a child, but the poorly constructed noose didn’t work. My husband had a horrific car wreck as a young man, unrestrained, that left him without front teeth, but somehow no other injuries. When he awoke in the wreckage, he had been misplaced from the crushed-in driver’s seat, to the less impacted passenger side. And these are just a couple of our miraculous survival stories. Our past problems caused us to live individual, high-risk lifestyles, but in His mercy we were protected from our own stupidity.

As a teenager, new to the faith, I had known Ben was going to be my husband. I wasn’t very confident yet in my ability to hear God’s voice, but I never doubted he was the one. The problems and roadblocks of the world would separate us. For ten years, even! But somehow what God meant to place together, no man could keep apart. In my thirties, I finally married the man I knew at nineteen God had for me.

I could drone on and on how I believe my current path was meant to be, but I’ll spare you any further details. The point is, I have seen the hand of God in my life time and time again. So has my spouse. We consider each of our children a gift from God, and we have no doubt that the Lord has wonderful plans for their lives.

My husband used to own his own business, and he even built rockets once upon a time. But during this season, he is a homemaker. He homeschools our children and does about a billion other important tasks at home, while I serve in the role of primary and sole breadwinner. Albeit untraditional, this works wonderfully for our family. I think some men might tend to feel unfulfilled in their role as a stay-at-home dad. Not simply because society has deemed it a woman’s place over the years, but because, let’s face it; full-time parenting is hard! I’ve been in his position, and it’s crazy, hectic homeschooling multiple young ones. There’s one thing that he’s done that makes it fit him so much better than it did me, though. He understands his calling.

One day, a couple of years ago, my husband commented, “God told me today that what I’m doing is important.”

As simple as that. The encouragement of the Holy Spirit gave my man peace and purpose. We knew that financially we were doing what made sense, but budget balancing won’t fill your heart with purpose. The Spirit drives my spouse to parent well, and his determination and commitment are seen in the fruit of our babies.

It’s easy to see parenting as a chore. It’s work! It’s the hardest job you’ll ever love. It’s moments of ridiculous frustration mixed with moments of surpassing joy. It’s a love/hate relationship that you’d never let go. It’s the thing you need a break from, but also the thing you miss the second it’s gone. It’s a journey of perseverance, a practice in patience, and somehow humbling to how little we know. What we tend to forget, is that it’s also a great task for the Kingdom of God. As parents, we hold in our hands the ability to mend, but also to break. We have to be intentional to keep the damage to a minimum, and passionate to cultivate a loving environment of acceptance and success. We love our children as Jesus loved us; not for what we receive in return. The greatest gift we can give our babies is the heart of Jesus. This unconditional love that carries the fruits of the Spirit. Thankfully, perfection isn’t required, just the ability to show them the perfection that exists in Jesus, and that is there for their taking within them, as His perfect love resides there. This is the calling.

My husband takes seriously his calling, and it’s something I remind myself of often also. I mentioned in the beginning my girl reading her Bible and seeking God’s truth. This is something we taught! I don’t say that in a prideful way, for I know it’s only the true work of the Holy Spirit that keeps her doing it when the lights go down and she doesn’t know her parents are watching. That’s what truly gave my heart joy. She was able to experience the peace that comes from the Lord. We set up the practice, and we modeled the behavior, and the rest God took and ran with.

Children can be taught anything. They can be modeled hate. Abusive marriages often arise from watching abusive parents. Racism is engrained, and a false doctrine of religious works can be given precedent over the grace of God. You can even “scare the hell” out of your children by fire and brimstone, if you so choose, but when the lights go out at night, it’s the peace of abiding in Him that will persevere. That’s the calling, and it’s not an insignificant one.

It’s no secret that people have taken notice of the state of our world lately. I can hardly spend a few minutes on social media before seeing the hopelessness that persists because of the current, social climate. All I can think lately is, it’s up to me. Unless Jesus comes soon, the future is my children. It’s your children. The Bible tells a parable of ten virgins who had to keep their lamps lit as they waited on the bridegroom. Half let their oil run out and their light diminish. When the bridegroom came, only those who had remained prepared were rewarded. We are the ten ladies. The coming of Jesus is our groom. We don’t know exactly when He’ll return. It might not be in our lifetime. Does that mean our light goes out when we die? No! We keep our light burning through the oil of our children. The light of Jesus shines to future generations through the preparation we make as parents. The hope of the future lives in the loving light they carry to their own children. When He comes, no matter when, I want my lamp to still be burning for His return. That is the calling. It’s one we all share.

How to Feel Joy in Pain

by

Yesterday I was driving to run a few errands. I had one day off before returning to my stressful job in the ICU, and that meant the day was dwindling away with unpleasurable tasks rather than sitting by the pool and reading a book. Yet, despite my mundane to-do’s, I cranked up the radio with a smile, hummed happily as I admired the blue sky, and drove forward in joy while the warmth of the day rested on my happy face. I had a minuscule moment of surprise over my unexpected elation, before it hit me why I was walking on sunshine at all. Every day got better than the last!

Look, I’m a realist. I’m not going to try and sprinkle rainbows on your cloudy day. I’m not spouting a magic cure or trying to be a lifestyle coach of optimism. But what I will do is share with you my life experiences.

I suffer from depression, and I also suffer from anxiety. Some days are better than others. Some days, though, I’m sad for no reason, and that drives me mad. I go through seasons where my melancholy mood is worse than others, and I can be negatively affected by work stress and problems in relationships with friends or family. I’m an over-thinker, and my persistence in going over a problem repeatedly will keep me up at night. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not without trouble. I’m not perfect. But I have found what helps.

I’ll go ahead and get this out of the way… I’m on an antidepressant/anti anxiety medication prescribed by my doctor. In fact, I reached out to my physician a couple of months ago when I saw the signs that my condition was worsening and a dose adjustment was necessary. I hate when the devil tries to use our weaknesses against us, like telling us we’re not a “good enough Christian” if we can’t get rid of mental illness by prayer and Bible reading. It’s simply not true!

I come from a long line/family history of mental illness, depression, alcoholism, and suicide. I won’t pretend to be an expert on chemical imbalances and hereditary factors in mental health, but I will say I believe they exist. I’m a believer in nature AND nurture. Your past experiences do affect your future self. Do they control the narrative? No. But we can’t throw out the scars that rejection and other painful instances leave in their wake. Also, I believe in spiritual forces beyond our recognition. I believe in familial curses that can impact one generation after another, and I believe the devil prowls like a lion looking to destroy us. I believe in demonic forces at work in mankind distorting our perception of reality and feeding lies into our thoughts. Never-mind external stressors like working a pandemic in critical care (insert your own personal stressor)!

With so many different factors that play a part in mental health, how can we as Christians say just one thing works? So, if you’ve ever felt guilty, or been made to feel guilty, for seeking medical help for your mental health, please don’t. Throw that out with the garbage. I love Jesus more than the air I breathe, but I still found myself with suicidal ideation the day before my period would start. I talk to God all day long, yet I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about things that were not even things! I read my Bible every day, but I know better than to think I’ve kicked addiction’s butt. I can’t just have a glass of wine and call it a day. It will end up being a whole bottle and headache in the morning. I know the Lord has broken the chains of addiction in my life, but I’m not about to put Him to the test. It’s not necessary. But I digress. I’m just trying to say, this is a broken world. Don’t be surprised if you need a little help picking up the pieces. You can believe in God’s healing and still take an antidepressant. God does much of his healing through the work of His children, be it a counselor or prescription provider.

But let’s get to the meat of this post. I’ve had plenty of patients over the years that have been on a bucket of medication, but they still couldn’t get out of their pit. Remember when I discussed the multifaceted nature of mental health? I believe that my healing, strength, and joy come from Jesus. Yes, I take a daily prescription, and yes, I talk about my feelings, but it’s His strength that keeps me going. Here are a few things that have made a positive difference in my life.

One, I read the Bible every day and spend substantial time in His presence. You can do this a number of ways. I read devotions from the Bible app on my phone. I read encouraging emails from trusted, Christian websites. I will take out my Bible and just open it up where I feel the Holy Spirit leads me and read. That may just be letting it fall open, or going to a book you feel the Spirit impress to your mind. I also journal. I’m going to attach a diagram of words. You can pick one for each day. Get your word, pray and ask God to speak to your heart, and then just write whatever comes out. This is a great way to communicate with Him. On work days I listen to praise music on my commute and I worship like the interior of my car is church on Sunday morning. Some of my best times with the Lord have been in the car!

Image from HIScoach Training Academy

Two, I give Him every day. I discovered my best place to get quiet time that is uninterrupted is in the shower. I bought a shower chair, and I’ll have a seat and talk to my Father. I pray about different things. Yesterday I just talked to Jesus like He was my best friend (because He is), and I told Him different things I had been thinking about my home and work life. He didn’t say anything back, but I knew He was listening, and I felt a weight lifted afterwards. One thing I always do in my shower chair/prayer closet is surrender my life/day to Him. I close my eyes and imagine I’m at the foot of His throne. Then I lay down physical objects that signify my mental battles. I lay down anxiety, depression, worry, doubt, and fear. I also give Him my finances, family, and future. I call it laying down the big three. I ask for more or His Spirit and less of this world. I ask for ears to hear His Spirit and truth over everything else. I do this every single day.

Now, this one I had slacked off on, but I picked it back up because I find it helpful, I see a difference, and it’s super easy. I daily apply the Armor of God (Ephesians 6). I memorized these verses, not exactly word for word, but enough to recite them. I say the full armor out loud and mentally put it on. Take that, Satan! Don’t laugh, bro. It works.

Lastly, I strive to walk in Kingdom Truth. This is sooooo hard. That’s why you see me doing all the above stuff daily. To fight fear, you have to be like a well-trained athlete. You have to daily feed on the truth of God according to scripture. You have to allow that truth to become who you are. The truth of scripture changes you! If you know a Christian who isn’t different from the world and displaying the fruits of the spirit, such as love, patience, kindness, joy, and self-control, then they are just forgetting the truth of God. We all have our moments, but to walk in Kingdom Truth means to understand this world is temporary. The problems we face won’t be forever, but a life full of love in Jesus will last for eternity. Nothing can truly harm us as followers of Him. We don’t fear change, political unrest, or the opinions of others. We don’t allow broken relationships to break us. We understand that while the tears may come right now, that joy comes in the morning (future). This life is a sandcastle, and the waves will eventually sweep it away, but until then keep building your castle for the Lord. Invite others to build with you; even the sinners (oh, wait, that’s all of us). Even the ones persisting in sin (oh, wait, that’s all of us)!

Pain comes, but joy is the River of the Holy Spirit that runs through the heart of every believer. We just forget it’s there. Spending time with the Living Water (Jesus) will remind us of that truth. Depression happens on this earth, but the truth reminds us that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Like Paul, God won’t always take the thorn from our side, but He will use it to help us find our way. Our way back to His truth. The truth that we are sons and daughters of a King who rules the entire earth and Heavens, yet still absolutely adores little ole you and me. We love because He loves us. We lay down our offenses because He laid down ours. We forgive, as He forgives. We help the hurting. We seek His healing and guidance. We allow trouble to roll off our backs like water off a duck, because He is in control of all things! He fights our battles! He protects, guides, and provides. And remembering this truth, that I have to remind myself of daily, spending time with Him, this truth brings me joy even in the midst of pain.