My daughter is at a friend’s house. Well, actually, it’s another RV, and she’s just playing in her friend’s lot/yard. It’s only maybe half a mile away, a simple bike ride, perhaps even within whistling distance if I could make one of those super loud whistles through my lips and tongue like my mother could do. So, she was close, but that didn’t make it any easier. It just didn’t.

Yesterday evening she had asked me if she could ride her bike to her best buddy’s house.

“I could tell when we video chatted that she was scared for me,” my daughter had said. “I want to make sure she can see that I’m ok.”

She was ok, but had literally been discharged from the hospital a couple of hours prior, so at her request yesterday, I had answered, “you’re so tired, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Seeing her disappointment I had added, “but me or your dad can drive you there.”

And that’s what we had done. We had driven her the little more than a football field distance to see her friend. This morning, she had slept in later than me, and as I sat in the living room I found myself wanting to go check on her in the bed. She had an acute seizure less than 48 hours prior, and I had not stopped replaying the scene in my head. I saw her eyes rolled back, and it brought tears to my own eyes, the memory was so fresh. It hurt just to recall the event I could not control, and my husband said as much.

“I keep seeing it in my head,” he commented from the other end of the couch. “I think the worst part was just watching it happen, because really there was nothing we could do to make the seizure stop. We just had to wait for it to end.”

I wanted to go check on her then, and even as I realized the irrationality of the desire, it made me feel better to look at her still, sleeping face, to kiss her forehead. My worried mind had wondered, what if she has another seizure, and you’re not there to help her? Somehow placing my eyes on her helped, but I also knew I couldn’t always have her in my sight.

We had allowed her to have her friend over this afternoon, but when the little girl needed to go back home, Chloe had asked to go with her. I heard Ben say he’d drive her there, but when he appeared in our bedroom a minute later I realized he had not.

“Did she ride her bike there?” I asked.

He replied, “yeah, I told her to come back in 40 minutes. I’ve got to just let it go.”

I nodded understanding. We had already began the discussion in the bathroom earlier. After I had been praying in the shower, I had asked him, “are you finding yourself worried about her?”

The nurse discharging us had told my daughter, “Wanna know the best part? Your life doesn’t have to change. You can do everything you’ve always done; you’ll just have to take a pill twice a day.”

I knew he had said it for her, but I also think it was a bit for me. Regardless, knowing and doing were two different things. I didn’t want her to feel different or handicapped. I remember how bad it felt for me as a little girl to be treated like the “weird, sick kid.” I remember teachers saying I shouldn’t be allowed in the computer lab with the other students because the screen might induce a seizure. I remember not being allowed to ride the three wheeler with my cousins because of the worry of me hitting my head. I remember the way kids treated me different. I even remember some family members questioning my mom for allowing me to get my driver’s license. It was not cool. I didn’t want her to feel like epilepsy made her abnormal. Just because her brain waves were.

I didn’t want to treat my baby like she was made of glass, but I also realized this was still new. It was a fresh insult to my senses, and I cut myself some slack for that. As with anytime I find myself in turmoil or worry, I had sought the Lord’s voice in the midst of my concern.

He reminded me of my own childhood. I had only had one seizure in my twelve year diagnosis of epilepsy. That’s unheard of! My first seizure had been my last, and even though I stayed on medication until I was twenty, I never had a seizure after third grade.

As I thought of this I felt the Lord say, “you see, I was with you then. Always. Even though you didn’t realize it.”

At the time of my diagnosis I did not know the Lord. I had not gone to church, and I had even initially been raised in an atheist home. I didn’t understand things like prayer and healing, or even calling out to Jesus for help. And even when we began attending a church on Sunday as I went through elementary school, it never occurred to me or was suggested to me to pray about my diagnosis. It was just something I lived with.

Last night my daughter had said, “I hope I don’t have to take medicine until I’m twenty like you did. Why did God wait so long to heal you?”

Even though the answer was easy, it surprised me when I had said, “I never thought to ask Him to. It wasn’t until I was twenty that people prayed for me about it.”

As I stood in the shower talking to My Father, and He reminded me of His presence through my time with epilepsy, I realized the gift of His love. I had not known Him and I didn’t pray to Him, but He knew me. He loved me even when I didn’t know He cared, and He had poured out His favor and mercy on me even then. He was the reason I had only one seizure. He was the reason my illness was not worse. He had always wanted to heal me, but He had to wait until the right time.

“I had to wait until you would know it was me.”

As I listened to the Spirit of the Lord I realized He loves Chloe, my firstborn, even more than I love her. He didn’t want to see her in pain or sickness. It hurt His heart too when she convulsed on my lap, but just like me, He was also with her. He would take care of her. I was reminded of how He cared for me, even when I didn’t know Him, and I thought, how much more will He pour out His favor on my daughter who cries out to Him in faith! On my daughter who we all intercede for!

Then I pictured myself at the feet of Jesus, at His thrown. I laid down my worry, my anxiety, and my child. I surrendered my girl to Him. I trusted that the One who loved her even more than I did, that He would do what was best for her life. I released her. I let go of what I loved. In return, I took the gift of His peace and comfort.

The fact is, I can’t always be with my child. I don’t know if she might have further seizures. I can’t control the future of her illness any more than I could control her seizing body days prior. But I can trust the God who has all control. So that’s where I am with this right now.

Before I even got halfway through this post my daughter returned from her friend’s house. She was all smiles and no worries. She sat on the bed with me as I wrote, telling story after story of her latest slime she had made, and I realized some things didn’t change. Her epilepsy had not changed the joyful nature she exuded, and the Father who had held me as a sick child was the same Father who now held her. And that gave me peace.

Have you ever had one of those days? Like, I’m talking about the kind of day where you hit a brick wall mentally in what you feel like you can handle for the shift, but then you realize you have to keep going? Through that concrete wall?! Yeah, I had one of those recently. It happens in the field of nursing.

But thankfully there’s also the days where you wanna pinch yourself and say, “I can’t believe they’re paying me so much to do this!”

Regardless of the day, good or bad, crazy busy or super slow, blessed or a mess, you can typically think of some amusing ways to describe it. I know when I was losing my marbles the other day I thought of a really good one. So, without further ado, here’s 35 descriptions of nursing, or comparisons, if you will, that I thought might brighten your day. Enjoy.

Nursing is like…

1. Forest Gump’s box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.

2. A magician’s handkerchief. You can think you’ve reached the end of a task, but it just keeps coming and coming.

3. Working in a restaurant. It’s either dead or dinner rush.

4. Murphy’s Law on Steroids.

5. Reading stereo instructions. Upside down. In Mandarin.

6. Riding a bicycle. On ice. Very thin ice.

7. A cruise. On the Titanic.

8. Final exams. But if you fail someone dies.

9. The movie Groundhog Day.

10. That dream where you’re falling.

11. Being lost in the desert. Your lunch break is the oasis in the distance. But it keeps being a mirage.

12. The nightmare where you’re naked in front of a classroom. Except the class is your patient’s family. And the speech you’re giving is the answer to irrelevant questions.

13. A debate. And your opponent is WebMD.

14. A Maury episode. “You stated you didn’t need anything else. Your use of the call light 0.2 seconds later determined that to be a lie.

15. Being a firefighter. But all your extinguishers and hoses are filled with gasoline. And there’s no accessible emergency exit.

16. Playing Tetris. Your level is the elevator. Before the door closes you have to stack your patient, bed, IV pole, Respiratory Therapist, transporter, and self. God Speed.

17. Being a lip reader.

18. Being a mind reader.

19. Playing Good Cop/Bad Cop. You play both parts. In the same shift.

20. Waiting tables. But there’s no tips.

21. An episode of Dr. G.

22. An episode of Hoarders.

23. An episode of Intervention.

24. An episode of My Strange Addiction.

25. That song from The Lamb Chop Show. “This is the shift that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend!”

26. Being the coyote on Road Runner when he would run into a brick wall thinking it was a light at the end of the tunnel, then get up and keep the chase going.

27. Being lost in the woods, thinking you’re about to find your way out over the next ridge, then realizing you just walked in a circle.

28. Leading a horse to water, but then it getting admitted within thirty days for dehydration.

29. Being a personal assistant to a Kardashian. Not the ones on the show, but maybe one of their less well-known cousins.

30. Being a superhero, but anyone who knows you just thinks you’re Clark Kent or Peter Parker.

31. Those circus performers who balance multiple spinning plates on tiny poles.

32. MacGyver. With fewer supplies on hand.

33. A plane going down, and trying to remember to put on your own mask before helping others.

34. Dinner at the inappropriate relatives’ table. Have you heard the conversations at the nurses’ station?!

35. Nothing you see on the medical dramas on television!

What ones can you add? Let me know in the comments.

This morning as I was driving to work the topic of addiction came to my mind. I’m not sure what brought it specifically up in my thoughts, but I would imagine it’s because it’s played a major role in my life.

You see, I knew how to draw lines of cocaine by the age of five.

I was born into a long lineage of alcoholism, mental illness, and suicide.

I attempted to kill myself the first time by age eight.

I have attended so many funerals related to addiction.

I have family who have suffered through addiction, and I have friends suffering through it still.

I’ve seen too many people lose that battle.

I married an addict.

I myself was an addict.

No one can seem to wrap their head around the idea when I share that my five foot four, one hundred and ten pound self use to easily drink up to eighteen beers a night. Eighteen. No one believes me. I guess I don’t look like an alcoholic.

And that’s what brought my thoughts around to a special truth this morning. It’s something God has let me in on over time. It’s a comment that flies in the face of everything addicts are told, but it’s something I think they need to hear the most.

It’s what God would say to the person who is currently or has in the past suffered with addiction. To you, God would say this.

You are not an addict.

Stop the presses! Crazy, I know. But this is core truth. This is what carries me each day.

I am not an addict.

My husband? He is not an addict.

AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) would shudder at the phrase. And I’ve even said myself, once an addict, always an addict. But y’all, that’s just not true.

I am a child of God.

You are a child of God.

Does that mean I’m gonna pick up a case of Miller Light on the way home from work? No. I know that my tendencies to overindulge in alcohol are still present. I know my flesh and worldly self would like nothing more than to unwind after a hard day with some booze. A nice buzz would feel great. So, I won’t stop for beer on the way home. But, I am not an addict. Addiction is something I have dealt with, it’s something God has healed me from, and it’s something that I could fall back into under the right circumstances if I allowed it access.

But, I am not an addict. Addiction is an affliction I suffered. It’s a hereditary trait that runs in my family. It’s a cruel habit I tried to break for years that caused broken relationships and could have killed me. I’ve seen it do even worse to people I love. I’ve had my own heart shattered to pieces at the hand of addiction in the life of those I hold dear.

But, I am not an addict.

I am a daughter of the Most High God.

You are not an addict. You might be suffering under the stronghold of addiction. And oh my goodness, that grip is an iron one. I know. You might feel you can never overcome, and on your own, I believe that’s true. But we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength (Philippians 4:13).

He can do more than we can fathom or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

We are more than conquerors through Him, because He loves us (Romans 8:37).

The past is gone! We’ve been made new (2 Corinthians 5:17)!

We are sons and daughters of God!! Here’s 20 verses that say it’s so.

And your (my) adoption as a child of God is the only title that matters.

I work as a nurse, but I’m a child of God. Nursing doesn’t define me.

I am married, but I’m a child of God. Being a wife doesn’t define me.

I have three lovely daughters, but I am, myself, the daughter of the King! Being a mother doesn’t define me.

Being a child of God, being one with Jesus Christ who died for me, being one with the Father. That is what defines me.

I am not an addict. I am so much more, through Christ. I am free. Chains are broken. Addictions are thrown out. Familial curses are stopped in their tracks. Diagnoses don’t even stand a chance. I know, this flies in the face of everything we are told. Is addiction a choice, or is it a disease? It doesn’t matter. The fact that addiction doesn’t rule you; that’s what matters. It may for a time. It might still have a grasp. But it doesn’t define you. You are more than addiction. You are a child of God.

If you have a family member who is under addiction, please don’t treat them like an addict. I mean, if your son is addicted to heroin, he doesn’t suddenly become “not” your son. He’s not an addict. He’s your son who has a problem with addiction. Don’t affirm his worth based on his habit. Affirm his worth based on your love for him as a son.

If you love someone battling addiction, you may have to step back, place boundaries, protect your heart, but don’t see them just as an addict. They are a child of God. He holds them in His hand. And though their free will to decide may cause them harm, He is always working towards their good. He loves them. So, you love them too.

Don’t let your past addiction define you. You have been made new.

Don’t let your current addiction define you. He is making all things new. Hold on, press in, cry out to the Father. You are a child of God. So call Dad to bail you out.

When the world seems to have given up on you, He has not.

When you have given up on yourself, He has not.

When you have given up on your loved one, He has not.

You are not an addict. Through Christ, because of Christ, you are more.

Something happens to kids during the Christmas season, and although I’ve been taking it all in stride with jolly remembrances of my own childhood in mind, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have moments of red-hot frustration.

Little kids, and heck, big kids too, get super excited for Christmas time. There’s a big tree in the living room with tons of sparkly baubles to move around. There’s cookies, and music, and so many parties. With presents! So many presents.

I’m the biggest kid of them all this time of year, and I get excited too, but nothing compared to my girls. They get wild, and perhaps the extra sugar is to blame, but regardless of the specific cause they are like tiny, chattering tornados. They’re quick to get into mischief, and slow to listen.

What better way to keep kiddos in line than to pull out the old Santa card. After all, he sees you when you’re sleeping, and he knows when you’re awake. He even knows if you’ve been bad or good, and now his buddy the Elf on the Shelf helps ensure you’re good for goodness sake.

It’s perfect, and parents will tell you they readily use the “you better be good if you want presents” line to keep hyper children from killing them slowly with their ill-enacted excitement. I certainly do, but today I realized I’ve been doing it all wrong.

It came to me as my young daughters argued over a toy, and their screeching voices carried into the other room. It was their billionth fight of the day, and tense after only being able to handle so much crying in a given day I called out, “If I were you I’d be good. I’d be worried I wouldn’t get any presents for being so bad!”

Beautiful silence answered from the other room, but then I felt God speak to my heart. “Is that how it is Brie?” He asked softly.

I pondered to myself, do I even deserve this gift of Christmas? I certainly haven’t earned my salvation.

While I love the excitement of Santa Clause, and the magic he brings with his sackful of presents, I wonder if I’ve missed the mark in properly presenting the true spirit of Christmas.

You see, some 2000 years ago a child was born of a virgin, and He would be a gift for all mankind. When He died on the cross as a man He did so to save me. Me, a sinner. His gift did not come with conditions, and no matter how “bad” I may be He still would have died for me. Conversely, no matter how “good” I am this is not what earns me the present of eternal life with Him. He gives it because He loves me, and I accept it humbly.

I found myself sitting down with my daughters and trying to explain a few facts I had missed. As the eldest listened wide-eyed I explained my love for her, my unconditional love. I told her of Jesus and the gift of His life given despite our “bad” behavior.

I explained that even if she wasn’t always her best that Christmas presents would still come to a grateful heart eager to receive. “We give out of love because that’s how Jesus taught us to give. I don’t want you to be good because you want something. You are good because you love me. But presents will come either way.”

Perhaps she will remember my words, or perhaps she was distracted by Rudolph on the TV. But either way I decided that from now on she deserved to be taught how Jesus works, not the world.

We’ll still do Santa, but our Saint Nick will have the character of Christ rather than a man with a list marking off his children based on their deeds.

Ephesians 2:8-9 (NIV)

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast.

*My Dear Readers,

If this post seems familiar to you, it’s because it’s a blog I first wrote four Christmases ago. I decided to resurrect it for the new friends who have joined our journey together.

I still hold firmly to the above belief. I don’t try and manipulate my children’s behavior using Santa threats, and it’s worked great for our family. We are a home built on grace, and we all, as children one way or the other, obey out of love and discipline.

Have a Merry Christmas friends, and be blessed for the great gifts given to you despite your (all our) missteps along the way.

In Christ,

Brie

My Dear Readers,

As an important part of our lives I wanted to send you out the photo we had taken for our Christmas cards. Now, be forewarned that this isn’t your typical card, but I think you’ll find it suits us well.

In the spirit of the popular movie, National Lampoons Christmas Vacation, I came up with this idea. My Mother never cared for that movie, or any of their other movies (unlike most of America) due to the main character, Chevy Chase’s wandering eye when it came to fidelity. I respected her for that opinion, and it too affected my opinion of the films. So, unlike many friends my age, I don’t consider Christmas Vacation to be the absolute best Christmas movie. I love It’s a Wonderful Life (which I’ve already seen this year), the original cartoon How the Grinch Stole Christmas (I know every line), and have recently fallen in love with Dolly Parton’s movies, Coat of Many Colors & Christmas of Many Colors. If you haven’t seen those two, then do yourself a favor and check them out!

But back to Christmas Vacation. It was the inspiration for our Christmas Card this year. If you recall, the infamous Cousin Eddie came along to visit in an RV. His lifestyle was frowned upon, and like him, I’m sure people look down in disdain for the life we have chosen to lead. Selling our large home in favor of a fifth wheel. Parting with our possessions to squeeze our family of five into a traveling home. Well, it may seem unconventional or even crazy, but if God leads, you follow.

In this Card we decided to go along with the stereotype and make a little fun of ourselves. So please enjoy at our expense the bags of trash, naked baby, and dirty children’s faces.

Thank you for following along as we learn our way through this life.

Love,

Ben, Brie, and the girls

My Dearest Husband,

Remember when I told you a few years ago, “I’d be happy living in a cardboard box as long as it was with you!” Well, on retrospect, I think you said that first, but I did readily agree. Lol.

Who knew back then where we’d be now. I gotta be honest, when we walked into that little extended stay hotel in Florida, I thought of that cardboard box. It was so tiny, and not what I expected at all, but I knew it would be ok. I just knew it. I knew because God was with us, but I also knew because you were with me.

I think God did an amazing thing when He put us together. Somehow when we became one flesh we started bringing out the best in one another, and then pushing out the worst. And it seems to me that even today we do that. You inspire me to be a better person, and I see God using you in my life.

I really could live in a box if you were there with me. Sometimes the bathroom of our RV feels like a box so maybe that counts.

What I love, though, is that together in this dynamic duo/powerhouse that God made when He united us, we don’t put God in a box. We go where He leads and continue to learn together.

So, my love, here’s to life in a box with you, but more importantly, life outside of the box the world tries to give.

I feel like I could do anything as long as it’s with you. Thank you for helping me to cultivate courage, to stretch myself past fear, to love others more abundantly, and to trust God in all things.

You are my person, and I’m so glad God placed us together, again. Happy 9th Anniversary!

Love,

Brie

Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is passed, and so begins the countdown to Christmas. It’s such a festive, joyful time for so many, bringing great memories of holidays past, but it can also be a crazy, hectic time. In fact, the majority of the time it is a battle to keep the good feelings flowing while pushing away the harried rush of aggravation. Why do we fall for it every year? Have we got it all wrong about Christmas?

Recently I became aware of someone asking for financial assistance. Eager to help if I could I decided to dig a little deeper into their personal situation. I was under the impression they were having difficulty meeting their obligations and monthly bills such as rent and utilities, but as I became better acquainted with their request for monetary support I realized it had to do with Christmas. They were imploring of the general public for a substantial sum to buy Christmas presents for their children.

First, I’d like to say that I totally understand the desire to purchase Christmas presents for your kids. Been there, done that. I can recall a Christmas when my first daughter was a little over one year old. My husband only had part-time work, and I had just switched jobs to have less on-call time away from my baby. The switch did give me more time at home overnight and on weekends, but it had also brought a substantial pay cut. I remember my daughter getting two gifts that year from us and Santa. One was a $20 plastic kitchen we found at Dollar General, and the other was a cardboard playhouse a work friend had bought us. It hurt my heart not to be able to afford more for my child, but I knew she was young. We bought a few other cheap but thoughtful gifts for close family from Fred’s, and I tried to not feel embarrassed about our paltry presents. That year we were disappointed with the financial situation we faced, but I can say we paid all of our bills on time. Consequently, it was a wonderful Christmas, and I can’t recall anyone seeming disappointed other than myself.

When I saw this particular person’s fundraiser for Christmas for their kids I wasn’t judging them, but it did make me think about what we place value on in our world. And even though the amount they were trying to raise was 16x more than the amount I planned to spend on my own children, I didn’t conclude any kind of crass opinion on these people. In fact, I understood. I’d been there, and I had felt the same way not that long ago. I had placed much importance on buying lots of presents. I mean, it just made you feel wonderful to give to others. Wasn’t that a good thing? The old adage, “it’s better to give than receive.” That had to count for something!

Indeed, I can recall a Christmas six years ago when my husband and I once again found ourselves financially strapped. I was about to go on maternity leave, unpaid, right at the holidays. We had planned financially enough for my time off work, but had not included enough for the kind of Christmas presents we wanted to buy. We didn’t want another repeat of the $20 kitchen! So we actually went and took out a loan for the holidays. And I regretted it the whole next year. Every time I paid that bill with the horrible interest rate I would tell myself, “never again!”

But the next year I utilized credit cards. Wasn’t that the same thing?

And I used them again the following year.

I mention all this to say that I wasn’t judging this family for wanting to spend a large amount of money on Christmas for their children. How could I judge someone who was doing the same thing I’ve done? The same thing most of us do? We consider Christmas a time to go all out! So whether you save up money all year, use a Christmas bonus, utilize credit cards, take out a loan, or create a GoFundMe, it all goes towards the same goal. Purchasing a ton of possessions for people you love. It’s how we show them we love them. It’s just something we do. It’s what Christmas is all about! My only question is, have we got it all wrong?

Yeah, I know, the wise men brought gifts to the Lord. And yep, I’ll agree that Jesus was the best gift of all to a fallen world. It’s a wonderful way to show love, kindness to others, and to honor the Lord by giving gifts. It’s a tradition to give presents to those you care about, to give to those in your circle, and to get super excited about all the wrapping paper and bows bundled up beautifully under the tree. I am the most excited person you’ll meet for all that stuff! But I wonder, do we have it all wrong?

Are we placing far too much importance on the materialism that’s become common place for the holidays?

We assume we must purchase presents for people because that’s what we do. Society has made it normal, normal to the point that we feel obligated to do so. Even if we don’t have the money. Even if our heart isn’t in it. Heck, sometimes even if we don’t like them very much. It’s just expected.

And then comes the kiddos. It’s not just a gift. It’s become a madness mountain of many gifts, towering far above the manger. We buy more than we need to, more than they need, to the point that even they are overwhelmed. So come the morning after the whole family is weighed down by the mass of items, and we go on a cleaning spree to take down the tree and erase the chaos of so much stuff! Am I right?

We buy so much that we have to do a purge to get rid of the excess. We buy so much that we’re short on finances come January, that our budgets are tight, or that our credit cards are maxed out! We buy so much that we forget why we even celebrate the holiday in the first place. Christmas has always been the season of giving, but we’re so focused on materialistic giving that we lose sight of the gifts of love.

Kindness is replaced by angry, last minute shoppers. Joy is replaced by debt. Happiness is replaced by hurried attitudes. We’re distracted from the true reason of the season, and we replace it with shopping lists. The birth of Christ is overshadowed by our incorrect assumption that the holiday is about buying more stuff. We think we have to show love by buying presents. We forget that love is shown in so many more ways than that.

I wonder sometimes what happened to buying something special, like one thing or maybe two to bestow on the people you love? Our society has taught us that bigger is better, that the more we buy, the more we love. I think of the newborn Jesus coming with very little fanfare, to a cave in Bethlehem, laid on hay with the company of shepherds and their sheep. The greatest gift came so humbly to save us all. What must He think of the shiny show we’ve created of His Birthday?

I’m no Scrooge, don’t get me wrong. I’ll put up my tree, string lights, and sing carols with the best of them. My children won’t be sitting sadly Christmas morning holding a lump of coal. We will wrap packages and give them joyfully to the people we love. But what I refuse to do is think that’s the best part of it. I won’t fall for the trick from the devil that says the bigger the stack of presents, the better the Christmas. I won’t put myself into debt for it. I won’t drive myself crazy buying the perfect gift for absolutely everyone. I won’t think that more is better. I won’t fall into the name-brand game. I won’t worry what other people think, or try to impress anyone. I won’t make Christmas a show, a way for me to display my wealth, or a way for me to covet the wealth of someone else.

Christmas is the best time of the year, but we could enjoy it ten times better if we let go of how we think it should go, what we think is important. We could stop getting it wrong by focusing on stuff, and start getting it right by focusing on Jesus in us. That’s the gift He wants to see us give for His Birthday. The gift of His love.

I’ll finish up with one last Christmas story of financial distress for you, a story of Jesus and His love. I can remember a Christmas when I was five years old. My biological father had left us. My mother and I were in dire straits. We could hardly pay the bills, but we did have one another. We always had that. I remember we were far from family, but we had many friends from work and school. Wanting to show them our love during the holidays we got together in the kitchen and made cookies. My mom and I baked from scratch M&M cookies, we bagged them up, and we gifted them to all our friends.

Looking back I can’t imagine how my mother must have felt being unable to purchase anything for me for Christmas other than keeping the lights on and a roof over our head. But I always remember this Christmas with joy. The memory of baking cookies with my mom was wonderful, and the gift of seeing the love of others was something I’ll never forget.

I got my first bicycle that year. White and yellow with daisies on the wheels and streamers from the handle bars. I was excited for the bike, sure, but what I remember even now with joy is the look on my mom’s face and her grateful tears when we arrived to her work and saw the bike, a gift to me from her coworkers. I realize now that it wasn’t so much the bike that was given to us that day. It was love we were given. And that, my friends, was Christmas done right.

I woke suddenly, and I could immediately feel the ache in my throat. It was that strained, lump that makes it hard to swallow, and I knew the pain of emotional anguish had followed me outside of my dreams and trailed into the real word. I could still feel the despair from the nightmare I had just woken from, and I felt like any moment the tears I had shed in my dream world would spill down my face as I rose my head from my pillow. So real was the memory of it, that it took a minute or two to understand it wasn’t real. But wasn’t it?

It didn’t escape me, the fact that my dream had been born on the cusp of actual feelings. Feelings I had transversed through my entire life, feelings I had shifted around through the years, feelings I had labeled differently as I tried to deal with them, but feelings that bled into fear for my child in my subconscious it seemed. In my dream my eldest daughter had not belonged. Like me, like my past, and like my current existence, she had been left out by other girls.

The dream remained vivid as I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark, and I remembered how I yelled at the people around me. They had been downplaying the bullying of my daughter that had occurred in the dream. They had chuckled with a smirk, “kids will be kids,” and I had responded in vitriol how they could never understand. It had happened to me, and I knew the pain of being an outcast. It hurt like hell.

As I sat on the edge of my covers, gripping them tightly, I realized I still resided in that hurt. And in that hurt I feared for my daughter. There’s something awful about feeling like you don’t belong. You can try and say “screw them” all you want, but the wound remains. It eats away at your confidence unaware. One day you realize that you walk through life accepting of the idea that you don’t fit in. You just don’t.

As I later drove to work I was listening to the radio and a Lauren Daigle song came on. A particular part of the chorus reached into my heart and tugged, as if the Lord Himself was speaking to my spirit, which I believe He was. Tears streamed down my cheek, and I repeated the words to the song out loud.

When I don’t belong, you say I am yours

I can remember when the Lord first began to deal with me about being unique and not fitting in with other women. I had often called myself an introvert, but I realized I was actually a fence builder. It wasn’t that I didn’t like people; I just distanced myself for my own protection. I can recall feeling relieved when I felt the Lord tell me that I was who He made me to be.

At twenty years old a man overseas prophesied over me and spoke this. “You have always felt like a square peg. Well, God made you that way, and He’s got a square hole just for you.”

As I grew older I celebrated my uniqueness, which I think was a good thing, but I never felt like I belonged. I called myself a square peg or an outcast. And while it’s lovely to be unique and wonderfully made by the Lord, it’s also a lonely place for a woman in this world. It’s easy to label yourself as an introvert, loner, or social misfit, but we miss giving ourselves the only title or tag that’s needed.

His.

In this world, when I don’t belong (because I won’t), I do belong to my Father. I am His, and He is mine. For someone who’s been hurt by others, made to feel less or not enough, wounded, rejected, labeled, left out, or left behind, it’s a wonderful feeling to belong. You can hold deeply to His acceptance and unconditional love. You can be yourself, not who you think you should be to win His approval. You can be healed from hurt, have hope for the future, and rest comfortably being who He made you to be. You don’t have to try and belong; you just do. You can let go of fear for your children, and even let go of your past. You don’t have to strive to belong; you just do. You no longer even have to feel like you don’t belong, because you do. You can finally find exactly where you belong. In Him.

Autumn is here, and school is back in session! Even though kids are away during the weekdays, you still want them to keep busy when they are home from school. It’s important to keep your family entertained and out of trouble so you can avoid that all too common, “Mom, I’m bored!” Here are some easy ideas on how to keep your kids busy this fall season:

Enjoy the outdoors: With the weather cooling down, there are so many fun things you can do in the fall while enjoying the crisp air. No matter what you do, get outside while you can! If you live somewhere where your winters are cold or snowy, it’s crucial to spend time in the fresh air. You can take a family hike with your kids, visit an apple orchard to go apple picking, or rake up leaves in the backyard. Use the apples you pick to make one of these delicious apple recipes.

Cuddle up with a movie: A movie night is a perfect way to spend a cool fall night as a family. When the nights get chillier and your kids have to come inside, bond as a family with a good old-fashioned movie night. Make some popcorn, gather up a bunch of fuzzy blankets, and stream Christian movies with PureFlix.com. You can have a movie marathon or just watch a quick flick before bed. Who knows, you might all enjoy it so much you’ll make it a weekly (or nightly) occurrence!

Crafts and decorating: Spend a weekend at home crafting up all that you can with your kids. There are so many fall crafts, like leaf scratch art or a paper plate scarecrow that your kids will absolutely love to try. You’ve probably already decorated for fall around your house with your store-bought decor, so use your kids’ fall art to further decorate your walls or your fridge. The kids will love to see what they’ve created displayed around the house!

Weekly reading: A great way to keep your kids busy and keep their brains strong is to have them read during their downtime. Pick a book for them to read, or ask their teachers for a recommendation to match their reading level. Whenever they say they’re “bored”, have them take out their book and spend an hour or two reading. If sitting alone and reading isn’t something they’re interested in, sit down with them and read aloud to them, or have them read to you.

Make a plan for chores: If you don’t already have your kids doing chores around the house, a new school year is a perfect time to start. Use a weekly chore chart so that everyone stays on track for what he or she has to get done. Depending on their age, you can have your kids pick up their toys, make their bed, unload the dishwasher, or mow the lawn. You’ll be teaching them a strong work ethic and they’ll get used to helping around the house so that it becomes a habit to clean up after themselves or pitch in.