Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Why Do I Keep Hitting the Rock?!

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I was reading through the Old Testament this morning. I’ve been utilizing a reading plan through the Bible App, and I’m currently still in the wilderness. Wow, that may have been a Freudian Slip.

Anyway, I came to a familiar story of when Moses strikes the rock. For a refresh, the Israelites are wandering in the desert, waiting for the Promised Land, and they keep on complaining, despite all that God has done. In fact, their grumbling is what is keeping them delayed from receiving God’s best. Dang. Is that another Freudian slip?! Nah, I’m thinking it’s simply the Holy Spirit speaking truth.

Back to Moses and those hardheaded Israelites. They come to a place without water. They’re thirsty. They complain. Moses and Aaron ask God for help with this situation, and He tells Moses to speak to a rock and water will flow from it. So Moses gathers everyone together, and then he proceeds to smack the rock a couple of times. Water comes out, everyone drinks, and all seems well, until God reminds Moses that he didn’t have to hit the rock!

As I read this passage today I could feel how relative it was to my own life. Like Moses, I know God can give water miraculously out of a dry stone. Or more to the point, I know that when my life is in want like the Israelites, when my bank account is dry and parched like the throat of a thirsty person, and seeing funds appear out of thin air is as likely as squeezing water from a rock, God is still able. When I’m worried about my children, God is still protecting them as His own. God is in control. The Israelites weren’t so sure, but Moses was. Yet he still smacked the rock.

Like Moses, I am far enough in my faith walk to know that God can. But also like Moses, I have a tendency to hit my rocks instead of simply speaking God’s power. It’s like, I know God can provide, but let me help Him out. I’ll try to work some budgeting magic, get a second job, or sell something I treasure for some fast cash. I’ll get this devotional book for my child, make another doctor’s appointment, or think about it incessantly until things get better. I’m still believing in God, I tell myself. I’m just helping Him out a little.

So, what usually happens? I hit a few rocks and nothing gives. Not a drop. Now, eventually water pours out. You smack a rock enough times, God says, “fine, have it your way!”

The thing is, God doesn’t require us to hit every solid surface we can find searching for His provision. Usually, He just wants us to speak His name. In other words, to trust His timing and provision. This taking it into his own hands, caused Moses to miss out entering the Promised Land, and I realized I don’t want to miss what the Lord has promised for me because I’m making my own way.

It’s a learning process, gang. I’m like, the most forgetful lover of Jesus ever! But thankfully His grace is greater than my tendency to circle around the wilderness looking for my next cup of aqua. Today I’m reminded to speak to the rocks in my life. Speak, Jehovah Jirah, my provider; beating rock for dramatic accompaniment not required. Roger that, Lord.

Would You Like to Help My Daughter?

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It struck me that a number of you don’t follow me on social media, but only through my blog. I thought as much as you know my family via my musings, you might be interested to join us in a cool new journey for my oldest child. I’ll share the message I’ve sent to friends and family, and at the end is a link with more information.

You may have already heard, but I am composing this message for the family and friends I thought would be interested in sharing with Chloe and our family in the adventure of a lifetime. So bear me with please.

Chloe has been interested in acting since the age of six. As you can imagine, our traveling lifestyle didn’t accommodate such a thing as pursuing an acting career, but since we settled in SW FL she began to ask about acting classes. I came across an ad for a school and I felt in my spirit it was right. She’s been enrolled in their school since November learning modeling, poise, and screen delivery. Her confidence level has soared!

Recently they offered Chloe the chance to audition for an amazing opportunity. This summer there’s a huge Talent Scouting event in Orlando. Hundreds of scouts from agencies around the globe will be in attendance. Chloe was chosen for a select VIP group of children with potential to be up and coming performers in the industry to attend this event. The talent scout in her audition said she had the perfect look for TV. They loved her hair, unique smile, and bubbly confidence. They were amazed that an eleven year old is editing videos for her channel on YouTube. Lol.

Y’all, this is a big deal. 86 children, ages 8-18 auditioned along with Chloe, and she was one of 15 children chosen to meet and audition for these agents from NYC to L.A. to Milan! She is over the moon! And we consider this an open door for a normally tight business to squeeze into.

As you can imagine, as parents we have put a lot of thought and prayer into this even before she began classes. Her virtue, innocence, and sweet spirit are our responsibility. We have felt the peace of the Lord throughout. I feel He is in this, and He will use it for the glory of His Kingdom. And if at anytime I feel different, I will drop it like it’s hot. Lol. We continue in constant prayer, seeking His guidance. Just this morning Jesus and I had a long talk about it. I just want to assure you of our diligence in keeping Chloe kingdom focused as she transverses this world. You would be so proud of her. She is so discerning of His will and His path for her.

I’m sorry this is getting long. I just want to address the important things.

So, next… Can this Talent Agency be trusted? We’ve all heard of scams, right? Short answer… YES! Chloe’s agency has been in business since 1939! It has an A+ rating with the BBB. I have done my research. I have read some negative reviews, and I’ve seen many positive ones as well. The Talent Scouting event is entering its 12th year, and it has produced many success stories. Ryan Phillippe, Guiliana Ransic, and David Archuleta, to name a few.

At the week-long event this summer Chloe will compete with children from other talent agencies for not only callbacks with agents, but also tons of scholarships. There will be some cool seminars and classes also to help her grow in her craft.

So why am I reaching out to you all? I wanted to offer you the opportunity to support Chloe in this adventure. We’ve been paying her school tuition, but as costs come for things like headshots and coaching for her upcoming scouting event, I decided to see if our pool of family and friends would like to help sponsor her climb to her dream. The event this summer comes with registration & competition fees, plus logistic costs like lodging in Orlando.

I felt kinda silly when it entered my mind to construct a fundraiser. I mean, shouldn’t these kind of things be reserved for medical bills or mission work?! But then it occurred to me how many people love our girl. I considered how much family and friend support we’ve always been blessed with, and how this could give people the chance, if they were so inclined, to be a part of something really special and important to Chloe.

There’s no obligation if I’m sending this message to you! We’ll take your prayers for sure! But if you’d also like to help fund Chloe’s journey, Mom and Dad here would love the support!

No amount is too big OR too small!! Every bit helps to pave the way. Thank you in advance.

You can donate at this link:

http://spot.fund/fp48Rm

I Cried in the Shower Today

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Have you ever cried so hard it hurts? I’m talking about that deep burn in your throat that reaches all the way to your heart and back, only finding escape from the flames via hot, molten tears. That was me, sitting in my shower, somehow enjoying the emotion, yet begging it to simmer down before I hyperventilated. The last thing I needed was my husband to run into the bathroom, following an echoing thump, and find me slumped naked in the billowing steam. So, I tried to qualm my cries, yet the overflow of emotion erupted again, a fresh cascade of tears across my already wet face.

We had recently gone to a child’s birthday party, and I guess that’s where the story of tears started. My daughters were excited to see an old friend, and even opted to miss dance and voice lessons for the occasion. We had shopped excitedly for a present, each child contributing to the basket before making a final selection. They had chosen the outfits they would wear, and had asked me each and every day leading up to the event, “how much longer until the party?”

So, what happened?!

We had arrived to the gathering a little after its commencement, and already swarms of girls and boys bolted along the sandy beachfront. The birthday girl came running towards my oldest, screeching her name with excitement, enveloping her in a hug.

And my girl stood there awkwardly stiff, having trouble accepting the embrace. I heard Stephanie Tanner in my head proclaim, “how rude!”

Our awkward entrance continued. I looked around at my girls standing on the periphery of the group, looking shy, uncertain, and uncomfortable.

I encouraged them to “go and play.”

Yet, they kept coming back, and sitting on the outskirts, as if unsure of exactly how to go play. It didn’t make sense. These were their friends, and sure there were lots of other children they didn’t know, but my childhood wallflower self silently screamed, “go, be a part of the group!”

Yep, I had been that awkward kid in school, unsure how to act in social settings, sitting on the outside looking in. I had always done better one on one, a single bestie, and that trend had followed me my whole life.

“It’s Covid,” I thought.

Over a year of telling your children to stay away from other kids had surely stunted their social growth I hypothesized, and while I’m sure that’s true, it didn’t explain the fact that my tween had refused to bring her swimsuit, refused to wear shorts, and I had to buy her a baseball cap just to keep her from wearing a winter boggin pulled down over her head. Was that just a phase? Y’all, parenting is hard.

She had headphones in her ears, so she wouldn’t have to listen to the voices of others, and sunglasses because the sun hurt her vampire eyes. I’m sure it had nothing to do with being holed up in her dark room most of the time (insert tired mommy sigh).

I texted my spouse, “our kids have no idea how to act in a large group.”

I was questioning my own parenting skills, imagining all the ways I was messing up my kiddos, and trying not to worry I might be creating an ax murderer. Just kidding. Kinda.

My husband quickly replied, “uhhh, neither do their parents.”

Oh Lord, my husband and I were closet introverts. We loved people, and even flourished in one on one relationships, but put us in a group setting, and our left eye started to twitch. We hated crowds and avoided going places on weekends like the plague. We were happy to sit at home, and neither of us had the desire to go out with friends to blow off steam. We liked the bed, dinner and a movie, quiet time, and no expectations. His words made sense.

But still, I worried about my babies.

And that’s what I talked to God about in the shower. I handed Him my worries and my babies, listening to the counsel of the Holy Spirit. At some point in our conversation He brought me a vision of a flower in a field. Like the sunflowers we had grown last year, this flower tilted its head towards the light, and the light shown on its face, giving it new life.

The sun set and darkness surrounded the solitary plant. From above came a thermal blanket, like the kind a gardener would use to protect his prize winning roses from a spring frost. I knew at that moment, that was how God covered me and my family.

Each flower in His garden was unique, each created and cultivated to be its own creation, for His glory and kingdom purposes. His light illuminated and fed each one as it turned its face to Him, and He protected them from dark and cold places.

I felt the Lord speak to me, “nothing is by accident. I created each of your children according to my giftings. Nothing can take away from that. Nor does it need to be.”

I recognized that perhaps my children were different than the average child. Each one had nuances, sensitivities, or gifts that made them unique. I had grown up feeling like a square peg, longing to fit into a world I couldn’t seem to become comfortable being a part of. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized God created me square, with a square hole in mind for me. After all, squares make the best block for building God’s Kingdom. I wanted my girls to feel alive and beautiful in their uniqueness, and I realized that started with me not expecting them to fit into standard social norms. They were created for more than that. I didn’t need to worry so much as trust. And while there was nothing wrong with noticing peculiarities, or even learning more about those particular social styles, making a diagnosis or treatment plan if necessary, the bottom line was they were beautiful flowers in God’s garden, perfect in their specific design. Even if that made group events a little cringe worthy.

So, why did I cry? Gratitude, I suppose. What the world calls wounded, God calls blessed. What society would view as imperfect, He sets apart. And best of all, His light and love never fail. His covering persists, through every season, even the ones of drought and doubt. I’m still growing. My girls are too. I suppose, sometimes it’s the tears of gratefulness and joy that water the soil best.

You Will Have a Judas

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I was reading John 13 this morning. It’s a chapter I’ve read dozens of times, but something new spoke to me this morning from the verses. Don’t you love that? I suppose that’s why it’s called the Living Word. The Holy Spirit speaks what we are ready to hear when we are ready to hear it. Makes me think of when Jesus gave instructions in parables. He said frequently, “those who have ears, let them hear.” We all have the feature of ears, but it’s not until our spirit is ready that we hear the deeper truths God has for us all.

Back to John 13. It’s the chapter on washing feet. I always liked that. Jesus humbling himself to serve others. Such a wonderful lesson. But this morning, a new lesson emerged.

Do you know what Jesus was doing right before He washed His disciples feet? Yes, they were all enjoying a meal together, the famous Last Supper, but John 13 gives us a peek into the thoughts of Jesus. As Jesus is sitting at the table, with the men who are supposed to be His followers, His brothers, dudes He can trust, He knows it isn’t so. He knows Peter will deny Him, He knows Thomas will doubt His resurrection, but He also knows Judas will betray Him.

He thinks on these things. Then He rises and prepares to wash the feet of His brothers. He washes the feet of the one who will deny Him. He washes the feet of the former tax collector who had previously sold his devotion to his country and people for a bigger paycheck. He washes the feet of the doubter. He even washes the feet of His enemy, the one who’d sell Him up the river for a bag of silver. I mean, this is an obvious lesson for us all. Sure, a hard act to follow, but definitely something to shoot for, right?

Yet, it’s the act just before washing the disciples feet that really got my attention this morning. He’s at the table. It says that He knows Judas is going to betray Him. That’s the thought running through His head while He eats His last meal before the death sentence. It’s like He’s on death row, waiting for the final walk down the long hall to torture, pain, and betrayal. People who He came to save are plotting against Him as He nibbles on bread dipped in oil. Talk about anxious thoughts!

I’m an over-thinker, personally. When someone does me wrong, I will replay the incident in my head repeatedly. I’ll ponder what I should have said, creating conversations that never happened. But could have! Lol. I’m also a sensitive soul. When people hurt me, I weep. When they wrong me, I get angry. I get offended. And in all my situations where people have hurt me, betrayed me, and plotted against me, I honestly can’t compare it to the situation of Jesus. But, perhaps I can learn from His example.

John 13:3 Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God

Jesus contemplates that Judas is sitting right there beside Him, and He’s about to betray Him, leading to a chain of events that will end in His crucifixion.

But then He fights the pain of the lies of this world with the truth of God. A friend, a brother is betraying Him, yet that doesn’t change the fact that His Father has control over EVERYTHING! And really, isn’t that the only thing we need to ponder, the last thought we need to have, that puts to bed all our anger, hurt, offense, and fear? Yessss.

Our lesson today is three parts. The first we already know. We learn it at a young age. My eleven year old just learned it a couple of weeks ago.

1. People in this world will hurt us. They will betray us, even plotting our demise. I wish this was not so, but in our broken world of sin, it’s true. We will have a Judas.

2. In our Judas moments we must remember the absolute truth from scripture. All things are under our Father’s power! He knows it’s gonna happen. We don’t have to fight our own battles. Our Father has control. We belong to Him, and we will return to Him. The Judases of this world can never take that away from us.

3. We still wash feet. Despite the knowledge of betrayal, the truth that God was in control propelled Jesus forward. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard. I recall the Garden in Gethsemane and how my Savior cried. No one is telling you not to cry. But the example of Jesus reminds us to keep moving forward in love.

This is a lesson I need desperately. So often I encounter trouble and my gut reaction is to fret. Yet God calls me to trust Him. But even more so, in the midst of trouble, I am reminded to keep going, and to do so in love, with a servant heart. I can still give to others, even when fear tries to tell me I won’t have enough. I can lower myself to my knees, even at the feet of my enemies, knowing that despite the plots against me, I belong to My Father, and His plans for me never fail. I pray we all can remember these lessons together and move forward like the example Christ has given.

The Offense of Being Offended as a Christian

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Have you ever been forced to be around someone you don’t like? If you’re a responsible adult, in a work setting, then the answer is probably yes. You can break off an abusive, long term relationship, ignore your in-laws, or cut ties with a toxic friend, but leaving a great job because of an annoying coworker isn’t always economically feasible, and I’ve found myself in this situation lately.

Have you ever been so irked by an itchy personality that you imagine yourself throttling that person? I know, not very Christ-like, but let’s be honest; we’ve all been there once or twice. Some people can just be so different from us, and it’s like they know all the wrong buttons to push! This was what happened to me.

This lady was so prideful. I remember Southern ladies describing it as, “she thinks her sh*t don’t stink.” And that seemed like a pretty good description of this situation. The woman I’m referring to thought she was always right, everyone else was always wrong, and her way of doing things was the only way. It doesn’t make for a conducive workspace.

One morning, I had just sat down booting up my computer with another scheduled, early-arriving coworker, when she walked in. She wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour! I thought I had time to drink my coffee and get my heart and mind in the right place for her abrasive personality, yet there she was.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, even as my mind wondered if she was just checking to make sure we came to work on time in an environment without a time clock to keep us honest.

And so it began. She started droning on about the changes she was instituting for the workplace (as the most senior person in our office), and about all the things we were all doing wrong that she could improve upon.

Y’all, it flew all over me. I had spent the past couple of days she’d been off cleaning up her messes and mistakes! My work-plate had been overflowing thanks to her missed steps, and it made my blood want to boil at her audacity to suggest anyone else was the problem!

The thing was, I wasn’t the only one! Everyone in the office felt the same as me. They were fed up with her constant slacking of job duties, but even more so with her attitude that suggested otherwise. Grrr. It made us all crazy. In fact, when she wasn’t around we talked about how insane she made us all feel. We laughed at her expense, and made jokes about her holier-than-though attitude. It somehow made me feel better, you know?

After a full day of hard work, also filled with plenty of gossip about my troublesome coworker, I drove home and started feeling conviction. I knew it wasn’t right. Not any of it. Not my anger, not my judgement. I shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense, ridiculing her behavior with others, or gossiping period. I confessed of my behavior and asked the Lord to change my heart. Man, it is so easy to fall into sin, and fall away from the heart of God! I asked Him to give me His heart towards this problematic coworker, to help me see her with His eyes. That’s a tough sale, guys, cause when you do that, you no longer want to dislike a person for their erroneous behavior; you want to embrace them in their brokenness. Have you ever realized we’re all the same in that we’re not yet whole?

The next time I worked with this person, it was great! I told my husband it had to be the Holy Spirit. I usually grew angry at her pride and easily offended when her comments suggested I was less of a good worker than she. Because really, isn’t that what these situations really come down to most of the time? Personal offense? But on this day, I took no offense, and we got along swimmingly. I left the office lighter, in a better mood, because instead of feeling angry, I felt peace.

Have you ever noticed how off your behavior is when you’re angry? It’s the opposite of the fruits of the spirit. Instead of peace, we feel unease. Instead of joy, we feel rage. Instead of patience, we feel frustration. Instead of kindness, we feel vengeance. And most importantly, instead of love, we feel the opposite! If God is love, what is the opposite of love? Well, I can tell you, it’s not of God.

The thing is, many times when we feel offended, it’s selfishness. Instead of service, like Jesus modeled, we have placed ourselves to be served. By assuming our desires, opinions, or even our life, are more important than a brother/sister, we are elevating ourselves, which never pans out well in the Kingdom of God. In the Kingdom way, we are asked by Jesus to lay down our lives, to take up His cross, and to put on His yoke. Cause, you see, any other yoke is one of slavery. Slavery to anger, pride, selfish action, and again, the opposite of God’s essence, love. It turns out, His yoke, His way, is easy. That’s why after being a slave to offense, we feel terrible, but after being a slave (servant) to love, we feel amazing. I don’t think we always realize why we’re feeling so bad. We think it’s because of other people’s actions, but I would suggest, perhaps it’s our own hearts causing us harm.

When that person passes you in traffic haphazardly or cuts you in line! Arghh!

Remember justice is His. He will lift you up. Ask yourself these heart questions. What makes our time more valuable than that of another? What ranking does this particular offense hold in light of eternity? Does our response negatively affect our heart, and does it display the light of the One we claim to love? Are we reflecting Jesus to a lost and hurting world? This is something I desire more than anything.

When someone disagrees with something that is very important to us, it’s hard. When someone maliciously hurts us, it’s even harder. It’s crazy hard to lay down the desire to be right, the desire to be vindicated, and the desire to be esteemed, but as a Christian, that is what we are called to. We are asked to humble ourselves, to lay down our swords, and to serve in love. I still find myself in this crazy world, getting offended, but I try to not let that offense rule me, define me, or steer my actions. I’ve found that the true offense to being offended isn’t against the one I perceive as the offender, but rather it ends up being an offense to my own heart and the spirit God has given me. And who wants that!

Is Your Christianity a Slogan or a Lifestyle?

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This morning on the way to work a beautiful worship song came on. The lyrics were simple, yet the weight of the words on my heart was anything but. Tears came to my eyes, overcome, I prayed in the Spirit. As I prayed, I saw a vision.

A faceless person in a riverbed, the water rising and rushing past. The current raised above the person’s head, until they bobbled along, treading water, while lifting their mouth and nose to the sky to suck in much needed breath. Just when it seemed to be too much, the waters receded, and what was left was a person glimmering. Little sparkles of light emanating from their body.

I felt the Lord speak to my heart, “my Spirit is like a rushing river, flooding your soul. Much like my consuming fire, my living water engulfs those who thirst for it. The engulfing process isn’t easy; it feels like you will drown. But in the end, you can shine my glory to the world.”

I thought of my own life. Now, I’m certainly not gleaming! I don’t sparkle like a character from the Twilight series. But I do desire my life to shine the light of God’s love, for His glory to be evident in my life. And over the past few years, drawing closer to the Lord, asking for His Spirit and Truth, I had felt the distress of going under. When the thoughts you’ve always held are challenged, it’s kinda painful. I mean, it’s much easier to stay put on comfortable dry land, secure in the mindset you’ve always known. But is that what God has for us?

I’ll never presume to tell someone how their relationship with Jesus should go, but for myself, I wanted more! He says, “my thoughts are not your thoughts,” but I didn’t want to completely throw my hands up for knowing His heart. I dove into scripture, and I encountered a Savior who started to make me question the status quo. I looked at the behavior of Jesus, and then I held that up to the behavior of us all as followers of His way. It’s not to say I expected anyone (especially me) to reach this level Christ had, but I did recall Him saying “we could be perfect since He is perfect.” And right before these words, He had been speaking of His love. Therefore, I set out to emulate His teachings. Kinda like the old, WWJD, but a lifestyle rather than a marketed slogan.

Now, let me tell you, when you start questioning behavior of the church in relation to Christ’s teachings, you really piss people off. And nothing made the situation more convoluted than American politics. Did anyone ever wonder if the politicians were playing us?!

Your faith is called into question if you can’t actively support immoral behavior in leadership, a heretic for suggesting we separate our political leanings from our serving Jesus (since conservative candidates don’t automatically equal Christ-like), and a liberal for caring about the lives of immigrants or LGBTQIA. It hurts my heart that our Christianity is important enough to impact our political leanings, but not important enough that we demand moral behavior of our leaders. Or that we demand moral behaviors of those outside of the church, but not of ourselves. It’s as if suggesting God loves the sinner, the citizens of countries other than America, or justice and real equality for all is needed, it makes you a trader to Christianity.

The problem was, the disconnect between the average American Christian’s belief system versus the life of Jesus. I mean, we all agreed He was our Savior, but when it came to how we should treat other people, it grew more gray. Even though He tells us the most important commandment. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, and to love others as yourself. To even love our enemy!

You can hold a Bible in the air for a camera all you want, but if you’re going to put the name “Christ,” in your label of belief (Christian), shouldn’t you maybe try and do what He said? And didn’t Jesus say we’d know God by knowing Him? And didn’t He also say, by your fruit they will know you are mine? So, isn’t a huge part of our faith knowing His character and then displaying that for others so they can know it too?!

It’s like, shortly after the formation of the original church (set forth by Jesus), we started inserting our own ideas of how it should go. Many of the letters from Paul to the early church address this. This desire to keep following the law when Christ had abolished our chains to this harsh system we could never achieve. Yet even today, we expect certain boxes to be checked, certain sins to be avoided (while others are ignored), certain sides to stay firmly on in regards to particular platforms, and certain candidates to vote for cause they’re standing on that particular sideline. Whether they’re wearing sheep’s clothing doesn’t matter when you place more weight on culture than Christ.

To question these things isn’t looked upon well, but should we not always be evaluating our heart motives to God’s heart? If we want to claim a religion that follows Jesus, shouldn’t we love as He loves? Shouldn’t we walk in empathy for others? Should we not care for those who need us? There are so many scriptures on this, so why aren’t we giving up “our cloak as well?”

Why do we focus on things of this world, when the Lord calls us to focus on Heavenly things? Why do we worry about what we will eat, or put our surplus in stores for it to rust?

When did we forget salt and light means showing the love of Jesus, not placing ourselves on a pedestal?

When did we mistake the call of Christians to serve others as a decision to only look out for our own?

I could go on and on. Remember when I said I definitely don’t gleam? It’s true. I’m just a work in progress, much like we all are, but I desire to shine with His glory! Not because I must do it to gain His love, but I want to do it because of His love freely given. This love that He asks us to freely give also. It’s hard, y’all. It’s hard to lay down pride, to lay down judgment, and to lay down offense. It’s a daily surrender, but I would encourage anyone, who wants to be engulfed by His Spirit, to seek Him. Read the words in red, the words of Jesus, and ask yourself in all humility if your Christianity is simply a slogan, or is it a lifestyle.

How to Survive Raising Tweens

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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!

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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?!

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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?!

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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?!