Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

What Marriage is Not

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“Can you do me a huge favor?” My husband’s text inquired.

Before I could finish typing my reply he continued with, “it’s ok if you can’t…”

I watched the texting bubbles continue and finally emerge, “do you mind taking a detour on the way home?”

I easily replied, “of course. I’d do anything for you.”

Then I sent an amusing Meatloaf meme. Meatloaf the band, not the entree.

What I didn’t do was think, “I can’t believe he asked me to do that!” Although I could have. After all, at the time I was currently on my fourth, twelve hour shift in a row, and he knew this full well. Twelve hour shifts are no joke anyway, but factor in more like thirteen at the critical care patient bedside, and it felt like a seventy-two hour shift. Well, it had been over fifty hours worked in a mere four days. Point being, yeah, I was tired.

When my husband (who didn’t work outside of the home) asked me to stop and pick him up something, I didn’t think the above for even a moment. It never entered my mind actually. He needed something, I had the only vehicle, and most importantly, I loved him.

You see, love is service. You serve in love and that’s the core of marriage. Here’s what marriage is not. It’s not comparison.

To say, “well, I’ve been working all day” is to suggest that he had not been working.

To say, “well, my job at the hospital is harder than his job at home” not only took away from the important tasks he performed in our home, but it also tried to value me over him. That’s not something we do.

Nursing is hard.

Parenting is hard.

Patient care is hard.

Homeschooling is hard.

Working outside of the home is stressful.

Working inside the home is stressful.

I’ve done both fulltime, so I knew.

I knew you can’t really compare the two, but I knew I wouldn’t want to anyway. You see, our relationship isn’t based on who does more. It’s based on the question we both ask ourselves daily, “what more can I do to serve my spouse in love?”

Love isn’t just a word, but it’s also not just a feeling. If love was only feelings I certainly would not have felt like making a detour that night. No, love was also action. You showed love by your service in love, without complaint, without comparison, without expecting something in return.

When I arrived home that night, after making my detour, I was hit immediately by the delicious smell wafting out the kitchen window. Waiting for me was homemade fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob, and freshly baked cookies. My happy, healthy daughters greeted me with a smile, displaying proudly their schoolwork from that day, graded by their teacher/principal/dad. I walked happily into the clean living room and noticed the empty laundry baskets sitting in the hall. He had done it all. After dinner he massaged my tired feet and got our daughters ready for bed. If we were keeping track, he had probably outdone me that day, but rather than tallying up a scorecard, I simply enjoyed the feeling of being taken care of so well. Of being loved so well. Of being served in love, and serving in return, not out of obligation, but because of our shared affection. That was marriage.

Investing in the Future

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Today I was going through an app that allows me to see pictures I posted on social media from the time I had a smartphone, and as I was swiping left I came across a cherished photo. It was a black and white shot of my firstborn from six years ago, and I felt a bittersweet ache in my heart that got stuck as an emotional lump in my throat. As I gazed at the precious memory my eldest girl walked up.

Y’all, my child has gotten so tall, and when I saw her standing over my lounge chair poolside, in contrast to the tiny, chubby-cheeked babe on my phone, I was struck straight through the heart, as if an arrow representing the swift passage of time had pierced through to my marrow.

The most peculiar part, to me, was that I didn’t remain melancholy over how fast it all goes. Instead I felt a sense of contented joy, like everything was progressing as it should. I had zero regret for the things I should of/could of done, and though I wasn’t claiming a perfect parenting plan, I was pleased with our journey thus far. I didn’t feel so much like it was a cruel, fleeting season, but rather one I was savoring with vigor.

When I first became I mother I realized it was my greatest responsibility and most enjoyable tasking of life. I quickly discovered I wanted nothing more than to leave my nine to five and find a way to mother more. I was blessed at the time to find a position at my hospital where I could work less and be home more with little financial difference. Cause, come on, although a lot of men and/or women desire to see their children more, it doesn’t seem like it can always work out that way. I never took for granted the opportunity I had been afforded to spend time with my children while also working as a bedside nurse.

As life changed and seasons followed suit, I found circumstances altered, but my greatest goal never changed. Here’s what I didn’t want. I didn’t want other people raising my babies. They were my reward, and I didn’t want to hand that prize to another. But more than that, they were my legacy, my responsibility (which I took very seriously), and the ministry God had given me for this particular time of my life. I knew that my largest and most monumental heart desire was to be able to instill in my children the things I had been unaware of until adulthood. I wanted to raise them wholly aware of God’s hand in their life, and I desired to equip them with the wisdom of knowing they were not alone in the battles they faced. I needed them to see firsthand how joy-filled a life serving the Lord could be. I wanted them to have the opportunity to see things it had taken me forty years to discover.

This hefty, utmost knowledge I knew couldn’t be passed along in a thirty minute Sunday School lesson. It was something that must be instilled, but also modeled. It was something I had to walk out, showing them daily, and I wanted to be able to do it. As parents, my husband and I have made sacrifices to maintain our goals. We have downsized and let go of materialistic treasures, in favor of investing in what we consider our Heavenly Treasure. Our babies. To gain time with them we had to let go of the things that stole our time from them. I’m grateful we were given the desire and insight to make this work.

Not that I’ve obtained it yet, like, where I totally want to be, but I can look backwards and see improvement over time. Heck, a mere two-three years ago I was stuck in the hamster wheel too. I was running ragged, overbooking my schedule, over-extending myself, and sadly teaching my children that was normal. We were always going, rushing, and trying to fill commitments that weren’t necessary. Laundry was a chore, grocery shopping grueling, and the supper-time crunch exasperating. Why we call this normal, I’ll never know. I guess because it’s the way it’s always been, but with the addition of everyone critiquing our lives as we narrate them, or coveting how smoothly someone else’s story appears.

Thankfully, I can now proceed without regret, knowing I’m investing the most in what matters most. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on my children’s childhood. I have a ringside seat to their life. We homeschool largely in part because of our desire to not miss the majority of their life. I saw a story recently of schools possibly extending their hours. Can you imagine?!

We found an area of the country where we can work less but make a larger income, and on top of that we found a way to cut down our expenses. It was scary leaving our comfort zones, but totally worth it in the end. As the world gets faster and the focus convoluted, I see more people choosing to do things the way we are doing. Downsizing, minimalizing, and seeking opportunities to focus on family more. I’m thankful we realized it’s okay to step outside of the norm and pursue something different. Almost every day I see people voice their unhappiness with the pace of their life or with the lack of quality time with loved ones.

I guess I would just say to every discontented parent, “you can do it!” If you’re not happy with life, change it. Don’t be afraid to try something new. Don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. Don’t be worried about what other people think, and don’t be scared to fail. You will never know if your life can improve if you stay stuck in your rut. Break out.

Maybe you’re happy with the way things are. That’s wonderful! But if you’re not consider this post your call to duty. It’s time to invest in what’s important in life, and it’s the people you love. I took care of a patient once who was on his death bed. In pleasant conversation I had told his wife about my life, how I traveled in an RV with my family, homeschooling, working a little, and having fun a lot. She was intrigued and enamored, as most people are, but I’ll never forget her words.

“I wish we had done that.”

You see, they had wanted to travel as a family, but they had waited. They waited until things settled down. They waited until a certain season passed. They waited until Junior finished school. Then they waited until retirement. One month into traveling her husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

“It’s too late now,” she had said.

Consider this your wake up call, your sign, if you will. Don’t wait another minute to follow your dreams and spend time doing what you love. You just think there’s no way out, but there’s always another way. It may involve sacrifice, and it might be frightening. People may try and talk you out of it, but I am encouraging you to try anyway. You will never know unless you take that step, and you’ll only regret what you didn’t do.

I Never Did Mind the Little Things

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I turned to throw a used cotton-ball into the tiny, bathroom trashcan, and I suddenly noticed the huge ball of long gray hair. It sat on the outside of the swinging door entrance to the garbage, and I easily identified it as my husband’s since the rest of us were all crowned with differing shades of dirty dishwater blond. I could picture him standing in the small bathroom, running his fingers through his long, more salt than pepper hair, before gathering it into a tidy ponytail, and flinging the loose hairs that had caught between his digits towards the trash absently. Sigh. This was my husband.

I easily and quickly pushed the wad of forgotten hair into the awaiting can, while also depositing there any hint of frustration that had tried to rear it’s ugly head.

I never did mind the little things.

I smiled to myself as the line of a nineties movie staring Bridget Fonda came to mind. In the film she had been a thief turned government assassin, who subsequently had to be turned from a crack addict criminal into a lady of refinement (ain’t Hollywood grand), and her etiquette coach had encouraged her that when nervous to repeat the phrase to herself to remain calm.

I never did mind the little things.

Although I wasn’t hiding behind a small, kitchen counter loading my beretta while gunfire exploded around me like our dear Bridget, I could certainly relate to my emotions getting the better of me. And though it wasn’t my life I feared for, it was my marriage and family. Even though I couldn’t see the bullets blowing up around me, I knew that fiery arrows flew in my direction. As a child of God I knew it wasn’t flesh and blood I battled, but attacks from an enemy who sought to destroy the covenant of marriage. One very effective weapon of warfare in his arsenal was the missile of comparison and the smoke bomb of selfishness. As silly as it may sound, he brought both of those things stealthily into the atmosphere of marriage to create an air of discontent and division.

I never did mind the little things.

My defense was my ability to not take offense. In other words, when I felt nudged to selfishly compare myself to my spouse, I had to take inventory.

I had to ask myself, “is this really worth being bothered by?”

I had to remember my faults and not just highlight my husband’s.

My husband and I will have been married ten years this month, and I learned early on that we had our differences. Things I felt were important weren’t as much to him, and things that bothered me didn’t cause him concern at all. As we’ve grown as a couple over the years we have learned how to take the feelings of the other into consideration and act/react accordingly, but it’s not like we’ve changed who we are. We’ve become more loving, considerate, and selfless in our service to one another, but it’s not like we took a magic potion to suddenly become the perfect spouse. He wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t perfect, but most importantly, we didn’t expect that of each other.

A widow will tell you how she pines to find her late husband’s laundry outside of the basket. For the very things we may find at one moment as annoying are the very things someone else could only hope for. A dirty dish beside the bed is far better than a forever empty sink. It comes down to having a choice to make in your relationship. You can choose to focus on the minuscule madness or see it all as a beautiful mess. You can point out the idiosyncrasies of your spouse while ignoring your own, or you can celebrate having someone to share in the ups and downs of life. I’m not saying you ignore blatantly inconsiderate actions, silently taking abuse like some marital martyr, but I am suggesting we take a moment to calm our emotions and take an inventory of what is most important.

I never did mind the little things.

Is being right every time the most important? Is it winning every argument? Is it never picking up the slack when your partner doesn’t carry their fair share of the load, assuming that you yourself never falter in such a way?

If you answered yes to the above then marriage will not be enjoyable to you much of the time, because instead of a partnership, you’re viewing it as a competition.

Perhaps a happy union means that you decide to let the little things go. Maybe it means serving someone in love while expecting nothing in return. I think it involves changing your perspective, highlighting the positive, rather than magnifying the minor faults that arise. I don’t see a ball of discarded hair or a pile of dirty clothes as much as I see a loving man who makes me feel beautiful always, who serves me consistently, who teaches and disciplines our children with grace, who would lay down his very life for us.

I never did mind the little things.

Because I’m too focused on the big things. I see to the heart of the matter rather than being distracted by the things of this world. I don’t expect perfection of my spouse. The only perfect man died for me over 2,000 years ago. But I will appreciate the man God has placed in my life to love me, my faults included. I’ll be thankful he adores me despite those same faults. I’ll be grateful that he too never did mind the little things.

Is Satan Stealing Our Marriages?

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This morning I sat outside sipping hot coffee while a cool (but not too cold breeze) stirred the air. My husband and children still slept, and per usual I had awoken a bit before them so I might enjoy some quiet time before our day began. We had made plans to go swimming at a natural spring, and I knew the task of packing up for a day away awaited me. There would be suits to track down, dry clothes to pack, and of course, food for the day. Feeding a family of five at a snack bar got pricey, so bringing our own grub was a must. I’d need cold drinks to keep everyone hydrated, and I wondered if we should blow up and haul our own innertube?

Another breeze blew over me, refreshing, nice, and the Hebrew word ruach entered my mind. Wind, breath, the very spirit of God, it blew on me and I felt peace, contentment, satisfaction. “I could sit here all day,” I whispered, and by the time my husband woke up I had decided to do just that. He was quick to agree, and just like that we dropped the well-intentioned plans we had made for the day.

Have you ever noticed how plans play out? Especially with small children? You spend a large amount of time creating fun ideas, creating the best environment for those ideas, and struggling to have them play out just as you envisioned. Which never happens. We’ve forgotten how to be still, and we’ve forgotten how to enjoy simple. And it’s just one more thing that the enemy is using to drive a wedge between a husband and wife.

How many expensive vacations end in exhaustion? An empty savings account, a stressed out mind, and the silent treatment. We’re a very mobile generation, always on the move, and we expect as much from our family as we do our internet provider.

Hurry up! Come on! Let’s go. We’re running out of time!

Wives are on edge, and husbands are at the end of their rope. You see, both are working very hard to create a picture perfect life, one that Instagram would be proud of.

“I’m making memories,” we proclaim.

But at what cost, I wonder?

Overtime. Husbands and wives both working full-time to support a family is commonplace, and while I’ll be the first to admit that this world today is crazy expensive, I’ll also be the first to confess that it isn’t as pricey as we create it. We are the ones who decide our homes must be a certain size. We need the fourth bedroom and downstairs half-bath. We gotta have more than one vehicle, and it needs to be something reliable. Minivan? Yuck. No thanks. A Suburban, please. We work to buy the stuff we don’t need, and as our square footage grows, so does our work week. Cha-Ching.

But one thing is for sure. We do it for our children. They need the absolute best. They need the dance class, drama camp, and tumbling too. All of the above, please. Sign us up!

I’ll volunteer to chaperone the field trip. Hubby can coach little league on the weekends. Games on Sunday? No problem.

We pull an extra shift at work to purchase new uniforms, use that credit card for the nicer pair of cleats. Johnny says all the other kids are wearing the name-brand ones, and you don’t want him to feel left out or get bullied.

Homework. Oh my goodness, the homework those kids bring in the door. You yell too much, and then you feel guilty. You know your son is just tired from staying up late due to that extended basketball practice, and waking up early to drive across town to his exclusive private school.

Somewhere in between the late nights, running errands after practice, overtime at the office for next year’s Disney trip, and squeezing in a quick WalMart trip for another Reading Fair project, you manage to squeeze in a date night. You sit at a dark booth, both of you with your heads in your phone, and you wonder when life will slow down.

Was it always this hard?! They say it’s easier after the kids leave home, but then you think of all your parent’s friends who got divorced once empty nesters. Did they run out of stuff to talk about? You can certainly relate. I mean, what’s there to discuss once the conversation doesn’t center around the children, where they’re going and what achievement they just won? What happened to people staying in love forever? Maybe true love doesn’t exist anymore.

Or perhaps we’ve just changed our investment strategies. Maybe our focus isn’t on our marriages. I think we’re too overwhelmed to feed into that relationship. We’ve become complacent in our comfortable life as roommates, partners in parenting, and financial assistant roles. We assume our marriage will thrive without watering, with plans to feed into it later. There’s just no time!

I wonder if we create our overloaded schedules? Is it our boss insisting we work late, or are we the cause? We can’t face our spouse that we forgot how to talk to. We can’t face another conversation about the kids’ future. The stress and worry is too much, and overtime seems like a pleasant option.

I wonder if we create our debt? We need 3000 square feet! We need a trip to the coast! We need a closet so packed the doors won’t close, and a cupboard so full of processed food we can make on the fly! We need Maui, a newer cell phone, and of course, more toys. Toys to keep the children entertained, but also toys to keep each other happy. It fills the silence, you know.

We are so focused on raising the best children on the block. We are so focused on appearances. We are so focused on bigger, better, and more. We’ve gotten so good at being busy; we consider it a badge of honor. We’ve gotten so concerned with keeping up with what everyone else is doing. We’ve gotten so used to being stressed out that we think it’s normal. We medicate with wine, and we overindulge in our favorite vices. We’re too tired for sex, too exhausted to just sit and talk. We keep waiting for life to slow down, never understanding that we set the pace.

Husbands and wives become opponents instead of teammates. Marriage becomes a contest to see who contributes the most to the family unit. We become bitter, expecting our spouse to give us a reprieve, even though we ourselves have created our own chaos.

Parents forget that children don’t come first! Kids plot parents against one another, having learned early on that we allow it. We spend thousands of dollars a year on things our children don’t need, and we invest even more in a college fund to the most prestigious university. Never once do we invest in our relationship with our spouse.

But date night, you say. We have that!

Ahh, yes, the two hours alone, where you’re both too exhausted from work to do much more than lift a heavy fork to your silent mouth. That sounds lovely.

We have removed fathers from the head of the family, and we’ve replaced them with our darling child. They rule the roost. We even joke about it on Facebook. Isn’t it so cute how sassy my little diva is?!

We’ve placed our work above our families. We’ve given it to coaches and teachers to handle. Yet when something falls apart, our spouse will be the one we attack.

We’ve dropped going to church together on Sunday. It’s seriously the only day we can sleep in. Saturday is packed with extracurriculars. We’re too tired to pray together before bed, and we can’t seem to find the time to instruct our children with the Bible. They already have so much homework as it is!

But then we wonder why our children don’t respect us? We wonder why our spouse is so short-tempered.

What about our quiet time with God? Well, it’s been a while. We planned to do that today, but there was too much to do before we left the house. The house with the crazy, high mortgage, that we spend very little time in other than to sleep five hours a night.

We make excuses.

If only my husband would help out more around the house.

If only my wife would try to understand I have needs.

We’ll work this out tomorrow. I’m exhausted tonight.

One silent day leads to another, and leads to another. We find ourselves living together but feeling alone. We raise children together but exist in silence, an invisible space separating us. We make it so easy for Satan to destroy the foundation of marriage. He uses our busyness to keep us from communicating. He uses our selfishness to increase our anger. He uses our coveting and comparison to keep us working harder for more of what we don’t need. He uses our obsession with the educational excellence of our children to keep us away from time with one another. He uses our preoccupation with our cell phones, tablets, and social media accounts to keep us from making God’s Word a part of our everyday lives. He brings sin into our homes slowly, so slowly that we barely recognize it. We’re sure the movies we watch, books we read, or websites we visit in secret aren’t harming our relationships.

But I’m of the belief that we must take back our families from the enemy. We must claim our right to a happy, healthy relationship like God intended. We have to take back our time. We can’t become confused by what the world says is important. We can’t believe the lies the enemy tells us to focus on. We have to stop investing into the world and get back to investing in love. We can’t spend the majority of our life away from our families, but then wonder why they’re falling apart. We have to stop investing so much in the materialistic aspects of our home, yet neglecting the lasting flesh and blood that resides therein. We gotta stop keeping up with the Joneses and start keeping up with God’s will for our families.

God created marriage, and He didn’t just make it so we’d have someone to help us with the dishes. He didn’t create this covenant with arguments over who forgot to buy toilet paper in mind. He didn’t place us together to run ourselves ragged with busy schedules and overwhelming responsibilities. He created marriage to mirror His covenant with us, and on the day we finally become His bride, do you think He’ll be too busy running the angels to soccer practice to sit down at the banquet table with us? Do you think He’ll be too tired to talk or too overwhelmed by His day of miracles to hold us?

And here’s a thought. Our children are watching us. They are creating their idea of marriage based on our example. What type of husband are you modeling for your daughter’s future expectations? What kind of wife are you showing your son to build a life with? Do you know how Satan is stealing our marriages? Through us! We are eagerly breaking down the future foundation of marriage by our poor example, and our complacence and neglect is pushing our own spouse further and further away. It shouldn’t be so.

We have to take back our marriages before it’s too late. We have to reclaim our time so we can invest it where it is needed most. We have to take our eyes off other relationships and focus them in our own backyard. We have to let Dad lead the family. We have to stop competing. We have got to quit going and going! We have to be still! We have to sit quiet and let the ruach blow over our marriages. We’ll never feel it if we’re too busy striving for more. You have to be still to truly feel the wind blow. We have to stop handing the enemy our family on a golden platter. We have to take back what God has given us. We have to open our eyes to the gift of our spouse, just as God made them, and stop trying to make them into someone else. We have to take time to appreciate our partner. We have to trade in our badge of busy for the soothing silk of stillness. Only in simplicity can we truly see how blessed we are.

So I suppose the question is this. God has given us marriage. Will you make the pledge to take it back from the enemy today?

How to Find Your Happy

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I could probably gripe about a lot of things that annoy me when working as a nurse, but if I had to pinpoint my biggest frustration it would probably be computer problems. Like, ugh. Since when do I have to be an IT Specialist?!

I’ve been charting electronically for eighteen years or so, and in all that time I’ve discovered the number one fix when having computer trouble.

You call the Help Desk (appropriately named), and you plead, “help me! My screen is frozen!”

I mean, you just wanna finish charting. You have sooooo much to do and so little time.

Usually the IT person will fire back with, “have you restarted your computer?”

“I need you to turn it off, give it about fifteen seconds, then turn it back on.”

Reboot. Unplug. Reminds me of calling Comcast Cable. Am I right?!

The IT guy will take control of my mouse and locate some screen I didn’t know existed where he’ll “end” the running programs. Heck, I’ve had instances where I had a handful of programs running at once and didn’t even realize it.

A couple of years ago I realized I wasn’t as happy as I knew I should/could be. I mean, I was happy for my family, time with my husband and kids, our home, and the nuggets of great moments mingled here and there, but something wasn’t right. I loved my life, but it’s like the program wasn’t running like it should. I was frozen by anxiety, stalled by worry, and run down with fatigue. It turns out I had too many tabs open on my dashboard, and I was running more programs than my server could handle. I wasn’t operating at full speed, and I seriously needed to delete some cookies, but not being very techy, I didn’t have a clue.

Remember that movie “How Stella Got Her Groove Back?” Well, I guess I could have titled this post appropriately as, “How Brie Got Her Happy Back.”

Remember how the Help Desk always tells you to turn off your computer, or to end your multiple programs? Well, when I cried out for help in life, God came back that I had too many tabs open. It was overwhelming. I wasn’t running at my full potential of joy because I was running too many irrelevant programs. I had to delete some cookies. Empty the trash.

I started with unplugging. I stopped running and got real quiet. Once I turned off my anxious mind and sought the Lord for what was important in life, I was able to hear His direction. I had to close some tabs. I had to evaluate what I could close out, and what I needed to keep open.

I decluttered not just my mind, but also my life. I stopped activities that weren’t building up my relationship with my family. That direct sales business that was consuming me? I let it go. All the clothes I had to wash? I gave them away. All the trinkets I had to dust? I sold them. The big house I couldn’t keep clean? I let it go. The busy tasks that I thought I needed to do to be a “good mom?” I stopped. The comparisons of myself to other women? I turned my eyes from others, and instead I sought the Lord.

“What do you want for my family, God?”

All the things I had thought were important, I realized they were not so much.

I asked myself, “is this ________ leading my children closer to the Lord? Is is glorifying Jesus? Is it building my witness? Is it built in love, and does it display God’s love to others?”

If the answer was “no,” then I re-evaluated if that was a tab I needed to keep open, or if it was bogging down my productivity.

If it was keeping me busy, but not making me fulfilled, I let it go. Y’all, you’ve never seen such a decluttering. Not only did I sell or give away furniture I had accumulated over a twenty year period, but I also trashed false ideas the enemy had planted in my mind over several decades. I let go of fear over things I couldn’t change, and I got rid of material possessions that took up my time and money. We re-evaluated how much we worked. If we downsized our life, couldn’t we also downsize our work week? The answer was yes. If we got a smaller home and less cars, couldn’t we gain more time together? Absolutely. If we dumped our full schedule and let go of our preconceived notions of how our life should look, we found a hidden treasure.

It was our happiness. Peace in simplicity. A feeling of fulfillment in simple pleasures. A healthy operating system that ran more smoothly with less windows open. The to-do list got chiseled down, and the moments of quiet increased. The problem is, we live in a society that celebrates busy! The fuller your plate, the more successful you must be. But we debunked that myth. We live in a world that says more is better, and then we wonder why our days at work drag like a slow internet connection, or our off days disappear like a hastily deleted file. I’ll tell you a secret. More isn’t better; it’s only overwhelming your system.

Running from one thing to another is typically something people brag about, but then they wonder why everyone in the family falls apart prior to bedtime. Wives and husbands are craving a date night because their schedules are too full for everyday moments together. Families are on countdown for vacation so they can escape the hectic pace of their life. Why is it this way?

When our systems break down either physically, emotionally, or mentally, we cry out to God, “why?!”

And He’s just shaking His head, “I told you to be still.”

Perhaps the cure for anxiety is letting go. Maybe the solution to financial worry is getting rid of the root of the problem. I’m saying that I think the secret to finding your happy is in the action of taking your eyes off the things that cause you stress. Everyone laments about their stressful life and full schedule, but how many are actually finding a solution? If you’ve got too many files open, close them out! If you’re holding on to problems you cannot change, people who cause you pain, and past hurts, then it’s time to delete the cookies. Empty the trash. Unplug. Give your system a break, and when you restart, I’d consider removing all the dangerous files.

I had to get to a point in life where I said, “is this impacting my eternity or my children’s salvation?”

No? Then I’m letting it go.

I asked, “does this have a kingdom impact? Is it glorifying God?”

No? Bye-bye.

And finally, “is it done it love?”

If it’s not done in love or showing His love, then I’m not really about it. I can be happy at my job, because I’m showing His love. I can be happy with less stuff, because I have all I need. Love. I can do less activities that keep me busy, and spend more time loving my family. For my husband and me, every day together is like a date night. When thoughts come to my mind that cause me anxiety or depression I’m immediately questioning, “but is this love.” God doesn’t give me thoughts that aren’t centered or from a place of His love for me. Even His conviction is from His love, but fear never is. When I clear my mind of the outside noise, I can more easily clear it of the inside noise. Interesting how that works.

So, how do you find your happy? By looking for it! It’s just not found where you think. It’s not found in a bigger house and fatter bank account. It’s not found in pay raises and job promotions. It’s not even found in a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth (sorry Mickey fans). Are you ready for it? Your happy is found right where you are. It’s right here. It’s directly in front of you and in your grasp. You just can’t see it for all the distractions. You’re running too many tabs all at once and holding on to files you should have gotten rid of long ago. If you’re crying out to the Help Desk, I can tell you already, they’re gonna ask if you’ve turned it off.

Restart. Reboot. End Program. Because you can only run on so much before you crash.

When Everyone Thinks You Will Fail

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“I’m gonna be honest,” he said. “I thought this was a really bad idea when you first brought it up.”

I wasn’t surprised. A lot of people had felt that way. People I loved, people whose opinion I valued. People who had a huge impact on my life, and people I desired to please. These were the people who had thought we were making a mistake, but I guess when God is leading you to something different, you have no choice but to go with it. You just hope they’ll come around.

Almost two years later, the majority of our family and friends had. They were truly happy for us as we led an unconventional life that went against the grain of everything that society told us was normal. They saw it in our eyes, our smiles, our very countenance. They saw how joyous we were after letting go of all the things that were supposed to make us happy in this world.

I know onlookers had stood agasp as we emptied our two story home of all its contents, sold our possessions for less than half of their worth, and locked the doors, turning our backs on what had once been considered our dream home. As I walked through it yesterday, footsteps echoing across the empty floor and radiating down the bare hall, I felt nothing. Once upon a time it had been bittersweet to say goodbye to our house, but that was before I truly discovered what made a home. I had only left the large house looming in my rear view because I knew God had something else in store. But yesterday, I didn’t look back as we pulled out of the long, shaded drive. I just left it behind.

Sometimes what lies ahead of you is far better than you could ever fathom. I’m glad we had believed that when the rest of the world looked at us like we were crazy.

I can still remember what it was like. I was happy. I was. But I was also tired. I was stressed out, sometimes depressed for no particular reason at all. I missed my husband, and I longed for him to really smile again. Something happens when you build a family, when you grow up. You enter into a place of anxiety and dread mixed with tiny moments of wonderful. You spend 75% of your life working to achieve that 25% of happy. You assume, “this is just the way it is,” as if working long hours, running errands on two wheels, drowning in debt, and burning the midnight oil is a part of the life you have built. Long hours at the table hammering Singapore Math equations into your eight year old. Was it like this for our parents?

Why can’t there be more of the happy? Is a quarter of joy really all you can get? You assume so.

We rush, we bustle about. We run here and there. We work, work, work. Birthday parties get bigger, Easter becomes like Christmas. The closets overflow. Time for another purge! If we pull a few more overtime shifts we can take vacation in June.

Sunday is an afterthought. Church is a place where you’re supposed to go. Gotta train up the kids right! God don’t mind if you miss for football, though. Hard to get any good news in your spirit since Sunday School is the only place you can find time for your Bible. But Monday is creeping up on you, the weekend is over, and back to the grind we go.

Gotta get new shoes, a brand that won’t cause your kid to get bullied, a style that will make them the envy of the other kids, the ones that will make you look like a good mom for buying them.

People thought we were crazy when we said, “let’s just get rid of it all!”

They thought we just meant the minivan with automatic doors and the ruffle dresses. They didn’t realize we meant the multiple car payments and dreaded mound of never-ending laundry too. They thought we were just selling the house. They never knew we were also refunding the false idea that a large living room made life good. We found out the whole world could be our backyard!

When we said we were going to travel the country in an RV, folks thought we were chasing a pipe dream, like the idea of it was more magical than the reality would entail. Some people even thought we would fail.

I get it! It’s hard to leave your comfort zone. It’s not easy to leave the way you’ve always known and embark on a future without answers. We took off with a tow vehicle we couldn’t yet afford, to pull a fifth wheel we didn’t yet own, to work a job that gave no promises of stability. We reserved a hotel we couldn’t keep paying for long term, and we carted everything we owned in suitcases and a handful of rubber-made totes. Gosh, we were a little crazy. But we were tired. So very tired.

You grow up thinking you need to obtain that Great American Dream, but when you finally do, you wonder where the joy went. It’s fragmented, kind of like your time, broken apart and unfairly divided amongst your many, overflowing responsibilities. We fall right into Satan’s plan, in student loan debt, working over in a job we hate, for a family we never see, and a vacation that will leave us exhausted. Well, dang.

My husband let another driver go first the other day. My spouse had the right of way. The other driver was very confused by my husband’s kindness and patience, and it took him a moment to pull forward and drive off. People are numb to the fast pace. They’ve become accustomed to road rage, anger management, horns honking, driving ten miles above the speed limit, and passing someone to gain a precious microsecond. That’s the way of the world. Everyone is in a hurry. But we decided we wanted to teach our children that servants don’t have a problem going last.

So, we let go of the ideas that more is better or that things like public opinion matter one iota when it comes to eternity and love. We live in 500 square feet, tiny compared to our previous floor plan, but man oh man, how our hearts have grown. For one another and others. We work less, play more. Our closets aren’t as full, but it wasn’t just designer jeans and boots we threw in plastic bags to give away; we got rid of the stress. We let go of worry, and instead we held tight to time together. We homeschool, we roadschool, we unschool the ideas of the world. We teach kindness, patience, even a little washing feet.

I think some of our friends and family worried how we would handle traveling somewhere new, holding a new job, living in new neighborhoods, away from the comfort of routine, the way things had always been. But I reckon sometimes you have to shake loose the dust of comfortable when it makes you complacent to living the life God has in mind for us all. He wants us focused on loving one another, taking the time to savor a sunset, throwing our hands up in surrender, saying, “your will, not mine.”

I guess that’s what we really did when we sold our stuff, packed up our family, and took off to travel in an RV. We just threw up our hands. We let go of what the world had said would make us happy. All of that was too stressful, too hard to maintain, too silly to sacrifice for mere scraps of happy. Why do we assume life must be a roller coaster? When do we admit all the dips and jerks are of our own design? We realized God didn’t have stress, struggling, and striving for us. He had thriving, not just surviving. He just wanted our love. The rest He would give us as needed, and I have to say that’s the best thing I’ve learned this past year. I don’t have to struggle for happy. He just gives. So I just need to receive.

People thought we were crazy, they thought we would fail, but we found that the really crazy part is how we used to live, tired and worn thin, hoping for a sliver of time together. We always felt we were failing at carving out a chunk of joy amidst all the chaos, but we realize now we only failed because we tried too hard at too much of nothing.

Maybe this all sounds like the musings of a crazy woman, but I’ve never felt more sane. We value time over treasure, we hold more highly the love we can bestow than the gifts we can get. What I mean is this. We just love Jesus and live life. We trust Him, we spend more time together than we spend money. We let go of fear and grabbed tightly to trust. We did this by selling all our stuff and moving into an RV, but I figure God can change hearts any which way He designs. For us, it took a drastic change to shift our mindset to what’s important in life, but maybe for someone else He can do it another way.

All I know is that most folks don’t think we’re crazy anymore. They think we’re onto something good. They see the experiences our children are having, seeing sights they never would before, meeting new people, and watching mom and dad trust the Lord for it all. They don’t think we’ll fall down or fail anymore. They realize that we’re actually living the dream. The legit dream. And it’s nothing like society has esteemed it to be. Nothing at all.

The Thing About Loving Your Spouse

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I love my husband. I do. It’s not that hard to love him, either. He’s a great guy. But that doesn’t mean he’s always easy to love. When he does something I don’t agree with, or when he gives me the silent treatment, well, at those times it’s not so easy to love him. I mean, I still do. That’s what unconditional love means. When he’s annoying or argumentative, I love him, but I sure don’t love the moment.

Have you ever heard someone say, “I love them, but I don’t know if I like them very much!”

It’s laughable, sure, and I can think of a time or two, in the heat of an argument, when I did not like my husband very much at that moment. Thankfully, those instances are so rare that I can hardly recall the last time he wasn’t easy to love, but it did get me to thinking about something I heard at church. If we’re supposed to love like Jesus then we have to try and like them too. Easier said than always done.

But then there’s this. I was praying for my husband this morning, and it always seems like when I’m in prayer for him, that’s when God tells me something good. There I was thanking the Lord for my relationship with my spouse and telling God how much I loved my spouse, when He impressed to me something I had not really thought of quite like this before.

He said, “I need you to love him for me.”

I got His meaning right away, but allow me to explain if you’re not following our private conversation. He meant that it’s my job to love my husband for Jesus. It’s my calling to love him like the Lord would do. In this life it can be hard to always intimately feel the love of the Lord. We can’t see it like we do love experienced here on earth between one another. I mean, God doesn’t leave me a love note to remind me He cares or send me a text message when He knows I’m having a bad day. He does leave me love notes, in His own wonderful way, like a lovely sunset on my way home, or that feeling of joy that can only be explained by the Holy Spirit, but still. At times it’s hard for us humans to always see His particular love letters around us, and in those times He counts on His children to deliver the message. Are you getting it?

In other words, God counted on me to show His love to my spouse. My husband’s Heavenly Father loves him in a way I never could, but it is my job as a wife to emulate that love as closely as I can. God blesses my husband in so many ways, but one of the ways is through me. I love my husband deeply, and that is my gift, but also the Lord’s gift to him. When I love my husband, I am following part of God’s will for my life! Have you ever thought of it that way?

It’s easy to love a stranger, the homeless man on the corner on your way home, your pastor, or even that child from Africa on those commercials on TV. You know God calls you to love those people, but we forget that God calls us to love our spouse also. We don’t just love them because we’re married and that’s how it is when you’re married! We don’t just love them because of a piece of paper, for the sake of our kids, or the nostalgic idea of some words we uttered before our friends and family at the altar. We love our spouses because that is what God calls us to do. It’s what He had in mind for us all along. It’s a huge part of the ministry calling He has on our lives! And here’s an important part. In those tough times when your spouse may feel distant from the Lord because of earthly circumstances, it’s you who can carry them the heart of Jesus. In this way, we are the ultimate hands and feet of Christ. He’s calling us to wash the feet of our spouse, even when it’s an especially dirty job.

We are called to love our spouse when it’s not always easy. Why?

Because Christ first loved us.

He loved us in a perfect love. He loved us in sin, when we were especially unlovable. He loved us when we doubted Him, denied Him, betrayed Him, and even when we crucified Him. We are Judas, and He loves us still. That, my friends, is how we are called to love our spouse.

When my husband sees me, he should see Jesus. When I love him, he should feel the heart of God. The Lord has filled me with His spirit, and when I love in that spirit, I am truly loving like He has commanded me to do. Marriage is more than just the union between a couple; it is the representation of the covenant promise between Jesus and the church, His bride, us. When I love my husband I show him a preview of love divine, a foreshadowing of eternity, a piece of what greatness awaits us in Heaven. Gosh, when you put it that way it makes you feel kinda bad for hastily muttered words under your breath, am I right?

God said, “I need you to love him for me.”

I love my husband, y’all. So, so much! But to imagine, to realize, to understand that my love is a representation of Christ. Wow, that makes me love him even more.

When God Took My Husband

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You know what’s hard to figure out at nineteen? Well, let’s be honest. A lot of things! But do you know one thing I especially couldn’t quite grasp yet? It was the fact that God had my best interest at heart, always and forever, and even when I couldn’t see it. I believe this more now than I did over twenty years ago, but I think most of us still forget it’s true. We forget His plans are to prosper us, or His ways are higher than ours. I mean, we hear this stuff over and over through the years. We even read it ourselves in the Bible, yet it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to think maybe that part is for someone else. That makes it hard to give God something you want to hold onto. It’s hard to hand over control of the things you hold really dear.

I found the man of my dreams about twenty-two years ago. He was handsome, but he was also kind. He was unique and talented, but also humble and personable. He was unlike any young man I had met before. He was slow to anger, but so quick to forgive. He loved me. And the best part? He loved me for me. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. In fact, never before had I felt more at ease and comfortable with someone of the opposite sex.

I was new at this comfortable kind of love. We didn’t fuss, and we didn’t have to try so hard to be happy. We just were. I also was new to another relationship at the time, and that was with Jesus. I mean, I had attended church for years, but it wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I understood there was a difference between religion and relationship. I was growing in a way spiritually I had never experienced before. I was finally able to understand the Father Heart of God and how His love for me could heal all my past hurts. I was studying the Bible, praying more, seeking God each day, and my beau fit in perfectly with it all. He was the one!

Yep, I said it. The One. Capital “O.” I felt like God told me so. I was new at this hearing God’s voice thing, but I understood it didn’t have to be a burning bush to be Him speaking to me. I was finding that I could hear Him through others, through the scriptures, but also through the quietness of my own heart seeking His will. I had witnessed His miracles, and I had found that when I followed through with the things His Spirit placed within me, He worked in mighty ways. He revealed things to me I would never know on my own. So many things. Naturally, when I felt Him impress to me that the young man described above would be my husband, I took Him at His word.

Have you ever lost something you loved? Something that you knew was right? I did. I watched my college sweetheart go away, and I felt my heart rip in two over that broken promise. I knew God had this man to be my husband. Even after we broke up I still felt like it was true. It was like the Lord had taken him from me, this one thing that made me so happy, and I couldn’t understand why He would do that. I couldn’t understand why we had to give up our relationship.

They say, in Christian circles, that you should willingly give over everything to God. They say He knows better than we do. They use words like “His timing,” or “everything happens for a reason.” Well, that doesn’t help a thing when you’re in the midst of loss. It’s hard to see God’s plan as it is, so never mind the difficulty when your vision is clouded by a veil of tears. I did not give my love life to God back then. I didn’t say, “whatever you say, Lord.” Instead I cried, I begged, I yelled, and I pleaded. I didn’t surrender my plans in favor of His; instead I became bitter and distant. What kind of God hurts the people He loves? Why even tell me this man was the one if he so obviously wasn’t?

The amazing thing to me is that even if you don’t give your life (or most precious possession) to God, He is still faithful. I didn’t hand my future husband to Jesus! He took him from me! But then He gave me now.

Twenty-two years later and I am married to the man of my dreams. It’s the man God told me I would marry. It just didn’t happen when I thought it would. I realize now that we weren’t ready. We were not the man and woman God needed us to be. We were distracting one another from the plans God had, and He had yet to refine us to the vessels He would need us to be for His kingdom purposes. At nineteen it’s hard to understand that your life has more purpose than just yourself. It’s hard to see the impact God wants to make through you for the world at large. Heck, it’s hard to always see that at twenty-nine, thirty-nine, and beyond. But I’ve discovered He always has kingdom purposes. You don’t have to be a minister or missionary to change the world for the better. If you impact positively even one life then you have served a purpose higher than yourself.

We were not the husband and wife we needed to be two decades ago. We were not the parents we would need to be to raise our amazing daughters. And while the Lord can work with any kind of mess, at any age, and at any time, His purposes for our lives together needed to ruminate. We needed to wait.

I am a better wife today than I was yesterday, but especially better than I would have been at twenty. The same goes for him. I appreciate my spouse. I have no problem being a humble wife and laying down a desire to always be right. I wasn’t always this way. He has grown in leaps and bounds also. I sometimes wonder, would we be as happy as we are now if things had gone differently? Would our life be just as amazing had we married at age twenty? Would I realize how wonderful, selfless, and truly loving my man is, or would I take him for granted? I don’t know. What I do know is that God’s timing is always perfect, His promises are always true, and His will extends beyond anything I could make happen. His way brings true, lasting happiness. I didn’t always realize this was so true.

I wish I could say I acted super spiritual when God took my husband from me. I wish I could tell you I got down on my knees and prayed, “thank you, Jesus, that your plans for me are so good. I completely trust you will bring him back to me better than before and bless our future together exponentially!”

I can’t tell you that because I did the exact opposite. I acted like any teenager would. I stormed off and slammed the door in my Father’s face. Sigh. I’m glad He didn’t let it go at that.

Despite our ability to follow God’s plan perfectly, He still lays the foundation. Despite our ability to trust, He is still faithful. Despite our ability to surrender, He still gives abundantly. I mean, doing it His way with a smile and knowing nod the first time would always be better, but seriously, how many of us have ears to hear?! The wonderful thing is that even when our faith flounders, He still loves us. He still blesses us. He takes, but then He gives back even more. I am blessed today because of yesterday, and now I try to always see my life with that mindset. If something falls apart, I anticipate how my Father will piece it back together, better than it ever was before.

In Marriage You Have a Choice

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In marriage you have a choice. You can see truth, or you can see lies. You can focus on self, or you can focus on another. You can choose to forgive, or you can choose to let your anger simmer and grow to a rolling boil. You have the choice to take offense, or to take a minute. You have the choice to see the good or to see the bad. Well, actually you can see both, but you choose which one to focus all your attention. You have the choice. Marriage is prochoice, I guess you could say, for men and women. You can choose to stay, or you can choose to go. You can choose to work on it, or you can choose to wave the white flag of defeat. You can choose forever, or you can choose forever if; forever if everything goes well. In marriage you have a choice.

My husband wears his feelings on his sleeves. I’m not saying he’s some blubbering crier or anything like that. I’m just saying that if he’s happy you know it, and if he’s not, you know that too. He doesn’t hide his emotions like some men do, or perhaps it’s just that he doesn’t hide them well. He isn’t always the epitome of openness, but I can read him like a book.

“What wrong,” I asked my sullen spouse.

“Nothing,” he quipped quickly, without making eye contact.

I sighed. I hated it when he was like this! Ugh. It drove me crazy.

His silence reigned. He looked on expressionless at the highway while he drove. Sheets of dreary water dripped down the windows, and the gray sky seemed to mirror his mood. Normally quite the conversationalist, in this particular state he could barely answer a simple question. Any comment sent his way would be likely answered by a single grunt, similar to how I imagined a caveman replying to his cavewife when she refused to be carried away by his club upon her head or swoon at his masculine, mastodon hunting skills.

I considered my options. I could try to draw him out. I had already asked what was wrong. He had replied nothing. I knew something was bothering him. He knew I knew. He didn’t want to talk about it.

I sighed loudly.

He pretended not to hear my exasperation.

Silence continued.

I could always stop talking, I thought. Yes, that might work. I could quit trying to joke with him. I could stop asking if there was anything I could do. I could just sit there beside him and not say a single solitary word.

We’ll see how he likes it?! Ha.

I mean, yeah, I knew I had a tendency to overthink things. It could be nothing. Nothing could be bothering him. It could have nothing to do with me. He might just have a headache. But even if he was having a bad day, wasn’t that allowed?

I pondered on my own idiosyncrasies. I thought of my occasional, hormonal outbursts, or how my mood could turn on a dime. I had a knack for worrying, and while I had certainly loosened the reigns of my control-freak persona, I still pulled out the crazy lady on occasion. I had bad days too. I had good days. But wasn’t that what life was? And wasn’t marriage the union of each other’s good and bad days, taking them as they came? Celebrating when it was warranted, but also mourning when it was due?

I had made my monastery vow of silence for maybe five or ten minutes, more likely eight, when I decided that was a dumb idea. I had a choice at that moment. I could fight fire with fire, or I could be an adult. I could stay angry, even though I knew not the details of my out-of-proportion wrath, or I could release my frustration. I could feed my offense, or I could offer grace. I could focus strictly on how the situation was affecting me, or I could look at my spouse and how I might give him grace. I could ignore my own faults, focusing intently on his, or I could realistically remember we all have them. I could take an inch, or I could give a mile. I could love unconditionally. Yes, that sounded nice.

I could realize that life wasn’t just about me. How was this situation bothering me? No. Perhaps consider how it was bothering him. Focus on why he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, or pray for him a solution? Stew in anger, or rest in love? I could remember he was human, like me, yet love him like Jesus did. Yes, that seemed like the right thing.

I reached out my hand and I took his. I didn’t say anything, and neither did he. I squeezed his hand anyway. I made a choice.

The moment passed, conversation picked back up, the storm cloud moved on by, the sun began to shine again, and laughter filled the air.

I never knew the cause of his quiet, the reason behind his silence. I don’t think you always need to. That would make it about me, make it about my desire to know. He was who he was, how he was, and so was I. There was so much good in him, it certainly overshadowed the occasional bad. I loved every part; that was my calling as his wife. I had chosen to commit my life to loving all the pieces, and each day I chose to keep on doing that. Even the most happy marriages aren’t perfect, but we can choose to love beyond that.

We can choose to take offense at every turn, or we can model grace. We can take a splinter of anger and build it into a fence, or we can sweep insignificant sawdust away from our heart. We can remove the plank of offense from our own eye, and we can utilize it better as a bridge to bind us. We can love our spouse like Christ loves the church (which is us, by the way). Satan desires nothing better than to stir marital discord. It’s his voice that whispers in the cracks of a silly argument, building self-righteous anger when it’s not necessary. The devil will show you the faults of your spouse. The Holy Spirit will show you your own. We have the choice of who we will listen to the most.

You have a choice in marriage. You can choose to build fences, or you can choose to build a bridge. You can choose to make yourself the centerpiece of the relationship, or you can choose for Christ to rest there. You can choose to pick apart every action of your spouse, or you can help them pick up the pieces. You can choose to hold a grudge, placing a wedge between you, or you can choose to forgive. When you get married you make the choice to love your spouse, but each day thereafter you must choose the same. Marriage is a daily choice of saying “I do.”

I do promise to love you. I do promise to see your efforts, to hold you when you are weak, to value you above myself, to love you when it’s not easy. I do.

In life you have a choice, and in marriage you have a choice each day. The only question is, what will you choose?

How Do You Measure Success?

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When I was a young woman I longed to finish college so I could finally obtain a high paying job that could give me financial security. As a college student I waited tables to make ends meet, but they hardly ever came together. I scraped by, counting change for gas, begging the phone company to give me another week and not turn my landline off. The difficulties of working full-time while attending college full-time are what eventually convinced me to join the military. They offered a dependable income, free housing, and a chance to travel. Sounded good to me. I can still remember gazing at martini stir sticks with glass fish at the top in a Pier One magazine, and thinking that once I got settled into the military I could afford finer things. Yep, I gazed at grownup bobbles yearning to possess them. It was how I measured success.

To not scrimp and save, yet never get ahead.

To own a home! A two-story, white colonial with navy blue shutters.

That was the measure of success.

Designer clothing. To be able to shop upscale, not WalMart clearance rack.

I wanted a car that was dependable, one I didn’t constantly worry about breaking down.

That was the measure of success.

A saving’s account that I never had to dip into.

Taking two week vacations where you got on an airplane and flew somewhere exotic. Not the back of your parent’s stale minivan for eight hours.

That was the measure of success.

You hear people brag about their children getting into Harvard.

Mothers brag about their son’s promotion. He’ll have to travel more for work now, but they can also get the bigger house.

This is a measure of success.

Career advancement, more pay, a bigger home.

Monogrammed dresses for the daughters. Shiny, new toys for the boys.

This is a measure of success.

Winters at Disney. Summers in the mountains.

Good grades, awards at the end of the year banquet.

A perfectly manicured lawn to match perfectly manicured nails.

This is a measure of success.

I’m not sure when the shift began in me. Somewhere along the way the two story house didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.

My husband’s promotion only meant he was never home.

All the monogrammed ruffles filled the never ending pile of laundry.

Dust collected quickly on the never-used, glass martini sticks. Still can’t believe I bought them. I don’t like martinis.

Vacations ended too quickly. Time never seemed to be enough. As I cried out “hurry” I glimpsed the strained looks on my daughters’ faces. At some point I realized their happy smiles were my true measuring stick.

Success came in musical laughter or a relaxing evening on the couch with my husband. It came not in the size of our saving’s account, but in the size of our bank of happy memories. True happiness was found in filling that bank, and measuring success by any other avenue seemed like a passing folly.

The big house would fall down, the money would be spent, the clothes outgrown, and the babbles easily broken. Why measure success in things that tarnish?

Somewhere along the way I realized it was my middle child’s loving heart that made me proud. She couldn’t pronounce the letter “L,” but she could brighter a stranger’s day with her smile.

At some point I let go of what everyone else thought of me, or how they measured my success. I no longer cared to impress The Joneses, to put on false airs, pose with my good side, or do what looked good over what felt good.

Success wasn’t measured by outward appearances. It was measured by the inside and what poured out.

I began to realize that success was measured by a happy marriage, smiling children, and a thriving family unit.

Success was measured by watching my husband help a stranger, or by an elderly neighbor bragging on my daughters’ kindness.

Success was measured by the photos I looked at later after a really fun day, or by my eldest daughter exclaiming, “this was the best day ever!”

My greatest success was felt when my child thought to pray for answers first, rather than fretting about her problem.

I measured success by listening to my middle child stop us all from eating and proclaim, “let’s not forget to say grace.”

I measured success by watching my children grow closer to Jesus, or by my own victory over anxiety and fear.

I now measured success by my ability to let go of all the things I once thought I must obtain to make me happy, and by being able to rest content in the joy of the life God had for me all along.

Now I measured success in goodnight kisses and bedtime prayers with my girls. I measured it by the adoring look my spouse gave me at the end of the day, and by the feeling of tremendous love I felt for him when I looked back into his deep brown eyes.

I finally realized that success shouldn’t be measured by what we do for a living as much as how we treat people. It shouldn’t be measured by how many possessions we have, but rather by how many hands we hold. It shouldn’t be measured by what all we have, but rather by what we give away. It shouldn’t be measured in dollar signs; it should be measured in friends. It shouldn’t be measured by our achievements, but instead be measured in how we love.

So, how do we measure success each day? Is it measured by getting to work on time, or is it measured by the patience you gave on the way there? Is it measured by performance, or is it measured by lives touched along the way? Is it measured by bank balances or smiles from our children? Is it measured by fancy cars or musical laughter? Big homes or happy spouses? I’m not saying you can’t have both. You can. But never forfeit one for the other. And never forget that true happiness is the best gauge of all. True joy is measured by having nothing, yet still feeling like you have it all.

So, I suppose I now measure success in units of joy. The joy I’m getting, but also the joy I’m giving away. All the rest is just extra credit.