Why I don't worship with my hands in the air (but I'm working on it)
I have trouble letting go in public. Even in my home church, where the pews are filled with people I genuinely love, I struggle to raise my hands or shout. Mostly because I am too self-aware.
Plus, my brain is not right. It races with the intensity of a ricocheting squirrel on caffeine, so if I do get especially into a moment or a song, and my hands shoot into the air at church, I snap right back into crazy-brain mode right away.
Big God, Little Me
Today I spent most of my morning helping a little girl strip a superhero of his manhood. I watched as she diapered, fed and burped a large, plastic, walking-talking Iron Man.
Prayers from the Basement
I have to picture the world and the surrounding cosmos and force my brain to wrap around the vast greatness of the God who listens as I whine about the frustrations of my day. Not because I don't think God wants to hear me, but because I think that He must, surely He must, sometimes want to roll His eyes and say, "MAN UP."
When I was a judgmental Christian
When children gather together to fellowship in the house of God, things can get a little crazy. Kids reveal a beautiful side of church and family that is often squelched in the seasoned etiquette of many lifelong church members–humanity.
All of my surface concern about everything everyone else was doing, was actually just a deep fear that I wasn't good enough for God myself. If everyone else did it wrong, and I did it right--well, then I was safe.
Oreo Covered Faces: Fulfillment Here on Earth
Each position is also full of questions, fears, and guilt trips. Wars break out and motherhood becomes a battlefield over personal choices and the fight to prove just who has it the hardest.
My question is why are we are always trying to prove we have it so rough?
Fate: A love story about God's mighty plan
Until the day we stand before Christ, we will never fully know who we really are. When we look into the face of our Creator is when we finally understand that who we are is nothing more than HIS.
God’s plan in action—fate, destiny—we dip our toes into footsteps we were already meant to walk in. That hair raising thing that happens when you look back and see life’s turns that, if missed, would have altered life as you know it.
The Drunken Baby Stage
Motivation is just not the take charge kind of guy I thought he was. I constantly wait dinner on him and he never shows up. I am pretty sure he is cheating on me with the super mom next door, because I saw her the other day sweeping her driveway.
SWEEPING HER DRIVEWAY? Suspicious. Motivation had to be over there somewhere.
For the Discouraged
Oh I am not graceful, and I never will be--which is why I am so thankful for His grace that covers me. Let me tell you friends, if you often feel like you are mud on holy boots, I can totally relate.
Caterpillar Funerals and Thankfulness
So my point is that none of us are actually capable of fixing each other, but what we are capable of doing, and without a doubt what we are called to do--is point each other to the one who is capable.
My blessed floors
Those two lived on for a while until Logan took them outside to play, and they made a break for it. I was happy for them. When my kids drug these little critters around, it always made me think about how thankful I am that God didn't make me a bug.
This thought process kind of put me on a whole new path of thankfulness when I really started thinking about it.
All the horror the world is facing as this comfortably seated and well-dressed newscaster shares her thoughts on a situation none of us will likely ever understand.
And I just keep scrubbing my blessed floors.
Where is my place in the plight of His creation? I keep asking.