I got up this morning, made a pot of coffee, like usual, and then opened our sliding glass door to check the weather. Had it been April, it would have been the perfect day. But it's not. It's December. It's Florida. So, to no one's surprise, it felt like Spring more than Winter. That changed quickly.
By early afternoon, the clouds started to roll in, and by the two o'clock hour it looked like evening. There was lightning, thunder, and pouring rain. Miss G was terrified of the thunder ... to the point she got to take a nap in mommy and daddy's big bed.
With both of my girls sleeping, I listened to the peacefulness of the down pour. I sat in my make shift office, also known as the dining room table -- lap top open, brain swirling with ideas, and basking in the glow of the Christmas tree. I looked at the ornaments on my tree for inspiration on which Christmas song to write about today.
I spent twenty minutes or longer snapping pics of snowmen, santas, and glittery pretties hung on my tree. I had nothing. Looking out the front window, I saw the candles in the window sill. So peaceful. So silent. So pretty. Such a beautiful display of light and hope against the backdrop of the rain falling from the gloomy, December sky. My mind instantly went to that first Christmas night - when the Light of the World was born in a manger. A silent night. A holy night. Perfect.
As cliche as it may sound, Christmas really is all about family. At least in my household it is. Growing up, holidays were always a big deal for us. Christmas, Thanksgiving, 4th of July, Easter, Mothers' & Fathers' Day ... even birthdays were big celebrations. Since my siblings and I have been adults, and they have both moved to other parts of the country, holidays just aren't the same. If my brother makes it home, my sister can't, and vice versa. As disappointing as it is, it's just life. Thankfully, we've never missed a Christmas together in all the years that we've been a family of five.
A couple of years ago, my brother wasn't going to make it home for Christmas. The job he was working at the time sucked, and he was scheduled to work December 23 and December 26. Driving 15 hours round trip just didn't seem worth it only to be home for a few hours more than that. Not to mention, his little Honda Civic probably wouldn't have made the drive. My sister had flown in a few days before Christmas. We picked her up at the Jacksonville airport and she stayed with us until Christmas Eve, when we all piled into our little car and drove out to my parents' house.
We got there early afternoon, unpacked and got busy helping Mom put the final touches on Christmas. Then Miles, their little puggle dog, started barking. And he barked some more. And he barked some more. My mom said, "I think somebody's here." I went to the front door and saw my sister's car. It took me a minute to process, but there he was ... my little brother, all packed up in my sister's Yaris, standing in mom and dad's front yard. I remember becoming completely overwhelmed with emotion when I saw him. Throwing my arms around his neck, I choked back the tears. And in good little brother fashion, he made fun of me. Boys ... they never grow up.
As a kid, I'll Be Home for Christmas was just another song. It didn't have much meaning to me ... nothing more than a pretty tune. As an adult, it's become very personal. This year we will all be together, as we've always been. There's nothing more special then waking up Christmas morning to a house full of people, lights twinkling on the tree, and the smell of turkey cooking in the oven. I can't wait.
My little brother is a drummer. Every time I hear today's song of the season, I think about him. When I hear this song, I imagine him with a snare and two sticks in his hands. I don't picture the almost 25 year old man he has grown into with gauged ears and tattooed skin. I picture him as the little boy that I grew up with ... curly blonde hair and as bashful as they come. Quiet. Polite. Humble. He's still all those things.
The Little Drummer Boy isn't a traditional Christmas hymn, but it's a classic. I love the child like depiction it paints of that first Christmas night. What an honor it would be to play music for the King of all kings. Or to have the baby Jesus smile at you with a big, toothless, newborn grin. Precious. I hope that as you listen, you will envision that holy scene through the eyes of a child.
If I'm being honest, O Little Town of Bethlehem has never been one of my favorites. A classic? Yes. One we sing every year at Christmas Eve service? Yes. But it's never been a Christmas carol to really excite me. Until this year.
This picture you see, is an ornament on my mom and dad's tree. When I look at it, I see peace, rest, tranquility, stillness. When I think of the town of Bethlehem the night that Christ was born, the same adjectives come to mind - peace, rest, tranquility, stillness. While child birth is anything but those things, I can only imagine that on that very first Christmas night, there was a hush over that humble little town. A hush that can still be heard in the glow of a lit up tree. Or in the peacefulness of a new blanket of snow.
This time of year is chaotic for most of us with shopping, family, church functions, Christmas parades, baking, etc. all begging for our attention. I hope that as you fulfill all the obligations that are demanded of you over the next three weeks, that you will take time to listen for that hush.
You may remember my series from last year - Songs of the Season. Well, it's December and that means it's back!
Yes, I realize I'm a couple of days behind, but life happened. I spent the weekend at my parents' house helping them paint and organize. After inhaling fumes, climbing up and down a ladder, and entertaining a two year old in between rolling and brushing, by the time Saturday night rolled around I was completely exhausted and blogging was not happening. Kicking off December 1 with this year's Songs of the Season series was the plan. But as anyone in the blog world will tell you, plans are made to be canceled.
I did a Songs of the Season series last year. It was straight forward -- a blurp, a picture, a song all on a daily basis. This year will be a tad different. Not only will I post a different song every day -- hopefully -- but I will use a picture of an ornament from my tree (or my parents' tree) that represents each Christmasy tune. I hope you will join me every day from here until the end of the year for a musical slice of seasonal cheer. And yes, I do realize how cheesy that last sentence was.
Away In A Manger is a classic. Growing up, I sang in the choir at church. Every year, alongside two of my good friends, I would join in singing a trio of this Christmas hymn. We normally sang all three verses in unison, except for that one year. That year, we decided to each take a verse of our own. In theory, it sounded like a fabulous idea. In reality ... not so much. I froze. I was in the front of the church, robed in proper choir attire, mic in front of my face, and the words would just not come out. Silence. I vowed, at that moment, to never volunteer my vocal abilities (or lack thereof) for a solo again. All that being said, thank God there are people on the planet who can sing Away In A Manger by themselves ... people like Anne Murray. And in my book, her rendition is one of the best.
A year ago today, the world lost an amazing woman. I didn't know her really well, but what I did know, I loved.
A mother. A wife. A teacher. A Believer.
Mrs. Janet was the person who makes you feel comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. The person who makes you feel at home when you're hundreds of miles from home. The person who completely brightens up a room with their smile.
I wrote the following two posts last year - one in her honor, one in her memory. As I sat at my computer last night rereading both of them, it took me back to last summer. If you've read any of my older posts, you know that Mr. M and I went through a really bad time at the beginning of 2011 and almost parted ways for good. After we reconciled, I remember my sister telling me that upon learning the news, Mrs. Janet told her, "Ya know, I knew they weren't over...I knew they'd work it out." That conversation has stuck with me. As I read the closing two paragraphs of Raindrops, I was reminded that the beginning of the end of her journey on Earth began on August 30, 2011. It was then, that she was rushed to the hospital following a seizure. The significance? Exactly one year later on August 30, 2012, Mr. M and I were also rushing to a hospital, but to welcome the birth of our second little girl.
After reading all of this last night, my mind went back to the conversation with my sister. It's amazing how the Lord works ... even in simple, seemingly unimportant ways. His hand is in everything -- the good; the painful; the heartbreaking. Mrs. Janet is missed, but I know she is in a better place. She's found peace. She's found healing. She's found rest.
Earlier this week I actually took the time to scribble down some blog
ideas that came to mind. I organized them by date...up to the 15th of
November - yes, I believe that does make me borderline OCD. Possibly
not borderline...maybe just a full blown case of OCD. My schedule
wasn't etched in stone, but it's a decent compilation of ideas in case
my brain decides to be tired one afternoon. I have my helpful list of
topics in front of me: October 26 - Cooking Club of America. October 27 - Couponing. If you read yesterday's post, you know that A Borrowed Blog
had absolutely nothing to do with the Cooking Club of America, and if
you continue to read, you'll find that today's content isn't remotely
close to couponing. I'm sure you're gravely disappointed. I'll make it
up to you.
Nutmeg and B in Kentucky.
My sister, Nutmeg (it's a nickname, not her real name),
lives in Tennessee. Well...before I go any further, let me first back
up and school you in how that came about. My sister and I went to
college together - we were roommates, believe it or not. We always
shared a room growing up, so it just seemed normal to live in the same
room once we moved out. We did the dorm life thing for three years
until we moved into our first apartment. We were both working full time
as preschool teachers, and could afford to live somewhere off campus.
So, we found a place within walking distance of school and work, and
moved in. It was a two-bedroom, second floor duplex on Winfree Street.
It was old, and drafty with no dishwasher, and only a window unit air
conditioning -- anyone in Florida knows window units and the summer heat
just weren't made for each other. God bless the inventor of fans! Our
apartment had the original hard wood floors, arched door ways, and the
windows were white, wooden paned. Living there, was the first time in
our entire lives that we had separate bedrooms. Adjustment. But it was
a good adjustment.
She [my sister] started dating this guy - B. He was in a band. I
didn't like him. There was something that just rubbed me the wrong
way. Come to find out, me and him have much of the same personality
traits, which is probably why we bumped heads. Things are copacetic
now, but it was a long time coming. He's a great guy, and he's good to
my sister. So, I can't ask for much more than that. Back to what I was
saying...they dated for awhile, but eventually broke up when he decided
to move back home to Tennessee. In the months following, a lot of
changes happened. I got married, our positions at the preschool both
came to an end, and our cozy Winfree apartment was soon traded in for a
much nicer place that could accommodate the two of us plus my new
groom. It wasn't but two months after M and I got married, that Nutmeg
was offered a full time nanny position with a family we had taught in
the preschool. The only catch? It was in Kentucky. She soon moved,
and life was way different - for me and her. If you know anything about
geography, you'll know that Kentucky and Tennessee are neighboring
states...the ex-boyfriend had now morphed into best friend, and Nutmeg
was quickly adopted into the family. This proved to be an even bigger
blessing, when the nanny position ended, and she was offered a corporate
position in TN just a few months later.
Muff Muff the cat.
B's family was her family - a home away from home. He
lived at home with his parents, two brothers, Muff-Muff the cat, and
Patches - a smelly little dog that no one seemed to like. Strangely,
when I visited, I really bonded with the smelly dog...not sure what
that's saying about me. Poor Patches. Back to the story...B and Nutmeg
eventually went from best friends back to an item. She got along
really well with B's entire family, but she had a unique connection with
B's mom...almost like kindred spirits if you will.
Over the past two years, I've heard story after story about the
mother-daughter relationship they have formed...they have coffee
together, go to movies, go shopping, cook together, talk - everything a
mother-daughter would do. I don't think I've ever told Nutmeg, but I've
always counted it as a blessing for her to have a bond like that with
B's mom. Before she moved, me and Nutmeg were always together, and not
having that in-person, day-to-day, sisterly connection has been hard at
times. But, I've found comfort for her knowing that she's got someone
there.
In May 2010, things changed. B's mom was diagnosed with a rare brain
tumor. They did her first surgery a month after being diagnosed - most
of her symptoms slowly subsided, and life got back to normal. Then
there were seizures, and another surgery followed in December of last
year. She wasn't back to 100%, but through many prayers of loved ones
and strangers alike, she was on the road to recovery. Out of nowhere on
August 30 of this year, I get a text from my sister saying that they
had just rushed B's mom to the hospital following another seizure. At
first, they thought it was a side effect of the medicine she was on.
They ran tests - the tumor was back. This time, inoperable. According
to doctors, there's about a month left.
I've met B's mom once, and felt like I had known her forever.
Absolutely one of the most loving, giving, carefree people I've ever
met. Genuine. After my sister gave me the news today, I was pretty
much left speechless. Completely in shock. My heart sank to my
stomach. I don't understand it. Suddenly, the Cooking Club of America
and couponing didn't seem important at all. Perspective. I sat
in my office - alone - thinking, praying, listening. A song came on the
radio - the words seemed so appropriate...
'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights is what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life, are Your mercies in disguise?
At the end of October, just a few short days before I started my series on A Month of Thanks,
I wrote a post about my sister and her Mom away from home. If you
missed that post, it's best that you go read it now, so that you're
caught up. It's called Raindrops.
Last Wednesday, Mr. M, G & I, along with my parents piled into a van
and drove to Tennessee for Thanksgiving. It's always draining to
squeeze six adults, a two year old, a dog and two cats in a small space
for five days. There are moments where I know we were all thinking,
"man, I can't wait until this vacation is over". There had been
bickering and arguing, and one pretty nasty blow up between my sister
and I. That confrontation happened on Saturday afternoon and pretty
much left us with awkward tension for the rest of the evening. The
tension and semi-silent treatment bled into the next morning. As a
family, we all decided to head to the Chattanooga Market and make the
best out of the rainy Sunday afternoon. We did. My sister and I had
made conversation, but things still weren't right. Then the phone call
came. It was B - my sis's boyfriend. His mom passed away that morning
at about 8:00am. I could hear the tears in Nutmeg's voice. Before she
even hung up the phone, I knew what had happened. There we sat...all
seven of us...at a stop light. Silence filled the air. I was stricken
with guilt for acting so foolish the night before - arguing over
something petty, when there were such bigger, more serious problems in
the world - in the world very close to me.
She [B's mom] passed exactly a month after I wrote Raindrops.
Many people prayed for her and for her family. Everyone wanted her to
be healed. She has received healing now - perfect healing. I know
without a doubt, that she is with our Savior. No more pain. No more
tears. No more fear. I don't understand why she is gone. She was so
full of life, and had so much love to share. She'll never see her
grandchildren. She'll never see Nutmeg and B get married one day. Or
see B finish college. I know God has His reasons - reasons we can't
understand. But it seems so unfair in so many ways.
The Tennessee rain continued to fall through Sunday night and into
Monday. It was cold, and there was such a solemn spirit in the air.
After saying our goodbyes to Nutmeg and my little brother, we packed in
the car and were on our way. It was cold and it was raining. During
the ten hour drive from Chattanooga back to Florida, the only thing on
my mind was the family behind Raindrops.
We stopped at a McDonald's for coffee...a song was on the radio, and it
took everything inside of me to choke back the tears. I don't even know
why. The song really didn't relate to the situation at hand, but I
couldn't wait for it to be over. Maybe it was the rain, the bitter
cold, or just the thought of losing someone you love so close to
Christmas. Maybe it's seeing first hand how short life really is.
Maybe it is the reality that others carry heavy burdens on a daily
basis, and most of us are too wrapped up in our miniscule problems to
even notice. Maybe it was all of it. I really don't know. Her
services are tomorrow. She will be missed, but she is in a much better
place.
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more
death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has
passed away." ~Revelation 21:4
Today is Thanksgiving Eve. It's been a beautiful November day here in Florida ... sunny, mid-70's and breezy. Both my little ladies are napping, Food Network is on in the background and there's a fat orange cat sitting behind my head on the sofa. It's been a quiet day, but a busy week.
Last night, once the babies were in bed, I pulled out my laptop and started thinking about this place ... this place as in my blog. Since this is my first November post (pathetic, I know) and the day before Thanksgiving, I wanted something good to write about. Instead of coming here, I ended up where most good internet fanatics do -- Facebook. I scrolled my home page looking for something interesting to read. Not much there other than gossip and talk of turkey. I logged out ... closed the lap top ... and just sat staring at the Christmas tree. Appropriately, I started thinking about my blessings - the big ones like family, health, faith, good friends, and so on. And I thought why, at Thanksgiving, do we only talk about our thankfulness for family and friends? We should be doing that every day. Yes, I know, most of you are thankful and you probably even thank the Lord for your family at some point on a daily basis, but we seem to always talk about the same thing(s) every year. I sound heartless ... I'm aware of that ... and I'm not making light of family because I have the best family there is. But, instead of talking about the BIG things, I've decided I want to talk about the LITTLE things that make day to day life enjoyable. It's a small list (no pun intended), and I hope it inspires you to think about all the little things you're thankful for this year.
Coffee. Whether I'm up at 6:00 A.M. or my children let me sleep past 9:30, Folgers makes my mornings a little more enjoyable.
Christmas Lights.
Lotion. Weird, I know. But have your hands ever felt super dried out and craving moisture, yet you don't have any lotion on you? Once you finally have some in your grasp, don't you feel about thirty times better? You know what I'm talking about ... don't act like you don't.
Ceiling Fans.
Light Bulbs.
Chap Stick. This ties in to what I said about lotion ... but for your lips.
Netflix.
Toilet Paper.
Mascara. Those of us who are natural blondes with blonde eyelashes are extra thankful for this.
Chocolate.
Forks. Imagine everyone at your table tomorrow trying to eat cranberry sauce with their fingers. Did you picture it? Not pretty, huh? Aren't you thankful for forks?
Clorox Wipes.
Dishwashers.
Tooth Paste.
Baby Monitors. I honestly don't know how my generations' parents survived without these things. If I didn't have one, I'd never get any sleep at night due to sitting up worrying about my children.
And finally, Hot Showers at the end of a tiring day ... so relaxing.
There are dozens and dozens of things that I'm thankful for ... not just at Thanksgiving, but every day of the year. And I hope that tomorrow, when you're sitting around with Granny and Gramps listening to stories that you've heard forty-two times ... or having to suffer through awkward conversations with your Uncle Larry ... or entertaining your cousins who get on your nerves, that you will remember all the things you are thankful for - BIG and SMALL.
Count your blessings, and have a safe & very happy Thanksgiving!
On August 30, I gave birth to a beautiful seven pound, two ounce little girl - making me a mother for the second time. She weighed exactly the same amount as her big sister, had short little chubby legs, and a receding line of dark, straight hair. With a slightly stronger favor to Mr. M's side of the family, she was still a perfect blend of the two of us. She's got her momma's long piano-playing fingers and her daddy's temper when she's hungry. Like her big sister, she's beautiful.
Miss Em.
Having an almost three year old in the house, I've gotten used to a world full of sippy cups, dress up, and toddler rebellion. Now, out of what seems like nowhere, my world has been saturated with bottles, early morning feedings, and teeny tiny poopy diapers -- on top of the sippy cups, dress up, and toddler rebellion. I've forgotten what it's like to have a newborn around. It's amazing how tired one eight-pound human can make you. Although, Miss Em is a good eater and a pretty good sleeper, the kid still wears me out. Between her and Miss G, I can't seem to synchronize a napping schedule, an awake time schedule, a feeding schedule, or any other kind of schedule for that matter -- hence the reason this is the first time I've posted in nearly two months.
I sit here now, in the dark, with just the glow of the TV, my laptop, and my thoughts. It's quiet, other than the hum of the fan and the occasional mumble of the nearly muted television. Miss Em is sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, while I can see Miss G on the baby monitor snuggled and snoozing away in her big girl bed.
Having another little human in our midst has been an adjustment. Trying to balance house hold chores with one child was difficult enough ... but now, it takes double the effort. I'm lucky to get basic things like dishes, trash, laundry, and dinner taken care of on most days. I've also learned that things like brushing your teeth, washing your face, and applying deodorant quickly become luxuries rather than a part of daily personal hygiene. But, you deal with it ... even if your deodorant doesn't go on until 2:00pm and your face doesn't get washed at all that day.
My little ladies.
I was also quickly made aware of the fact that there is no such thing as being in a rush when you have two children. You can try to rush all you want, but chances are it will do you little to no good. Between making sure everyone is fed, fussing over what the two-year-old will wear, packing a diaper bag, and dressing ourselves, it takes me and Mr. M a full two hours to get completely ready to go anywhere. Thankfully, we've been no where that had a set appointment time very often other than church, and miraculously, we've made it there on time every Sunday.
Becoming a mommy this time was different than the first time around for sure. The new mommy fears aren't there like they are with your first child. You recognize what cry means what much sooner. Breast feeding is easier. You can change a diaper in your sleep if need be. And you learn to take multitasking to an entirely different level ... I'm talking a baby in your arms, a toddler at your feet, the phone being held by your shoulder, and dinner being cooked -- all of this done with poise and grace, of course. Ha!
It's been a crazy eight weeks, but we're all settling in to our new life together quite nicely. Sometimes I still can't believe I have one child, let alone two. It feels surreal on some days. Other days it just feels tiring. But without a doubt, every day with my little ladies is a day I wouldn't trade for the world.
Well, that's how the saying goes anyway ... sort of. At least the April and May portion of it - the July was my own twist, although I started writing this in May. Then I was determined to finish it in June. And before I knew it ... it was July. Oy. Anyway, I know you've all heard the phrase "April showers bring May flowers" -- it's a pretty literal statement in that if it rains a lot in April, by the month of May the Earth should be in full bloom. Right? It does make sense, and in Florida we usually get our share of Spring showers followed by early Summer flowers. But this past April gave me a new perspective on this classic rhyme.
April started like any other month, but I knew from the get go it was going to be busy. Every weekend was booked. There was Easter the first weekend, followed by Mr. M being on call the next weekend. Then came the dreaded glucose tolerance test that every pregnant woman must endure - fasting sucks, especially at 7:00a.m. on a Saturday. The following weekend was to be a wedding of a childhood friend, and we would end the month by taking a mini-vacation to The Florida Aquarium -- just Mr. M, Miss G, and yours truly.
My, how life changes things.
It was a Tuesday, and it had just been one of those days. A day that just sucked. It was April 17 to be exact ... not sure why I remember the date, I just do. We had just put G down for the night and I was about to burn the last cell of my energy on showering before I completely collapsed. But I heard Mr. M on the phone in the other room, so I waited to see who he was talking too. It was his on-call week at work -- now that the weather has warmed up, his on call weeks are always busy with A/C's not working, or they're low on freon, something. So, I figured if he had to leave for a call, I'd wait until he was gone before I showered, so I'd at least know what was going on.
He entered the bedroom.
"Do you have to go?" I asked.
"What? No, that was your mom," he responded.
"Oh. My mom? Why'd she call you?"
With a look of seriousness he said, "Now just know that everything is alright, but..." You almost always know when the word but proceeds the phrase 'everything is alright', that everything most likely isn't alright. He continued, "...they took your Dad to the hospital with chest pains. They're at the VA."
I'm not sure where the conversation went after that. It's a blur. I felt the hot tears hit my eyes, my cheeks, then the bedspread. I reached for my phone to send out a text to all of my praying friends and family. I don't even remember what I said. I could barely see the keys through my tears, but I hit send and I know prayers went up immediately.
I think I sobbed for a good hour ... I just couldn't control it. When I finally calmed down, I texted Nutmeg (my sister) to see if she had talked to Mom. "About what?" was her response. I knew by that response that my mom hadn't spoken to her. I told Mr. M he had to call her, because I couldn't. I'd be a wreck on the phone. He did, and she had about the same response that I did. Poor Mr. M -- the bearer of not-so-good news that night.
Fast forward.
After running tests, they found that Dad had blockage in three valves. It wasn't major blockage and he hadn't suffered a heart attack, which was great news; but when it comes to your heart, blockage is blockage. Eight days later, Dad had triple bypass surgery.
Bypass surgery seems to be a common procedure these days. I know dozens of people who have had it and gone on to live long, healthy lives. I knew from the time we got the news that my Dad would come through okay, but it's still different when it's your Dad and not Mr. Smith from church or your Great Aunt Lucille. It's your Dad ... your Dad. The very first man you ever fell in love with. The one who made scraped knees and busted elbows all better with just a hug and kiss. The one who gave you away at your wedding. The one, who from the time you're a little kid, you expect to live forever. Your Dad. He was facing the reality of having open heart surgery and a long recovery, while I was dealing with the reality that he isn't as young as he used to be. That he is mortal. That he's not untouchable from the scars of sickness and disease.
That ... is a really hard pill to swallow.
Nutmeg & Dad.
The morning of, my sister and I arrived at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. It was early. We hung out with Dad until they took him back to pre-op -- where we were forbidden to enter. After a short prayer, hugs & kisses, and everyone doing their best to hold it together, they took Dad back. What was supposed to be about a four hour surgery, seemingly stretched into a lengthy nine hour operation. We saw so many people come and go in the waiting room that day. Family groups, lonely spouses, pastors, friends and loved ones. The list goes on. By the time Dad was out of surgery, we had spent over fifteen hours at the hospital, and I think all of us had grown to hate waiting rooms.
Dad's surgery was on April 25. Exactly a month later, after ample physical therapy, a week in rehab, a shock treatment, countless sleepless nights in uncomfortable hospital beds, and lots of prayer, Dad was discharged and homeward bound. Praise God. It was Memorial Day weekend. We celebrated with a picnic in the country -- southern fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans and coleslaw.
He's been home for almost two months now. I see him about once a week -- he's getting back to normal slowly but surely. God has been good to him ... to our family. One day at a time, one prayer at a time. Amen.
This is one of those songs that I heard over and over and over again ... it was just a melody. I never paid attention to the words until one morning. I was driving to work, and I heard, "...and I might let you bend, but I won't let you break..." Whoa. When you're having a morning where you're feeling completely overwhelmed (which tends to be the story of my life lately), hearing those words is like getting a big hug from a loved one. It's comforting. It's warmth. It's peace of mind. Ever since that morning, the message behind today's tune has been one that consistently rings in my ears.
Happy Tuesday!
"He Said"
by Group 1 Crew
So your life feels like it don't make sense,
And you think to yourself 'I'm a good person'.
So why do things keep happening?
Why you gotta deal with them?
You may be knocked down now,
But don't forget what He said, He said.
I won't give you more, more then you can take
And I might let you bend, but I won't let you break
And no, I'll never ever let you go.
Don't you forget what He said.
Who you are ain't what you're going through
So don't let it get the best of you.
'Cause God knows everything you need,
So you ain't gotta worry.
You may be knocked down now,
But just believe what He said, He said.
I won't give you more, more then you can take,
And I might let you bend, but I won't let you break
And no, I'll never ever let you go.
Don't you forget what He said.
Don't fear when you go through the fire,
Hand on when it's down to the wire;
Stand tall, and remember what He said.
I won't give you more, more then you can take
And I might let you bend, but I won't let you break...
I won't give you more, more then you can take
And I might let you bend, but I won't let you break
For this week's Tuesday Tune, we're taking it back to 1990. I actually woke up this morning and as I was scrolling Twitter's home page, I saw where someone had written "God is doing a new thing". My mind instantly took me to the below song, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. I remember this song like it was yesterday.
Amazing how far these guys have come since they first started. I'm still a huge fan of all of DC Talk's music, but have probably morphed into an even bigger fan of TobyMac. Matter of fact, I think he'll be a Tuesday Tune next week. Until then, feast your ears on this one.
I rarely write anything alongside my Tuesday Tunes. The songs I usually choose speak for themselves - some have deep meanings; while others are just nice melodies that I've grown to love. Today's is different.
"God Gave Me You" holds a special place in my heart. This past Thursday, June 1, marked one year since Mr. M and I came to our senses and reconciled. If you read my post, From The Pit to The Palace, from back in January, you'll know what I'm talking about. The lyrics to this song remind me of where our marriage was, where it came from, and where it's going. Every time I hear today's tune, I reminisce; I get a little emotional; and I thank God that Mr. M and I are still married, still working on things, and still loving each other.
God Gave Me You
by Dave Barnes
I've been a walking heartache
I've made a mess of me.
The person that I've been lately,
Ain't who I wanna be.
But you stay here right beside me
Watch as the storm goes through
And I need you.
God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt.
For when I think I've lost my way
There are no words here left to say, it's true
God gave me you.
There's more here than what we're seeing
A divine conspiracy.
That you, an angel, lovely,
Could somehow fall for me.
You'll always be love's great martyr
I'll be the flattered fool
And I need you.
God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt.
For when I think I've lost my way
There are no words here left to say, it's true
God gave me you.
On my own, I'm only half of what I could be
I can't do it without you.
We are stitched together, and what love has tethered,
So, it's really hard for me to believe that it's been a month and two days since I've posted anything. Really? What IS my problem? I mean, come on! *face palm* For someone who reallydoes enjoy writing, I reallydo suck at the whole frequently writing thing. I'm going to stop predicting that just because it's a new month, I will do better -- that's obviously not working for me.
Do I dare say that the last two weeks of April will be better? *cringe* I shouldn't say it, but I think I just did.
Hopefully some other changes will be coming soon too.
I have Easter pics to post of Miss G, a mac & cheese recipe that will make you do back flips, a first family vacation to write about, and the list goes on. A lot is happening, and I do have quite a bit to write about. The blogging juices are flowing...if only I could sync up my brain
with my fingers, we'd be in good shape.
I figured it was time for another recipe to spice things up a bit. But this recipe is anything but spicy. It's a classic - simple, sweet, light, and delicious slathered in butter. Mmmm, butter! I've used other banana bread recipes in the past, but I always come back to this one. I've actually baked it so many times, that the recipe is permanently ingrained in my brain. So, I will share it with you below, and you can get to crackin' in the kitchen.
This is not a picture of my muffin, but it closely resembles them. God bless Google images.
Banana Bread Muffins
1 1/4 c sugar
1/2 c buttermilk (if you don't have buttermilk, add 2 tsp of white vinegar to 1/2 c regular milk)
1 stick butter, salted
2 large eggs, well beaten
3 medium bananas, ripened
2 1/2 c flour
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
In large mixing bowl, combine sugar and butter - I recommend melting the butter first...it makes life easier. Add buttermilk, eggs, vanilla, and banana. Mix well. Stir in baking soda and salt, and slowly add flour - one cup at a time works well. Mix until moistened. Pour into greased muffin pans and bake 25 minutes on 350*F. Serve warm with butter. Mmmm!
Hint: Be careful not to over mix your ingredients, especially once you've added the flour. Over-mixing can really jack up the texture of the bread, as I've learned the hard way at least twice. I would encourage you to embrace your inner domestic goddess and mix everything by hand. You can thank me later.
It's been awhile. Valentines Day was my last real post. Call it lack of inspiration, blogger's block, busyness, or just pure laziness -- whatever it is, I just can't seem to get my act together. I've thought about writing, but then something comes up. This past weekend, a good friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook telling me I needed to post again soon because she missed reading my thoughts. And then last night, I got another reminder. Mr. M and I were hanging out. My laptop sitting on his legs, he stumbled over to my blog's homepage and saw "Tuesday Tune: My Love Is Your Love", dated February 14, 2012.
"What?! This was your last post?" he asked. "Valentine's Day?"
"Yes. It's pathetic. I've been so stressed out and uninspired, I haven't kept up with it," I remarked.
This is where I got teary eyed and said, "I don't even keep up with my Facebook page anymore."
He could hear the frustration, aggravation, stress, and disappointment in my voice. He patted my leg, "Aww, it's okay, baby."
Yes, cheesy, I know, but that was the conversation. I'll just blame it on the pregnancy hormones. Yes, I said pregnancy hormones. If you missed my post from yesterday, you'll want to check it out now.
So, it's March...I'm back, and I'm determined to stay on top of it from here on out. Send inspirational thoughts my way, and stay tuned.
Earlier this year, I announced I'd have big news coming. Well here it is...we're pregnant!! "Spot", as we have nicknamed our new little boy or girl, is due on September 7, 2012. Mr. M and I, along with Miss G, are pretty ecstatic. We're looking forward to all the excitement, chaos and changes that a second baby will bring to our household. I look forward to sharing with you through out the duration of this pregnancy - cravings, mood swings, stretch marks, hormonal nightmares, and all the other horrific (and wonderful) side effects of pregnancy. So get ready, and stay tuned!
In honor of the late Whitney Houston ... this was the first song that came to my mind when I decided to post today's Tuesday Tune. Happy Valentines Day!
Valentines Day. It’s the one day every year where – if we’re honest – we, as women, are expecting flowers, chocolates, balloons, stuffed bears, jewelry, candle light dinners and cards oozing with gushes of sweet nothings from our significant other. Okay, you’re right … we might not be expecting all of it, but if you’re reading this and you’re a woman who’s spoken for, you’re hoping for at least one of the afore-mentioned prizes of love.
For years I always tried to protest Cupid’s big day … trying to convince myself that it was all a big waste of money, and that the hype was overrated. I lied. I finally admitted to myself and to my husband that I really am a fan of Valentines Day – whether I like it or not. I’m just a big sap. I’m a total sucker for the cards, for the balloons, for the flowers! Oh, how I love flowers … almost as much as I love eyeshadow!
One of the most memorable Valentines’ that I remember was when I was in college. Mr. M drove the seven hours from Panama City to Lakeland. We did nothing fancy, or stereotypically romantic. We ordered a gigantic pizza, got smoothies, and watched Jaws. I believe there was some face-sucking involved too. Sorry, Mom and Dad. But in all seriousness, that celebration is one of my overall favorite dating memories I have with Mr. M, and by far the best Valentines Day memory to date.
I try to make things easy for him by reassuring him I don’t need anything fancy. A card would suffice, but flowers – even a cheap bouquet from the grocery store – would make my day. I’m eager to see what he’s got up his sleeve.
So what are we up to tonight? Besides the fact that I've spent the day home with a sick kid ... no big plans for us. As we do every year, we’ll go to dinner post-Valentines Day to escape the crowds. But tonight, will be another quiet night at home, with a quiet dinner, and once baby girl is in bed, maybe a little face-sucking for old times sake.
And here’s to many more mid-February celebrations with the man I love.
January was an absolutely crazy month in our household, hence the reason I only had a handful of posts. I feel like the entire month was a blur. And someone please tell me how we are already in the second week of February? Time really does fly.
A recap of the beginning of my year … Mr. M and I fell in love with a house at the end of 2011. That fell through. But we’re hopeful that the right one will come along, and soon!
Work is stressful. I feel overwhelmed with it on most days, but such is life.
Little Miss G got the gross stomach virus that has been going around. I think she actually got two bouts of it. Puke, puke and more puke was my reality, off and on, for about ten days. On top of the tummy troubles, she also came down with a nasty cold that she so graciously shared with her Mommy. All, I can say is praise God for Grandma who came to the rescue more than once!
Me and G were better just in time for the Super Bowl. And then, out of nowhere, Mr. M comes down with food poisoning – horrible food poisoning. Poor dude. Praise the Lord he’s feeling better now.
Finally, as I mentioned in Learning To Trust, we did receive some really great news this month that pretty much trumped any frustration that came along. I’m not at liberty to disclose that news quite yet, but it’s BIG and it’s exciting, and you’re gonna be just as excited as I am!
So, yeah, that was January. Here’s to a much more relaxed February full of blogging and happiness.
I've wanted to write about "seasons" since the first of the year, but something kept telling me to wait. Now I know why, and you'll know why too, as you continue to read. I'm not talking about the seasons of the year as in Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall ... but more so, the seasons of life.
There's an old song by The Byrds that goes, "To everything (turn, turn, turn), There is a season (turn, turn, turn), And a time for every purpose under Heaven..." You'll now have that song stuck in your head for the rest of the afternoon - no joke. And for those of you who don't realize it, the lyrics to that song are actually straight from the pages of the Bible. In the book of Ecclesiastes it reads, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven..." Ecc 3:1. It's one of my favorite verses. When I graduated from high school, I wrote and delivered a speech based on Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. I wish I could find that speech. Hmmm ....
Life is full of seasons - career moves, trends, romantic relationships, friendships, hobbies, living arrangements - it's all seasonal. Some seasons are good, and some are bad. Some are ugly, some beautiful. There are some we want to remember forever, and others of which we'd chose to wipe our memories clean given the chance. Each of us is going through a season right now. With the new year still fresh in our minds, many of us choose to reflect on life ... the seasons it brings ... the season of which we find ourselves now ... and what the next season has in store for us.
Last week was rough for me - Thursday in particular. It started like any other Thursday, but before it was over I had a complete meltdown in front of my supervisor. She could tell I hadn't been myself since Christmas vacation had been over. She asked what was going on, and I completely burst into tears. Bless her heart - I don't think she was expecting that. Being the woman she is, she gave me words of encouragement, and was as understanding as she always is.
What was with my explosion of emotion? It's all about how hard I find it to be in one place, when my heart is somewhere else. To have had to get up every morning for the past two years, and leave the love of my life at home or with a nanny. To sit in an office for eight hours, while someone else cares for the child that I carried in my womb for nine months, and who I spent twenty six hours in labor with, and who I love more than life itself. And I pray, and I pray, and I pray ... to the point where I think my prayers almost sound like begging. God must seriously get sick of me. But there you have it - that's where my meltdown came from. My heart is yearning to be home, but I guess it's not time yet. It's been weighing so heavily on me lately, and I finally just broke down.
That night, I told Mr. M what had happened. He reminded me I will be home eventually - maybe sooner than I think - but God has me where He wants me right now. I'm right where I'm supposed to be. I reluctantly agreed, because I knew he was right.
Fast forward to Sunday. In Learning to Trust, I spoke briefly on the series our pastor is doing about trusting. The series continues, and this past week as the pastor delivered his message, God spoke through him and directly to me. He said,
"You can look at who you are and get a sense of who God has called you to be .... God knew what He was doing. God knows what He's made us for. Sometimes you'll look at the seasons in your life. Ya know, God may put a dream in your heart, and then say, 'Not now.' ... And so sometimes, God's season for you may be later on down the line. You can tell God's will for your life sometimes by just looking at the season of life you're in."
When I heard those words, I was like "Alright, Lord - thank you. Thank you." It never ceases to amaze me how the Lord speaks so clearly when we need it the most.
I'm hoping my stay-at-home-mom season is right around the corner...I know it's where I'm supposed to be. Until then, I will face my current season with courage and commitment, and trust that the right doors will open at the right time. Having faith in God is having faith in His timing too.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
In my first post of this year, I mentioned new year resolutions in passing. I said I'd come back to them, and here I am. Obviously, I've dropped the ball on that whole stop procrastinating thing. Oh well.
I try to avoid harping on resolutions and goals for the upcoming year - if they happen, they happen. If not, there is always next year, right? Wrong attitude to have, I know. But in my defense, I've found, that once you announce to the world that you are striving toward a particular goal, you've pretty much death-sentenced yourself. Everyone is watching with bated breath, waiting for you to fail only so that you can start over again six-months later. It tends to be human nature to set huge, unaccomplishable (no, I don't think that's a real word either) goals for ourselves. Although I do believe that any goal can be achieved with dedication and hard work, most times we expect to reach success in a very short time frame -- and that's how we usually get ourselves into trouble. Even if we're on the path to success, once we have failed to meet our time frame and our resources run dry we tend to dive into the pool of discouragement, which ultimately leaves us to drown in self-defeat. A vicious cycle.
That being said, I decided to look at my resolutions as improvements in my overall well-being for the year -- spiritually, financially, emotionally and physically.
Spiritually. I'd like to be more adamant about doing a devotional every day - quiet time set aside to really chew on and digest the Scriptures like I should. It's shameful for me to admit that I'm thirty years old and have yet to read the Bible cover-to-cover. Granted, I have probably read about eighty percent of it, but never straight through from front to back. I have the desire, but lack the dedication. I'm a jerk. Also, having a more serious prayer time would be great, as opposed to my twenty minutes of rambling to God about my problems during my drive to work every morning.
Financially. Coupons and budgeting are going to be my new best friends. I've always done budgeting, but once again it's dedication that we lack. I say we, because while I solely hold the family accountant responsibilities, it's up to both Mr. M and I to stick to the budget that's put into place. Coupons are also a great way to improve your financial situation. I caught a marathon of TLC's Extreme Couponing over my Christmas break, and it was pretty amazing. I doubt, I'll ever pay $4.84 for over $857 worth of groceries, but if I can save a few bucks here and there, it's worth it.
Emotionally. I used to journal a lot. I have journal entries that date back to when Mr. M and I were still dating. It's always so funny to rewind five years and see what was going on in life. Because I've dealt with anxiety off and on since I was nineteen, it's important to me to have an emotional release of some sort. In the past, the piano has been an incredible help, along with gardening, sewing ... pretty much anything that will distract my mind. Having a good cry helps, but if it's a rough day at work, I can't sit at my office with a box of kleenex while I work through reports. Not very effective.
Physically. I think every woman vows to lose x-amount of pounds, every January of every year without fail. I did Weight Watchers a few years back. It works for me when I'm dedicated. Geez, it's sounding like I should be writing a post about dedication rather than resolutions - dedication is obviously my problem, or lack thereof. Good grief! This past year, I managed to lose about twenty pounds, plateaued, gained back half of it, but still rang in the New Year ten pounds lighter than last year. So, I'll take it.
Overall, I don't think my improvement list is too unrealistic. With a little help from the hubs, a lot of dedication, and a lot more prayer, I believe 2012 will be a good year.
Please feel free to share with me some of your goals for the new year.
