How a Kitchen Aid Mixer Taught Me an Important Lesson on Gratitude

     You know that little voice in your head that prompts you to do things? Sometimes, it's hard to know what's Spirit and what is flesh. For many months now, I keep hearing "Write." I, of course, ask a zillion questions about what to write. "Just write," is the returning answer. Seeing how these two words are not going away, I am dusting off this old blog. I have a lot of reservations about what I may end up saying. But if I am just to start writing, I might as well start with the lesson I've learned from owning a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer.

     I am a little weary tonight. Today, I spent hours cataloging items to post for sale on social media and Kijiji. I am thankful to God, that I have made quite a few sales. He is always good, though! Shortly before 8 pm, I was pacing back and forth in my living room. My 3 year old was already in bed. My 17 month old was still up. I held him on my hip. We both stared out the back window at the yard, and the park, and the street beyond. The sun was setting. I was not looking forward to this last transaction. I was fighting second thoughts as well as the temptation to give into self-pity. After planting a long kiss on my little guy's cheek, I said to him, "I don't want you to ever think that we are anything other than rich." Compared to billions of other people on this planet, we are very rich indeed. I was trying to convince myself of this because it felt like the opposite. Let's just say that I haven't been selling things for extra spending money. As my husband and I are getting serious about being extracted from the current circumstance, it seemed like an appropriate time to sell the Kitchen Aid mixer. 

     The "we are rich" mantra helped me get through the exchange. I sold it for less than I wanted. I wanted to not sell it at all. The lady who came to collect it eyed me up and down as if I were a possible con artist. She seemed incredulous that there could be nothing wrong with the mixer. "Just accept you got a colossal deal and get out my house," is what I wanted to say. Baby on my hip, cash in hand, I closed the door after she left. Despite myself, tears came. My flesh was entreating me to sit down and feel sorry for myself for awhile. Should I not feel wretched that it has come to this? For a moment, I entertained the idea of giving into that dull feeling in my stomach. Then I looked into my youngest's sweet and honest face. Since his infancy, he has a manner of looking at me with such innocence that it pierces through any pretension that I may have unearthing the truth. 

     How could I feel bad about what had just happened? How many women are out there who have sold their actual child (no less sweeter or precious than mine) in exchange for money or food? That is what real lack looks like. I am blessed beyond measure that I had an appliance I could sell used for $150. How many mothers out there have handed over their young to a stranger for less money than I received for that mixer?! I do not actually have a statistic to insert here. Let's be honest though, any number above zero is obscene. This thought sobered me instantly. "We are rich." I said again. Now that I could put my baby to bed, I rocked him in the most comfortable chair in the world. Seriously, I slept 6 straight hours in it once. Looking at my youngest boy, I felt a peace. I knew I had done the right thing. I began to recall how I came to get the mixer in the first place. Despite the fact that this appliance is the most coveted item on a typical wedding registry, I never wanted it. I was actually angry when it was given to me.

     It was my 20th birthday and I was anxious. My father was coming over. My parents had separated a few months earlier. I had been avoiding him as best as I could. The dread of his attendance was coupled with irksome news that he was bringing a gift. My mother knew about it and was trying to prepare me. "It better not be something big or expensive!" This wasn't said out of pretence. I meant it. I wanted nothing from him. He arrived while I was in my room. After a few deep breaths, I walked down the hall into the living room. There it was. A big wrapped box was waiting for me in front of the couch. Every muscle in my body reacted to the frustration I was feeling. Of course, the Kitchen Aid mixer is a marvellous appliance. It eventually became the piece de resistance of my kitchen for many years. At that moment, though, the sight of it angered me. I knew that this gift, charged no doubt on a department store credit card, was purchased with the design of purchasing me. It was to buy back my time, my affection, my good opinion. None of these things were for sale. To avoid leaving an impression that I was spoiled or ungrateful, I should explain what had happened 5 months before my birthday.

     We have moments that change us. No one is exempt from this. Sometimes the moments are good, and other times they are bad. The goal is that if our mind and outlook are to be unavoidably altered, pray God that it be to our benefit and that of others. This was a bad moment. 

     It was on a sunny Tuesday when my mother and I learned that his pornography addiction had gotten out of control. I was still asleep when the cops showed up at our home with a search warrant. Who needs coffee with a wake up call like that? He was formally charged a few weeks later. It should be clear now as to why I looked at this extravagant birthday gift with contempt. 

     Life has many recurring themes coursing through it. Tonight, I was twice given the sobering reminder of how poorly the rest of the world lives. Twelve years ago, a mixer was purchased by a man, who had immersed himself into the realm of child exploitation, with the hope that he could redeem himself in his daughter's eyes. Today, it was sold by a woman, who was blessed to not have to immerse herself into the realm of child exploitation, with the confidant expectation that she will always be able to provide for her family. 

     There is not a single doubt in my mind that my Abba God cares about our cares. He values the most trivial things that matter to us. This almost made me cancel the sale tonight. I equally know that God doesn't want us to put too high of a value on our possessions; for where our treasure is, there our heart is also.

     I follow Kristen Welch from the We Are That Family blog. I also sponsor one of the girls at the Mercy House (a blessed organization that she founded). Here is a woman of God who will challenge you in your outlook on life. I appreciate and admire her passion and message! This may seem like a random plug, but if you visit her website, you will not only see the connection but be inspired.

Pray for Lydia - Devotion of the Day

A few months ago, I posted a link to the Pray For Lydia blog on facebook. In May of this year, 13 year old Lydia was hit by a recycling truck while getting off a school bus. The blog is run by the Herrles, Lydia's parents. This sweet girl has been on my mind since I read of her accident in the New Hamburg Independent. You can subscribe to the blog and get daily updates on Lydia's miraculous recovery. Let me say it again: Miraculous. God's anointing is on this beautiful family. Michelle Herrle writes with a level of courage and faith that would humble Job!

Yesterday's post had an analogy about boarding a plane to Italy and landing in Holland. No offence meant to the Dutch. I have been there about half a dozen time and it is quite lovely. The point is that we sometimes end up in unexpected places; places we prayed to God we would never end up. As a Christian, when our plans are derailed, we need to trust God and exercise flexibility. 

While my parents were still missionary candidates with Trans World Radio, my mother prayed to God that she would be willing to go anywhere in the world (Swaziland, Guam, dangerous, war-torn countries), but PLEASE let it NOT be Monte Carlo! If you know me personally, you will know that not only is that where God called my parents, we lived there for eight years. 

I prayed that I would never experience specific types of rejection or loss. I ended up in those pits, but God carried me out of them.

Read this particular post from Pray For Lydia and read about how one family is not only surviving the unexpected, they are conquering it under God's grace.

One season fading into another (Pt. 3)

     I feel like this is the last instalment (part III) in the ordeal Kevin and I have been going through. A lot has happened since the last one, so I will try to summarize. The OB visit involved a consultation with two doctors; a resident and an OB. My mother-in-law was so kind to go with me. The prayers leading up to that day were for the Spirit to direct us, making the best choice perfectly clear. I expected the Drs to push for the D & C. To my surprise, the resident listed the possible side effects very soberly. She didn't treat them lightly, brushing them off as though it was unlikely, and when I asked, she was honest that it would not be her first choice if she were the patient. Truthfully, when you are told that you could end up with scarring that could result in infertility or your uterus could be perforated requiring more surgery, you don't care what the odds are. We went with the misoprostol, which was my first choice going in.

    The misoprostol is a drug that is used for various reasons; in this case, to bring on a miscarriage. I had read many personal accounts on message boards, so I had an idea of what could happen from the most ideal to the worst case scenario. We were going to the Mandarin that night, so I was glad I could put off taking the medication until after the buffet. After all, I was made to fast just in case we did the D & C, so I was starving! The irony was as I was waiting for my prescription to be filled, I got an all too familiar sensation: I had already started miscarrying. That misoprostol is so good, I just had it in my hands and it started working! Pitty it couldn't have been before I was out $40!

     At some point, I will put my account on the message boards for future moms facing the choice rather than go into graphic detail on this blog. I would do this option, God forbid, if I ever had to again, but it does require preparation (mental more than anything else). Even though I started the meds Thursday night, the full effect didn't happen until the following night. Taking a dose every four hours coupled with Tylenol 3s (Praise God!), the cramps increased in frequency and length like contractions. At the beginning, 10 deep breaths would get me through. By Friday evening, I would be counting to 25 or 30.  Eventually, they were coming every few seconds upto being right on top of each other. Then, nothing. They stopped for about 20 minutes and then, without any warning, the bleeding hit. Again, it is not a story for anyone squeamish, so let's just say there was a lot! Kevin was an amazing trooper! It's bad enough for women, but men have no training for something like this. He nearly puked twice, but he kept it together and was at my side helping me. I could NOT have gone through this alone! Nor do I think that a woman ever should (that's my recommendation). 

     Every 15 to 20 minutes, I was running to the bathroom soaked. The cramps were back, the T3s gave no relief, and all the cleaning up each time was leaving me exhausted. We did this for over 3 hours with no sign of the symptoms lessening. I told Kevin that if I had to do much more of this, I was going to turn into Lady Macbeth! Due to the heaviness of the bleeding, the exhaustion and the nausea and light-headedness I was getting, we decided at 11:30 pm to go to the hospital. I cannot emphasize enough how glad I am that we went! They took such good care of me at the Stratford ER. They were sweet, supportive and put me at ease in what was an otherwise embarrassing and difficult situation. I had already showered twice in those few hours before going to the ER and I was still a mess.

       They gave me an IV, increased my pain meds (Praise God!) and gave me gravol for the vomiting. Of course that was after the nurse had to fight to actually get the IV needle in. She said that she had never seen such tough skin in her whole career! It took her two tries pushing the needle and moving it around. If you're wondering if that hurt, it did! In the end, she got the IV to work, but the needle wasn't fully under my skin. So the next time someone wants to say that I am too thin-skinned, I have it on a medical authority that I am the complete opposite!

     Then came the internal examination. Kevin was asked to leave for his own benefit. He was a little hurt, I think, but once I described the procedure later, he was grateful! lol. It really was God who lead us to go to the hospital. It was not a serious matter, but there was some blockage impeding the process; hence the heavy bleeding. The doctor extracted it right then and there. And if you're wondering if that hurt too, Hell to the Yes! I thank God that He gave me the same high pain tolerance He gave my mother or I don't know what I would have done. It was an easy fix and I was able to miscarry normally after that.

       Kevin and I were there from midnight to 6:30 am. Poor thing was beyond uncomfortable pulling an all-nighter in a hospital chair. I felt so bad for him and wished that we could be at home in our bed , but not at the loss of my IV with pain killers and gravol! ha ha ha! 3 am was the turning point. The worst was over, my blood pressure started to go back up and I felt ten times better. God was very good! I cannot imagine what it would have been like if we had stayed home.

      So it's now three days later. I finished my misoprostol a few days ago, so I am no longer dealing with the killer cramps. The "physical" aspect of this miscarriage isn't over yet, but I hope that it will by the end of the week. How am I doing emotionally? I have my ups and downs, but really God has been good. The worst I feel is exhausted. The night before I took the meds, I was very anxious. More than that, I felt devastated, but in His faithfulness, Jesus gave me a truth. 

       This is our second official miscarriage in three months. There was a suspected one in the beginning of April, but we have chosen not to count it because it was never medically confirmed. Because it was so early on in the pregnancy, I think I have feared that it's like this pregnancy never happened. I've worried that it's not that big of a deal. I don't know why I think that. I guess, I see it as nowhere near as tragic as women who have lost their little ones in their 2nd or 3rd trimester. It is my error to be making comparisons though. It was over so fast. I never saw a glimpse of it or felt a kick and the physical remains were flushed down the toilet. It seems so dishonouring to a wanted life. I really struggled with it. But like I said, Jesus met me at that place. I cannot describe how hard I cried on Kevin's shoulder as I had a vision of the tiniest form of a little pink baby in Jesus' hands. He answered a deep fear; a fear that I don't think I could have articulated otherwise. 

"This life will not be forgotten. Your babies are not forgotten. It will not be like they never existed because they are with me."

God is so good. I needed this truth so badly, even though it still stings my heart to think about it.

         I have been trying to wrap my head around what are our life is now. We are in a new town, I do not have a job yet, and our plans were tragically derailed as soon as we got here. So I am trying to figure out what my role is. We have been blessed with a fresh start, a perfect new season. Where do I start? As I climb out of the ditch, brush the dirt off my clothes and look around, I see a beautiful new place. I am not the same person I was last month in Hamilton. I am a woman with a bright new future in New Hamburg. I have an amazing husband; a gift from God. I am surrounded by a wonderful new family. My beautiful friends and family are only an hour away. I have two perfect babies up in heaven waiting for Kevin and I in our mansion. Soon, I will be working at the job God has specifically chosen for me. Lastly, like the apostle John, I am the one who Jesus loves, and THAT is what makes all the difference.


Missed the beginning of the story?
Click here for Part 1
Click here for Part 2

Still waiting... (Pt. 2)

Inigo Montoya said it all for me in Princess Bride: "I hate waiting."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0Y7ScfaVHs

     On June 28th, the joyful flow of hopes and day dreams I had for our little "sweet pea" came to a jolting halt. After five days of waiting for the results of the ultrasound, I learned over the phone that there was a 7-week-old sac that was empty with no heart beat. I journaled out the contents of my heart the next day. I battled between wanting to hope and accepting the demise. Three days later, we were moving. I waited expectantly for the natural miscarriage to begin. On moving day, I had spotting. I was sad, but felt relieved at the same time. I poured all my nervous energy into throwing boxes and furniture around, scrubbing the kitchen tile on my hands and knees, chugging a 2L bottle of coke (give me a break! I hadn't had any in over a month! lol) and insisting I was fine. I would have been going up and down the stairs if my husband and in-laws hadn't stopped me. I had a streaming cold, too. I wanted to work myself to the point of exhaustion. I wanted to bring on what was coming, if it was going to come at all. By lunch time, despite my efforts, I was no longer spotting and did no further until Thursday. 

   Every day that week, I waited. Going to the washroom has taken on a whole new meaning for me, and I look forward to the day when I can pee without having to expect or inspect! I tossed back and forth. Kevin would reassure me that soon this would be over and we would have an answer. As much as I knew he spoke the truth, it did not satisfy me. 

"There is no maybe in this situation!" I expressed my frustration to him honestly. "Perhaps in our minds, because we don't know what has happened yet, but in reality our baby is either gone or alive. This is a black and white situation. How am I supposed to rest my mind in a "grey" area that I know does not exist?!"

I thank God that He brought me an answer soon after that conversation. These are the words that came to me:

"Whether your baby is still alive or gone, it is in Jesus' hands." 

Let me type that again for my own benefit.

Whether my baby is still in my womb or its spirit has gone to heaven, my baby is in Jesus' hands. There is no better or safer place for my wanted-love to be. This was my turning point. This was the only image that could get me through. Even picturing our child in heaven was like a knife going through my heart. The separation is too great. But somehow picturing our sweet pea in His nail-pierced hands made some subtle difference that I could finally rest.

Last Friday, I had my second ultrasound and more blood work. I was anxious the night before. Many of my pregnancy systems have remained present and in the absence of spotting, I was starting to hope everything may still be viable. I cried and prayed with my mother that night. The day of the ultrasound, I felt completely at peace; except during the ultrasound, of course. I swear she had that wand pressing up against my kidneys! But peace resumed even when the technician restated the lab's policy of giving patients no diagnosis. "I cannot make comment," she repeated several times. Once she left the room for me to clean up, I took a peak at the screen before returning to the changing cubicle. I read her measurements and could see at once that the sac had not grown in two weeks.

   I could not see how this could be a positive thing, but I still hoped. There didn't seem to be anything else for me to do. I had been escorted back to the "waiting room". Sometimes, it feels like a waiting room with 20 year old chairs, outdated magazines and monotonous artwork on the walls. Then there have been days where it feels more like a waiting cell. It's cold, dark, restrictive with only enough room for me to pace and become claustrophobic with my own worries and doubts. Yet even in the waiting cell, there is a thin ray of light coming through the bars to bring me hope. Even when I am at a low point, I know that this is a season which, thank heaven, is temporary by definition.

   God, as always, has been merciful. The test was done Friday and we had the results by Monday! Much sooner than I had prayed for. "[God] is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." Ephesians 3:20 God knew that I needed finality not just that day, but that very morning. I had woken up from a distressing dream which turned out to be prophetic. In the dream, I had a baby and realized that I needed a babysitter for a week because something had come up. As I made preparations, I realized that I had not seen my baby for awhile. In fact, I had not seen it since the day it was born. I started running around asking people, "Where did my baby go?" I woke up to my fingers dialing on an invisible phone mumbling out loud, "Where did my baby go?!" I lay in bed for awhile staring at the wall, mulling the dream over in my mind. I concluded that if there was any truth in it, the truth was that my baby was gone. Maybe my body had finally realized that the sac was empty. Maybe the hcg levels would descend quicker allowing my womb to release what it has already known for weeks. After days of having an incessant chatter of anxiety mixed with hope in my head, there was a silence. "I have to accept this." I said to myself.

   Within 20 minutes, the phone rang. It was the nurse from my doctor's office. The radiologist's report explained that there was no change and concluded that the pregnancy was indeed no longer viable. The next few hours involved phone calls to get me referred to an OB in Stratford. Again, God has opened doors and allowed things to move at a quick pace. I thank Him. Tomorrow, I am going to the ER to meet the OB to discuss the options for moving forward. I need prayer and God's wisdom as I need to decide between natural miscarriage, medically induced miscarriage or a D& C. I have mixed feelings about each one. A natural miscarriage could leave me waiting still as my body does not seem to want to give this up and, of course, there are risks to waiting too long. I think what makes me cringe at the D& C is that it feels like an abortion. What a loaded word that is. It can spark forest fires depending on what context or forum it is used, so let's just leave it at the thought of having one makes me sick. Perhaps I will compromise with the pill (misoprostol) to get this ordeal over with.

   So I am still waiting to miscarry, not too hopeful for a miracle anymore; not this time anyway. We will see what tomorrow awaits me at the hospital. God is our strength and ever present help in trouble. I cannot wait for this to be over, so Kevin and I can move forward in our life together and we believe, very soon, with an expanded family.

"The LORD is my strength and my shield

my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.

My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him."

Psalm 28:7

Click here for Part 3 (After the miscarriage)
Missed Part 1 (Waiting for Miscarriage or a Miracle)?

Waiting for a Miscarriage or a Miracle (Pt.1)

There are a lot of uncertainties in life. I always thought that the older I grew, the more I would know and understand. I guess it is true and I do become wiser with years, but all I am learning is that there is so much I do not know.

"Let the wise listen and add to their learning,

and let the discerning get guidance."

Proverbs 1:5

 I am increasingly convinced that there is no such thing as being in control. It's a concept; a state of mind. I do not believe that it is an actual capability, which will come has a hard blow to all the type A personalities out there. Perhaps that is why the Bible is continually encouraging us to submit, surrender, put our trust in God, hope in Him and not in man, and to seek all of our needs through His kingdom.

"There is no rock like our God." 1 Samuel 2:2

"All things are possible through Him who gives me strength." Phil. 3:14

"Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you." Matt 6:33

"Lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will keep your paths straight." Prov. 3:5, 6

"It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man." Psalm 118:8

What if this tug of war with God is just in our minds? It isn't God trying to control and dominate the earthlings. He is trying to teach us that He is the way, truth and life. We have no control; choice, yes; control, no. Near the end of His life, King Solomon concluded that there is no activity, no possession, no quantity of riches, no relationship, no belief system that is of any value apart from God. "meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless." We get so personally involved in what we do or believe. We invest our pride and reputation in our politics, our denomination, our lifestyle. There are so many ways that we esteem ourselves that in the greater scheme of things they must seem so petty to our God.

"Blessed be the name of God forever and ever, to whom belong wisdom and might. He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding." 

Daniel 2:20, 21

The title of the blog makes it painfully evident of my current struggle. I am waiting for the verdict like a grieving parent in a courthouse. Pacing, trying not to fret, bingeing, waiting to be swept away in a tidal wave of emotion regardless of the outcome. I have no control over what is happening in my body. I do not know if I am carrying around an empty sac waiting for the pain of a miscarriage to hit me, or if there is a heartbeat yet to be detected that will save this baby's life and our hearts from breaking. 

I do not know if a literal pergatory exists, but I feel that we can experience a season in pergatory on earth. Through health issues, financial crises, times of war, battles played out through the judicial system, and further scenarios, we find ourselves trapped on a highway between heaven and hell. It's either good news or bad news. No one recalls enrolling in the waiting game, but they are incapable of walking away from the game board until the final round is played. Yet it's an interesting paradox because though time seems to stand still, the world doesn't stop, but keeps orbiting. It isn't always possible to bring everything to a halt to catch your breath. You have to keep going about your day because life doesn't stop until it's over. It's hard to reconcile. It's hard to find the balance between not giving up hope, but protecting your heart from disappointment too.

I have painted a very bleak picture, I know. I can only imagine how I must be bringing an innocent reader down. I am not leaving off here in the "depths of despair" though, because at the beginning I listed all of the reasons why we can faith when we are in a pit. So I will defend the last two paragraphs by saying that this is how I feel, nor I am alone in this trial. I know Kevin must be feeling something quite similar. This is the truth. King David, who was said to be a man after God's own heart, never gave pretence to the thoughts and emotions that plagued him in dark hours.

"Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;

heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.

My soul is in deep anguish.

How long, Lord, how long?

Turn, Lord, and deliver me;

save me because of your unfailing love.

Among the dead no one proclaims your name.

Who praises you from the grave?

I am worn out from my groaning.

All night long I flood my bed with weeping
and drench my couch with tears.
My eyes grow weak with sorrow;
they fail because of all my foes."
Psalm 6:2-7

This will be the third loss to grieve in a row in three months. I may not be as symptomatically devastated as David, but my heart intimately knows what he is describing. By appearances, I am able to function normally and resume life as though nothing has happened. I can even convince myself for several hours at a time. I am grateful that I can. Then something will jog my memory and I realize that I still have not quite let go yet. I don't think I will be able to until our baby's fate is confirmed. 

But in the meantime and beyond, "I will not die, but live to declare the works of the Lord." I know the pain in my heart, I see the tiredness in my husband's face, the concern in the eyes of family and friends, and I will call it as I see it. Not only that, I will look up from this pit and see the light above and have faith. I will face tomorrow and trust because I have no choice. There is nothing I could conjure up, no plot I could scheme that will fix anything. This situation is not hopeless, but I recognize that I have no control over what lead us here or what awaits around the bend. However, I do get to decide how I let this affect me. In honest truth, I want to fight and wrestle with God. But the Lord is not an unjust God. Jesus knows our heart and feels the same pain and sadness we feel. The story doesn't end with me clinging to Kevin and sobbing. That might be my reality for the next few days, but each day will get better and there is hope in tomorrow. 

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

my hope comes from Him.

Truly He is my rock and my salvation;

He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

My salvation and my honour depend on God;

He is my mighty rock, my refuge.

Trust in Him at all times, you people;

pour out your hearts to Him,

for God is our refuge."

Psalm 62:5-8

This is where I am rooting my trust; from here I will let it grow.

⁷ 

Click here for Part 2 (Miscarriage Confirmed)

The Last Bit of Oil & Flour

I love it when I find grown-up applications from the Bible stories I recall from childhood. It is special to see how seeds that were sown by my parents and Sunday school teachers through story telling are sustaining me twenty years later. 

Over the last year, I have been drawing from one of the miracles performed through Elijah. He was a prophet during the reign of King Ahab, probably the most evil king Israel ever saw. If that name doesn't ring a bell, Queen Jezebel, his wife, most certainly will. As a result of their wicked ways, Elijah told this royal power couple that there would be no more rain or dew unless he said so. Then, he immediately went into hiding as Queen Jezebel went on a bloodthirsty killing spree of prophets. God sustained him during that time providing him ravens to bring him food and a brook to give him water. Naturally, with no rain, the brook dried up, so the Lord sent him to a town called Zarephath. Elijah was told to be on the look out for a widow. Upon his arrival, he saw her gathering sticks not far from the town gate. He asked her to bring him a little jar of water and a piece of bread. Now the widow was quite willing to fetch him some water, but the piece of bread was a big request. She honestly told him, “As surely as the LORD your God lives, I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.” 

It's a heartbreaking scene. It is just her and her loved one. She is poor, also suffering from the drought, and about to use up her last natural resources. In the mind of this widow, there is no hope. They will feed their hunger pains one last time and then die. 

In our Western society, we don't experience the harsh reality of drought too often, certainly not to the point of dying of starvation. But some of us do know the hardship of poverty, the lack of resources and the hopelessness that can come from it. This past winter, Kevin and I entered into a season of "financial" drought. We were married on New Year's Eve in Niagara Falls. We truly had the wedding day of both our dreams: a modest ceremony and celebration--simple and intimate--that transpired without a glitch and did NOT put us into debt! We were blessed beyond measure! We began married life January 1st, 2012 without a penny of credit card debt to our name. Kevin was laid off for the winter season just before Christmas. The timing wasn't ideal, but we had a plan and we had faith. He applied for E.I. well in advance; the Service Canada agent said that it all seemed in order. All we had to do was wait for the first deposit. God had blessed me with a low rent apartment months before (that's low "cost" rent, not low "small means and no class" rent). We had minimal expenses, I was working, and with the generous wedding gifts, we could easily swing it for five weeks if it took that long. Aye, that was the rub. We waited more than five weeks. 

I put the monetary gifts in a little red box in our apartment. I used diligence and tried to go in there as little as possible, but eventually bills were due and the bank account was getting low. I watched the balance drop, dipped more and more in the box, until there was a single Sir-Robert-Borden left. Don't worry Americans; even the Canadian readers are scratching their heads trying to figure out who that is. $100 was left in the box.

The parallel should be obvious at this point. Were we on the brink of starvation or bankruptcy? No. Could we have borrowed money if we needed to? Yes (as a last resort). We were feeling the pressure though. To use that last bill was going to require faith because it was still a week away from my next paycheck. Now before you start reaching for tissues, I caution you to wait because with God there is always hope.

So, the widow has just laid out her plight to Elijah, but he answers her back with words of hope and a challenge for her to have faith in their God. In response, he says,  “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD sends rain on the land.’” The Bible says that she went away and did as Elijah told her. Being a woman, I can't help but wonder if she leaped up and prepared the food without thinking twice. At the very least, I can imagine her weighing out the pros and cons as she is walking back to the house. After all, this was going to mean less food for her and her son. Could she believe Elijah? It's not like she could quickly check him out on Facebook and verify that he listed "Prophet, Messenger of God" as his job on his profile. In all seriousness, it would require a lot of faith to carry those instructions out. Praise God that she did for He was faithful as always! There was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. The jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry! Read 1 Kings 17 if you don't believe me.

On a Sunday morning in early February, Kevin and I headed down to the beach. We spent our time between discussion and prayer. In my experience, whenever I seek God when out in nature, it is always a divine appointment. But this wasn't one of those sunny, feel good, God is good because we haven't a care in the world kind of meeting. It was overcast, windy, and lightly raining. This was one of those get serious, cling to God's promises because you have nowhere else to turn moments. Married a month, we were looking ahead to the future. Where did we want to live? What did we want to do? What did we want our life to look like? These and many more big questions were at the forefront of our minds. We huddled together beside a rock to keep warm and to be close as we prayed. Jointly we felt enveloped by the Holy Spirit with comfort, hope and strength. We both saw a similar vision of the many ways God was going to bless us. By the time we returned to the car, we both felt strengthened in will, faith and endurance. Refreshed in spirit, I could withdraw that last bill out of the red box with confidence. We stocked up on groceries and praised God. 

When I returned from work that night, Kevin had great news. He had received a phone call that $50 was coming for us as a wedding gift. The next morning, a card was in the letterbox from a relative. Inside was a cheque for $75. In less than 24 hours, God had replenished our box; we were up $25 from the day before. It was at this time, that I thought of the story of Elijah and the widow. I told Kevin that I knew our little red box would never stay empty!

If you know the Bible story well, you may recall that after the initial blessing, the widow's faith and even Elijah's faith were tested one more time. In summary, the widow's son became very sick to the point of death. Overcome with fear and grief, the widow accused Elijah of having come to bring judgment on her. Does that relate at all? Crisis hits and immediately assume that God is punishing us. We see trials as an affliction put on us by an arbitrary God. I am not about to presume to know the mind of God and say that He allows these things for a reason, nor will I say that God has nothing to do with it. All I will say, because this is what I have learned, if trials do come, fall at the feet of Jesus. Surrender the situation into His nail-pierced that bore sin and death for you. If you have Christ in your life know that He already took away the judgment. There is no more condemnation. So don't think that God is punishing you through the hard times, but know that there is nothing more than blessing to be given. The God that sacrificed and resurrected His son will carry you through. Elijah pleaded for God to give back the life to the widow's son and, you guessed right, God granted it. 

About a week after our morning at the beach, we were still waiting for the E.I. It was by no means easy, but we were given sufficient faith each day and believed that God would be our provider. Six and a half days of waiting, then the unexpected happened. Kevin picked me up from work. As soon as I sat in the car and heard the tone in his voice, I braced myself. He had finally got through to someone with Service Canada. His claim was denied because he was 2 hours short.  Each in our turn, we felt like the wind had been knocked out of us. How could this have happened? The agent in Stratford had been grossly incorrect in her calculation of Kevin's hours. Unfortunately, her error had no impact on the claim; their decision was final. 

Now I am not about prattle on about how we handled this with grace and decorum, or that we didn't bat an eyelash in fear or doubt. I have been honest this far, why would I start lying to you now?! Over the next several weeks, there was tension and spats; we took turns beating ourselves us down with feelings of guilt; periodically doubt would try to grab a foothold and I would cling to Kevin and bawl. BUT before we went to bed each night, we would acknowledge that God was in control. He had brought us so far; He was not going to abandon us now. And over those several weeks, there were more unexpected cards with money; there were deals and coupons in flyers that saved us money; we were supported by friends and family, held up by the righteous right hand of God and we did not see the bottom of that little red box. As a visual to spur us on, I put two bottles on our TV: one had a little oil, the other a little flour. We claimed the promise given to the widow that our resources would not run dry until Kevin was called back to work. 

Would it have been easier to have just received the E.I. or for Kevin to have been working straight through the winter? Absolutely. God would have been providing for our needs as much in that scenario as did for us in reality. The difference is that we would have thought WE were providing for ourselves. I doubt that many people look at their paycheck and say, "God gave me this money." No, we say, "I can't believe how little they paid me! I earned way more than that!" Or is that just me... For the first three months of our marriage, the truth was inescapable. GOD was providing every dollar. The other way would have been easier, but how blessed were we to see God's hand, to experience a visual of God's daily bread. Or as a family friend said, "God loves to reveal Himself!" Some of the ways we received money was miraculous. Kevin needed $40 for the car. The next day, one of my textbooks on kijiji sold for $40 exactly. When we had given up on receiving the E.I. or even trying to open a new claim or appeal, we were contacted from a man relatively high up with Service Canada. Long story short, he gave us the step-by-step to reapply and two weeks later, we got our first deposit!

I could go on, as indeed I already have. The Holy Spirit has been reminding me everyday to write this blog entry, so I didn't want to leave out a detail. When God blesses you in such an amazing way, you need to share it! After Jesus freed a man from a "legion" of demons, He instructed him, “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how He has had mercy on you.”

The Lord has had mercy on us and has blessed us ever so richly. I pray with confidence that He will do the same for you.

Scrambling

This is a journal post from July 2nd, 2011. I meant to post this sooner, but you know how it is!

My friend Janine loves challenging her physical limits. She climbs the escarpment stairs, goes for long hikes in the woods and, get this, she likes to scale waterfalls! I wish that I had her physical strength and endurance. Today, I decided to take a page out of her book and challenge myself in a like way. For me, this required inner strength to push myself out of my comfort zone. Deep down, I know that I have an adventurous spirit that could match hers, but it is my practice to make excuses and pose as a colossal chicken. 

On our walk alongside the train tracks back to the car, I shared some anecdotes to explain where some of my reservations come from. I am, or at least was, every gym teacher or camp counsellor's nightmare. To be fair, they were up there on the "yikes-meter" for me as well. I was the non-athletic, slightly chubby kid with the SPF-to-infinity sunblock, the asthma, the allergies, the irrational fear of all creepy-crawling creatures and very accident-prone to top it all off. I have a deep appreciation for nature, but I'm either allergic to it or intimidated by it. The stories I could tell of my summers as a child (and even in my late teens) could go on for pages! For me, childhood memories of day excursions go hand in hand with stinging antiseptic and antibiotic ointments for the hundreds of bug bites on my legs! To this day, I have an aversion to creams and lotions. This is background information to illustrate a point. I learned early on that it was easier to avoid certain pass times rather than participate and suffer the humiliation of being the weaker member of the group. Excuses and avoidance always seem easier than challenging our shortcomings head-on. The tragedy is that it is never anywhere near as rewarding as being an overcomer!

In the last few years, I have been making a deliberate effort to push my limits far beyond my fears. That is why I took up the invitation to join Janine and her friend Elena on today's excursion. The goal: to reach Tew's Falls-- the tallest waterfall in Hamilton. How was this to be achieved? By going off the beaten track deep into the woods and scale along the side of the escarpment. How long would this take? I was told three hours both ways. Was I up for it? I wasn't too sure, but I was going anyways! With enthusiasm slightly diluted with worry, I ducked into the woods. In single file, we maneuvered up and down steep hills. Janine confidently lead the way and I brought in the rear. As this was my first time, I knew the back of the line was best because I wouldn't be able to move as quickly as the 'scrambling' veterans I was accompanying. There was a basic path to follow and yellow markers left by spray paint to guide the way. But the path itself was over grown with shrubs, uneven, mucky in some areas and snared with tree roots. Discernment was required at all times. Will that rock give me momentum or might it be loose? Should I descend this muddy hill walking upright or by scaling down backwards? Can I keep my balance or should I grab hold of the trees? At various points, I was lagging behind a considerable distance. My mantra was, "Know your strength and don't be a fool." It was better  to go slower with caution than to pridefully attempt their quicker pace and end up falling. I'm afraid that I missed a lot of the natural beauty that surrounded me because my eyes were permanently fixated on Elena's feet. Her shoes were my guide. I remained intently focused on her tread and nothing else.


A few minutes into the hike, the negative talk began its taunt:
"Whatever made you think you could do this?"
"You are too out of shape."
"You aren't going to make it there and back."

Instinctively, my body started to respond physically with anxiety. My heart was racing, I could hear my breath getting heavier. Twenty minutes in, my left calf started to cramp. We stopped at lower Tews which gave me a moment to rest and regroup. It was a pretty sight as is all Hamilton woods. I took a few pictures. A father with his two girls and son bathed  under the waterfall fully clothed. The children laughed and splashed each other. I longed to jump in with them to cool off. A speckled frog was hopping along the bank. I caught it on the first try. Took me back to summer afternoons in Omeemee at Handi*Camp. For a few minutes, I felt that it was worth the trip, but there was one concern looming still. I looked up stream and the main waterfall was still far from sight. My train of thought went something like this:

"This is a lovely spot. I think that I would be content to stop here and miss the big one. I have put in a lot of effort after all. Maybe I could make my way to the campsite and wait for them."


Even though, my mind outlined reasons to quit, my pride was having none of it! We had to go back up the way we had descended into Lower Tews to get back on the trail. I was literally crawling up a mucky slippery slope on my hands and knees. I was covered in mud, I was sweating like I never had before in my life and I was feeling very out of my league. I should add that it was an exceptionally hot and humid day. The final lap to the falls became more intense. Exhaustion was setting in. My legs were starting to feel weak and I was stumbling more and more on the rocks. The mental obstacle was that I had no idea how far away our destination might be. The further we went, the longer the walk back would be. I was feeling discouraged and the urge to cry was bubbling up to the surface. I am happy to say that I refrained from crying although I'm sure that it would have been a wonderful release.


Tews was now in sight. Climbing over a fallen tree gave me a few seconds to stop. At this point, I was pitifully out of breath. My gasps weren't caused by my asthma, but simply from fatigue. Tews looked beautiful in the distance, but never the less I considered packing it in once more.


"Technically, I made it. I accomplished my goal. How close do I really have to get? I could stop here and admire it just as well from a distance."


I have no idea what might have been written on my face at that moment, everything I was thinking or (the bottom line) that I was running out of steam. Regardless, Janine looked at me and said that we would be stopping for a break once we reached the falls. I had made up my mind in the car ride there that I would not whine or do anything to make her regret having asked me along. I had to say though that I had just enough strength to get to the falls and walk back to the car, but that was it!


From there, the two girls made a decent advance on me. The rocks were now covered with moss and quite slippery. I couldn't suppress my panting anymore. I was so close! I tried to speed up to get the last ten yards over with, but each time I would take my eyes off the path in front of me, I would slip and fall. The Apostle Paul told us to always keep our eyes on the prize. Looking ahead to the inviting waterfall helped motivate me, but it also made me wipeout twice. I don't think the girls saw it which actually helped as my pride was playing a leading role this afternoon.


Finally, I reached it! A stunning beauty, 135 feet high! It took a few minutes before my squinting eyes could take it all in.

The falls were dazzling in the bright sunlight. The roar of the rushing water was terrific. It emitted a powerful spray that covered me in a fine mist. It left me refreshed and completely soaked through! Staring up in awe of this natural wonderful, I felt closer to heaven. I told Janine that I felt like I was staring into the face of God.
"I think God is more handsome than that," she smiled.
"That's true," I agreed. "But it's a wonderful glimpse!"
"Yes!" she nodded. "It's a glimpse."
After taking some photos, we sat down on a log, rehydrated ourselves with bottled water and snacked on juicy apples. Janine and Elena chatted and I disappeared into my own thoughts. I remembered the different times I had wanted to stop in the previous hour. It was clearly evident that every stride and grunt of that hike had been worth it! It would have been total foolishness to have stopped any sooner than I did. I had to get to the destination in order to realize that though. There is no way that I could have known that any sooner.


It occurred to me that there was a parallel between that challenge and the Christian's devotion to God. When our walk gets rough, the prospect of bailing becomes very tempting. We don't take that step of faith because we're not sure if God's going to meet us around the bend. We hold onto anger or unconfessed sin instead of going deeper in our relationship with Jesus Christ. We rationalize our actions in various ways:
- "I have salvation and that's really all that matters."
- "I go to church on Sundays. How more involved during the week do I really have to be?"
- "I am content where I am in my faith. There's no need to rock the boat."
- "I may still struggle with some sins, but I go to church, I tithe, I serve... I am a good enough person to be in control."
- "I love God and worship Him in my own way. I don't need to be apart of a fellowship."
- "I want to increase my devotion time, but I'm too busy."
We have all hit the breaks at some point in our journey either because we don't know the glory awaiting us around the bend or because we've caught a glimpse from a safe distance and think that it's enough to satisfy us. Sadder still, there are some that don't even get all that far on the path before the evil one talks them out of continuing.


The Bible says that God is able to do immeasurably more than we can even imagine. I don't know how I would feel if I were to someday find out all of the tremendous blessings that I have robbed from myself through a refusal to go deeper with God and live off of my excuses instead. God has described the blessings intended for us in His word. It is His invitation to go seeking after them, but we will not know how wonderful they are until we experience them! We won't know the extent of God's love or healing until we embrace it with our body, soul and mind. Paul was right. We must not cease in our efforts or abandon the race until we reach the finish line. Even a righteous man like Paul must have been overcome with awe when he finally saw his holy God sitting on His throne.


There certainly was a great application for me that afternoon. Don't slow down now. We must press on and go deeper. It may not seem worthwhile right now, but that's only because we don't know what we're missing out on!

"When I look at the galaxies on a clear night--when I look

at the incredible brilliance of creation, and think that this is

what God is like, then instead of feeling intimidated

and diminished by it, I am enlarged--

I rejoice that I am part of it."

~ Madeleine L'Engle

A Woman's Right to a Journey

I have been reading “EAT, PRAY, LOVE” by Elizabeth Gilbert. I am a born-again Christian. Not only do I believe in a higher power—an almighty God—I believe in his son Jesus Christ. The way I see it, God is not only the power of the universe, He has an identity, a heart, and a spirit with whom mankind can have a relationship. The existence, holiness and divinity of Jesus is where my difference of opinion with this publicly esteemed author begin and end.

That being explained, I drew a likeness between Gilbert and myself in her search for the understanding of self, the development of intimacy with God and the establishment of balance in her life. On the big screen, I watched Julia Roberts portray her desperate hunger for fulfillment. Not only did I identify with it, I knew that yearning personally. “How perfect it would be,” I thought to myself, “to leave routine life and depart on a pilgrimage across the globe seeking nourishment for the soul.” I know how to eat and enjoy food. If I had a choice, I would rather do it in Europe than Canada. Certainly, I would like to retrain myself in the art of experiencing pleasure (and I’m not referring to food and sex). God endowed me with many interests and aptitudes. I have abandoned so many of my favourite pursuits. I would welcome an opportunity to reconnect with them again. I could spend time every day envisioning myself in front of the Throne of God and fellowship in His presence. And as for love? I want love. I crave being loved, in fact; that’s the problem. Perhaps after a tutorial on enjoying my gifts in this life and growing closer to my heavenly Father, I would be ready to embark in a romantic-loving relationship with a man. As ideal as that sounds, my chest tightens with trepidation at the prospect. Despite our few theological differences, I wanted the same opportunity that Elizabeth Gilbert had been given.

Now, do I want to gain weight in Italy, convert to Hinduism in India and have premarital snogs in Bali? No, but in this case, I really don’t think that is the point. I am a conservative Christian with the life-term goal of being as non-judgmental as Jesus was during His time on earth. He said, “I have come not to condemn the world, but to save it.” Christians can do a lousy job at imitating Christ in this particular department. We are too quick to rise up arms in the name of moral values versus moral depravity. We condemn “non-believers” for not living up to our standards. This tactic is as warranted as belittling a vegetarian for not eating meat or dairy. Why should they? They don’t believe in eating those foods. Granted, vegetarians chastise everyone else who does consume animal meat or dairy products, but we [carnivores] ignore them because their belief system is not our belief system. People who are deemed legally mentally incompetent are not held accountable for their crimes in the same way that any other defendant would be. This is something our society has learned to accept. I am a monotheist who worships only one spirit, the Holy Spirit, and I have committed to keeping sex for marriage. Do I hold people of different value systems accountable to those of my own? No. Why? Because I am not God. God founded the laws to live by for His creation millennia ago and one day He will hold mankind up to His divine moral yardstick, but it is His right to judge, not mine or anybody else’s. If it had been my finger that forged the Ten Commandments onto stone tablets on Mount Sinai, then it would be my right. But as the book of Exodus does not document “Sarah saying thus to Moses,” my only responsibility to my fellow humans is to not judge as so I will be judged. This principle applies to all the followers of Christ.

I mounted this soap box to clarify to any future reader that I have chosen to lay down any unholy weapons of pride, false piety, judgment and moral superiority by not focusing solely on how Elizabeth Gilbert blazed her trail, but why she embarked on it in the first place. Her story puts me in mind of “The Sacred Romance” by Brent Curtis and John Eldridge. Every Christian, nay, human being has felt a stirring in their soul that “there must be something more.” The essence of Gilbert’s mission is a thirst for more of God. This strikes at the very heart of the Christian faith! God wants us to pursue a relationship with Him. When He created Adam and Eve, He gave them free will. He did not fashion robots out of Eden’s dust that would instinctively follow His pleasing and perfect will. God granted us with the freedom of choice. On the other hand, you could say that He did implant a “chip” in the core of our being; a homing device, if you will, that calls the fallen sons and daughters of man back to their heavenly Father. But, though we may all feel the “longing,” we still have to choose to reunite with Him.

It is now twenty-three years ago since I accepted the Spirit of Adoption becoming a daughter of God and yet I still feel that there must be something more! I have tripped, fallen and strayed from the path many times since then, too, and these incidents are more than I can count, but through Jesus’ strength, I have been able to keep moving forward. I have made significant pilgrim’s progress in my life, but my journey is SO far from over! Jesus removed the distance between God and man the day He died and the curtain was torn, but so nearer to the heart of God I need to be.

This is why everyone who has decided to follow Jesus should desire a similar pilgrimage. Our spiritual health is more important than anything else in this world, and we all are in need of a sabbatical from our chaotic-lives at some point before we die. I do not recall when or how I petitioned God, but at some point after seeing the movie “Eat, Pray, Love”, I prayed that I could be blessed with the same opportunity to know myself and know God. In a very unexpected way, this prayer was answered. I am coming to the end of the fourth month in my journey and it is time to evaluate the distance I’ve covered, compare my “enlightenments” with the words of the author herself, and regroup with some Christian resources to help me on the course awaiting me.

Please allow me one more segue before I finish! I was beyond encouraged when I discovered that God also inspired another godly woman whom I greatly admire. One night while scrolling through the “Living Proof” website, I spotted a familiar title: “Eat, Pray, Love.” Only this was a lecture on “One Woman's Search for Everything Across Israel, Egypt and Exile”, inspired by the writings of the prophet Jeremiah and presented by my favourite Beth Moore. I make a conscious effort not to idolize Beth because she is no more perfect and immortal than I am! She has been obedient to the Spirit, though, and God has blessed so many other imperfect and mortal women through her. What a special confirmation from the LORD that He understood the desire of my heart and was honouring my resolve to be true to my faith. There is no eloquent way of concluding this monologue except to say that I am so excited to learn and discover God’s truth for His people. May the next chapter of my journey begin!

So Long, Insecurity

Though my room is still a mess of balled up clothing, poorly-balanced piles of papers and books, random empty plastic bags on the floor and my father's empty coke bottles on the desk, tonight my room feels like a safe and relaxing place. I set up some lamps on either side of my bed so I don't have to have the harsh ceiling light on. I have been listening to a mix of yoga music and Mozart. Granted, I feel my stress level rise as I look at the disorganization around me, but sitting up in my bed, I am in a cozy haven.

Tonight, I started reading Beth Moore's latest book, "So Long, Insecurity. You're been a bad friend to us." I have been waiting for this with great anticipation! I am participating in her online study blog. Over 6,000 women are journeying through their battle with insecurity together. It's definitely the biggest study group that I have ever been apart of. lol

As I am making posts each week, I thought that I would copy them here and expand on them.

Chapter One: Mad Enough to Change

“No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” 1 Corinthians 10:13

The first chapter has struck hard in more than one area. My struggle with insecurities/boundaries has invaded many facets of my life, but the hardest blow has wounded my relationships with men; or as it has been pointed out in Chapter 1, my expectations of men.

One particular relationship came strongly to my mind as I read. I have been torn between drowning myself in blame or poisoning my view of men by thinking “once more, they are all the same.” I am willing to accept that there are equal portions from both options (it wasn’t a healthy relationship), but sitting down and facing what I did wrong is very uncomfortable. I unloaded a lot of my insecurity on him. I wanted him to undo past wrongs and give me the hope I needed to survive. I think that God removed me from that relationship because I needed to trust Him instead. Truthfully, I felt as though a steel veil had been lifted the day of the break up. I could see God in a way I had not experienced for probably 10 years.

Chapter 2: Insecure Enough to Matter

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

Some quotes

“I don’t just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself.” P. 18

“Insecurity’s best cover is perfectionism. That’s where it becomes an art form.” P. 19

Beth gave us a definition of insecurity cited from Joseph Nowinski's "The Tender Heart: Conquering Your Insecurity." The second part of the definition hit me quite hard. I think that I do set myself up with completely unreasonable expectations. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it is connected to my depression. I am a perfectionist and I cannot abide falling short. Last night, my friend Sonja described herself as having once looked to others opinion of her to rate her own self-worth. I thought to myself, I am glad that is not me. Now having finished chapter two, I realize that it is most certainly me!! Every day, I wake up with unreasonable expectations. Usually I feel like a failure by the time I am walking out the door to face my day. Today was my first day to relax after a busy week of commitments. I was beating myself up that I hadn’t done more work, studying or cleaning. I had to do some self-talk to realize that I deserved an easy day with little in it. There was nothing wrong with having some down time.

The ground work has been laid for me to come to terms with the insecurities still lurking in the deep waters of my soul. I have my eyes set on the goal: God transform me into a secure woman in Him.

I think that this book is well worth the read, and it is not too late to join the blog.