With Praise Like a Child

“From the lips of children and infants, you, Lord, have called forth your praise.” Matthew 21:16

At least three times a day, Braden, my four year old will stop what he’s doing and say to me, “Mommy, you are beautiful, and I love you, and you are a princess.” He will occasionally add something like, “and I’m glad your heart isn’t dead” but the message is mostly the same. Moments like these are ones that keep me going and help me to wipe down the toilet for the fourth time that day. These moments are the reason we endured  nine very uncomfortable months of pregnancy, either a c-section or a delivery that includes something named the “Ring of Fire”, sleepless nights, diaper blowouts, and breastfeeding after our babies grew teeth. The moments themselves are healing to the soul, but I had a revelation the other day about Braden’s praise.

Yes, that’s exactly what it is: praise. Merriam-Webster defines praise as an expression of approval.  Braden, who spends 95% of his day as a tiger or T-Rex, pauses briefly, and opens his heart to tell me how much he loves me. The one who makes his food, calms his fears, comforts his hurts, and cheers for him when he sings on the preschool stage.

Isn’t this what we are supposed to spend our day doing in front of our Father in Heaven? The One who provides our food, calms our fears, comforts our hurts, and cheers for us as we succeed and fail in this life. Whole books have been written on the topic of praise, but there are three things I have learned from Braden on the topic.

First, we need to believe that God hears us! See 1 John 5:13-15. I will own up to the fact that I choose to ignore many of the screams, cries, and whines of my boys during the day. However, it is impossible to ignore Braden when he comes up to me with these words. Over all the chaos and noise of my house, I hear him. No matter what I’m doing, I will drop it, get down on my knee, wrap my arms around him, and tell him how I feel about him. “Braden, I love you and you are handsome, and you make me laugh, and you have the sweetest heart, and you are my prince.” In the same way, no matter what God has on his plate (famine in the Horn of Africa, war in the Middle East, cancer at St. Jude’s), He always hears our praise, and he always responds with a bent knee and words of love through the whispers of the Holy Spirit and the scripture in our bible that sit too often on a shelf.

Second, our words can be simple. Braden doesn’t put much thought into his words in those moments. He speaks out of his heart. A Shakespearean sonnet, it is not. Yet I still hang on every word and I am blessed. God as well, loves our words of praise. They are pleasing in his sight (Psalm 19:14). I have met many people who don’t pray or praise because they don’t know how. There are times in the bible (such as 2 Samuel 22) where people praise God in poetry and long-winded songs. However, there are also times when we are encouraged to remember that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and always present so we can let our words be few (Ecclesiastes 5:2). God knows our heart and our meaning even if all we can get out is “thank you.”

Lastly, don’t withhold your praise until you have the perfect time to say it or the perfect place to say it. Has your child ever needed to tell you something and you tell them to wait until you finish the phone call? They literally look as if they might explode. I hope you have had such a moment in your life when you couldn’t hold back your praise from God. For me, one of those times was when I found out I was pregnant with William. I immediately fell to my knees on the bathroom floor and thanked the Lord profusely for his blessing. I couldn’t wait until I was in my more hallowed, more sanitary prayer space. My favorite example of this is when King David “dances before the Lord with all of his might” (2 Samuel 6:14) in front of his whole kingdom, leading his wife to tell him he humiliated himself.  She didn’t understand, but God did, and that’s all that mattered.

I hope that in my own life I can be more like Braden. No, not in the way he acts like a tiger, but in the way he is persistent and unfettered in his praise. May the way we praise be one specific way we can follow Jesus’ advice and become like little children so that we may enter the gates of heaven (Matthew 18: 2-4)!

For what do you feel called to praise the Lord right now?

Be Careful, Little Eyes, Who You Judge

I don’t believe in what people call karma...the idea that we are repaid for the evil that we do to others. I believe in a God that has more grace than that. But if it were true, I would be buried under a mountain of judgment from others. Why? Because amongst those who judge people (specifically other mothers), I am the worst.

While I was in college, I worked in a children’s museum. I would spend up to 8 hours a day judging how women, older and wiser than I, would parent their children in public spaces. I remember scoffing at the woman who dared to nurse her toddler in the wide-open middle of the museum while her preschooler played. I would get angry at the mom who left her child to play by himself all morning so she could be with her crawling baby. I despised the women who ignored their children altogether and just chatted with other moms. You name it, I saw it- changing diapers on play equipment, sneaking food into “no outside food or drink” spaces, yelling at kids, uncontrollable kids, and the worst thing of all, spanking kids. After so much time observing such abhorrent parenting, I knew I would be a good mom.

Then I had my first child…and I was the perfect mom. William was the easiest baby ever. We would smile, laugh, talk, and explore together. Grocery shopping was a pleasant and educational experience. “William, do you see a 3? Yes! That is a three!” I always found quiet, dark, peaceful places to nurse him when in public. At the park, I would run, climb, and swing right alongside him. My diaper bag was always stocked with tissues, antibacterial wipes, extra clothes. When he got upset, I was quick to diffuse any tantrum. Yes, I was the perfect mom, with a clean house, dinner on the table at 5:30 every night, and a beautifully decorated chip on my shoulder.

Then I had my second child…and the chip fell and landed on my big toe—HARD. I tried to do all I had done before. None of it was the same. I remember the first time I had to take both of them grocery shopping. I stood, holding the baby carrier and my 2 year old’s hand, staring at the cart that is clearly only made to hold one child. I tried everything.

Carrier on top + Toddler in basket = Fear of Baby or Toddler falling from a 4 foot height

Carrier on top + Toddler walking beside= Lost Toddler, Toddler running in front of other carts, Extra items found in cart at the cashier

Toddler in seat + Carrier in basket= Multiple 15 items or less shopping trips in one week

There was a time I was at the zoo and had finally laid out all of William’s sack lunch on a picnic table when Braden had a blowout. That chip landing on toe injury flared up as I changed my poopie baby on the bench at the picnic table where people eat.

The first time I was at a restaurant by myself with William and Braden and I needed to nurse. There was no dark and quiet nursing room and I was not about to sit on a toilet while my toddler crawled about on a bathroom floor. So, yep, I needed to embrace Women’s Lib and nurse in public view (with a cover, of course) in an eating establishment, much to the amusement of the middle school boys basketball team next to me.

Remember the moms I judged for ignoring their children so they could chat with their girlfriends? Well, it wasn’t long until I let my kids crawl around over, under, and around  the tables in the Jackson, TN Jason’s Deli so that I could have a good lunch with a friend.

Fast forward another kid and I have officially let go of every claim to pride. I’ve learned that there wasn’t much special about me in my parenting perfection. I was just fortunate enough to enjoy some time when circumstances lent themselves to an easy life. Things are more complicated now. My children are older and their needs are compounded. I don’t have the luxury anymore to make sure the diaper bags are well-stocked, the children eat all five servings of fruits and vegetables, or that their self-chosen outfits match. Grocery trips with all three are Hell on earth and I would rather shop at 3 am than take them with me. My two youngest only wear underwear and socks on Sundays. They watch more TV than Parents Magazine recommends. When people tell me my children need a tissue, I’m tempted to say one of the following:

“He’s looked like that all day”

“If that grosses you out, don’t look at his sleeve.”

“Can you also wipe off the chocolate pudding that’s been there since last night’s dinner?”


I spent four years in college and one year in graduate school reading and citing research articles on the hazards of spanking. I am now the mom says to my child at least once during a southern vacation, “We are in the South, so I’m allowed to spank you right here in the middle of the store…and if I don’t, someone else will offer to!”

Then, a few weeks ago, while cheering on my 6 year old in his last basketball game of the season, my 2 year old came out of the bathroom with a big wet spot on the crotch of his jeans. I let him run around and play like that for the rest of the game because I had forgotten a change of clothes and there was no way I was going to miss my son’s last game. When people snickered at him (and my awful mothering), I just smiled, cheered for William even louder, handed Braden the Inorganic, non-whole grain goldfish cracker that had fallen on the dirty gym floor for him to eat, and hugged my urine-stained, snotty nosed two year old.

See? I’ve done it all, much worse than any of those well-meaning women have done.

Now, wouldn’t it be great if we stopped judging other moms? Wouldn't it be easier if, in the middle of a meltdown, we didn't need to worry about the opinions everyone was forming about us? People love knocking others down a few notches so they feel better about themselves, even if it is only in thought and opinion. What if instead of scoffing at other mothers when their children have a temper tantrum in a store, we asked how we could help? You know, grab a few items from the other end of the store, wait at the deli counter while they take their toddler on an emergency run to the bathroom, hold their crying baby while they sit their preschooler in timeout in the center of the produce aisle? What if we tried to get to know the stressed out mom across the street that you hear yelling from inside her house? What if we arranged a playdate with the woman who is (gasp) separated from her husband?

Maybe there is more to the story. Maybe the mom has no family or friends around to help her. Maybe she is on two hours of sleep because of a sick baby. As I type this I received an email from a friend whose child has been diagnosed as Bipolar. She writes, “I wish more people would be open and not so harsh and judgmental towards parents. There is no way we can know what is going on when you only get a glimpse of that child’s behavior.”

Maybe we should offer the benefit of the doubt more often, hesitate to make any judgment on anyone who has walked a path we’ve yet to walk, pray more often for those around us, remember the grace we have been shown, and realize that God places every person in our lives for a reason and we are rarely called to stand aside and play the judge.

My Hope is in You, Lord.

I’m miserable right now. To sum it up, I have a major back injury that flares up every night and it makes it virtually impossible to sleep. For more than three weeks now, I have averaged 2 to 3 hours of sleep each night and no amount of pain meds, sleep meds, changes of sleep positions can change that. And here is what I’ve learned. Insomnia makes my fuses shorter, my emotions more erratic, my daily tasks more difficult, and my disappointment more hopeless.

This is not the hardest thing I’ll ever go through, it just feels like it at 3 am when I’m alone, in pain, and exhausted. However, I know quite a few people who are very honestly dealing with some of the hardest things they will ever go through in life. The ache in my heart for you all leads me to share this song that has been my anthem the last few months.

It is called “My Hope is in You, LORD” by Aaron Schust. Here are the lyrics and the video.

I meet with You and my soul sings out

As your word throws doubt far away

I sing to You and my heart cries

Holy!

Hallelujah

Father, You're near!

My hope is in You, Lord

All the day long

I won't be shaken by drought or storm

A peace that passes understanding is my song

And I sing

My hope is in You, Lord

I wait for You and my soul finds rest

In my selfishness, You show me grace

I worship You and my heart cries Glory

Hallelujah

Father You're here!

My hope is in You, Lord

All the day long

I won't be shaken by drought or storm

A peace that passes understanding is my song

And I sing

My hope is in You, Lord

I will wait on You

You are my refuge

I will wait on You

You are my refuge

My hope is in You, Lord

All the day long

I won't be shaken by drought or storm

My hope is in You, Lord

All the day long

I won't be shaken by drought or storm

A peace that passes understanding is my song

And I sing

My hope is in You, Lord

My hope is in You, Lord

Yeah

My hope is in You, Lord

This has made me think of all the things I put my hope in, rather than in my sovereign, unconditionally loving God. Here is my list: I’m sure you could add a couple yourself.

My hope is not in the amount of sleep I get. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in whether my children listen to what I say. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in my health or my physical wellness. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in my husband—or his ability to love me how I want to be loved. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in how my children “turn out.” My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in any retirement plans or pipe dreams. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in whether we ever bring a little girl home from Ethiopia. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in what career I choose. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in what impact I will or will not make during my time on Earth. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in how clean my house is. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in my friends’ unconditional love and presence. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in the amount of time me or my loved ones have left before death. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in the security of my neighborhood, town, or country. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in the reconciling of a lost relationship. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in losing weight. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in getting granite countertops. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in “keeping up with the Jones’”, so to speak. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in my church or in The Church as a whole. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in our government or our president. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in how others treat me.  My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in what you can do for me or the blessing you are able to bestow. My hope is in You, Lord.

My hope is not in me, to be the perfect wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, woman. My hope is in You, Lord.

The Torrent of Depression



Have you ever experienced depression? I have many times. I believe I am prone to it, due to my melancholy disposition and the hypersensitive, hyperempathetic personality God has blessed me with. At times of my life, this has been enough to trigger symptoms of depression. Other times, God has given me circumstances that have triggered it (ie. miscarriages, postpartum stress). Still other times, my sin and poor choices have resulted in consequences that trigger it (ie. broken friendships, difficult marriage, career/school challenges). For the past few years, depression has hounded me and for the past year, it has gripped me. I want to share this because I believe this is something many struggle with and fear the taboo with which it is associated. There are also loved ones of these people that do not understand what they face and I hope that this will help.

Depression is my enemy. In the bible, there is much written about enemies taunting and chasing God's people.  At any given moment, they could be attacked by the surrounding tribes, chased off their thone, or persecuted for their beliefs. Fortunately for us, we live in a great country where the only enemies we have are stuck behind the mostly inpenetrable wall of our armed forces.  But that doesn't mean that Satan gives up. In fact, he has chosen to attack us in a stealthier way. That might mean alcoholism, prostitution, pornography, greed, envy, etc. For me, it is depression.

This is the way I describe depression. It is like being stuck in a dark, hot, cramped room. Your lungs struggle to breathe in the stale, humid, oxygen-deprived air. Your body longs to move, stretch, or rest but there is no room. Your eyes search for the faintest of light to focus on so that you don't go mad. It is a hopeless and lonely place to be. Simple things like going to the store, making dinner, or sending a text feel like impossible feats.

 Most people in this place will do anything to feel better. Sometimes, these are good things, sometimes they are crazy things. Days after losing my first baby to miscarriage, i ran my first 5K. It sounds like a good thing, but in fact the whole time I was purposing to torture my body--this body that failed me and my child. I crossed the finish line with tears in my eyes, and a lump in my throat, and self-hatred in my heart. Those who don't understand judge people for such efforts, such "coping mechanisms". We judge the girl who goes home with a random guy from a bar so that for one night she can feel like she is worth something to someone. We judge people who turn to food for comfort and therefore gain weight, or turn away from food and become anorexic, never considering what pain they might be masking.  We judge people and get frustrated when people don't act like the perfect spouse, friend, neighbor, parent, churchgoer, etc. during these times. We judge people for going on anti-depressants to ease their pain. Remember that dark, cramped room? For me, anti-depressants were like someone opened a window. Yes, it was still cramped, hot, and dark, but at least there was a breeze. Prozac was a blessing to me for a short time, but it couldn't save me from my circumstances. So last fall, I chose to stop taking it and allow God to intervene. (I have known people who chemically were not able to function without medication and for them, it is the way that God intervenes/provides a way out or relief. For me, I do not believe this is the case).

This summer I studied the Psalms of the Ascent, one of which is Psalm 124. It speaks of how God saves us from our enemy.

"If the Lord had not been on our side--let Israel say--

if the Lord had not been on our side when men attacked us,

when their anger flared against us, they would have swallowed us alive;

the flood would have engulfed us,

the torrent would have swept over us,

dthe raging waters would have swept us away.

Praise be to the Lord, who has not let us be torn by their teeth.

We have excaped like a bird out of the fowler's snare;

the snare has been broken,

and we have escaped.

Our help is in the name of the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth."

I don't know why God sometimes lets us remain in the cramped room for long or using the psalms analogies, why he allows us to be stuck in the flood, raging waters, grip of the predator, or a snare.  Maybe it is to teach us something. Maybe it is to teach someone else something (If you have been married to or friends with a depressed person, you know how much compassion, tolerance, and unconditional love it takes.) Maybe it is our stubborn refusal to just leave the room.

But this I know, if we are patient, if we are faithful and if we are willing to trust God, he will not only guide us out of the room, but we will destroy the room and burn the remains to ashes.  The following song reminds me of what it feel like to be set free from this depression. It is something I have felt for the past month or so and it is an incredible feeling. If depression haunts you, just know that I pray for you and I hope that God rescues you soon!



Alive Again, by Matt Maher

I woke up in darkness
sounded by silence
oh where, where have I gone?

I woke to reality
losing its grip on me
oh where, where have I gone?

Cause I can see the light
before I see the sunrise

Chorus
You called and you shouted
broke through my deafness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

You shattered my darkness
washed away my blindness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

Verse 2
They never loved you
you waited for me,
I searched for you…
what took me so long?

I was looking outside
as a love would ever want to hide
I’m finding I was wrong

Cause I can feel the wind
before it hits my skin

Bridge
Cause I want you!
Yes, I want you,
I need you
And I’ll do what ever I have to
Just to get through
cause I love you
Yeah, I love you!



The Uncommon Friend: Encouragement

I was watching my friend's girls last week. Ellie, 6, came up to me as I handed her snack of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a banana and said, "You're a good mom." At first I thought, oh this is awkward--I'm not trying to act like her mom. So I said, "Well, thank you. Moms like to hear that kind of stuff." Ellie replied, "I know. I listen to how my mommy talks to other moms." That's when I realized, Ellie was only repeating what she hears her mom say to others. You see, her mom, Libby is one of the  most encouraging women I know. I could totally hear Libby saying to me (or someone else) after a tough mommy day, "Oh, Janine, you are a good mom."

I Thessalonians 5:11 tells us to "encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing." We need encouragement in this life! So let's give it to each other! When  I was in the most difficult times in my marriage, when friends asked what they could do for me, I said two things: Pray and encourage me to not give up. When my closest friend broke off our friendship and I thought it was because I was the worst person/friend in the world, I let go of all my pride and humbly crawled to the feet of my other friends and begged them to encourage me and tell me I was a good person and a good friend.

It also does good for us to give encouragement to others. When we look around us at who needs encouragement we open our eyes to the pain and strife around us. We start to see the world as God sees it. Check out one of my favorite songs is "Give me your eyes" by Brandon Heath.

"Give me your eyes" Video

Encouragement can take many forms. It might be in the form of a card. My friend Heather is great at picking out just the right one for the occasion. It might be a phone call. My friend, Katie, seems to get a sense every time I need someone to talk to. It might be a text. My friend Sarah is great at these quick and painless messages. It might be just sitting with someone who is at their bottommost point and saying, "It will be okay...someday." It could be as simple as hitting "Like" on a facebook status. Encouragement is easy, cheap, and it comes naturally because we all have a craving for it--we know what we would want to hear. Yet we are so slow and hesitant to hand it out.

Who around you needs encouragement? What little thing could you do TODAY to lift their spirit?

The Uncommon Friend, Part 6: A Tale of Two Sippies

I opened the zippered side of the diaper bag, just before getting out of the car this morning. Oh no, I thought. I pulled out a sippy cup that I didn’t remember putting in there.  Much worse, we haven’t been using a diaper bag for awhile since Jonathan has gotten older.  Who knows how old that sippy cup is?! Then I notice the fullness of the other zippered pocket on the other side. Yep, another very old and probably very disgusting sippy cup. I thought I smelled a faint soured scent, but didn’t really understand what I was in for until I got back into the hot car after Jonathan’s appointment and the smell overwhelmed me! As I drove home I debated the worth of the sippies. Sure, they are $4.99, but it might be worth it if I don’t have to spend one whole minute cleaning it, where I have to smell and even touch the nastiness inside.

Don’t ask me how this connection came to me, but I realized that our friends are like sippy cups. Most of the time, our friends serve their purpose and we are blessed for it. Think of all the times you have put things like chocolate milk or grape juice in one and then you watch your toddler pitch it onto the light colored couch or carpet. When we don’t have a sippy cup with us, we miss it. I remember sitting with William in a restaurant when he was two. The server gave him a Styrofoam cup with lid and straw for his water. Within two minutes he had punctured a hole in the cup with a straw and 16 oz of water covered us, the table, and the floor.  Another time I was at lunch with friends and the restaurant tried to put a plastic lid on a regular glass cup. We had three big milk spills before our meals came! (Needless to say, the next time we went, they had purchased kids cups!)

We have also had that horrible experience of the lost and found sippy cup like I experienced today. These are like our friends when they require work. Maybe they lost their job, their boyfriend, or their cat. Maybe they lost their joy, their smile, or their hope. Like a sippy cup, this friend used to bless us, and it might bless us again in the future, but right now, it requires effort on our part.  We have to choose. Is the sippy cup worth it? Is my friend worth it? Or do I just throw her/it away?

 Here are some reasons to toss it:

·         It will only cost $4.99 to replace it. We all have a lot of women around us. There is always someone else to call, visit, email, go out to lunch with, etc. What's the harm is transfering our affection, time, and effort to someone else?

·         Actually, I had already bought another one last week; that one will do. Maybe we already have that great other friend. It makes this decision a lot easier.

·         I’ll just adapt so that I don’t need that sippy cup…I’m sure my 11 month old can drink out of a regular cup without it ever spilling. We turn to isolation or independence. We don't need friends, we tell ourselves.

·         If I try to clean it, it is going to make me uncomfortable because I’ll have to touch it and the smell might linger in the kitchen or on my hands.  To be the friend God calls us to be, we have to get our hands dirty. Jesus gave some of hismost intimate time to the dirtiest people around.

On the other hand, you might consider why you should keep it:

·         I might need it next week when I’m in a pinch and we need our drinks in the car with us. If we fall on hard times, we need an accessible friend. We want to keep our bases covered.

·         That one has been the most reliable one—it never spills when it is on its side. We all know it. Different friends have different committment levels for us. You know who to call in an emergency. You know who would sacrifice anything for them. Hopefully, you are that kind of friend.

·         I’ve had that one since he was a baby, I can’t give up on it now . This one makes sense if you are a borderline hoarder, like me. And as uncomfortable as I am throwing out sippy cups, I’m even more uncomfortable throwing out friends.

Here is where the metaphor breaks down. First, sippy cups have no feelings. They have no soul. A nasty sippy cup in the trash can will not cry itself to sleep. It won’t drive itself crazy trying to discover what it did wrong. When you turn your back on a friend because they are “spoiled” or have spent too much time in the wrong place (not the cupboard) and in the wrong state (not being clean), these are the feelings that result. Oh, my heart aches for the friends that I have thrown away simply because I cared more about my comfort and my joy than I cared for them.  I have learned from experience that it is highly unlikely that the person will allow you to dig them out of the trash once you have realized your wrong. I have also learned that oftentimes if the person digs themselves out and cleans themselves up, the love they once had for you has been replaced by bitterness and resentment.

Second, sippy cups are solely for our use.  We do nothing for them in return. Friends are different.  We can’t just base our friendships on what they can do for us. But when I look around, I see this perspective everywhere! Yes, even in the church. Maybe even especially in the church.  We know our needs and we seek out friends to fill those roles. As soon as someone stops meeting our needs, our affection for them starts to wane.  It is easier to throw nasty sippy cups away as our child grows older and their ability to control their little hands gets better, isn’t it?

My suggestion is that maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to throw away our “sippy cups.” I pity the person who throws out their sippy cups prematurely. May heaven help us when a visiting child holds a cup of grape juice over our carpet, and there is not a reliable sippy cup in sight.

I Love You, Too, Lord

Do you ever have one of those times where you feel like God decided to throw you a bone? This weekend was one of those times. Clearly I have had a difficult year. Broken relationships and frustrating circumstances made my glass-half-empty personality go into overdrive. On top of that, God hasn't let me take the easy way out at all this year. In my prayer time with Him, I have been encouraged to take the high road, love unconditionally, pray for those hate me/hurt me, remain faithful to people even as they cause me pain continually and don't care, etc.

Well, God showed me so much grace this weekend. He lavished his love upon me, you could say. It started early Friday as I drove from Toledo to Columbus. Oh the joy of a road trip without three children yelling their needs from the back! I do enjoy listening to the VeggieTales Ultimate Silly Songs on repeat, but this was the time to listen to Beth Moore share her sometimes humorous, sometimes serious, but always heartfelt and encouraging wisdom. In this particular clip, she suggested that it is never appropriate to say, "I love you" to God. What is always appropriate is to say, "I love you, too" because everything God has done and continues to do is his way of showing us he loves us. "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19).

If you've ever been to the midwest you know what it is like to drive through seemingly endless cornfields. Usually, those monotonous cornfields on US 23 are just a dull backdrop. That day they were as beautiful as the waterfalls of Ochos Rios, the mountains of my beloved Montana, and the breathtaking view at Magen's Bay. I love you, too, Lord.

I pulled my car into a Westerville driveway that I frequented on a weekly basis in college. I was met at the door by a beautiful little girl, the spitting image of her mother, Bethany. I first met Bethany as a freshman at OSU. I volunteered at my church to help babysit at MOPS. Bethany was the child care coordinator. She was a stay at home mom to two little boys and everything I wanted to be one day. In a moment where I literally thought the words were going to burst out of my chest if I didn't ask, I asked her to disciple me. She said yes and we both started crying because she said she was dying to ask me if she could disciple me. She was a rock for me in the craziness of college, when your head, your heart and your dreams for the future are going every single direction. She is gifted with visions from God. I know, I know. I'm very skeptical about such things as well, but hers is authentic and she doesn't throw it around all the time. This first vision she had for me was the week before George asked me out. She "saw" that God had placed a man in my life that I would form a great relationship with. Now, for most girls this would be a joke, but for someone who had never had a serious boyfriend and almost never got asked out of dates, this was big. Her second vision for me was on friday. I would really like to share it with you, but it really is too precious to me so I want to keep that to myself. What I can say, is that it makes my suffering worthwhile and it gives me such hope and encouragement for the future. To quote the great theologian, Timbuk 3, "my future's so bright, I gotta wear shades." Again, I love you, too, Lord.

On to Athens, where my good friend, Heather was willing to leave work early and drive an hour just to have lunch with me. My friendship with Heather is funny because we met on MySpace. Before you start imagining what THAT looked like, we had a mutual friend and we would ended up talking to each other on her page. Eventually we "friended' each other and that was that. I believe this was our third time seeing each other in person, but everything conversation with her is a blessing. She is very down to earth, whereas I either have my head in the clouds, or buried under six feet of dirt. She is funny, intelligent, incredibly caring, and an avid reader,  and we always have stuff to talk about. I saw something very valiant in Heather last year, when she had a difficult choice to make. Remember the mutual friend that introduced us? Well, we are no longer friends and it was very very contentious. There were several people that cut off their friendship with me as a result. They "took sides" the way we do in middle school. There were two women who chose not to, even though they knew all that happened, and actually were closer to my former friend. At the loneliest time of my life, Heather, and this one other woman, chose to believe I was still a worthwhile person to converse with. They chose to think the best of me instead of the worst. They had the courage to risk a friend's disappointment rather than heaping more coals on top of the already large fire that was burning on my back. Since then, Heather and I have a closer friendship and I absolutely cherished our fun lunch together! I love you, too, Lord.

Of course, there have also been friends who have always been there for me during my times of need. The ones who took buses visit me at OSU before I had any friends. The ones who helped me through high school when boys rejected me or I lost my position on the varsity soccer team. The ones who stood by me at my wedding and still uphold their promise to George and I  to encourage us in our marriage, to pray for our marriage, and to be there for us in our times of need. These were the girls I met at a cabin in Hocking Hills this weekend. Of course, some of them weren't able to make it and we missed them dearly. But Katie, Jessica, Jen, Melissa, and Marika, and I had a great time. We literally talked for hours and hours. There wasn't a single topic we didn't cover. Funny things. Serious things. Sad things. Happy  things. Weird things, or should I say, weird security guards and weird movies ("You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not.") I love you, too, Lord.

Sunday afternoon, I drove back home to my lovely, not-so-little family, who greeted me with a clean home, big smiles, squeeze hard hugs, and wagging tails.  I love you, too, Lord.