Blessed Trinity or something like that.

      I have had a few thoughts sticking with me lately.  The other day, I read an email from Focus on the Family.  I have no idea how I got on their mailing list, but I heart James Dobson, so I'm good either way.  

In this newsletter, it said, in short- 

Accept Reality.  

And I just really loved that.  The other day, I was driving home from work wondering, "How is it that I have been 'out' of school for 8 days, and I'm STILL driving all the way to Georgetown?"  

Out of nowhere, I just started breathing deeply, and repeating my own combination of God, Dr. Phil & Oprah.  

I accept reality....

The Lord is working in my favor....

I will live in the present...

I am at peace...

I think it was the equivalent of my "Lord, I've gone crazy."  prayer.  

But you know what?  It worked.  I felt, significantly better.  

I have accepted reality. 

The Lord is working in my favor.  

I am living in the present

and I do have peace.  

You should try it next time you are feeling extra distressed. It worked like a charm.  

Love and this is so going to be our kid someday, 

H.

Linking up here

source

Something New

Something I haven't even told my mom

      This is a post about something I've yet to tell my mom.  And I tell her everything.  The truth is (I hate saying that because it leads you to believe that some things I say aren't THE TRUTH, but "the truth is," I just can't kick the habit).

     Anyway, the truth is, I pulled my back out yesterday.  While putting on my shoes.  My new-last-pair-in-my-size-got-them-on-sale-berry colored boots, no less.  So, I spent the better part of today walking around like The Grinch.  This is how The Grinch walks, in case you forget.   Cause you probably haven't seen him since last year (Haha).

source unknown

So, needless to say, I'm Rather Grumpy and feeling quite brazen in regards to the news I do and do not share today.

Lucky us, right?

     I just finished Crowded Skies by Tara Leigh Cobble.  It's amazing.

     You should know that I don't take my book reviews lightly.  In this, her second memoir, TLC shares the details of her move to New York City.  And it's odd.  It's odd because a lot of her journey in regards to New York reminded me of my pursuit to stay home with our future kiddos.  She often prays for God to Do Something.

That's right.  Something.

     Two nights ago, I dreamed that I was offered a part-time position as our school's librarian (which would rock, by the way). However, I'm pretty sure that position is never going to exist in real life.

But I thought of this book and started praying that God would Do Something.  I started praying that God would do Something that would help us get our own version of New York City.

And today, Tim lost his job.

     Whoa.  I should have told you to sit down for that one.  Ha. See, that is so fun because I totally knew that's what this post was about and you had no clue!  You should see the look on your face right now.  You're shocked right?

Yea, us too.

The truth is, we think it is a temporary/seasonal lay-off.

And I think I wanted a rainstorm and accidentally received a drought.

And today, I got in the car and cried.  Not because I'm afraid.  Not because I'm upset.  I just cried from the sheer weight of it all.

      When we were little, my sister and I would wrestle.  That's right.  We would wrestle...in our little spandex gymnastic tights.  Even though there is not a Mean Bone in Sweet Heather Marie's body, I would still start to cry when she would lay on me.  I knew.  I understood that I was going to have to surrender.  I would have to give up.

    Last summer, I wrote about feeling small.  I wrote about spending the day in the airport and realizing that the time had come for Tim and I to surrender to something that was greater than ourselves.

How much do you love the word surrender?

And, once again- here we are.

Today, I read a story to my kids about a penguin who gets separated from his friends when his island of ice breaks in half.  Later, he writes in the snow...

I Give Up.

(Don't worry, it ends well).

And I think there is just something so inspiring about that little guy.  Giving up.

Sometimes, I try to be inspiring.  I try to say things to you like, "So if you are reading this and you feel....or if you are reading this and you have a case of The Glumps, then...."

But today, I've got nothing.

The truth is, I don't know what God is doing...but I give up.

I give up, but I'm still in...if that makes any sense.  I'm still in for whatever He has in store for us.

This was not the Something I expected.

Then again, it rarely is, right?

Love,
H.

And now, I shall go call my mom.

Tender Mercies or, "It's called Propane, Bobby..."

     I sort of feel like we are graduating- like we really aren't "newlyweds" anymore.  That thought used to make me a little sad, but now- I am reveling in the fact that Tim and I have, to a certain extent, caught our stride.  During the first year of our marriage, I had a really, really difficult group of kiddos.  One with cancer, one with vision loss and a rare, terminal illness, two with developmental issues, the list goes on. Did I also mention that I was in the middle of earning my Master's degree?  


((sigh))


It was a tough year.  Tim was working a lot.  We had each just lost a grandparent.  We were merely surviving. 


     The second year, I think- was the hardest. Perhaps, it was the hardest because we finally had time. He had time to think about how annoying it is when I load the dishwasher as if a tiny grenade has gone off inside it.  

     I had time to overanalyze and pout over absolutely everything that came out of his mouth.  Yes, for six months or so, I became THAT wife.  Yikes.  


We usually called that "being cats & dogs" because that was the way we were "fighting."  


But now?  


Well, now that we are rounding the corner on year three, I think we have both managed to sync up.  When he's a cat, I'm a cat.  When I'm a dog, he's a dog.  


Thank you, Jesus.  (and I mean that with all sincerity).  


With that being said, maybe when you "graduate" out of newlywedishness,*  mastering the wood stove is yet another benefit.  


     In case you were wondering, the majority of our credit card debt stems from the fact that our house is was heated with propane, and in case you were also wondering, propane must come from five carat diamonds or the bones of exotic, endangered animals because propane.is.expensive.  


We were not prepared to spend that kind of money on something so stinky and expensive. 


     So, for a while, we tried heating our entire house with space heaters and a wood stove.  The house would sink to the low fifties while we were gone during the day.  It would take hours to creep into the low sixties at night.  


I did not know how cold we were keeping it until I saw how many "Photobooth" pictures were of me wearing my coat.  

Ha.  See?  


Oh, the life of an impoverished and (somewhat naive) newlywed.  


I used to hate our wood stove.  I think I even have that fact listed somewhere in my profile on an obscure, social networking site.  


But this year?  The wood stove has decided to play nice.  I think it has to do with the fact that we've had an outpouring of fire wood these days.  It seems as if, for a while, people were constantly coming up to Tim and asking if he could come get a fallen tree out of their yard or pick up a few miscellaneous logs...a family friend, a cousin, a choir member at church.  


So, now we have wood.  Lots and lots of dry, seasoned wood (and a few more baseboard heaters to boot).  


I think in mormon culture, they call those kinds of things "Tender Mercies."  Times when God just totally throws you a bone.  


What can I say?  I've said it once...ok a lot, and I will say it again.  


The Lord provides.  


So, if you have a wood stove or something else in your life that is being particularly dastardly, hang in there.  


You'll get the best of it in the end. 


See- here's living proof.  This is a picture of me NOT wearing my coat in the living room.  The current temperature is 70 degrees, and if the stove wasn't so incredibly hot right now, I'd hug it...and kiss it on the cheek.  


Look mom, no coat! 

Love and NOT being able to see my breath in the living room, 
H.  


This was wayyy longer than what I had intended.  Thank you for reading 9 paragraphs about my wood stove.  


Seriously.  Thank you.  


*Oh yea, and newlywedishness is not a word.  Don't really try to use it.