a storm's a brewin'

When I got on Facebook the other day, I couldn't figure out why everyone was suddenly arguing again about marriage equality again. That gives you an idea of how often I turn on the news (never). I can see people gathering up their ammo, ready to fight. Lines are being drawn, and those who don't agree are seen as "the enemy".

I'm not going to use this blog to preach at anyone or make some massive stand.



via

But I do have something to say.

Holding to your convictions does not mean you lose the ability to be compassionate. I think it's safe to say that about 75% of my friends have pretty liberal leanings. I think it's also safe to say that, if you know me at all, you'd know that I'm mostly conservative. I don't make any apologies for where I stand on issues. But I also don't beat people over the head with my way of thinking. I don't name call, bash, or belittle others with a different opinion.
(Just a tip: if you really want to change someone's perspective? I don't recommend any of the above methods... they never work.)

Like I said, a massive chunk of my friends are pretty liberal. I majored in Sociology, a very liberal field. I almost minored in Women's Studies, another mostly-liberal field. If you want your views tested, I recommend hanging out with hundreds of people who don't agree with what you believe. But here's the real test... don't say anything. It's kind of like being a spy. :) I've had people talk to me, thinking I'm also very liberal, and say what they really think. I went to the beach with a transgendered person (and this wasn't some big group... there were like 5 or 6 of us). He was one of the sweetest, coolest people I'd ever met.

So my personal opinions and convictions have zero to do with ignorance or hate. I've heard what they have to say, and I also love them. I've never ever ever had anyone accuse me of being hateful, even when they find out I don't really agree with their views. Want to know why?

Because I listen. I understand. I really, really do. Sometimes all people need is for you to acknowledge them. Acknowledge their feelings, their opinions, and frankly, their existence. Make them feel loved instead of attacked. Honestly, I hate confrontation. I will avoid it at all costs. But really, sometimes we get so caught up in making a point, that we forget there are people at the other end of that point. Actual people. With real feelings, hurts, struggles, and life experiences. Just because they are different from you doesn't mean they deserve to feel like less of a human. Even if they attack my views, it still doesn't give me the right to be ugly in return. You can disagree with someone's opinions or life choices and still show them love.

via



And I feel this goes both ways. If you are on the liberal side of things, don't use maliciousness as your weapon. Don't assume that everyone who is religious in any way automatically hates you or is totally ignorant. It's just not the case.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that before you fire that ammo, think about the people you're firing it at. Realize that the Supreme Court most likely isn't basing their decisions on Facebook arguments and memes. God is ultimately in control of everything, and we have to remember that. If you really feel the need to make a point or argue your position, do your best to listen to the other side, no matter how off-base you think they are. And if they still don't agree or budge? Love them anyway.

 



via

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22: 37-40

overcoming

It's been four months since the miscarriage. Some days it feels like it all just happened; while other days, it feels like a lifetime ago.
For the most part, I'm doing okay. I don't tend to dwell on things that make me sad or angry. It's a coping/survival mechanism. Put on a happy face and all that. However the flip side is that I've learned through the years to bottle up how I feel. I push the feelings way down so people won't make me uncomfortable by asking personal questions. Even though I know the intentions are good, I'm a pretty private person. I try to choose what I share very carefully and to whom. There are all kinds of reasons as to why I'm like this, but like I said, I try not to dwell on the negative. Let's just say I'm broken (heck, who isn't?) and God puts me back together on an almost daily basis.

For the most part, I'm doing really well. I'll go a couple of weeks without even thinking about it...

And then there are the reminders.
Friends and family who are due the same time I was. Glowing, smiling, happy faces with perfect beating hearts and round bellies. Constant updates from pregnant friends or people who just had babies. Heck, just a Kelle Hampton post with adorable newborn pictures of her baby boy get to me.

It stings.
That's really the only way I can put it.

I don't resent my friends. Not at all. In fact, I'm extremely happy for them.
I didn't get upset or angry at the newborn shoot I did a few weeks ago. In fact, it was a little therapeutic.
But the fact remains that I was expecting to be halfway through a pregnancy by now. I was ready to plan a nursery. We were already playing with names. And to go through the nausea and fatigue and heartburn... and have nothing to show for it? Yeah, it kind of sucks.

Found this lurking around the blogosphere the other night, and it resonated with me...

 “Because the truth is that once you see that second pink line…you set a place at the table for your baby.” - Jeanette

It's true.

Life goes on, and thankfully, I have a dang good life to lead. But I try to be real on here, just in case someone happens to come across this blog, wondering if it's weird that they're still sad about their miscarriage after several months have gone by?
Yeah, you're totally normal. Grieve, even when it strikes in odd moments and places. And know that there's still hope. Your story isn't over yet, and God has a great way of turning sadness into joy. Winter into Spring. Crucifixion into a Resurrection. Law into Grace. If you're a believer, you know there's a happy ending anyway. It may not always look the way you thought or how you originally wanted, but it's always good. Because He is good.

 



via

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23

simply having a wonderful Christmastime...

Yes, I just did that so you'd have that song stuck in your head.
You're welcome. ;)

Y'all I'm so behind in blogging. I've been so busy with just... everything. And when I finally get a few minutes to chill out? I'm spending it with my family. We've been soaking up Christmas for all it's worth this year, and it's been amazing. Usually, Brad works like a crazy man during December. Somehow he's worked it out to where he actually has time off during the holidays, so every minute he's home, we're doing something fun. I think we've already watched like four Christmas movies so far. And I didn't even include home decor shots, my friend's wedding, photo sessions, my grandmother's (stepmom's mom) passing, or Noah's visit with Santa in this post. I figured this was plenty for now. Needless to say, we've been busy, mostly spending lots of time together. It's been heavenly.

So here's what we've been up to...

Christmas Trees and Bonfires.
We went and got our tree Thanksgiving weekend. We always go to this cute little spot not far from our house. They hand out free popcorn, have a bonfire to roast marshmallows over, and have the freshest trees from the NC mountains. These people are always so nice too.
My niece and little sister came along with us, which was a huge help. They kept an eye on Noah while Brad and I looked for a tree. Because I'm a weirdo, and it has to be perfect. And as long as there's breath in me, we will always have fresh Christmas trees. I'm very passionate about that. haha
Oh, and in case you're wondering, they did hand Noah a roaster at one point. It ended with my sister almost getting her eye poked out. So he just watched. lol

McAdenville.
Most people know it as "Christmastown USA", since that's what it was called on the Travel Channel. But it still feels weird calling it that. I've been going here since I was tiny, and it never gets old. The first time we tried to go last week, our SUV started to overheat about three minutes into it. We had to turn around and go home before our car exploded.
We came back a couple days later in our other car, and oh my gosh, Noah LOVED it. We let him sit up front in my lap to see (don't worry, it's understood that all kids aren't buckled through McAdenville. Everyone goes super slow and there are cops everywhere). He thought it was the coolest thing ever. Pretty sure we'll be taking him one more time before it's over.
Afterwards, we topped off the night with ice cream (since it's unseasonably warm). So far, Noah really likes Christmas. ;)
(sorry for the crappy phone pics. I didn't bring my camera for this outing...)

 (If you're wondering what's on his mouth, it's Doritos and peanut butter. We had dinner in the car, and we let him have Doritos for the first time in months. Little man chowed down. Yeah, it was a good night for him. lol)

Billy Graham Library.
Last year when we went to the BGL, we made the mistake of going on a Saturday after school had already gotten out. This year, we made sure to go on a weeknight. And oh my goodness gracious, it was beautiful. We finally got to walk around and tour everything. My favorite part is that while it does give information about Billy Graham's life and journey; the entire time, the library points to Jesus (actually, Graham was originally adamantly against them naming it after him). 

It was absolutely gorgeous. Even Noah was interested in it, especially the live nativity scene.

 Small Town Parade.
The little town next to us had their Christmas parade (some spot where our favorite park is), so we decided to take Noah. Before it started, we stopped by the park to play, and he found the gold mine of all dirty spots.

He has recently started covering his ears a lot. His OT says it's because he's hearing frequencies that are bugging him, but I personally think it's more of a way to cope with new situations and surroundings. So while it looks like he may not be enjoying it? Trust me. He loved it. His favorites were the fire truck, police cars, Shriners go-carts, and tractors. :)

Calvary Christmas Concert.
(thanks to the various Calvary peeps that shared all of these on FB, since I didn't bring my camera)



My church put on an awesome Christmas concert Sunday. Unfortunately, Brad caught my cold the night before, so it was just me and Noah. But I'm so glad I got to go. It was so fun seeing a few of my friends' kids in the program and of course friends that were actually in it. It was awesome.



Here's a clip of one of my favorite songs from the night. Seriously, gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. And her voice is beautiful!





Be back with more later!!

Happy Easter!

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1b

(found on pinterest, no source given)

Happy Easter from me & my boys!

Good Friday

We have officially dyed 3 dozen eggs. One with my dad and stepmom Wednesday night, then two last night with my mom and little sister.

First, my dad's:
Because of work schedules, we headed over to their house that night, where Noah got plenty of attention.

The egg dyeing went better than I expected. Noah was interested, and even though I took his nice pants off (just as a precaution...), he never ended up multicolored.

Last night, my little sister and mom came over for some Easter fun.
Noah wasn't feeling too well, so my sister and I dyed eggs while Noah just chilled out and did puzzles. But after they left, Noah ended up getting curious, so we did our own little family dyeing session. :)

Hope everyone has a fabulous Easter weekend!

***


"When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds, you have been healed." 1 Peter 2:23-24

"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed..." Isaiah 53:5 

"He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to a cross..." Colossians 2:14

"See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands..." Isaiah 49:16

Blessed Be Your Name

My life anthem.

It's a difficult one to live by, most definitely. And don't be fooled... I'm not always successful.

There are days when I forget.

Like when it rains day after day, with no end in sight, and my restless toddler is driving me crazy.

Or when I realize I'm one of the few wives I know whose husband isn't around to do the dinner, bath, and bed routine, and consequently, feel sorry for myself.

Or when I climb into bed alone at night and wish for a better scenario.

Or when the monotony of laundry, dishes, washing dirty hands, and vacuuming crumbs out of the carpet (again) gets to be too much.

Or when we have to make the decision on which trips are worth the gas... budgeting is oh-so-fun.

Or when our hot water heater breaks (like this morning), and we don't have an extra thousand bucks just sitting around to purchase a new one.

But none of this matters.

This time has been ordained for us.

By His grace, we will get through it. And all for His glory.

Because it's not about us. It's about Him... His goodness, His grace, His mercy, His love, His power.
His ability to get us through it; not ours.

Back when Brad was in Colorado, and the chances of our relationship making it seemed dim, I had a choice to make. I could whine and mope around, wondering why God would allow me to hurt so much. Or? I could praise Him anyway.

And that's how I got through it.
I can't explain it, because logically, it probably doesn't make much sense.

But I realized that I can't just praise Him during the happy times. What a fair-weathered fan I'd been.

No, we're to praise in the hard times too.

So through tear-stained cheeks, I prayed. Through gut-wrenching sadness, I sang praises.

And none of this is to set myself on a oh-look-how-righteous-I-am pedestal. Not at all.

But to share how those hard times are so much easier to get through when you recognize Who is in charge. When you let go of the anger and bitterness and resentment.
When you surrender it to Him.

Like the disciples in chains who sang praises in the midst of their trials, we're called to do the same. And it never fails, God shows up every time.

Maybe not in the way we expected, but He's there. Always.
"You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, blessed be Your Name..."

It's a choice.
So yesterday, in a weak moment of "Woe is me", this song came on the radio.
God speaks. That is for sure.
The song that sparked my decision almost 10 years ago to praise... "though there's pain in the offering"... to trust that He is in control. Of our relationship, our finances, our health, our safety, everything. The God who created it all, who has each star named, is worthy of trusting.

2 Corinthians 12:9

There is so much freedom in that.

And that concludes our Tuesday morning sermon.
Have a great day, everybody! ;)

Evaluation.

via



Brad and I both have gone back and forth on if/when I could... should... write about this topic. It's not that we're living in denial or being all aloof or anything like that. We're just cautious. Even though I technically don't have hundreds of followers, I do have a lot of lurkers (and I mean that in a non-creepy way. just people who read and don't comment). So for that reason, for our family's own privacy, I haven't talked much about what's been going on behind the scenes. We needed some time to process.

But there have been some challenges.

Everyone faces challenges, obviously. It's different for everyone. For me, though, the emotional toll it takes is magnified when it deals with your baby. It does more than make you worry; it pierces your soul. Everything in you aches for your child to be okay. To understand that what we choose to do for them is just that... for them. And hoping that those decisions are the right ones.

Today marked the beginning of a new journey for our family.

It's no secret that Noah still doesn't talk much. If at all. It also doesn't help that he's the size of a 3 year old with the vocabulary of a one year old.

But it's more than that.

He doesn't really do much pretend play, outside of playing with his cars/trains/etc. He doesn't follow directions well. The back-and-forth in play is minimal. Socially, he still mainly plays around kids, not much with kids. His skill levels are behind... he doesn't blow bubbles, drink from a straw, or proudly show us a toy/drawing/anything. There are some red flags there, that we were already aware of, yet not quite certain they're worth worrying about yet.

This morning, he had his Early Intervention evaluation. The ladies were, of course, very sweet and patient with him. He hadn't had breakfast yet, so they waited on him to eat (because before breakfast, it was a waste of their time. lol). He interacted well, decent eye contact, smiled, all that. One went through her repertoire of games, while they both asked some questions. We answered as thoroughly and as honestly as we could.

After they were through, the ladies proceeded to give us their assessment. We weren't shocked to hear that he's behind, however the extent to which he's delayed was hard to hear. Developmentally, he's falling around 15 or 16 months. I have to admit, that pill was difficult to swallow.

We discussed some of his mannerisms, and at this point, even though she sees some of the red flags, she's not convinced of autism. Basically, we were already on the same page as her with what we've observed about him (and being on the same page with them was a biggie for me). The problem is that none of us are sure about why he's behind. Because even though he displays some of the warning signs, there are plenty of other areas in which he clearly counteracts them. She's definitely apprehensive to label him right now. We all agreed it's only fair to give him time to catch up. She encouraged us that he has an amazing foundation to work with, and that she expects to see some really great progress with him. She assured us that he's obviously a very healthy, happy little guy. He just has some catching up to do.

But of course, in my head, my momma brain is running a mile a minute... "Did I do something wrong?", "Have I not challenged him enough?", "Have I baby'd him too much, thus elliminating the need to talk?", "Was it those times I forgot to take my prenatals?", "Is it genetic?", "What if we can't afford therapy? How will we pay for it?", "Is it something in his environment?", "What if it's not me/us at all? What if it's something else?" I try not to let my mind wander there too much. Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at controlling where and how far to let myself go, in terms of mental/emotional stuff. Because if I go too far, it's not going to do anyone any good, especially Noah. And right now, I have to put on my game face. Not just for me, but for my family.

We all coped differently after this was all over. Noah was clearly pooped out and basically lounged around for a couple hours before going down for an early nap.

Brad passed out on the couch, almost immediately after they left. He's always done this when he's overwhelmed. When we went for our first ultrasound, he slept afterwards. When we found out we were having a boy, he slept afterwards. It's his way of processing. He has a lot on his shoulders already, with work and being the sole provider of our little family. But to add this to it, wondering how it's all going to work out, is a lot to handle. Right now, he's at the driving range.

And me? I blog. :)

What I have to remember is that this is all not an accident.

God has a reason. He has a plan. I have no idea what He intends to do at this moment, but I do know this... He is good. He is holy. And He loves us.

He is bigger than anything life has to throw at us.

I have to trust that He is perfectly capable, that He has my baby in the palm of His hands. It's just another valley that we're walking through, but I know that our joy comes with the morning (Psalm 30:5). His grace is sufficient for me, and His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Cor 12:9). So while I could sit here and worry, I'm choosing to rely on His strength and wisdom to get us through this season. I'm choosing joy. I have an amazing support system... a mom who is no stranger to child development; family members with listening ears; friends who lend their wisdom and encouragement; a sweet-natured little boy who somehow knows when I need to rock him like a baby, quiet tears streaming down my cheeks; and a husband who loves me during (and in spite of) my moments of "Why the heck can't anything ever be easy?!" :)

So yeah. We'll figure this out. We'll get through it. But for the sake of honesty, and for documenting our family's journey, I felt it was time to share a little.

Keep my baby in your prayers. I'd appreciate it.

our wedding verse



101

Today is what would have been my MamMaw's 101st birthday.

She lived to be 98, and I'd have given anything to see her hold my baby boy.

She was one heck of a lady.

Born in 1910, you can only imagine the things she got to see. I actually interviewed her on video back in college about her life. Not for an assignment, but because I wanted that history recorded. From her perspective. She described fond memories of games she'd play with her friends when they were young, where she worked, and how my grandmother slept in a dresser drawer when she was an infant. And of course, spoke plenty about her sisters that she remained close to until the end.

She talked about the Great Depression some and how hard it was. However, we were cautious not to make her uncomfortable, although I was dying to know how she felt about other not-so-glamorous parts of life. You see, she was virtually a single mother. She had married a man who was in and out of her life. Imagine being a single, working mother in the 1930s. Pretty sure it wasn't as acceptable in society as it is now. She endured some pretty heavy stuff. Yet despite that, she remained one of the most graceful, forgiving, and sweetest women I've ever known. You never felt one ounce of bitterness, judgement, or condescension. The woman never complained about anything. Ever. She successfully raised an amazing daughter, the valedictorian of her class. She was proud of her little mill house, the one my grandparents got married in, and the one she privately told me she wanted to stay in until she died. She almost got that wish, but for health reasons had to live with my grandparents. My grandmother frequently took her "home" though. That tiny home was the location of many Christmas Eve parties, holding 20+ people. And for me, it never felt cramped. It was cozy.

As a kid, I spent every Friday night at her home.

My parents would go on a date night, while I stayed with her. We would take walks through the neighborhood, sometimes all the way to the nearby Hardees for some ice cream, where she would proudly tell the cashier that I was her great-granddaughter.

We would visit neighbors, pick up "helicopter leaves", and walk a little faster passed the house with the mean looking dogs out front. I would fall asleep on her couch, listening to whatever baseball/basketball game was on. She loved sports.

As I got older, obviously the visits became less frequent. I would talk with her at our monthly family gatherings and all that. One night when Brad and I were dating, we decided to take her out for dinner (to the K&W... where else?). I don't think I'd seen her that happy in a long time. Just like when I was small, she proudly announced to everyone that her great-grandchildren had chosen to spend their Friday night with her. To make things ever better? Her sister arrived with her children, and she was so excited to show her that we had taken her out. She thanked us multiple times, and told us how it was so sweet of us to do this for her. I could tell she felt special, and that was my goal. I wanted her to know how much I still loved her, and I think she got it.

She loved Brad.

Brad made her laugh and took the time to talk to her at every family function. As her hearing declined, fewer and fewer people would attempt meaningful conversations with her. Brad never stopped making her feel special. I love knowing that she approved. She knew he loved me, and she knew he'd take care of me.

I had begged the Lord to let her live long enough to be there on my wedding day.

He did.

She was so happy, and I treasure the pictures with her in them.

Four months later, she went home to be with the Lord.

I was there with her the day before she died. It wasn't easy to see her that way, but I wanted her to know I was there. She lived a very full life. One filled with honor and grace and a love for Jesus.

My MamMaw was a fantastic quilter. She made all of her great-grandkids their own quilts, usually one for show and one for use. She must have known I would've wanted one for my kids. Before her hands stopped working well, she had taken the time to put another one together, with her daughter's help. At my baby shower, my grandmother gave me a baby blue quilt stitched together by my MamMaw. And of course, it took everything I had to fight back those tears.

It now sits in Noah's reading nook in his room.

I adored that woman.

Thankfully, I have the promise that I will be with her again.

But today, I wanted to celebrate her 101st birthday in my own way.
There's nothing really out there on the internet about her, except for maybe a small blip about her life span.
And that's now been fixed. Because she deserves way more than to be just a blip in history.

Happy 101, MamMaw!

We miss you.

xoxo.

potential

There seems to be a big theme radiating in my life right now.

A few days ago, Kelle Hampton wrote a post on potential... the thrill of creating something out of nothing, of having a perfectly clean home, or learning a new art. Potential comes with excitement. I love collecting unique ideas. Before I found the miracle of pinterest (follow me!), I would literally cut out pretty images and articles from magazines and store them away for later. You should've seen my "wedding book". I redid the entire "planner", added sections and pasted pictures all over it. Something about the hope of wanting to be more and do more and create more.

And then Monday night happened.

Brad and I were fussing discussing our current living situations. Really, it felt like a performance review... which any of you wives know this kind of conversation doesn't end well. He explained how he felt like I was selling myself short.
Before we got married, I was able to handle a lot. In college, I was able to make A/B's, work, have a social/family life, help my parents with my brother and sister, and be an unofficial nurse to my ailing boyfriend. After college, I worked retail... both store side and office side. I worked my way on up and was juggling all kinds of roles. Sure, it was a small, family-owned business; but it was still plenty of responsibility for one person.

Yet now?
I've let myself go.
Not physically (well... not completely, anyway), but mentally.
It's like I've given up. I do enough to get by... enough to where it's not quite up to par, but nobody would be disgusted if they walked in our home.

And while I wanted to give him a big smack on the mouth for telling me I wasn't living up to my potential here at home... he was right.
The thing is? We're 100% honest with eachother. We hold eachother accountable. We always have. And while this wasn't what I wanted to hear (and to be honest made me so mad my redneck, southern twang came back...), he had a point.
He admitted to falling short too. And like most people, I was SO wanting to turn it all around on him. It's human nature (hello, Adam and Eve?). But I couldn't. This was about me this time. Not him.

How is it possible that I could do SO much professionally? Working late nights, then coming home to help take care of my dog and see my boyfriend and still keep things somewhat tidy? I could do all of this but I can't keep up with a house and toddler?? What's wrong with me??

I got apathetic.

During the first few months of our marriage, I would nag Brad about leaving dishes out or throwing his dirty laundry wherever. He accused me of always fussing at him. So I left it alone. If I tried to keep up with it myself? He would tell me to worry about it later, that he wanted to go do something fun. I figured if he didn't care, then why should I?
A few years later, and I've picked up his bad habits. We don't live in a total pigsty, but our house has never really been up to my standards. I grew up with a severe OCD, clean freak mother. My dad is also extremely clean. I've never seen a man spend his Saturdays dusting shelves and vacuuming the way my dad did. So I admit, my standards are high... but they're definitely attainable.

I also realized that there are many days where I want to escape our home. Complaining that I "need to get out!" While this is certainly understandable (can I get a amen, SAHMs??), I wasn't trying to escape boredom. It was that our home wasn't cozy or a place I wanted to stay. I'm naturally a homebody. But when I was at home, all I saw was insurmountable clutter and chores.
Brad assured me that he now understands why I nagged him in the beginning. He understands how I got to where I was. Since then, he has not once gotten annoyed with me for reminding him to wash his pan with egg residue from breakfast... because if I didn't eat it? I shouldn't have to clean it.
As my mom so frequently said when we were young... "I am not the maid."

This is a family task. Not a female task.

Tuesday morning, I woke up resolved to take my house back. Make it mine. Make it a place where I want to live and cook and hang out. Keep up with the daily stuff, so I can have time to start (and finish!) projects. I reminded myself that Noah will live if he has to wait a few more minutes before we can go out to play, just for me to finish cleaning our dishes from breakfast. I don't have to be a constant source of entertainment for him. He has to learn how to entertain himself. Not always of course, but definitely sometimes, just so I can accomplish a few things.

So Tuesday, I went to read a few blogs... and there was my bloggy buddy Susan writing, not just about dreaming of potential, but living up to it. And learning to accept the things that we love right now, even if it doesn't quite match up to that dream home or dream vacation or dream body that we envisioned.

And as if I needed any more confirmation that the Lord had been involved with this lesson all week... there was a teaching on potential this morning as I headed out in the car.

You'll be happy to know that my home is now looking the way I want it to. Almost anyway. It may mean I'm vacuuming 35095346 times a day, but bydingy, my floors will look nice. Counters are clean. Laundry is clean, folded, and put away the same day. And miraculously, I've had extra time to spend with Noah, weed our garden, and hang out with our dogs. It's been awesome.
I even made a little reading nook for him. It's not as cool as several I've seen on pinterest, such as this...

source

But I still think it's pretty cute.
And it serves its purpose. Noah plops down and can easily grab his favorite books.
Eventually, we're going to turn the spare bedroom/office into a play room/office, so I'll amp it up a little more. But it works for now.

I highly encourage the whole self-evaluation stuff, finding out what you're capable of, and then living it out. I've gotten my brain back. I remember more and accomplish more. It makes for a much happier day. :)

Plus, I surprisingly have way more time to hang out with this little guy.