The Night I Saw Jesus {He Drives A Pick-Up Truck}

I don’t know why God likes to teach me things when I am in the car. I’ve written several blog posts of my adventures with Harvey my CR-V. I suppose it’s the one place in my world that lacks distraction, so I do tend to pray a lot in the car and I’ve had many two-sided conversations with my Creator while driving.

However, this particular instance wasn’t a conversation. I wasn’t looking for specific answers to my troubling questions. I was simply sitting in the dark in the middle of nowhere.

My oldest daughter and I were driving back from a college visit, just the two of us. She was quietly scrolling through her phone in the passenger seat and I was singing along to the radio.

Quick refresher course for those new here; I cannot successfully operate a GPS. It’s impossible. I know the concept. I say all the right things. I do all the right things. But, somehow I seem to end up heading in the wrong direction a lot. Because of this, I have a lot of anxiety in unfamiliar places.

So, I was already anxious. And did I mention it was dark? Like,  6pm-after-the-time-change dark.

One more fun fact you need to know; I love back roads. I love the dips and curves. I love the personality of the country and how each house seems to have a story to tell. Especially the abandoned ones.

Ok. So, here we were, my oblivious teen and I, on the back road of no where Alabama in the dark.

And suddenly there’s a red stoplight. No cross roads. No directional signs. No indication on my evil, conniving GPS of roadwork or delays. Just a random red light that doesn’t make any sense.

So I stop. And I wait.

I turn to my kid and ask her what the deal is as if she has suddenly gained all knowledge. She just shrugs and goes back to scrolling. No good kid!

I wait some more. I notice there are traffic barrels down the center of the road ahead, but beyond that is just darkness. My headlights don’t even illuminate the road because it rolls downhill. It starts to feel abysmal. The darkness seems to grow around me. The quiet of the country begins to stir up all kinds of fears I forgot I had.

A few cars pull up behind me. I was comforted by the light, but then started to worry aloud, “Abi, I don’t even know where to go when the light turns green! What side of the road am I supposed to go on? Those barrels aren’t lined up to guide very well. I hate that I am the first one in line! What if I go the wrong way? What if I lead these people down the wrong side of the road? What is even going on down there?”

More scrolling and shrugs. I wished for her calm.

I fought the urge to turn around. I fought the urge to panic. I wish I could say that I took the opportunity to pray and ask for help, but I didn’t. I just sat there in the dark fretting.

Suddenly, as if riding on a cloud, a pick up truck dressed in white, blue and red blinding lights rose up over the hill and slid into place in front of me. There were no gestures and no words to tell me what to do. It was obvious Jesus was driving the truck and wanted me to follow him. He turned the red light to green and began to drive down the hill. A beacon.

I started laughing and praising Jesus for saving me from the darkness. I couldn’t believe how relieved I was to have a rescuer appear from out of no where to lead me out of my fabricated mess. And I didn’t even ask for him!

My 17yo thought I was nuts, but I made her take a picture to remind me of all the lessons I learned while stranded on a country road.

  1. God knows exactly what you need, even when you are fretting.
  2. Life is more fun when you are not fretting.
  3. He’s always with you and won’t leave you sitting in the darkness of a freshly harvested cotton field.
  4. He knows the way to go, just focus on His light.
  5. He’s valiant, responsive and has perfect timing every time.
  6. He delights in surprising you.
  7. He’s a rescuer.
  8. He drives a pick-up truck.
  9. Ok, He doesn’t really drive a pick-up truck but He could if He wanted to.
  10. 17yo girls think their parents are strange when they suddenly start praising Jesus in a pick-up truck and ask them to take pictures of it.
So much light in the darkness, it can only be Jesus!


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The Hard Assignments {Soaring on Wings}

The Lord gave me an unexpected assignment this year. That’s usually how He deals with me. Unexpectedly. I have trouble paying attention. So really, it’s not His fault! If I could just keep my eyes focused on Him maybe I could see things He’s tossing my way more clearly. But this was a pretty big assignment, and I didn’t see it coming at all. Those are the ones that are usually the most rewarding. The ones where he kinda just drops something in my lap so I don’t really have that much time to think about it so I don’t really have the time to be disobedient. Believe me, I really wanted to be disobedient on this one. Or at least I did after I had said yes!

I hate flying and the Lord is sending me to Asia. For those who didn’t make an A in geography class, that’s across the ocean. So, unless I am going to take 3 weeks on a cruise ship (I’d definitely say yes to that!) to get there, I gotta fly. In an airplane. For 24 hours. That’s 24 hours in an enclosed space sitting upright among strangers…over the ocean.

The thought of that alone has improved my prayer life exponentially. Did I mention that I hate flying?

I’ve been getting pretty anxious about it and trying not to think about it and honestly asking God to find a way to get me there without having to fly at all. I want to avoid the jet-lag and inevitable exhaustion that comes with getting no sleep on a plane. Again, that cruise ship sounds really nice. Or maybe he has the wrong girl. I always think he has the wrong girl when it comes to my assignments. Truth be told, I’d much rather spend my days playing games with toddlers or reading poetry. But that isn’t the calling on my life. I know it. Doesn’t mean I don’t try to deny it. But let’s face it, doing God’s work should scare us sometimes. That’s exactly how we learn to lean on him for provision, safety, trust and comfort among other things.

So, I’m a week out from boarding this plane and I have yet to find my way out of having to fly for 2 days. I am honestly, quite anxious. I started reading the Bible chronologically at the beginning of this year. Or maybe it was the middle of last year. I have done a pretty poor job of keeping up with it, so it could have even been 2 years ago.

I picked it back up this evening in what has been several futile attempts to calm my nerves lately. Just going through the motions, really. Come on. You’ve been there too.

So there I am reading in Isaiah 40. I’ve read it dozens of times before in my life. I’ve even used it to encourage others. But because God’s Word is alive, it still speaks at exactly the right time. The same words we read 2 years ago can mean something different today. My God told me that I will soar on wings like eagles–on an airplane. He will renew my strength throughout my journey. He’s already waiting for me in the skies and waiting for me when I reach my destination.  What a privilege! I will walk among the people He has sent me to serve and not grow faint.

I love when He speaks to me through Scripture. How has God used His Word to speak to you lately? Drop me a comment and let’s talk about it.

But those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

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Growing Pains: How Hurting Helps

I just don’t think I can do it, y’all. My oldest came home from school yesterday branded with her “Senior 2020” shirt. She beamed as she turned around modeling her school colors.

I literally felt like I had been punched in the gut.

She wanted me to be happy for her and get excited with her. But I just couldn’t do it. Not yet.

And since motherhood is an unrelenting profession, my youngest also came home late from being out with friends last night and wanted to ‘spill the tea.’ Y’all know that’s just slang for catching up, right? Ok. It took me a few times to catch on to that one. She sat there talking to me about things that are really hard. She’s got so much confidence, that kid. Then suddenly, it hit her. Middle School is over next week. She’ll walk out of the last 3 wonderfully awkward years of her life and into a big scary 4 years that defines who she is.

And she started crying. “Mommy! I don’t want to go! I’m not ready!”

In that moment I was faced with the decision to either cry with her, or lie and tell her it would all be ok. Let’s face it. It will not ALL be ok. High School is hard and it knocks you around a bit.

The truth is, if we all waited until we were ready for all the things we wouldn’t do any of the things.

I keep looking at all your pictures on Facebook of how brave you all are. Celebrating last days. Graduations. Moving on. Growing up. And as much confidence that I have in my girls that they can rock the Senior year and survive Freshman Academy, I just don’t think I have it in me to keep encouraging them when I want to curl up and hide myself.

So, here’s the thing. The biggest, scariest, most challenging moments in our lives are also the greatest, most wonderful, rewarding things in our lives. Facing our Giants armed with only a few tiny pebbles is what makes us stronger and more triumphant.

When Lucy was little, she suffered from growing pains.  She was six or seven years old, but it was like having a newborn again. She’d wake up in the middle of the night calling for me until I would go into her room and rub her legs to ease the pain. We would do that night after night. Until one night she didn’t need me to do that anymore.

Growing hurts.

Moving on from the comfortable little middle school or standing on the edge of the nest and stretching your Senior wings is scary. Until you finally take the leap and realize the wind resistance against you is what you needed to make you fly after all.

I’m bound to cry a lot in the next 365 days. My girls will too. I know I will ache so bad I’ll wish someone would come to rub out my growing pains. But, I’m also hoping that through it all, when it’s finally time (ok, y’all where are those tissues??) to let go of the things we have come to love so much,  my girls will look back and realize how much strength they really had. And how, really, they made me the better person.



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God at the Molecular Level {The Trinity Watered Down}


I will never know the answer to some of life’s little mysteries.

Where does the other sock really go?

Why can’t I run out of shampoo and conditioner at the same time? Like, ever?

Why do my kids feel like they need to wake me up to tell me when they can’t sleep? As if that helps either one of us!

And why does my little Facebook notification badge fluctuate from 11 to 5 back to 11 and then land on zero? It’s a dirty game, Facebook. Stop it.

All of those things are fun to ponder, but there’s one mystery that will never truly be answered and weighs a whole lot more than the rest. I really like to sit and think about it as if one day the answer will be revealed to me somehow. It’s foolish to believe it ever will, but I’m a deep thinker by nature and I can’t help it.

The Holy Trinity.

My family and I were discussing it over dinner one night. Because that’s what we do. Sure, we discuss what happened at the lunch table and why we shouldn’t have to take a high school chemistry class. We talk Alabama football and Lord help us all when there’s a political scandal. But who wants to talk about football and politics over a plate of spaghetti when you can talk about things that really matter? Eternal things. God things. Jesus things. And the Holy Spirit.

We act like these things can’t ever be explained. I believe that until we get to Heaven, we won’t truly grasp the enormity of God and all His mysteries. But, I also think we tend to complicate things that He meant to be simple.

The Gospel is simple. Jesus is the son of God, a gift from Heaven. He lived a sinless life, took on every one of our sins and was sacrificed on a cross. He died and rose again. Anyone who believes that gets eternal life. Simple. We complicate it with denominations, rituals and our legalistic practices.

I believe the Trinity is simple too. I once just accepted it as a blanket truth because I couldn’t understand it. It was just one of those things about God I planned to ask Him about when I get to Heaven. Now I believe its explanation is in plain sight and meant to be understood at the elementary level. How can a God in heaven also be God as a man, Jesus, and also be left as a counselor lingering on the earth as the Holy Spirit?


To understand this, let’s use our child-like faith and drop everything that hinders us and the things that so easily entangle us and think about the one matter that is essential to all created life. Water.

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14

It is no coincidence that Jesus uses a water analogy to talk about eternal life since all naturally created beings need water to live. But to me, this is the key to unlocking the mystery of the Trinity.

Water is the only substance that still maintains it’s molecular design in 3 different forms; it’s H2O as solid, liquid and gas. God is all three at once – God in Heaven, Jesus on Earth and the Holy Spirit living in and dwelling among us.


God as solid ice seems cold, distant and untouchable all the way over there in Heaven. Hardened and seemingly unjust. But He still holds healing and preservation powers. Like an iceberg, there’s so much under the surface of God that we can’t possibly fathom His complexities. Strong enough to move mountains, but oh, how He loves us!


So, He came down and sat criss-cross with us on the floor. He dug into the mess we made so we could touch Him and begin to understand Him. We relate to Him, Jesus. Just like the tangible and refreshing liquid that is water. He’s the universal solvent offered to all of us to soften our hardened clay hearts. We were soiled, so he cleansed us and gave us new life. Sweet smelling like the rain. Peaceful as a mountain stream. Powerful as a roaring waterfall and vast as the oceans. He invites us to dive deep into a free-flowing relationship with Him.

Holy Spirit

As any human life must end on earth, Jesus ascended back to Heaven. But He left us with something better. A friend and omnipresent advocate, God’s Holy Spirit. Vapor-like. Invisible like a gas. Still mightier than a steam engine, the Spirit moves and breathes with us. It’s closer than our thoughts. And I like to think of it as bound to believers at the molecular level. Part of our DNA that guides who we are and cannot be separated from us.

It stands to reason, doesn’t it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he’ll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus, bringing you alive to himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With his Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ’s! Romans 8:1

There is no possible way to fully understand God and His mysterious ways, but I believe He wants us never to give up the infinite quest to try. May we always have an unquenchable thirst to know more of Him, be closer to Him and to emulate His example.

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.

Psalm 42:1


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Grace {How Lamenting Helped Me Find It}

I’ve been crying a lot today. I haven’t cried in a really long time. But, I’ve been crying a lot today. Nothing tragic has happened. No one has hurt my feelings. I’ve just been crying.

When I told my husband of my emotionally bad day, he didn’t really blink. I don’t have them often, and I pray this one is also temporary. He said, “Well, you’re a girl so… sometimes you just need to cry.”

He’s right. Sometimes I do.

I guess it just caught me off guard, because like I said nothing is really wrong. It’s all the little things that added up to one really big thing and the waters finally burst through the flood gates. Little things like feeling inadequate on how I handled a situation. Or some things that I left undone or didn’t follow through. And goodness if I could just learn that comparing myself to others is nothing but a malicious game the enemy likes to drag me to, make me sit in the stands and cheer for.  I can never win that game.

So I cried. I cried and lamented. Which, by the way, is different than complaining. Lamenting is expressing your grief and sorrow. Complaining is expressing your annoyance with something.

God encourages us to lament to him on days like today. Days when you just can’t stop crying and you don’t know why. He knows why. But He loves the intimacy you share with Him when you pour out your heart. He’s jealous for your time and expression and is very patient when you finally choose to take a moment to grieve.

I had grown faint from crying. Breathless and weak. It’s when I paused to float on the river of my tears that God whispered.


I struggle so much with feeling inadequate. “God, I’m not good enough! I’ll never be good enough for you!”

“Child, Grace!”

Like a warm rushing wind it flowed through me. The reminder that His grace is always sufficient and I don’t have to be. I forget this way too much!

So, I picked myself up off the floor. Wiped my tears and started moving again. I started breathing again. My lament turned to worship and my sorrow to a tear-stained joy.

It’s not been my best day. But, I needed the cry. I needed the gentle reminders.

And I cannot survive with grace.


Hear my prayer, Lord;
    let my cry for help come to you.
Do not hide your face from me
    when I am in distress.
Turn your ear to me;
    when I call, answer me quickly. Psalm 102



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Three Reasons I Stayed Off Of Facebook Through Advent

It wasn’t a hard decision. Wasn’t even hard to follow-up. For Advent, December 1st through Christmas, I decided to stay off of Facebook. I used it still for work and for this blog. But I stayed off the social part of the social media app. And I am so glad I did!

I Didn’t Miss Anything.

People still told me when someone died or when someone was upset. I even got all the good news. Some even shared their funny videos with me from their own phones. What I didn’t get was the hatred, polarizing opinions and slander. It was pretty awesome. And look! I lived to write about it.

I Didn’t Compare My Already Pretty Good Life To Other People’s Highlights

My life is pretty good. Two healthy kids. A husband who loves me. A job with purpose and a decent home. But just like the rest of us, my life can get messy. And I tend to compare my messy days to everyone else’s triumphant days posted on Facebook. So, this year I decided to remove the temptation to compare. I am sure some of you went on amazing vacations, got amazing gifts and had your long lost family members come to visit you for Christmas. And you can tell me all about it when you see me next time. Which leads me to another reason I logged off.

I Enjoyed Actual Face Time

Lunch dates. Breakfast Dates. Just evenings at home with my family. I laughed a whole lot with people that I love a whole lot. It’s so much more satisfying to lose 3 hours talking with a bestie than to lose them scrolling through Cyberspace. It filled my cup so much and I enjoyed the season way more than I have in many years.

I had the best Christmas that I’ve had in a long time. And believe me when I tell you it wasn’t because of the gifts. It was because I chose to spend more time with the ones I care about most, to guard my heart against the lies of comparison and to live in the moment given to me tied up in a precious bow from my Father in Heaven.  Every moment is a gift. And I am so glad I paused to enjoy each one.

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The Sacrifice of Christmas

It’s Christmas. My girls are actually getting along, the house smells of freshly baked ginger snaps and is filled with music saved only for this time of year. It’s kinda picture perfect. More like a miracle.

Among all the busyness and cheer of the season, though, I’ve been pondering something much more critical. The birth of Jesus is the reason to celebrate Christmas. We give gifts to those we love, tie them in a bow and move on with whatever the next year brings. But I am thinking of Mary today.

Believers know that Mary was visited by an angel of the Lord who told her she would bear a child. Born to save the world. Her immediate obedience and faith is astounding. She doesn’t seem to blink an eye at this news. “Let it be so,” she says. I don’t know about you, but when I found out I was pregnant with my first born, I fell to my knees and cried. There was so much uncertainty. I had never been pregnant before. I was miles away from my hometown and I had no friends at the time. I felt very alone and my child was just an ordinary baby. I had dreams for her life, and what she would grow to be like.

I think of Mary and what her mother’s heart must have been dreaming for her child. Mary knew her child would be born as a sacrifice. Even a as a sacrifice for herself.

Let’s just camp out there for a moment and discuss the difference between death and a sacrificial death because they are very different. We are all born and we all die. It is everyone’s destiny. So, when I hear songs and read stories about how Jesus was born to die, it doesn’t impact me as much. So what? We all die.

Born to be a sacrifice. Now that catches in my heart.

To sacrifice something, according to my friend Webster, is to accept the loss or destruction for an end cause or ideal.

Back before Jesus was born to be sacrificed, people would offer up their best lambs, goats, cattle etc., in order to be cleansed of their sins. It was a filthy practice, actually. Ironic, huh? Beauty becomes filth to be made clean.

So, I am thinking of Mary in the filthy stable filled with animal waste, old hay and dirt. She’s giving birth to a perfect child. A child that no doubt she prayed over, wondered what he would look like and even thought about his future. How long would she have him? How long before she would have to say goodbye to her son? Before he was sacrificed…for me? And for you.

It gives me a new meaning to Christmas morning. It makes me think of Jesus’ little birthday party very differently. We were all born. We will all die.

Jesus’ difference is the sacrifice.

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Be Still {How I Overcame My Anxiety}

It’s not really crippling for me, but I can see how it could be. Anxiety.

I do struggle sometimes with feeling overwhelmed, out of control and over-worked. My mind races, which I hate. And I feel like the world is closing in on me. Suffocating me.

In more recent years I have discovered that if I call it out loud and tell others whom I trust in plain words “I am feeling anxious today,” even if I don’t know why I am feeling that way, knowing that others are aware and promising to pray me through a bad day, it helps me. There’s always a peace that comes from allowing others to share your burdens.

This week though, my anxiety decided to visit in the middle of the night. Do you ever have nights like that? You think things are good and you start to drift off and then suddenly you remember one thing you left undone. And then you remember what you need to do tomorrow. And the next thing you know you are listing off all of the things that went wrong or that could go wrong. Sometimes my mind just does a constant loop of what I should have said. I hate that one.

I was determined not to let these useless thoughts control me and lead me down the long lonely path to insomnia. (I know that one well too)!

Several years ago Psalm 46:10 took me in and adopted me.  I honestly didn’t know I was an orphan, but I had desperately needed Psalm 46:10 way more than it needed me.

Be still and know that I am God. 

There’s more to the verse but I’ll stop there so you can print it on a T-shirt.

It was in the quiet moments while everyone else in my house was peacefully slumbering, and my mind had started it’s midnight merry-go-round that God whispered to me.

Being still and knowing that I am God also means to rest and know that I am God. Rest and know that I got this. All of it. Breathe in My peace and pray.

Well, a few days ago I just started a new Bible study book, “Living Free: Learning to Pray God’s Word” by Beth Moore. So I started praying His word back to Him. I started speaking His language.

Lord, I will be still and know you will heal. Because you are God.

I will be still and know you will provide. Because you are God.

I will be still and know you will mend. Because you are God.

I will be still and know you will guide me. Because you are God.

And on and on.

Friends, I honestly do not remember anything more except the next morning when His mercies were brand new! There was no space between my prayers and the morning light.

There is no doubt in my mind that God carried it all for me that night. That he joyfully accepted each one of my burdens like carefully wrapped packages and set them at the foot of the cross.

I’ve not been promised I won’t ever have another rough night. I’ve not been guaranteed never to feel anxious and overwhelmed. The promise is Jesus. His power and His love for a child like me who needs constant reminding to be still.

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Parenting {How Prayer Helps}

I hate parenting.

I know. You’re all thinking it though. You hate it too.

Why does it have to be so hard?

When I first learned I was pregnant with my first child, I fell to my knees and cried. I was only 24. I wasn’t ready for a baby!

I was so wrong. Sleepless nights, explosive diapers and endless crying was so easy. I can say that now because I am not in the midst of it. Those days were a breeze! I can totally handle a baby.

But I didn’t get a baby. I got a person! That baby has a personality, an attitude and mood swings.

I tell people all the time that I prayed to have boys. I wanted boys so bad. Growing up with brothers, I was used to the rough and tumble, the noise and the smelly socks. Boys are straightforward and come without all the d-r-a-m-a. Their fiances pay for the wedding and there is no cute hashtag for us moms with girls. (#BoyMom much)?

God laughs when you make plans. So, he gave me two beautiful girls.

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE my girls. #GirlMom

I love when they want to talk about the boys, when they ask me to blow-dry their hair and when I get the sweetest texts in the middle of the day. I love to shop with them and cook with them. I love to talk about their dreams and watch their eyes as they dance with thoughts of their future.  I even love their celebrity crushes and can remember how it felt when my own favorite boy band came on the radio.

I just hate parenting.

It hurts too much. And Mom, if you are reading this, you were right. It really does hurt me more than it hurts them. There. Now it’s in writing.

I can change a diaper. I can’t change a failing grade.

I can soothe crying with a pacifier.  I can’t mend a broken heart.

I can drive my kid to every activity under the sun until Jesus comes back. I can’t fully let go when they drive out of my driveway.

It boils down to the fact that I just feel helpless. Here I am, the one they have always called to when they scraped their knee or had a bad dream. But now real life is getting in the way of my magic mom powers and I can’t fix everything anymore.

What scares me even more is that, as teenage girls, I am sure there is more that needs to be fixed than what they are telling me.

I hate it.

So, what’s a mom to do? We’re in this for life.


Each moment builds to the next and stretches out into a beautiful life. My girls aren’t babies any more. And one day they won’t be teenagers either. They will be adults with their own worries and regrets. Hopefully, they won’t be in therapy because of me and the way I handled their teenage years.

So, I pray. I beg God for help and for guidance. For strength and for wisdom. I pray for their dreams to come true and for them to stay healthy. I pray for their minds to be focused on righteous and holy things. I pray for them to make good decisions and for all the stinky boys I wanted so badly to not lead them astray.

It’s still so hard and I still hate it.

But maybe that’s the point? Having teenage girls has done wonders for my prayer life.

When they were babies I prayed over them as I rocked them to sleep. I pray for them now as they pull out of the driveway. I will pray for them as they walk down the aisle and after we hang up from long distance phone calls.

Being a mom means my children always have someone who is praying for them. Their advocate during the tough times and  their cheerleader in the good times.

Thinking of it that way helps me realize what a privilege it is and makes me hate it a little less.




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Disappointment {Wants and Needs}

I wish someone would have told me that disappointments were a part of life. No one ever pulls you aside to tell you to prepare for failure. No. People always set you up for the win. They set you up to succeed and to get the little trophies at the end of the game.

Is this why we often feel stuck? We feel stuck in our jobs, our marriages and the relationships we have. We feel like our kids could always be more like someone else’s and not like the ones God gave us. Not that we don’t love our own kids. They just could be a little smarter. Cooler. Not as whiny. And goodness if they would just once clean their room without being asked!

We wish for different hair, different skin and a different body. We are not ever satisfied with what we’ve got as if our Creator didn’t know what He was doing. (Sometimes I do wonder though. Ok. There. I said it!)

But it’s got me thinking today. Disappointment. I’ve felt it a lot.  And someone said recently it’s because I put my expectations in the hands of my fellow humans. Hmmm.  Maybe. We are all pretty flawed. And I wouldn’t have written the above paragraph if I didn’t think there were truth in it.

I think, however, that it’s quite the opposite. The disappointment I feel is not because I rely too much on my peeps, it’s because I don’t rely enough on Jesus. I compare my circumstances on what I think others think and not what Jesus thinks. He, I am sorry to say, is not always my gold standard.

Also, I invented a new word today. Pharasitic. I think it’s pretty awesome and I am going to talk to Webster about it.  But I have been pretty Pharasitic lately.

<Deep breath in>  Yep. I’ve not only been disappointed by you people, I’ve been pretty judgey (that’s a new word too).  I’ve been working so hard trying to keep up and look pretty against all you prettier and smarter gems that I have found myself stoking my fires of pride.

Ouchie. That stung a little.

But I know what I’m doing, right? I’m 42…wait. Not yet. I’m 41 years old. I’ve seen a thing or two. I’ve got it going on. My kids are smart, (albeit messy). They both love Jesus and it shows. My husband, let’s just face it, he’s awesome and a great dad. I love my job. I have healthy parents who are still married after 51 years. And my friends are the bomb dot com!

Even with all of that, I struggle. I struggle to realize I am wanted and not needed. There is a difference, my friends. God doesn’t need me to fulfill His plans. He wants me to fulfill His plans. God doesn’t need me to love Him and serve Him. He wants me to love Him and serve Him.  I think that is where my disconnect lies. I think that is where a lot of us start using the fuzzy math. Want and need are not equal.

I think once we realize who wants us (Hint, look up) we can set aside the disappointments and we can stop being so Pharasitic. Hey! I used it in a sentence! My mother would be so proud!


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