tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18821949227925224052024-03-19T00:49:57.122-05:00The Almost PerfectionistRamblings about life, crafts, and leaving well-enough aloneJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.comBlogger403125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-33289669100656094572018-06-06T20:53:00.001-05:002018-06-06T20:53:20.051-05:00She's Got LegsI hate my legs.<br />
<br />
Not like <i>oh, I wish my legs were 3% thinner</i>. I am truly embarrassed to claim my legs as part of my body.<br />
<br />
I used to wear jeans year-round. Even in the heat of summer. I eventually got bold and moved up to capris. Look out!<br />
<br />
Last summer my friend Michele pumped up my confidence enough and convinced me to wear shorts. I went to Walmart and bought about four pairs of shorts in different colors. I wore them daily, even though it felt as wrong as if I was walking around shirtless.<br />
<br />
You see, my legs aren't exactly like the other legs I know. My legs have pockets of fat that don't even exist on other legs. I'm fairly certain my legs have different genetic code than all the other legs walking around on this earth. Even when I was at my verrrrrry thinnest, my legs were still made up of lumpy, bumpy, squishy matter.<br />
<br />
I have tried diet and exercise. I have toned and squeezed. I've tried self-tanner to cover these jiggle sticks, but nothing seems to change what I'm working with.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it would be prudent for me to share the fact that my older sister has great legs. Not just great. <i>Killer</i> legs. She and my brother could have a calf-off and they literally have. They are toned and muscular and shapely. My sister tans very well and my brother is hairy, so I'm the only one walking around with ghost legs. These people were drawn out of the same gene pool as I was, and yet my legs just don't match theirs.<br />
<br />
I realized the other day, while trying to decide if I'd rather roast in pants or expose my deformed limbs in shorts, that I just haven't seen other legs like mine. Celebrities don't have these bad boys. The other moms at my kids' schools aren't shaped like me. Even my plus size friends have super toned legs.<br />
<br />
So I guess it boils down to feeling like the oddball. I'm different than everyone else in a way that I already don't like. I mean, why couldn't I be different in a way that's super awesome?<br />
<br />
I've accepted that I'll never wear a two-piece swimsuit ever again. I've accepted that I have more wrinkles than all my older friends and that I have to fill in my eyebrows with a pencil. But I just can't seem to accept these darn things that have the audacity to call themselves legs.<br />
<br />
I've worried about how my views of my legs will affect my daughter, but I've seen her legs and they're fantastic. Thank heavens. I'll have to teach her to love her long and lean perfect body in a "do as I say, not as I do" sort of way. <br />
<br />
We will soon be going on a family vacation. To Florida. Where people wear shorts all the time. We will be vacationing with my stick-thin sister-in-law, my cousin who has been a life long dancer (read: fantastic body), and my aforementioned sister. There will be swimsuits involved. I couldn't seem to find a swimsuit with pants, so I had to settle for a skirt. It's not even a maxi skirt.<br />
<br />
I so badly want to enjoy this vacation with my family, and I will. I just know it. I don't want to be distracted by body image issues. This will be a mental battle for sure. But it's one I intend to win. My kids are worth it, and they deserve a mom who is having fun with them and not one who is wearing a robe on the daily.<br />
<br />
It would be so cool if this next paragraph contained my mind-blowing wisdom about how to love your body for all it can do and because it is fearfully and wonderfully made. Actually I do thank God quite often for what my body can do. I can walk without any pain. I could run if my children's lives were in peril. I'm tall enough to reach all sorts of things. I can drive myself and park wherever there's a spot, and these cottage cheese gams make it all possible. I'm thankful for what I can do, but I'm still not a fan of how I look doing it.<br />
<br />
Maybe you have something about your body that genuinely bothers you. Not just the little insecurities of wondering if your hair looks frizzy or if your shirt shows that weird back fat indent that women get from their bras. I mean maybe you base your whole wardrobe around part of you that you deem strictly unacceptable. We can get through this together.<br />
<br />
Maybe our deformities keep us humble. Maybe they keep us grounded and help us look past physical appearance. Or maybe I'm just still learning how to grow out of body issues. Maybe I'll be brave enough to wear shorts, and another woman will see that I'm letting my imperfections show and so can she.<br />
<br />
That's what I'll be telling myself in Florida.<br />
<br />
JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-34403461995419910122018-04-29T18:13:00.000-05:002018-04-29T18:13:47.908-05:00Jenga StrawsI couldn't hold my emotions in anymore. I got up from my work chair, leaving it spinning as I stood too quickly, and went into the tiny bathroom adjacent to the patient therapy room.<br />
<br />
As soon as I closed the door behind me, I cried. I gave in and let the tears flow. My face did that squished up unattractive thing. I pressed a tissue just below my eyes to soak up any dripping mascara. I didn't need to have my makeup cried off so everyone could see what a hard time I was having AND how my undereye regions look like someone with a terminal illness.<br />
<br />
It wasn't that something awful had just happened. It had been building all week. I kept thinking about the phrase "the straw that broke the camel's back." I had been carrying a load of straws, and the final one had just been placed on top.<br />
<br />
I actually felt like I had been playing a game of Jenga with my straws all week. My pile of straws included things like my 8-year-old daughter with a broken leg, my boys surviving middle school, my stomach refusing to just freaking digest food, my messy house, our family calendar, increasing migraines, my body image, and all the normal things that a part-time working mother of three balances.<br />
<br />
These straws were constantly shifting, and new ones were thrown on the stack. <br />
<br />
I cleaned my messy house in an attempt to clear my mind, and within that very day, my lovely children turned my house into a national disaster. I have been faithfully working out to a specific 90-day fitness system, making sure to get in at least 4 one-hour workouts per week. This week I hit the 30-day mark and weighed in. I weighed exactly the same as I did at the start. Exactly. I lost 0.0 lbs.<br />
<br />
I eat gluten-free and take specific supplements in an effort to help my ridiculous stomach digest normally, but this week my stomach has been especially painful and nauseated. I haven't been sleeping well, and I have no idea why.<br />
<br />
I just felt like none of my efforts were making any difference in any area of my life. <br />
<br />
On the plus side, I had been doing well taking care of Nora. Her broken leg required help in all sorts of ways that I couldn't have anticipated ahead of time. We had hit our groove with school. I had a good handle on how to get myself ready for work as well as getting her ready for school each morning. On the day I ended up crying in the bathroom at work, everything had started fine. We got the boys to their school and got to Nora's school a little early. I walked her in (she's on crutches) and carried her back pack. I helped her to her desk and propped her foot on the extra chair and pillow I had made her. I put her lunch in the basket and her folder in the bin. I handed her the activity book I had remembered to bring for her to entertain herself while she waited for her classmates to arrive. I checked my watch and felt good that I had exactly enough time to get to work on time. As I bent down to kiss her goodbye, the principal walked into the room.<br />
<br />
I had met with Nora's principal, teacher, and school nurse earlier in the week when she first returned to school. We discussed any accommodations she might need, what the schedule would look like, how I would help her in and out of school each day. I felt so blessed that my daughter attends an amazing school with such caring staff. These three women were so kind and so willing to do whatever was necessary to help my girl.<br />
<br />
But on this day, the principal was coming in to let me know that I needed to start walking Nora just inside the school and leaving her on a bench there to wait for someone else to help her to her room. She said we couldn't be in the classroom "unsupervised" in the mornings. I was confused. And flustered. She was so sweet and delivered her message like she was telling me my outfit was cute. Nonetheless, I started to stress sweat immediately. All I heard her say was, "You're doing it wrong." I had to get out of there.<br />
<br />
I felt the sensation of the last straw landing on the pile.<br />
<br />
I arrived at work 5 minutes late. I am never late. And I walked in at the exact same time as my boss, so he definitely saw me arrive late. There were already two patients in the waiting room and the phone was ringing. I tried to switch from Mom Mode to Work Mode, but my emotions were already spilling over. Thus I ended up crying in the bathroom at work.<br />
<br />
As I reprocess all of this now, I realize that I had let a lot of things beat me up during the week. People's words, my thoughts, numbers on scales and tags, circumstances. Not only did I have bruises and fractures from receiving the blows, but I also had bloody knuckles from taking my own shots.<br />
<br />
I think a lot of the thoughts that swirl around in my mind are coated in my own misconceptions and insecurities. It's time for them to take a little bath in truth. My house is messy, but it doesn't mean I'm a bad wife. <strike>It means my family members suck at picking up after themselves.</strike> It means we could all do a better job picking up after ourselves, and it's not all my responsibility. I haven't lost any weight, but maybe my heart is healthier from my exercise. My stomach is a constant source of pain and frustration. I am doing the best I can to make good food choices, and some days are good. I'm a super rule follower, and I never intentionally went against any of the arrangements we had made with Nora's school. The principal has a responsibility to manage the school just like I have a responsibility to manage my kids.<br />
<br />
Nora's leg will heal. Some days my house will be clean and I'll feel good. Some days I'll take my chubby hindquarters into the work bathroom to cry while my stomach hurts and I remember someone's critical words. The beauty is that I get to start fresh each morning. Sometimes I don't even have to wait for the next morning.<br />
<br />
After I finished my ugly cry and wiped my face, I came back out to my workstation. I took a few breaths in and out. I turned to my coworker and said, "Morning: take two. How are you today?"<br />
<br />
JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-11710817589857510222018-01-27T10:43:00.000-06:002018-01-27T10:44:58.874-06:00Where I AmI need a safe outlet to say this: I'm terrified of the anniversary of Griffin's accident.<br />
<br />
St. Patrick's Day will be exactly one year since the worst day of my life.<br />
<br />
A few months after the accident, as I started to heal, I imagined the one year anniversary. I envisioned a celebration of Griffin's life and a tribute to what God did for us. Maybe we would have a party to commemorate being survivors. No longer would I feel nauseated at the sight of the color green. Green would be our banner of proclamation that God gave us a miracle.<br />
<br />
As we turned over a new year, January brought me the realization that I'm not where I thought I'd be.<br />
<br />
Disappointing.<br />
<br />
Pinterest and Instagram are flooded with Valentine's Day images, but St. Patrick's Day ideas are sprinkled into my feeds. Every time I see any reference to the green holiday, it's like a silent punch to my gut.<br />
<br />
Rather than hosting a big celebration, I literally don't want to leave my house on March 17. I don't want to see green or shamrocks or people living ordinary lives as if the day is like any other.<br />
<br />
This isn't how I want to feel; it's just where I am.<br />
<br />
This new year has brought me a fresh batch of flashbacks and fears that the worst things imaginable can actually happen. I pray through each situation and fight my urge to keep my children in my view at all times.<br />
<br />
I look forward to a time when I don't notice casual references to death. I want to forgive the color green. And jumpropes. And swingsets. And St. Patrick.<br />
<br />
I'm relearning spiritual lessons I thought I already learned. I need to tend to wounds I thought were healed. I need to write a blog post that isn't well thought out or witty or wisdom-packed.<br />
<br />
I need to say some of the things that have been weighing me down. So much for where I thought I'd be. I need to start where I really am.<br />
<br />
JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-44422384340057796802017-11-18T10:38:00.001-06:002017-11-18T10:38:13.008-06:00HappyApparently my boss has been talking about me. To his wife. I know because she told me when we ran into each other in Hobby Lobby and I helped her with a craft project.<br />
<br />
He's not sure why I'm so happy all the time.<br />
<br />
This made me chuckle because I'm not sure if other people in my life would describe me as happy all the time or not.<br />
<br />
I knew this conversation was the perfect opportunity for me to tell my boss' wife all about what God has done for me and how I can have joy even if it doesn't match my circumstances.<br />
<br />
Instead of delivering an eloquent speech salted with the Holy Spirit, I clumsily said, "It's God. God is the reason I'm so happy." Insert awkward silence. Then I changed the subject back to what we were originally talking about. I felt like a kid in Sunday school who didn't understand the question but shouted "Jesus!" as if it was surely the answer.<br />
<br />
But I haven't stopped thinking about it since.<br />
<br />
There's so much I could've said!<br />
<br />
Plus I started evaluating myself. How happy am I? How much of my joy do I let leak out to other people? Why is it so easy for me to compartmentalize my life stress so I can always be cheerful at work? Don't other people in my life deserve the same cheerfulness?<br />
<br />
Here's what I've come up with.<br />
<br />
I think I really am happy. I haven't always been, and I won't always be, but I'm happy in this season of my life.<br />
<br />
I treasure my kids. I love them like mothers love their children. But I also <i>savor</i> my babies. Because we've been through the fire and we are mostly on the other side. Still standing. All together.<br />
<br />
Imagine someone you loved deeply who has passed away. Now imagine that you got that person back. That is basically the life I am living.<br />
<br />
I didn't know if my son was alive or dead. He did not look alive. First responders didn't know if he would be revived. Four hours later, when I finally got to see him, he was on life support with no sign of life within him. Minutes passed like weeks for I-don't-know-how-long. I lost my baby, and then I got him back.<br />
<br />
There's has not been one day since that hasn't been affected by that accident. Every. Single. Day. I am aware that Griffin's mere presence is a gift. And I can't help but feel the same way about my other two children. And my husband, for that matter. My husband, who is the winner of the title Best Husband Ever. For realz. It took months to heal from the trauma of what we went through, but we are finally healed enough to bask in the awesomeness of being a whole family.<br />
<br />
So every morning my alarm goes off and I grumpily hit snooze until panic tells me that we're all going to be late unless I get up NOW. I sleepily uncrumple myself and head directly to the kitchen for coffee. But I come around the corner and see precious, soft Griffin at the table. He's alone, eating breakfast, reading his book. He's in just underwear and he is the softest thing ever created. His hair is crazy and his cheeks are begging to be kissed. And I am eerily aware of this alternate life path where Griffin didn't receive miraculous healing, and my morning walk to the coffee pot would not include the detour to kiss his sweet face. So I kiss him a few extra times. And maybe just once (twice) more.<br />
<br />
Then I have the task of waking Nora, which is roughly like slaying a dragon with my hands tied behind my back and shackles on my feet. But her long, lean body is tucked snugly under her blankets, and only her mass of wild, living hair is visible. When I kiss her warm, smooth cheeks, she wakes just enough to tell me what she wants for breakfast. She often croaks out, "Please and thank you."<br />
<br />
As I make Nora's breakfast, Nolan groggily saunters into the kitchen. He makes his own eggs for his breakfast and then he makes and packs his own lunch. He cares if his outfit matches and if his hair looks good. I notice that today he looks 0.1% less like a boy and more like a man than yesterday.<br />
<br />
And I know that I get to enjoy them exactly like this for this morning only because tomorrow morning they will be a whole day older and closer to being teens and then adults. I have no idea what it will be like when I can't just kiss their faces whenever I want to. I know how each of their skin smells. I won't always be able to hold them and savor their physical closeness like I do now. So morning time with my kids is one of my favorite things about my life right now.<br />
<br />
Things get a little crazy when I am trying to get ice packs in lunches and lunches in back packs and kids in their shoes and coats and oh wait the water bottles and oh we have one minute to get in the car and why am I not wearing any socks?<br />
<br />
But then there's this part of my day that fills my heart to overflowing. Once we back out of the driveway and head toward the boys' school, we enter an adventure that we have created together. We mentally catalog the color of every leaf right now. We note the fact that there will be fewer leaves tomorrow. We are searching everywhere for the rare sighting of "Mario." He is an older gentlemen who walks in our neighborhood wearing a red track suit and a red cap with an M on it. We only see him once every few weeks. But when we spot him, it's the most exciting thing that has happened in weeks.<br />
<br />
Then we drive by Lonely Lake. We have named it this because of how often it is void of animal life, which prompts me to do this low-toned sing-songy thing where I say "Lonely Lake" in a way that sounds like a foghorn. But then there are days when we see a couple of ducks or a gaggle of geese. That makes us happy, and we cheer because Lonely Lake isn't lonely!<br />
<br />
Next is the spot where we can see Wilson School between the trees and we shout, "Oh Mr. Wilson!" We drive by Duck Bottom Pond, where we used to always see ducks diving for something (we make up what they are actually diving for). If we spot a duck on the pond, we yell "Duck bottoms!!" as loudly as possible.<br />
<br />
This school year we have the added bonus of watching two houses being built just past Duck Bottom Pond. Each day we look to see what's new as we track the progress. But then we get to the stop sign where we can see the factory stacks pumping out smoke. I ask, "What are they making at the factory today?" Each child takes a turn answering, which usually fills our drive until we reach the school.<br />
<br />
Once the boys are dropped off, Nora and I have a tiny bit of girl time. We get one bonus driving adventure. We drive by a ditch that has been filling with water for quite some time. A month or so ago, we noticed one male duck and one female duck floating on the water. We have decided that they are teenage ducks secretly in love and they meet at this oversized puddle each morning. But all last week there was no sign of the duck couple. We assumed the parents discovered their forbidden romance and grounded the teenage ducks. We are holding out hope that they will one day be together again.<br />
<br />
By the time I drop off Nora at her school at 8:25, I am bursting at the seams with joy from my children. I can hardly believe that I get to do this Mom thing.<br />
<br />
Three days a week, I head immediately to work from Nora's school. My work is about 15 seconds away from the school. I enjoy chatting with patients and love getting to know my coworker. I've been there since September, so I'm finally feeling confident in what I'm doing (about 80% of the time...). I earn just enough money to help pay off the medical bills from Griffin's accident (yuck). I get out of the house and feel useful. I have a reason to do my hair and makeup, and yet I get to wear scrubs to work. And then I leave at lunch time and still have two hours to run errands, do home tasks, etc. <br />
<br />
Basically, what I'm saying is...I get to live my dream. I am disgustingly in love with my husband. I have three children who are alive and thriving. I get to work and be home. <br />
<br />
All of this ridiculous happiness is juxtaposed against the last two years of hell. I love every 3.5 hour shift of work because I spent a year homebound with Nolan. Instead of driving my son to endless pointless doctor appointments, I am earning money to pay off medical bills. Instead of trying to sit Nolan upright to do school work at our kitchen table, I'm making up adventures on our drive to school. Instead of aching for the son we lost in unexpected tragic accident in our back yard, I'm listening to him learn Chinese and practice piano while his hair is crazy and his clothes don't match.<br />
<br />
This season makes me happy because of the season we just came out of. And I know there will be tough seasons ahead. Which is all the more reason to be annoyingly happy about life right now.<br />
<br />
And let's not pretend that things are perfect. My kids fight with each other and leave the lights on and toothpaste on the counter and whine about going to each other's events and never go to bed when I want them to. I'm at least 20 pounds overweight, my hair color is wrong, and I have digestive issues every darn day. Our van needs new tires and decides if it wants to start when I tell it to. The dishes are never done and our house is never clean for more than four minutes. And precious Nolan still has his headache 24 hours per day.<br />
<br />
But I have the choice of which things to focus on, and right now I can't help but be grateful for the good. You know why? Because of God.<br />
<br />
God brought us through all of that insanely hard stuff. God gave me strength when I was all out. He helped Nolan find a way to do life again even though he is still in pain. He literally brought Griffin back to life. He gave Nora the gifts of humor and creativity. He gave me the desire to have children and then fulfilled that desire. He created Jared to be this exceptional man, and then He brought Jared and me together. He blessed us with a home and two cars and food and clothes and the ability to walk and run and play basketball and tumble. My kids are doing great in school, I'm learning a new job, and Jared is still employed after his company has gone through multiple rounds of layoffs.<br />
<br />
So every morning I thank God for a full night of sleep (because I didn't always get this). I read a quick devotion and truly aim to put into practice what it says. Today. I want to know God more today and live more for Him today. And I thank Him for my kids as we do our morning routine, and I pray for Him to help my friends and people who are going through difficult stuff. I know that every good thing in my day is a gift from God. Every hard thing in my day is something God chose to include and He has a plan to use it.<br />
<br />
So these are the things I wish I could have said when asked why I'm so happy. It's probably a bit much to explain in the aisles of Hobby Lobby, but I had to get it out or I would burst!<br />
<br />
JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-64176098651589467832017-09-30T12:32:00.000-05:002017-09-30T12:32:31.006-05:00Halloween Costume Sleeve FixMy friend Michele found the perfect Halloween costume for her daughter Abby. Abby is a petite 7-year-old girl, and Michele ordered her costume in size 8-10. They were so excited when it arrived. Until Abby tried it on and discovered that the sleeves were too tight. Really?! Why is this the story with basically all Halloween costumes? The sizing is terrible.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wDPCrGC9QYk/Wc_USI4QqdI/AAAAAAAAUuA/QNJ6g2CihT80OF9sB4AVcnkjQM4Kdr8IwCLcBGAs/s1600/3b0f6e0f-3e55-4f39-bfda-8cba05a3a9b4_1.74a54be9f1ea45b51633dd946b4dd262.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wDPCrGC9QYk/Wc_USI4QqdI/AAAAAAAAUuA/QNJ6g2CihT80OF9sB4AVcnkjQM4Kdr8IwCLcBGAs/s400/3b0f6e0f-3e55-4f39-bfda-8cba05a3a9b4_1.74a54be9f1ea45b51633dd946b4dd262.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Abby's costume. It's a Nom Nom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One of my favorite things about being able to sew is that I can fix things. So Abby's costume came to stay with me for a bit.<br />
<br />
I had to give it some thought but here's what I came up with for the fix.<br />
<br />
I carefully used my seam ripper to remove the stitching from the seam under the sleeve (running from the armpit to the sleeve band).<br />
<br />
I cut strips from some scraps of interfacing, and ironed them onto the sleeve fabric on either side of the seam I just opened up. This step may not have been necessary, but I could see that the costume fabric was very cheap and would rip easily. So I just wanted to reinforce it.<br />
<br />
I pressed each edge under (toward the inside of the sleeve).<br />
<br />
I cut a piece of elastic from scraps I had on hand. I didn't measure. I just eyeballed it on one sleeve and cut the other piece of elastic to match.<br />
<br />
I sewed along each side of the sleeve opening, attaching the elastic as I sewed. I tried to line up the elastic with the sleeve band.<br />
<br />
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I did the same thing with her other sleeve. Her costume has one blue sleeve and one pink sleeve.<br />
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I was going to call it done, but then I remembered that I am the proud owner of a wheel of Sharpies.<br />
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I colored the elastic on each sleeve. It's not amazing but will hopefully blend better with the costume.</div>
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Done!<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-2517961165317562342017-09-16T11:35:00.000-05:002017-09-16T11:35:02.380-05:00In All Things<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.</i> Romans 8:28</blockquote>
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I have always loved Romans 8:28 because it was my grandpa's favorite verse. He wrote my grandma letters when they were dating and he would always sign his name at the end and write "Romans 8:28" under his name.<br />
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As I grew into adulthood, I started to dig into the verse to find out what it looks like in real life. Sometimes I can see exactly how God is working things together in my life, and sometimes it seems as though He dropped a few stitches while knitting events together in my day-to-day.<br />
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The week before this past one was comically bad. It became the week of stuff breaking. Our garage door wouldn't stay down. Our four-year-old fridge stopped working. I injured my back while doing my hair. DOING MY HAIR, people. And finally, my car tried to break down and leave me stranded a half hour from home. <br />
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I had to just start working on each problem. I tried solutions to get the garage door down. Eventually it started working again. We got a small fridge and saved the food we could. Jared started making calls to see if we could get a refrigerator repair man out and if it could be covered under warranty. I called the chiropractor Nolan had seen and made an appointment for my first ever adjustment. In the meantime I took shallow breaths and tried not to move. My brother came over to look at our van and see if he could help us fix it. We also made an appointment to take it into the dealership to be looked at.<br />
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Life went on. We continued to work through life with a sore back, small fridge, questionable van, and general life fatigue. <br />
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This past week I had the privilege of seeing some of the broken pieces being put back together for my good. Not all of them, mind you. But enough to remind me that God knows what He is doing.<br />
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I went to see the chiropractor. He pointed out how tense my back was. Um, duh. That's where I keep my stress. And there's been a bit of stress lately. He began to untangle whatever mess had happened when I was doing my hair. He also suggested that I come up with a better story for how I hurt my back. I was too tired to think creatively. <br />
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When I went back for my follow-up appointment for my back, the chiropractor told me that two of the girls who work for him were quitting due to one having a baby and the other having surgery. He asked if I'd be interested in working for him part-time. I haven't had an official job in 11 years, but this opportunity started taking shape as the perfect next job for me. I prayed about it and talked to Jared, and my excitement grew to a level I haven't experienced in a while.<br />
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Yesterday we had an appointment for our van to get worked on as well as an expectation that a refrigerator repair man would be coming to our house some time between 3:00am and 11:30pm. You know how that goes. So Jared made arrangements to work from home. <br />
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We were able to cancel the van appointment thanks to my brother's help. But Jared still worked from home so he could meet the fridge guy while I took kids to school.<br />
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After I dropped off my kids at their various schools, I went to a friend's house to meet her precious new baby. Mere minutes after I got my hands on that soft tiny baby, one of the other ladies there saw a truck crash into my van as it sat parked on the street. <br />
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I didn't even get upset. I continued to hold the baby while someone else went out to assess the damage. I was quickly summoned out to see my crunched van. The man who hit my car was sincerely apologetic and took full responsibility. He actually works for a local insurance company. My van was not driveable so he said he would start the claim and get me a rental car. He kept apologizing, and much to my own dismay, I just wasn't upset at all. Accidents happen. After all the crud we have been through, this just didn't seem like a big deal.<br />
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Now you may or may not know this about me, but I hate making phone calls. It's a part of adulting that I just haven't settled into. Thankfully, Jared was just a few blocks away from our crunched van thanks to everything else breaking down and his arrangement to work from home for the day. So he came over to talk to the guy who hit the van and get all the necessary info and call our insurance company. He took care of the van incident while I went for my last chiropractor appointment, where I also made final arrangements to start working next week.<br />
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It was a crazy morning, but I just kept thinking how thankful I was that Jared was home to help me. I truly could not have survived the day without him. I had friends who also helped with the morning by taking pictures of the damage, offering help with my kids, and even lending me a vehicle so I could make my chiropractor appointment.<br />
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God had set up a series of dominoes the week before, knowing where they needed to fall this week. The back injury led to my new job. The broken van led to very enjoyable time with my brother. The broken fridge led to Jared being there when I needed him.<br />
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It's tempting to think things like:<br />
<ul>
<li>Why did my van even have to get hit?</li>
<li>What does the broken garage door have to do with anything?</li>
<li>Wasn't there an easier way to accomplish what God wanted to do?</li>
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I have to consciously steer my mind away from these questions. I tell myself that God was doing things I don't have to fully understand. Sometimes I fill in my own explanation, like He let enough stuff break that I would get to the point of simply laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.<br />
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I'm just thankful He let me see enough connections to reinforce my trust in Him. I understand enough to go along with what I don't understand. <br />
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I discovered something new about Romans 8:28 as I typed it in this blog post. It doesn't say that God works all things for our good. It says that God works IN all things for our good. There is a huge difference. He doesn't have to tie every single thread together. His promise is that He is working <i>in </i>all things. He's doing something in all circumstances. I don't always see how one cause is linked to an effect, but I can always trust that God is working. <br />
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In relationships. In broken things. In chaos and stress. In schedule changes and next big opportunities. In excitement and exhaustion.<br />
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God is working. In all things. For our good.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-91436995280633968762017-09-13T13:45:00.001-05:002017-09-13T13:45:33.505-05:00BelongI recently pulled some treasures out of storage.<br />
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I inherited most of my grandmother's sewing supplies when she passed away because I myself spend a fair amount of time sewing. But I put Grandma's sewing supplies into our storage unit when we moved, and I haven't really touched them since.<br />
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Part of me didn't really want to <i>use</i> Grandma's things because they were too special. But I've healed enough from losing her to realize that using her sewing supplies is like spreading her love around.<br />
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So I went to the storage unit and grabbed a few things I can use.<br />
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Some of these antique buttons are exquisite. They are beautiful. Some have a neat story because of what they were originally used for (a wedding dress, a handmade coat, etc.). <br />
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Some of the items are more useful than beautiful. Zippers and snaps that can finish off projects and make things functional.<br />
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Each and every item is breathtaking to me. Not because of how they look or what they can do. They're priceless because of who they belonged to.<br />
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This afternoon I made my sister two pillow covers, and I used Grandma's zippers to close the covers. I could have chosen the exact same zippers brand new from the store, but just knowing the zippers were Grandma's will make them instantly special to my sister, too.<br />
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They are special because of their owner.<br />
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The same is true for us. You and I may look beautiful or work well, but the real reason why we are so valuable is because of who we belong to.<br />
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I belong to God. You belong to God. We are His. <br />
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I've seen a lot of parents with their kids' names tatooed on their bodies. Isaiah 49:16 says that God has engraved us on the palms of His hands. If you believe in God, that Jesus is the Son of God, and that Jesus died for your sins to give you eternal life, then you belong to God. Your name is engraved on the palm of His hand. <br />
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"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I gave them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand." John 10:27-28</blockquote>
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There's a lot you can do well in this life. But the true reason you are so valuable is not what you do or how you appear but to whom you belong.<br />
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You are treasured because you are His.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-71234629611340445172017-09-04T17:07:00.001-05:002017-09-04T17:07:54.522-05:00Shirts for a Broken ArmOur little friend Garrit recently flipped off his bike, causing him to dislocate his elbow and break a bone in his arm. He is in a soft cast with pins in his elbow at the moment, and his mom told us that getting him dressed in an extremely difficult task.<br />
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Yesterday while I was sitting in church, and idea hit my brain out of nowhere (Divine inspiration!). I thought I'd share it with you just in case someone else out there has the misfortune of trying to dress someone in a cast.<br />
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We dug through the boys' closets and came up with two shirts we could give Garrit. He doesn't like to wear button-up shirts, so we knew we needed to use t-shirts.<br />
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I started by cutting the shirt at the side seam. Garrit broke his left arm so I cut the left side of the shirt. I cut all the way up the side and the underside of the sleeve.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I drew the orange line to show where I cut the shirt.</td></tr>
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I folded in a little fabric from the cut and pressed it. I didn't measure, but I'd guess it was somewhere between 1/4-1/2 inch.<br />
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*IMPORTANT: On the front side of the shirt, press the 1/4 inch or so toward the wrong side of the fabric (inside of the shirt). On the back side of the shirt, press the fabric toward the right side (outside/back side of the shirt). You'll see why later.<br />
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I was planning to use pieces of Velcro, so I wanted the edges to be nice. Therefore, I sewed a zig-zag stitch over the edge of the fabric I had just pressed. I later changed my Velcro plan and realized this zig-zag step wasn't really necessary.<br />
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I happened to have some black sew-on Velcro on hand. I had picked it up on clearance at Hobby Lobby who-knows-how-long ago. Because I have a problem. But my little problem with buying clearance items at Hobby Lobby benefits Garrit in this case. My Velcro is one long strip but you can also buy it in squares or circles. I am lazy so I decided to sew one long strip onto the shirt so I didn't have to start and stop a bunch with little spots of Velcro. </div>
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I placed the rougher side of the Velcro on top of the zig-zag stitching on the back of the shirt, lining up the Velcro strip with the edge of the shirt. I sewed a straight stitch all the way around the Velcro strip. I decided to do one long strip of Velcro down the side of the shirt and one short strip along the sleeve edge.</div>
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I did the same process to sew on the softer strip of Velcro on the front side of the shirt. Remember that the Velcro on the front side of the shirt needs to be on the back of the shirt fabric, and the Velcro on the back of the shirt needs to be on the right side of the shirt. (Wow, that was confusing!)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the back side of the Velcro, you can see the original zig-zag stitching as well as the stitching around the Velcro.</td></tr>
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Now the shirt can be closed by pressing the Velcro strips together. The front of the shirt overlaps the back of the shirt. </div>
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Also I chose to put the scratchy and soft parts of the Velcro where I did so that if they come askew, the softer part of the Velcro will be facing Garrit's skin.</div>
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Now Garrit can put the shirt on over his head and put his good arm in the sleeve. Then his mom can carefully wrap the shirt around his torso and hurt arm and Velcro it. He doesn't have to go through the agony of trying to lift his arm and wrestle it through the sleeve.</div>
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Plus Garrit LOVES Star Wars so he's just pumped to have a new Star Wars shirt.</div>
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I wanted to try one other method for a cast-friendly shirt. We had a Marvel shirt my boys had outgrown, and it is that soft, worn-in kind of tshirt. </div>
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I cut the side and under the sleeve just as with the other shirt. I folded over 1/4 inch or so from the cut edge and pressed. I did not waste time with the zig-zag step.</div>
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I bought some snap tape from Hobby Lobby. It comes in black or white. Since the shirt is orange and neither really matches, I just chose the white.</div>
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I put the zipper foot on my sewing machine and got to work sewing the snap tape onto the shirt. It's a similar process to sewing on the Velcro except the snaps like to fight with the presser foot for space. The snap tape is flexible enough to sew one continuous strip up the side of the shirt and the underside edge of the sleeve.</div>
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Another tip: try not to stretch the tshirt as you sew.</div>
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Here's the second shirt:</div>
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I put the strip with the pokey halves of the snaps on the back of the shirt so the pokey parts are facing away from Garrit. Just in case.<br />
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He's going to try out both shirts and tell me if he prefers the Velcro or the snaps. <br />
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Life in a cast is hard, and I'm just hoping these modified shirts help Garrit with one task in his day!<br />
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Jessica<br />
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-63458228912792702062017-03-23T22:46:00.001-05:002017-03-23T22:46:20.609-05:00The Cost of a MiracleAs Jared and I sat together in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, he said to me, "If you blog about this, don't overthink it. Just write what you need to write." So I'm taking his advice. This isn't in chronological order or any kind of logical order because logic has left the building, and signs show no indication of when it will return. A few of you know the details of our ordeal. To the rest of you, I hope you never know. Then the details won't haunt you like they haunt me. You just need to know that on a Friday night, our middle son Griffin had a horrific accident in our very own back yard that led to him being on life support. We went through hell. We came out on the other side, and we brought Griffin home with us, but we can't go back to before our lives changed forever. <br />
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It was St. Patrick's Day. The hospital chaplain had a silky green scarf tucked in the collar of his button-up shirt. The nurses were wearing green tops. Our worst nightmare had a color.<br />
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God did an actual miracle by bringing Griffin back from the brink of death. You think that elation will be the overriding emotion. But it isn't. Because you don't feel your emotions in real time. Your mind tries to suppress your emotions so you can get through each moment. But they leak past your defenses and the reality hits you for a moment and it's unbearable. So all of that emotion gets logged to be processed later in a less critical moment. By the time the miracle happens and the news is good, your log is full and it's time to start processing the harder stuff first. That's why I ended up in a crippling panic attack the day after Griffin woke up.<br />
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The triggers are everywhere. The night we came home from the hospital, I was putting away my kids' clean laundry that had been lovingly washed, dried, and folded by my precious friend. I was so thankful. The blinds were open just enough that I spotted the blue plastic sled in the back yard. And I remembered. The sled was on the muddy side yard hill as I ran, leading the firemen to my lifeless son in the back yard. I yelled for Nolan to move the sled so no one would trip on it. My bare feet squished into the mud as I ran. The bottom hems of my black pajama pants skimmed the mud and I could feel the wet fabric slap my ankles. I'm never safe from the onslaught of painful memories.<br />
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A team of sweet friends went to our house on Sunday to try to erase all evidence of Friday. They threw away the popcorn Jared had just popped for our family movie night (the very reason we were calling the kids in from playing in the back yard). They washed dishes and did laundry. They organized and wiped and vacuumed. They restored order to our home. They put up a banner in Griffin's room and filled his bed with yellow smiley face balloons. One of the dear friends said to me, "Don't look in the back yard. But if you do, we've put Bible verses on all the windows." Sure enough, every window facing the back yard had verses to cover over the image and remind us that God had never left us. When I thought I had seen everything they did, and I had cried all I had left to cry, I went into my bathroom and found one more sign:<br />
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These ladies somehow understood that we had much hard work ahead of us.<br />
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Their incredible work made such a difference. But we still found ourselves assaulted by the mental replay at unexpected times.<br />
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The day after we came home from the hospital, I was preparing Nora's back pack for school. Her folder still had papers she had brought home from school. On top of the stack was a freshly printed picture of Jared and the kids, with Griffin standing tall in the middle. It had been taken Thursday night at a school function. I had been volunteering at one of the stations, so I wasn't in the family picture. It was our last night of "before." The picture nearly undid me, and I couldn't help but think what it would have done to me if we hadn't brought Griffin home.<br />
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Jared says we have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. He said if you were in a battle and got shot, even if you survived and you won the battle, you still have to deal with the fact that you got shot. He added, no offense to those who have actually fought in battles. Men and women come home from war, and they struggle to cope with what they have seen and experienced. Normal doesn't quite fit. This is us.<br />
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I discovered that there are lots of types of crying, more than I ever knew before. We are all familiar with the silent streaming tears. Squinchy-faced hard suppressed crying that produces an instant headache. Lump in the throat accompanied by tears that fill the lower lids to the brim but don't spill over. In the ambulance as I rode up front and listened to the paramedics working on my baby boy, I literally grasped my face with both hands and cried with all my might. I didn't produce much noise but certainly lots of tears. At times I uttered indistinguishable noises as I simply shook my head. The form of crying I found myself most often engaged in was a style completely new to me. It included heaving that started in my chest and came out my mouth. Deep forceful breaths that involved my whole body. But oddly not many tears. Dehydration was an actual factor, but I also think this new form of crying was reflective of a new level of anguish. I highly recommend sticking with one of the other forms of crying previously mentioned.<br />
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Today I thought of the story in the Bible where Jacob wrestled with an angel all night. He refused to let the angel go until he blessed him. The angel touched Jacob's hip and hurt it, but he ultimately blessed Jacob. Jacob limped away with his blessing. I wrestled with God in that hospital. I got what I asked for, but I came away limping.<br />
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One thing that has been such a blessing in all this is that Jared and I are processing things roughly the same. If one of us was fine and the other was struggling, this would be exponentially harder. Because this isn't how I expected to feel after having my son's life miraculously restored. But Jared feels all the same things I do, so I must not be too crazy. Jared went back to work the day after we came home from the hospital (which turned out to be way too soon). He left me a note that morning that said, "I'm still in so much pain." Those words connected us.<br />
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Last night my dad came over and stayed with the kids so Jared and I could be alone together. It was our first alone time since "it happened." We could think of nothing else to talk about, so we dove into saying all the things that won't stop bouncing around our minds, but we don't feel it's appropriate to say them out loud. I had spent the previous week rearranging the kids into three separate rooms (Griffin and Nora shared before). In the hospital I thought things like, what will I do when Griffin's bedding and desk arrive? I had already ordered them. They were already coming and I couldn't stop them. But I could already envision my meltdown when some unsuspecting UPS man delivered a nightmare to my house. And that's just one of the many morbid thoughts that I had no outlet for until Jared and I sat in our van eating salads (the first natural-looking food we had had in days) and exchanging thoughts.<br />
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Jared and I discussed the spiritual components of our ordeal. I told him I was considering titling this blog post "The Time I Told God No." I rode in the ambulance to the hospital. Longest ride of my life. As soon as they wheeled Griffin out of the ambulance at the hospital, they told me I had to leave him. A chaplain soon came and escorted me to a private room. I've seen tv shows. I know what chaplains and private rooms mean. My inner mantra was "breathe in, breathe out, don't puke." Over and over. Trying to form words felt like an impossibly hard task. The effort required was the oral equivalent of doing an Ironman triathlon in the mud with no arms or legs.<br />
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As I sat motionless trying to obey my own mantra, I remembered two facts at the same time. One, my current book for daily reading had been "Through the Eyes of a Lion" by Levi Lusko. It's written by a man, who happens to be a pastor, whose daughter passed away very suddenly of an asthma attack. The book is about how God can use pain. And two, I had just been to see the movie "The Shack." It's about a man whose daughter is abducted and killed, and he journeys through the hardest questions in life to make peace with God and with his loss. I remembered these two facts back-to-back, and I very clearly and succinctly told God, "NO." I'm no dummy. I can hold these facts together and see how He was preparing me, and I simply told Him no. I mom-voiced God. I'm not proud that this was my response. At some point during our hell, Jared prayed out loud and his prayer included, "We know that Griffin is yours..." My insides fought Jared's words. You can have opinions about my reaction if you want, but please form them after you have seen your own child in a lifeless state.<br />
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This actually wasn't the first time we pleaded for Griffin's life. When I was 20 weeks pregnant with him, our doctor found choroid plexus cysts in Griffin's brain that could indicate a fatal genetic disorder called Trisomy 18. We had to wait two long weeks to see a specialist who would tell us whether Griffin would live or die. It was a very dark time as we pleaded and waited. When we saw the specialist, he saw a healthy baby in my belly. We told our family the good news and celebrated together. We told them we had chosen Griffin's name because a baby name website told us that it means "great faith."<br />
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Griffin knows this story. As Jared drove us home from the hospital, Griffin sat smiling in the back seat, the sun highlighting his impossibly soft face. He said, "I'm a miracle twice." Yes you are, Baby.<br />
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Griffin is a miracle. He's a walking, talking, computer-hacking, British tea-drinking, piano-playing miracle. I just never knew before that it could hurt so much to receive a miracle. I suppose the really painful part is needing a miracle. Once you have been to a dark enough place that you can only be saved by a miracle, the experience will be forever imprinted on you, no matter the outcome.<br />
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My dad tried to help me through some of my spiritual questions by reminding me of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. He was deeply troubled so that his sweat was as blood. My dad was telling me that if Jesus was that troubled over what God asked him to walk through, it's ok that I was terrified out of my mind when God asked me to walk through this horrific ordeal.<br />
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I started thinking about another Jesus example that could help me. Most people know it as the shortest verse in the Bible: "Jesus wept." Do you know what made Jesus weep? Lazarus was dead. All throughout John chapter 11, Jesus knew that Lazarus would die and that Jesus would raise him back to life in order to glorify God. He knew this plan while Lazarus was still alive, when he was sick, and when he died. But when Jesus was actually with the grieving family members and saw their sorrow, he was deeply moved and he wept. And then he performed the miracle. So if Jesus wept even with complete assurance that Lazarus would live, I think it's alright that my emotions were blown to smithereens and I'm still picking up the pieces.<br />
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I know that time is needed to process all of this. Everything is still so raw. Tomorrow is Friday. One week since the accident. We were getting ready for our traditional Friday night family movie night when it happened. Friday night family time has been our favorite thing for quite some time. We look forward to it all week. We protect it. We cherish it. Now I feel sick at the thought of it coming around again tomorrow. I don't think I'm ready for the smell of Jared's freshly popped popcorn. We still haven't gone in the back yard or let the kids go back there. I hate all things related to St. Patrick's Day. Someday when we are healed, we would like to celebrate Griffin's life on St. Patrick's Day. But for now I get sick at the sight of all things green and/or shamrocky. <br />
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There's so much I don't know so I choose to remember what I do know. God never left us. God preserved Griffin's life as well as his "Griffinness." God continues to be our Rock and our only source of strength and hope. He will make something good out of the pain we have been through. For now we are living through the mess.<br />
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I couldn't think of a good way to end this, so I'm gonna take Jared's advice about not overthinking. These are my thoughts for now. This is what I have to give and where I am right now. More to come, on and off the blog.<br />
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Jessica<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-34888539630805376202017-02-16T12:03:00.001-06:002017-02-16T12:03:10.758-06:00PeopleYesterday I experienced my first ever shopping trip at Costco. Jared and I have been secretly making fun of Costco and Costco fanatics since a store was built near us a couple years ago. But we see the practicality of it and took the plunge.<br />
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I had an open morning and decided it was a good day to go browse and see what all the hype is about.<br />
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It felt so good to be out in the world. It was chilly but the sun was shining, which always puts me in a great mood. Leaving our city limits is a fairly rare experience for me, so it's both a cheap thrill and a possible panic attack.<br />
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I pulled into the lot and tried my best to guess which spot would be decent. Are all Costco parking lots as zig-zaggy and maze-like as ours? I noticed the driver of the car next to me was sitting in her car scratching off some sort of lottery ticket. Then I noticed that other cars in the lot still housed their drivers. A quick search on my phone revealed that Costco opens at 10:00 and I had arrived at 9:56.<br />
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Then one elderly man got out of his car and walked up to the big metal garage door of an entrance. He planted his feet in a stance that let everyone know he was the first to go in when that door opened. Next pandemonium broke out. If <i>he's </i>lining up at the door, each of the other shoppers was most certainly lining up at the door. Each driver quickly exited his or her vehicle, carrying boxes and shopping bags. I was supposed to bring my own boxes and bags?!<br />
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They gathered in front of that big silver door. They didn't form a line. They were more like a mob of twitchy, anxious people, shifting their weight from hip to hip and silently shuffling an inch or two in front of the next person. I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud in my car. And then I pulled out my book and read a chapter while the Black-Friday-on-a-random-Wednesday crowd fought for space and preference.<br />
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Because I don't particularly like crowds of people. In fact, I struggle with people in general. I'm an odd creature when it comes to people. I love individual people. And I mean I <i>love</i> them. Fiercely. Eternally. But people as a general population...they're not my thing.<br />
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There is no place this is more apparent than when I am driving. I can spend my whole morning smiling at fellow shoppers and chatting with clerks and shining my light for all to see. Then I get behind the wheel to head home, and suddenly I can't stand anyone. Every car I follow decides to go well under the speed limit. Each driver wanting to turn onto my road decides he is the lucky one and only person who is not required to stop at the stop sign between him and me. I grip my steering wheel and clench my jaw and sing along with my Christian radio through gritted teeth.<br />
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I was recently stuck behind a car driven by a woman who was going 7 miles under the speed limit. I don't do under-the-speed-limit very well. And SEVEN miles under?? That's a bit much. But her speed was not her greatest offense. The bigger issue was that she had MULTIPLE CATS WALKING AROUND HER CAR. They were stretching in the back window and scratching at the ceiling between the front seats. And she was PETTING THEM. The crazy cat lady on wheels was paying more attention to her cats than to her car or her speed or the road and I held my breath in an attempt not to explode.<br />
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I'm still working on me.<br />
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I'm reading a book called "Carry On, Warrior" by Glennon Doyle Melton. Her writing cracks me up, chokes me up, and makes me think. Sometimes I relate to her so well, and other times I respectfully disagree. But I always think about what I'm reading.<br />
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A line I read last week has been stuck in my brain and I have been savoring that thing like a rare candy. She was discussing confidence and humility, which she says are two sides of the same coin. Here's the quote I can't stop thinking about:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I am <i>confident</i> because I believe that I am a child of God. I am <i>humble</i> because I believe that everyone else is too." </blockquote>
So good, right?<br />
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I admit that I haven't figured out the confidence-humility thing. This simple explanation has really propelled me forward. It changes the way I see myself and other people.<br />
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Lately I've been trying to see people as, well, people. Not as crabby store clerk, distracted waiter, disheveled mom in front of me in line. I try to make eye contact and notice each individual and think about what else is behind them. Somebody had a fight before they came to work. Somebody will be going to care for an elderly parent after their shift. Somebody is just doing the best with what she has.<br />
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This wasn't an intentional experiment with humanity. After we came home from Cleveland and attempted to find "new normal," I found myself appreciating minute things. This meant I noticed more and I offered gratitude more. I had been the tired customer or the lady in the way or the mom who wasn't doing it all right, when in fact I just needed someone to see me as the weary soul who was one stumble away from falling and one kindness away from beginning to heal.<br />
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So I found myself interacting with people differently. And before I knew it, I caught myself humming during normal daily activities. <i>Humming</i>. I don't hum when I'm out where all the people are. But apparently I do. Because being able to run out and buy what I need isn't an inconvenience but a privilege that I lost for a year. All the moms of little ones probably know what I'm talking about. <br />
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Today I went to the pharmacy to get some cold medicine for Griffin. Two older ladies were in the same aisle, and one was shopping for cold medicine for her husband who is sick. She kept talking about what a baby he is and how she was looking for something to knock him out, and pretty soon we were all laughing!<br />
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I've missed a lot of these moments while I've had my head down just trying to get my thing done and get home. But I've benefited from the small kindnesses enough to know I want to hand them out. <br />
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I even let another parent cut in front of me in the school car line this morning.<br />
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Baby steps.<br />
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Jessica<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-11852163526252382112017-01-19T20:57:00.001-06:002017-01-19T20:57:31.077-06:00Good or RightEarlier this week one of my favorite events occurred: my women's Bible study started back up. I love my Monday night ladies! I was delighted to see each and every one of them.<br />
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Our leader, Julie, is so precious. She's a spiritual sister and mom and friend to me. I tell her that her prayers are like a spiritual back rub. Sometimes when I bump into her after church, I can feel my soul let out a contented sigh.<br />
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On my first Sunday back in church after our time at Cleveland Clinic, Julie walked across the sanctuary to come hug me. She sat down and asked me how things were going. I gave her the same plastered smile and basic info that I had given others. Cleveland Clinic had taught us strategies to cope with Nolan's chronic pain. We would be fine. But Julie cried and gave me a hug. Then suddenly I was crying. Because Julie saw the hurt I thought I had hidden.<br />
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Our gathering this week was our first since November, so we had a little catching up to do. Julie asked me to give more details about our time in Cleveland and how we are doing since. I still have a hard time even forming complete sentences about our time in Cleveland. I fumbled a bit and then told my group that Nolan has attended every school day since we've been back home. He played in two basketball games (one went very well and one went very poorly). His head pain is still bad and his nausea is very bad, but we are plugging along with life. We are acknowledging small victories as we find our new normal.<br />
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Julie tried to summarize by saying, "So Cleveland was good?" I froze. I can't actually say that Cleveland was good. But there is something I can say. So I said, "Cleveland was the right move for us."<br />
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Good and right aren't always the same thing. Our three weeks in Cleveland were unspeakably hard. Sure we had good moments and huge blessings. But I would not characterize our experience overall as good. However, I can say that going to Cleveland was the right thing to do. Ultimately, I would rather do the right thing than the good thing.<br />
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But I didn't always know that Cleveland was the right thing. <br />
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There was a point in Cleveland when I was just done with everyone and everything, and I didn't want to be sitting on a gross bed in a tiny room with all my family members within six inches of my body. I didn't want to put on shoes to go down to the dining room to eat what someone else had chosen (but thank you to all who so generously provide meals to Ronald McDonald House residents!!). I didn't want to have every minute of every day scheduled for me while I homeschooled two kids and fought for another. Jared was busy trying to keep up with work and participate in back-to-back conference calls in a loud, tense environment. And I just wanted to be somewhere hidden and safe with someone who already knows me and loves me as I am.<br />
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So I sent a text to my dad and sister. They are my tough love people. They show me endless grace and let me be sensitive and emotional and analytical. They know when I need sympathy (always). They are also no-nonsense people who can offset all of my *ahem* quirks. I can count on them to pray for me immediately, and they can usually say something to give me a needed nudge. But don't tell them any of this because it will feed their bossiness.<br />
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So back to my Cleveland crisis. I reached out to my dad and sister, and they replied immediately with prayers and sympathy. I didn't even know what I needed or what I was expecting from them. I just knew I was stuck and couldn't move forward. Then my sister said the words I desperately needed even though I didn't know it.<br />
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She said, "No matter what comes of your time in Cleveland, it was the right thing for you to do." I was focused on how hard everything was and I just didn't think the limited improvement was worth all the hard. My sister reminded me that I couldn't control the outcome, but I was doing the right thing just by being there.<br />
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I know lots of other people are walking hard paths. Some of you are choosing to do the right thing, even without seeing the benefit or the outcome. Sometimes in the absence of results, you and I have to simply hold tight to the comfort of knowing we are doing the right thing.<br />
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It also helps to find somebody whose prayers feel like a spiritual back rub.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-68965167274420786002017-01-12T13:13:00.001-06:002017-01-12T13:13:08.516-06:00WhyMy dad recently had knee replacement surgery on his right leg, and I have been able to help him with parts of his recovery. I've seen him push through excruciating pain as he does exercises to strengthen his muscles and increase flexibility. He is working hard, and it's a painful process.<br />
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I have been delighted with each baby step of progress he makes. I'm thrilled to see him walking with a cane instead of a walker. I keep track of how many degrees he can bend his new knee. I see that working through his pain is accomplishing something. His pain will be worth it in a few weeks when he is fully healed and can do all the things he couldn't do before. (The bigger reward will come when he is healed from the second knee replacement, but I'm still so excited about his progress here and now.)<br />
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I shared with my dad that I'm inspired by him because in my own household, pain does not serve the same purpose. In my home, pushing through pain does not bring progress. There is no end in sight for Nolan's constant pain. There is no discernible reward.<br />
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I do not yet see what Nolan's physical pain--or my family's emotional pain--is accomplishing.<br />
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I've obviously battled with this for over a year now. Sometimes I've done a better job than others at letting go of grasping at the bigger picture.<br />
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When we were staying at the Ronald McDonald House in Cleveland, I had a deep conversation with another mother while we were doing laundry. She said she struggled a lot with why her daughter had to go down the difficult road they are on.<br />
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I told her, "I had to break up with Why. We were in a toxic relationship."<br />
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I really meant it. I had broken up with Why and was putting my energy into moving forward. <br />
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But Why is a stalker. Why is a creep. Why sends me texts when I'm trying to fall asleep and peers in my window when I'm stunned at how difficult parenting really is.<br />
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I'm certain that I've had bouts of surrendering the search for what God is accomplishing, and I've chosen to simply trust that He knows what He is doing. I've held hands with Trust. We have embraced when I couldn't hold myself up any longer. Which has been a lot this last year.<br />
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But then more stuff just keeps coming. Someone hacked my store credit card and made a purchase. Our cat is now diabetic and requires insulin shots twice per day and repeated vet visits. A violent stomach bug hit two of my kids and I have an actual phobia of puking. A long-fought parenting battle with our middle child has reared it's ugly head with fresh vengeance lately. I have to make repeated phone calls to get other people (insurance, medical personnel, etc.) to do their jobs. <br />
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And I find myself exhausted and wondering, yet again, what all of this hard stuff is accomplishing.<br />
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I was thinking this morning that this is the longest I've waited for God to start revealing His purpose in something. But then I remembered that's not true. After my friend Megan was murdered, God and I wrestled for two years before He brought me to a place of accepting that He does things differently than I think. That He never forsakes us. That He is far more protective than my eyes perceive. That He can heal any wound.<br />
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I'm still trusting that He will bring me to a similar place regarding my current battle. I never thought it would take this long, and there truly is no end in sight. So I'm trusting that there's an end I just can't see. I'm trusting there's a purpose I don't know. Because I choose to believe that God is good and works all things for His glory and the good of His children. I often have to make that choice (to believe) multiple times per day.<br />
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I really was doing well. I even started a couple blog posts that were much more upbeat than this one. But it was too awkward to jump back into actually posting my writing because too much time has passed and too much has happened. I'm still processing everything. I'm still not ready to talk about our time in Cleveland. I think there are parts of that month that will never leave my mouth or my fingers on a keyboard. <br />
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I have napped almost every day this week. I just can't seem to get through a whole day on one night's sleep. I think my body is trying to recover from over a year of not sleeping well. I like the idea that my body is trying to recover. Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm moving into the recovery stage. My dad was in pain for a long time before his surgery was finally scheduled. The surgery was violent and traumatic. And now the recovery is painful.<br />
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I'd like to think I'm in recovery too. The physical wound--whatever caused Nolan's headache--has not made any progress, but that doesn't mean I can't start healing as we work post-wound. My dad's new knee will never be exactly like his old one, for good and for bad. When asked how we are doing, I have been telling people we are working on finding our new normal. It will never be the same as the old normal. For good. I'm trusting.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-38925294773082286002016-11-18T10:17:00.001-06:002016-11-18T10:17:43.479-06:00AccomplishmentsI've been wearing real clothes more lately. I'm talking jeans instead of pajama pants. Shirts instead of t-shirts. Real bra. Even jewelry sometimes. Yes, these are accomplishments for me.<br />
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The fact that I'm sitting at my computer typing something resembling a blog post is a good sign.<br />
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For those of you just joining the party, my son has had a headache for almost one year. It has flipped our life upside-down and brought challenges that can't be explained. My husband says we have gone through the stages of grief, and it seems we are finally landing at "acceptance."<br />
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We didn't lose our son, but we sure lost our vision of what life would look like right now. Over the last year I experienced denial ("This is just a headache. It'll end soon."), lots of anger ("Why can't any doctors help us?! People don't understand what we are going through!"), a bit of bargaining ("I'll take his pain so he can be a kid."), and lots and lots of depression. It's apparently a shameful thing for a deeply rooted Christian to admit to experiencing depression. But it's the truth, and now that I'm camped out in Acceptance, I don't see any good reason to pretend I didn't spend entire days in pajamas, not cleaning my house, too tired to accomplish much.<br />
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Here in Acceptance, it doesn't much matter if people don't understand our circumstances or how we cope with them. Nolan's greatest love is basketball. We found a way to let him play by switching to a less competitive league and having Jared coach his team. Nolan is on homebound schooling, meaning he is home all day, goes in after school for tutoring, and does most of his work at home. Earlier this week someone made a negative comment to Nolan regarding the fact that he doesn't feel well enough to go to school but he was able to play basketball. Nolan told me about the comment and I simply told him that that person doesn't understand what we are going through, so--respectfully--their opinion doesn't really matter. I didn't get my feelings hurt on his behalf. I didn't go talk to the person. I just brushed it off. Another great accomplishment for this girl who has never been a brusher off-er.<br />
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When Nolan's headache started ripping responsibilities out of my hands, I resented it greatly. I did not like giving up my areas of ministry and volunteering. I loved being a Sunday school teacher, throwing baby and bridal showers at church, helping at my kids' schools all the time. I did not appreciate having to give these things up.<br />
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Here in Acceptance, I see the value of a more open schedule. I don't fret having to say "no" when asked to do something that doesn't fit well into my current life. I used to feel trapped at home. Now I use my days at home to make and shop for Christmas gifts--and even have many wrapped! I poured myself into a Beth Moore Bible study and now I'm reading a fiction book just for entertainment. I took and edited family pictures for several of my friends. This is a very time-consuming process, but I had the time to give. Last year I went shopping with a couple other moms to buy all the goodies to be sold at the school Santa Shop. This year I worked out deals online and placed an order from my couch. <br />
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Since I'm not teaching my Sunday school class, I was free to go to my brother's church for my nephew's dedication. When Nolan is having a bad morning, we go to one church service and then come home. We haven't experienced this freedom in the decade+ that we've been at our church. I used to think that people who went to one service and then went home were not as committed. But I have had to struggle just to make one service work for our family, so I soak up that time amongst brothers and sisters in faith. I miss some of the extra time with believers, but I find other ways to meet my spiritual needs. And let me tell you that my faith in God is more real during this season of my life than it was when I was at church many hours per week.<br />
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There's a lot of drama going on around me, and I just don't have the energy for it. Apparently exhaustion can serve a good purpose when it forces me to not let things bother me that would have sucked me in before.<br />
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And this new place of acceptance is not just a place to lie down and stop fighting what's happening. I finally cracked the door open enough to let Hope in. Hope can be a tricky thing. Every time we went to a new doctor or tried a new medicine or treatment, I got my hopes up only to have them crash and shatter. So then I just stopped getting hopeful. Hope can hurt. And at some point I had to minimize the hurting as much as possible.<br />
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I've never lost sight of God's ability to heal, and I know He has walked through this with us. Holding my trembling, bawling son while knowing that God could heal him in the blink of an eye and yet He chooses not to...boy, that is something to wrestle with. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:9</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"[Job] said, 'Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.'" Job 1:21 </blockquote>
I used to be able to quote these verses. Now I know what it is to live them.<br />
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Baking used to be a fulfilling hobby for me. Over the last year baking became a lot of standing and a mess to clean up, so I quit doing it. Yesterday I spent the day baking homemade rolls for Thanksgiving next week. Accomplishment.<br />
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My sister's family will be staying with us next week. My house won't be spotless with little gifts to welcome them (as I used to do), but I will be DELIGHTED to see them and have them in my home. Accomplishment.<br />
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I have more weight and less hair than I did this time last year, but I will dress up next Thursday and enjoy special time with every family member possible. I won't get caught up in making the cutest dessert or the most delicious side dish. I will be thankful. Accomplishment.<br />
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There's a lot more suffering going on than what's happening in my little world. And there's a lot more good in my life than hard. I want to be a woman who praises God right now, before Nolan is healed. I want to someday look back and know that I never let go of God's hand. Even just envisioning being past this season and being able to look back is a big accomplishment for me, when not too long ago I declared that there is no light at the end of our tunnel.<br />
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I'm a work in progress, but the point is I AM making progress. It feels good to start plugging back into my life. It feels good to accept where we are and believe we won't always be here. Honestly, it felt better to wear pajamas, but I'm grateful for the desire to get dressed and accomplish something.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-9251464007359731142016-10-05T22:24:00.001-05:002016-10-06T07:48:51.128-05:00Easy Dinner PlanningI'm not quite sure how we got here, but I'm told we are into October already. Since time just keeps picking up speed, I wanted to share with you one way that I save time and sanity: I plan my dinners for a whole month at a time.<br />
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This makes it easy to compile a weekly grocery list. This also helps me with my least favorite time of day: the after school tornado. School pick up is crazy. Then we have back packs everywhere and papers to be signed and filed and adored. There are snacks. There's homework. And just about the time I am ready to drop, I have to make dinner.<br />
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Gone are the days of facing the giant dreaded question, "What should we have for dinner?" Now I don't have to think about it. I simply check my dinner calendar and get to work.<br />
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A friend recently asked me to share my whole process with her so she could start planning her dinners using her own recipes. I thought maybe there's someone else out there who could benefit from a simple step-by-step guide.<br />
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<b>1. Start by making a list of dinners your family eats regularly.</b> You may have to sit and think through these, or you may want to go through your recipe box and/or cook books. This is probably the most time-consuming part, but you only have to do it this one time.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yR4lG_u69jg/V_ViwIEwURI/AAAAAAAAUNs/6ICBUHBGwjcDOFA17itgF7WcJn9y6gcKQCLcB/s1600/IMG_6274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yR4lG_u69jg/V_ViwIEwURI/AAAAAAAAUNs/6ICBUHBGwjcDOFA17itgF7WcJn9y6gcKQCLcB/s400/IMG_6274.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are the dinners my family eats regularly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>2. Make a list of any dinner recipes you would like to try. </b> Flip through cook books and peruse Pinterest. It's time to actually try those recipes you pinned. Since my family has specific dietary restrictions, I made a list of dinners I want to try for my whole family and a list of recipes that would just be for Jared and me. On nights when I try a Jared-and-me recipe, my kids will eat chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, leftovers, or something else simple.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DH-n-RCU9TU/V_Vji7-3UaI/AAAAAAAAUN0/ulbuFRfGN9UJg1gP7JWEcDzobOLsXA8zgCLcB/s1600/IMG_6293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DH-n-RCU9TU/V_Vji7-3UaI/AAAAAAAAUN0/ulbuFRfGN9UJg1gP7JWEcDzobOLsXA8zgCLcB/s400/IMG_6293.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<b>3. Get a blank calendar. </b> Thanks to amazing graphic artists who post their work online, you can get all sorts of adorable printable calendars. This year I printed my totally free and completely adorable calendars from Short Stop Designs. You can find them <a href="http://www.shortstopdesigns.com/2015/08/26/2016-calendar-printable/" target="_blank">here</a>. If you're ready to plan ahead (overachiever), you can get the 2017 free printable calendars <a href="http://www.shortstopdesigns.com/2016/09/22/2017-printable-calendar/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJgNlzmuxHE/V_V42KrCmPI/AAAAAAAAUOI/dLNjY58LNSgUrV1732KTKL4YuptkRxU7ACLcB/s1600/IMG_6277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJgNlzmuxHE/V_V42KrCmPI/AAAAAAAAUOI/dLNjY58LNSgUrV1732KTKL4YuptkRxU7ACLcB/s400/IMG_6277.JPG" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These super cute calendars print with a "Notes" section on the bottom. I trim mine off, and you'll see why in a minute.</td></tr>
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<b>4. Write your dinners on your calendar. </b> I like to sit with my family calendar (on my phone), my dinner calendar, my dinner lists, and a pencil. I start by checking the family schedule for days when we will need a Crock Pot meal or something quick and easy. I fill those in first. I put new recipes on days that are less hectic. Sometimes I get all responsible and line up dinners in a row that will use the same produce or add-ons. Just keep filling in until you have a dinner for each day.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7VQx8eZPmUM/V_WNqCPkqyI/AAAAAAAAUOc/rh0a8dkmG84GlBCjlLBAMeyq3aGPEFK8wCLcB/s1600/IMG_6294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7VQx8eZPmUM/V_WNqCPkqyI/AAAAAAAAUOc/rh0a8dkmG84GlBCjlLBAMeyq3aGPEFK8wCLcB/s400/IMG_6294.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Now you can see why I cut off the bottom of my calendars. I display my dinner calendar on this awesome reclaimed wood clipboard that a friend made for me. It's part of this gathering of decorations in my dining room:<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dgiFAiNeYno/V_WODDSvD7I/AAAAAAAAUOg/X45HknIgJFMjQSD-ckdSh822pRfLEHkDwCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dgiFAiNeYno/V_WODDSvD7I/AAAAAAAAUOg/X45HknIgJFMjQSD-ckdSh822pRfLEHkDwCLcB/s400/FullSizeRender%2B30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Every time I change the monthly dinner calendar, I change the paper on the right to go with the season or current holiday. I change the Bible verse on the chalkboard whenever a new one strikes me.<br />
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Anywho, back to dinners. So you can see that this process is very straightforward and simple, but some of you may be like me and just need someone to tell you step-by-step what to do. Once you do it once, it's faster and easier for future months.<br />
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When the next month comes, you can simply copy your dinners in the same order onto your new calendar. However, I like to customize each month. I like to take our schedule into consideration and space the easy and more time-consuming dinners accordingly. Plus I just need a little variety!<br />
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This is what works for our family. It only takes me about 15 minutes to plan an entire month's worth of dinners, and my grocery shopping and meal prep are simplified. I hope this helps some other tired mama bring a little order to dinnertime!<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-17167451517657471692016-09-18T19:26:00.001-05:002016-09-18T19:26:28.666-05:00Where's the Line?There are a lot of things about my appearance that I would change if I could. I have about five short eyelashes total. My skin has mysteriously aged much more quickly than the simple passing of time. Four year ago when I lost a bunch of weight, my hair started coming out by the handfuls, and it hasn't recovered even to this day. Don't even get me started on my actual body (saddle bags, chunky calves, droopy chest).<br />
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There are some things I can do to improve my appearance. I color my hair to hide my grays. I try to style my hair in a way that covers the thinnest spots. I combined a sale and a big coupon to buy Crest White Strips for my teeth, but they didn't actually seem to make a difference. I buy concealers, foundations, powders, blushes, bronzers, primers, anti-aging moisturizers, and under-eye creams. I'm not sure that any of these products actually <i>help</i> any of my "problems," but they at least mask them so I can try not to think about them when I'm with other people.<br />
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A friend of mine recently opened my eyes to an entirely new realm of possibilities. She has contraptions and products I hadn't even heard of before. She uses some sort of light-up device to instantly whiten her teeth. She uses a needle roller on her face and stomach before applying special skin-tightening serums. She uses a boar hair brush on her body and an expensive rotating brush on her face. She has special beauty masks and hair products. I always admire her abundantly long eye lashes, and she recently told me that she uses Latisse to make them grow. She has had the one surgical procedure I would actually consider to improve my body. She has even tried Botox. She has special nutritional drinks that give her energy for her daily workouts.<br />
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When I found out the full extent of what this friend does to enhance her appearance, I started wrestling with something in my own mind. Then I went to a hair appointment last week. My stylist was baffled as to why my hair will not stop thinning and barely grows. She strongly encouraged me to try a particular line of hair care products. They cost $99 for a set of shampoo, conditioner, and hair mask.<br />
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I've been looking over all these newfound options and wondering what could be beneficial to me. Some of these products, gadgets, and procedures could actually make me look better. Looking better could make me feel better about myself. <br />
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But I've really been wrestling with this question: <i>Where is the line between self-improvement and vanity?</i><br />
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I think it's okay to wear makeup to hide flaws and accentuate features. I think every woman should find hair products that work with her natural hair type. There are ways to dress any body shape to accentuate the good and downplay the not-so-good. I protect my skin from UV damage and try to slow the formation of wrinkles (apparently unsuccessfully). Freshly painted nails make me happy, so I get a cheap thrill from a new polish (at home, not even at a salon).<br />
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So where are my boundaries? How much of this new stuff can I try before I have officially moved into the land of vanity. What will help me focus less on my flaws and what will make me focus too much on my appearance?<br />
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I don't think there's a clear answer to any of these questions. But I needed an answer so I came up with a couple of new questions to aid in my decisions.<br />
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<b>1. What is my budget?</b><br />
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This is fairly simple. I shouldn't buy anything that I don't have money for. It was only a few years ago that we struggled to buy basic necessities for our kids. We very rarely ever bought anything for ourselves. As Jared has been promoted, and we have done our best to make smart financial decisions, we finally have a little extra to spend on wants rather than needs. So we are still learning how to manage our wants.<br />
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I buy concealer from Ulta but powder from Walmart. I alternate between expensive salon-brand shampoo/conditioner and inexpensive shampoo/conditioner from the drug store. I can buy new jeans when my old ones are worn (or are too tight...ugh), but I can't just pick up a new pair of shoes because they are cute.<br />
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So the very first test of whether a new item fits into my beauty routine is whether or not there is room in our budget to pay the price.<br />
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<b>2. What is my motivation?</b><br />
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Even if I can buy something, that doesn't necessarily mean that I should. I need to look at <i>why</i> I want the item.<br />
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When I lost all that weight four years ago, I wasn't trying to look good. I didn't want attention for my new body. I actually wanted the opposite. I was so consumed by feeling unhappy with my overweight body that it overshadowed everything that I did all day long. I felt fat as I volunteered at the school. I was heavy playing with my kids. I was chubby whenever I had to speak in front of a group. I decided to lose weight so I could STOP thinking about my size. I wanted to be able to focus on life again, rather than constantly focusing on my body image.<br />
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So, do I want my skin to look better so people will admire it or so I will actually look my age (and not my mother's)? Do I want my hair to fill back in so I'll get compliments or so I can stop vacuuming stray hairs daily and feeling like I should join Hair Club for Men?<br />
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I can honestly say that I have a couple of insecurities that probably just need to be released. I need to embrace some of my imperfections as just how I'm made. But there are also a couple things that really could be improved in order to free up some mental space and allow me to focus on more important things.<br />
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For me, the Botox is outside the line. I don't know that I'll be rolling needles over my face anytime soon. But I just may try that expensive shampoo and conditioner just in case they'll keep me from having my grandpa's hairline. And I still can't shake the desire I've had since high school to have one particular surgery (hint: puberty hit me early and hard, and I nursed three babies, and now I have a lot of back and shoulder pain).<br />
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I think each person has to find their own boundaries. I really don't think many people have the exact same lists of what's acceptable and what's ridiculous. I keep thinking of 1 Corinthians 10:23, which says, "'Everything is permissible,' but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is permissible,' but not everything is constructive.'"<br />
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Using fancy contraptions and products is not forbidden, but it might not be the best use of time, money, energy, and focus. So each of us must look at our own motivations and budgets and decide where our line is.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-53380635405792167302016-08-15T10:40:00.001-05:002016-08-15T10:40:55.878-05:00DeeplyI randomly woke up in the middle of the night last night. As I laid in bed, I started thinking about my friends. I have been so blessed with friends.<br />
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My longest friendship is with Leslie, whom I met in 6th grade. It was my first year in a new city, at a new school, with a new stepmom. I had become friends with the girls in my neighborhood, and one day they told me they didn't want me in their circle of friends anymore. God tapped Leslie on the shoulder and she obeyed by giving me a place to sit at lunch. Soon we were exchanging creatively written Bible verses and mixed tapes of DC Talk songs. Our technology may have changed, but we still send each other Bible verses and song lyrics via text. She's one of my prayer warriors.<br />
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I'm still friends with two of my college roommates, and my family recently drove to Kansas to visit one of them. It was amazing to see her and her husband and children. I love that we've known each other at different stages of life.<br />
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Megan moved here when our girls were chubby little babies. We have journeyed together through play groups, potty training, preschool, traveling husbands, family trauma, school drama, Bible studies, and the ups and downs of being entrenched in church ministry. Megan possesses strength that few people do. We have seen each other sick and unshowered and ugly crying. We operate completely differently but I appreciate learning from her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't find a good picture of Megan and me, so here are a few pictures of our kids together early in our friendship.</td></tr>
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About two years ago, Michele and her daughter Abby were walking towards the school as I was walking out with Nora. Abby declared to her mom that "that girl" (Nora) would be her best friend. A few months later Michele and I started talking and getting to know one another, and we became besties right along with our daughters. Michele is very generous and has forced me to accept her help. She keeps my kids when I have an appointment for myself or one kid. She offers whatever she has to people around her. I never clean my house or put on makeup before Michele comes over. Plus I got to be part of Michele finding God and allowing Him into her heart and life, and there is no greater joy than that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Michele</td></tr>
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Kim moved into the house across the street from me about a year ago. We waved when we passed each other. One day we bumped into her in Target while she was carrying her teeny newborn baby and we were worn out from the battle for Nolan's health. We got to talk more about real life, and she said she would be praying for Nolan. There's nothing that sucks me in more than a little baby. So every time I saw Kim outside with her kids, I found a reason to cross the street and hold her little guy. This summer my kids have fallen in love with Kim's older two kids and play together nearly every day. Kim and I have had many in-depth chats and know a lot about each other's struggles. Each of our interactions has been like a thread that God is weaving together as part of His plan.<br />
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Last week I got to spend time with Jess, whom I have known for a couple years but don't see all that often. In the last few days, I have learned so much about Jess and her history and where she is in life right now. I treasure these moments where she trusts me with her story.<br />
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I have fabulous groups of friends as well: the school moms, the church family, the Bible study ladies, the neighbors. I'm even close friends with some family members. Recently one group of my friends had pictures taken together. Getting my picture taken is one of my least favorite things ever, so this was sacrificial love for me. :)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These friends are my "Crew"</td></tr>
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Over the last week, God has really been moving in the circle of Michele, Kim, Jess, and me. It's been so exciting! But I also found myself worrying what my "old" friends might think of my increased involvement with new friends. I actually worry about this a lot. I want every one of my friends to be my best friend. I don't want anyone to ever be left out or feel forgotten. I recently read a blog post about how God brings you some friends for a season, and He eventually leads you on to new relationships in His timing. I had such a hard time accepting this information because I just love all my friends so much and don't want to let go of a single one!<br />
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One friend told me the other day that God has given me the gift of loving and caring for people. I hadn't really thought about it that way before. But the more I thought about it (what else am I gonna do when I'm wide awake at 4:00 am?), the more I could see that maybe the way I feel about my friends is a gift from God.<br />
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I love my people so deeply. I sometimes feel a physical ache in my chest when I miss someone or a surge of joy when I get to see one of my peeps. I genuinely care about what is on their minds and I often feel whatever emotions they express. I crave close connection with people.<br />
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The irony of how God made me is that I have this deep love for people but I'm also an introvert. So after I get to spend time with people, I need alone time to recharge. It would have been more convenient for me if God had made me an extravert!<br />
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Another downside of how I experience emotions is that while I love deeply, I also hurt deeply. Both of these weaknesses of mine lead me to seek comfort and renewal from God. So I suppose He knew what He was doing when He made me this way.<br />
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This has been a season of uncertainty for me. I don't know if Nolan will be able to handle traditional school or if I will be his full-time caregiver and educator this year. I don't know if Nora and Griffin will get the teachers I want for them or if we might have a year of learning to deal with tough people. I have no idea what my daily life will look like starting next week.<br />
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So I'm following little bread crumbs God has been leaving me. The season of Nolan's health struggles has been a time of letting go of responsibilities and activities. We've been simplifying life as much as possible. After all of this stripping away, I keep waiting for the rebuilding to start. This past week or so I have felt a long-lost glimmer of passion as I've been talking to new friends and sensing where God might want to use me. There are so many questions unanswered, but I think God waking me up in the middle of the night to talk to me about my deep love for people is a good lead to follow.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-40744062238114460572016-07-26T13:01:00.001-05:002016-07-26T13:01:32.663-05:00The Lazy Way to Fix a Big WaistbandAt the end of the season last summer, I bought some clearance swim suits/trunks for my kids. There was one pair of swim trunks that Nolan wouldn't wear this year because the waistband was too big and they didn't have a drawstring or any way to adjust them.<br />
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I kept putting off fixing them because fixing them the "right" way seemed time-consuming. So today I fixed them the lazy way!<br />
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I bought shoestrings that matched the swim trunks. The only other supply I needed was some FrayCheck, which I always have in my sewing arsenal.<br />
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I needed to cut two openings in the waistband, one on each side of the front center.<br />
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I gathered up just the front layer of fabric and made a vertical cut.<br />
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I did the same on the other side of the front center.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's hard to see but there's a cut near each of my fingers.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I coated the new openings with FrayCheck to keep them from, well, fraying.<br />
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Then I fed one end of the shoestring through one opening and pushed it through the waistband until it came out the other opening.<br />
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And they're done!</div>
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Now Nolan can tighten them and avoid any embarrassing swim situations.</div>
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P.S. Neon yellow is hard to photograph!</div>
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Jessica</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-87576421920972061562016-07-16T19:50:00.002-05:002016-07-16T19:50:25.437-05:00Let's Catch Up!I haven't posted on here in a ridiculous amount of time. So let's catch up, shall we?<br />
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I'm just gonna give you the main bullet points and a few pictures of what's happened in our world since my last post TWO MONTHS ago.<br />
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Nolan, my firstborn baby, turned 10! I struggled with moving into double digits.<br />
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He had a friend party with basketball as the theme.<br />
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Then he had a family party with basketball as the theme. I let him choose anything he wanted as the family meal, and he chose cereal. :) He wanted strawberry shortcake for dessert, so I made two types of shortcake from scratch.<br />
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Nora lost two more teeth.<br />
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I got bit by a mystery bug and had to track the swelling/spreading with markers.<br />
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I did a lot of puzzles. Like, a really lot of puzzles. This is only a sample.<br />
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I planted a garden. It started to grow. Peter Cottontail ate said garden. So Jared put a chicken wire fence around the garden to see if anything could be saved. Since putting in the fence, the garden has gone from this:<br />
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To this:<br />
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Jared's oldest brother and his two boys came to visit. We had some fun cousins time at Wildlife Prairie Park.<br />
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Griffin became obsessed with our family history and he read every page of a book my dad made about our family.<br />
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Then he took and edited this picture of himself to look like the old pictures in our book:<br />
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Griffin kept up with piano lessons this summer. That was our only kid activity.<br />
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We went strawberry picking with some friends.<br />
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They were the best strawberries I have ever tasted! We ate so many of them just straight up. Then I made strawberry rhubarb jam.<br />
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We made "The Blob" that I've seen over and over on Pinterest.<br />
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Nolan hurt his shoulder playing basketball.<br />
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My brother and I met my dad for lunch on Father's Day. Our kids had so much fun together at the restaurant!<br />
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We watched every single game of the entire NBA Finals. Jared was out of the country during the very last game so Nolan and I stayed up late to watch it together.<br />
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My niece Layla flew here from Florida to visit. We were so happy to see her!<br />
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We went to Kansas so Jared could attend some meetings for work and I could spend time with my college roommate Angela and her two adorable boys.<br />
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I helped a friend paint a couch. Yes, I do mean we painted the fabric cushions and all. It was an experience.<br />
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My sister and her husband and son arrived from Florida and were reunited with Layla. They all stayed at my house for half of their visit and I so enjoyed my time with them! <br />
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They were here for the 4th of July.<br />
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I bought lipstick. Yes, this is newsworthy. Lipstick scares me.<br />
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After driving some distance to an appointment for Nolan, I took the kids to a nearby museum called the Wheels O Time Museum. It was so cool!<br />
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We had a dinner to celebrate my brother-in-law's 40th birthday, and Nora fell asleep on me at the dinner.<br />
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One of the most exciting updates of all: My brother and sister-in-law had their fourth baby! Little Lyle is so tiny and perfect.<br />
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Finally, my sister and I had pictures taken with three very close friends. I'm still working on editing the pictures, but here's what I have done so far.<br />
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Did you recognize the couch in the pictures? :) <br />
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Whew! I don't know about you, but I feel MUCH better now that we are up to date! I have been avoiding blogging because there was just too much to share. Also, the one topic I didn't address is Nolan. He continues to struggle with daily headaches and nausea. I had so hoped that this summer would bring great relief for him, but this dark cloud seems to follow us wherever we go. That's a discussion for a different day. For today, I wanted to tell you about the rest of life that's been going on around here. Until next time!<br />
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Jessica<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-57462126775897161162016-05-25T11:05:00.000-05:002016-05-25T11:05:31.549-05:00School's Out For Summer!We did it. We stinkin' did it! We made it to the finish line of this school year. We may be bruised and battered but we crossed that line!<br />
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Here's my crew of kiddos on the last day of school: <br />
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Garrit and Abby are part of my family. On the drive to school yesterday, the kids tried out different smash-ups of our two last names. It's a good thing we live near each other so we can get together this summer!<br />
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The kids had a half day for the last day of school, and I spent that time at the grade school helping with all the games and activities for the kids.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls at snack time</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Griffin right after tug-of-war</td></tr>
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I'm so thankful for every minute I've been able to spend with my younger kiddos. I've spent so much time with Nolan these last six months, so I treasure every moment with Griffin and Nora. What a privilege to be able to spend their last day of school with them!<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-20896620265076160172016-05-15T22:08:00.001-05:002016-05-15T22:08:06.492-05:00Finishing the GarageAs we continue in my mission to fix things in and around our home, I would like to show you the progress we've made in finishing our garage.<br />
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I'm sure it seems odd to many people that I would choose to put money and time into updating the garage rather than rooms in our house. Over these last few months when we were constantly going to appointments, not to mention the daily drop offs to two schools and pick ups from two schools, I felt like I saw the garage more often than any other room in my house.<br />
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Our garage had drywall but the seams had barely been taped and not really mudded. Jared and I finished drywall once in our old house. It was hideous. So for this job we finally broke down and paid someone else to do the work so it would be done correctly. We hired a friend from church who is very particular about his work. The best part was that he is very trustworthy so I didn't have to feel creeped out about having a stranger working in my home everyday.<br />
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Here is what our garage looked like before:<br />
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This is what the garage has looked like since we moved in. The previous owner (who built the house) had put up the shelving and made the brackets up high for additional storage. It's all good in theory, but I definitely didn't feel like we were maximizing the space.<br />
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We cleared out as much stuff as we could. Some things were relocated and some things, unfortunately, just had to stay in the garage because it rained nearly every day of the garage project. Plus we didn't really want tools and other valuable items sitting outside.<br />
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Then be brought in our friend William and had him do his thing. He had to remove a lot of the old tape that was cracking and peeling. He filled many many holes and covered old screws. He even secured a lot of the sheetrock that he didn't think was properly installed. He also brought in leftover drywall from home to fill in above our electrical breaker box.<br />
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I could already tell a huge difference just when he was finished with applying the joint compound.<br />
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I got annoyingly excited when William started priming!<br />
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There was a lot of life happening during the week that William was working on our garage. I was so busy that I forgot to take a picture of the walls all primed. But I can tell you that it was amazing to see them look like actual walls.<br />
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I was gone all day Friday while William painted the walls and ceiling. Then we were busy helping my mom move. Then we had Nolan's birthday party with his friends. So last night was my first chance to really look at the finished garage. And I happened to notice that it's the wrong color.<br />
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I won't name any names. Let's just say that Spouse A asked Spouse B to get a 5 gallon bucket of the gray paint from our bedroom. Spouse B found a leftover paint can in the basement that was a shade of gray and had our local hardware store do a color match and make 5 gallons. Said paint was handed off to William who applied the paint in the absence of Spouse A. And then Spouse A saw that Spouse B had actually color matched the paint color from our living room. And spouse A hates that color.<br />
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Oh well. This is what we like to call a First World Problem.<br />
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So our garage is finished and is a shade of blue instead of gray. But it's finished. Jared and I spent the evening cleaning up all the dust. We moved a few things back to their intended spots and the rest we just put on Jared's side of the garage so I can park in my spot for now. I still want to take some time to figure out the best way to organize our stuff rather than just putting the old shelves in their old places.<br />
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Now as I take the kids to school and go about the busyness of May, I can get a little jolt of happiness every time I see these nice smooth finished (albeit blue) walls. Someday we will have great shelves and pegboard and cool hooks and a painted door, and all these things will make me happy as well.</div>
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Jessica </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-67939912929630656722016-04-25T16:03:00.001-05:002016-04-25T16:03:28.856-05:00Fix ItEver since we returned home from Mayo, I have been a mad woman on a mission to take care of all the things around the house that bug me or that need attention. I have never been good about finishing things, so this sudden burst of motivation is odd to me. I'm pretty sure something in me snapped and decided that if I can't fix Nolan then I will fix my surroundings.<br />
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So I set to work finishing all sorts of projects we had previously started. We redecorated the kids' bathroom, and I'll share that in its own post. Sometime.<br />
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We had painted our bedroom and put up pictures and curtains. The last major piece was choosing a bedspread, which has taken me more than a year of browsing for the perfect one. So I finally just bought one. I originally wanted a frosty mint green, and this one is more blue, but I still love it!<br />
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I'd still love some decorative pillows and taller lamps, but I'm calling this one done for now.<br />
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We donated our dishes to a local charity and bought plain white Corelle dishes. They are thinner and take up less room in our cabinets. They also came in multiple sizes of plates and bowls, which has been a huge plus. I threw out the kids old plastic "kid" plates and bought the divided Corelle plates for them.<br />
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You can see that I bought two shelf thingies to help organize the plates. I also rearranged all of our cabinets so like items are together and everything makes a little more sense. I moved the coffee pot to the counter under the cabinet with mugs. I decluttered our plastic leftover containers to just what we use most.<br />
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Some of our drawers were already fairly well organized, but three of them were in desperate need of attention. I didn't take "before" pictures because, as previously stated, I was a madwoman on a mission.<br />
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We had cute gray placemats that were a basketweave pattern. It was hard to wipe them completely clean because inevitable spills would get between the woven strips. So I went to Hobby Lobby and purchased some laminated fabric. I cut it into rectangles to make my own placemats.<br />
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They would have been slightly nicer if I had used my rotary cutter and ruler rather than scissors, but again I plead the insanity defense.<br />
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My spice cabinet has been driving me bonkers for years. I pulled everything out of the cabinet and got to work. I ordered clear spice jars from Amazon, and I transferred my spices into the matching jars. I used the labels that came with the jars, and I used my new label maker for the rest of the spices.<br />
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I still need to figure out how to organize the new spice jars in my cabinet, but don't you think they're better already? I can guarantee you there will be some alphabetizing involved. :)<br />
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I had to run to Hobby Lobby this weekend and I just happened to pick up this cute little sign. I hung it above the hooks where the kids hang their back packs and jackets.<br />
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My final project to share with you today is one I completed this past weekend. We recently inherited a piano, which made us quite ecstatic as Griffin has a knack for playing it. However, the piano bench left a little something to be desired in both the comfort and style categories.<br />
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So I removed the top by unscrewing the hinges.<br />
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I spent for-ev-er pulling staples out of each individual layer: the trim, the white fabric, and the yellow upholstery. My hand turned into a misshapen claw.<br />
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I cleaned the piano bench and the naked piece of wood that had been stripped of all old fabrics and trimmings. Pretty sure I inhaled asbestos.<br />
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I had purchased some 3" foam from JoAnn Fabrics as well as some gray upholstery fabric. I was looking at fun fabrics but ultimately decided to go with something very neutral since this is a semi-permanent piece. But I did find one with hexagons in the weave! I heart hexagons!<br />
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I put the foam on the wooden bench piece, wrapped the fabric around, and used a heavy duty staple gun to afix the fabric to the board. Then I covered the back with a gray utility fabric, and I covered the edges of that fabric with some ribbon trim.<br />
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I then screwed the hinges back onto the seat board through the original holes.<br />
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I was amused to see the service record sticker inside the bench:<br />
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Here it is reunited with the piano:<br />
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Now I have to go fold my fifth load of laundry for today. Anyone have a fix for that?<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-38813489111875566992016-04-20T23:18:00.002-05:002016-04-20T23:18:14.925-05:00Who I AmLet's just say it. I'm anal. I am. Some may see me as uptight but I think my ways just make good sense.<br />
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For example, I own scissors for fabric, scissors for food, and scissors for paper. My kids know which pair to use for cutting open popsicles and which to use for homework projects. And which ones to never touch.<br />
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I want my fabric scissors to stay sharp enough to cut through fabric well. I want the food scissors to always be clean. But I also don't want my kids to grow up afraid of choosing the wrong scissors. So I work on tempering my black-and-whiteness with grace.<br />
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But I think it's pretty clear that I'm a girl who loves rules and boundaries. I like to know what's expected and how I'm doing.<br />
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Believe it or not, this can lead to problems in the Christian life. It leads to a little something called <i>legalism</i>, where I worship the rules instead of God.<br />
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Today I finished reading <i>For the Love</i> by Jen Hatmaker. I highly recommend it, by the way. It's filled with humor and sarcasm and truth, all things I enjoy. I love her chapter where she writes one letter to Church Leaders and one to Church People. I want to photocopy it and distribute it.<br />
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In her chapter entitled "Dear Christians, Please Stop Being Lame," she writes the following:<br />
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I obviously related to this passage. I do want boundaries. I do want to stand before God having gotten it right. I do want to be assured of my insider status. And I have asked all the same questions Jen Hatmaker mentioned here in her book.<br />
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Can I just be really <i>really</i> honest with you for a minute? Even if it's not pretty? I did fight for my insider status within the church. Let me say, without hesitation, that I genuinely loved the people I served, legitimately wanted to further God's kingdom, sincerely sought the guidance of the Holy Spirit as I lived out my many roles within the church. But part of me also grew to love being so rooted in the church. I liked belonging. I liked being useful and serving a purpose. And I liked feeling approved.<br />
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Somewhere along the way "who I am" got tangled up with "what I do at church." My world is so small. I'm a stay-at-home mom to three kids and I babysit two more kiddos. My world consists of my house, two schools, church, and Walmart. Some days I just have this inner voice that asks the question, "Is there more to me than being a mom?" It's the best job in the whole wide world, but I also know that if I am to survive these chickadees flying from my nest, then I need to have my identity be based on more than motherhood. Since I'm not looking for Walmart to define me, church became my identity-giver.<br />
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And really it makes sense to find my identity at church. My relationship with God is the most important thing in my life. <b>I just didn't realize that all this time I have been building an identity based on who I am in the body of Christ, rather than who I am to God.</b> Do you see the difference? <b>One is who others perceive me to be and the other is who God knows me to be.</b><br />
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There's another passage in <i>For the Love</i> that fits our current discussion. In Hatmaker's letter to Church Leaders, she describes what happens when "ministry" is defined solely by church activities.<br />
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"When you tell your people, 'Come Sunday for worship, Tuesday morning for Bible study, Wednesday night for Community Group, Thursday night for Awana, Friday night for a service project, and Saturday afternoon for leadership training,' it is defeating. Intentionally or not, it develops a culture in which discipleship is measured by attendance."</blockquote>
I became so highly aware of this once my attendance became less than perfect. I felt (honest: feel) scolded for not being the good Church Woman I'd groomed myself to be. I've heard so many people in our church say something like, "We are in church every time the doors are open!" I internalized that as a requirement for holiness. So now that I'm not at church every time there's a service or event, I feel like a Less Than. <br />
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Oh, hear it. Hear me say that I love my church. I highly value specialized ministries offered at my church. I would have shriveled into spiritual oblivion without my Bible study ladies. Before my son's endless headache that rocked our world, I was super involved at my church. I taught an adult Sunday school class (my very favorite role!), participated fully in women's Bible studies, planned and hosted baby and bridal showers (with two other women), served on a Sunday School & Discipleship Ministries Board, planned on a decorating committee when our church built a giant addition, planned and decorated for various gatherings such as our annual Women's Retreat, typed devotions for couples in our church, interviewed potential volunteers for our children's department, and taught a class about healthy sexuality for married women. I was a busy woman. Sometimes I felt like I was going to lose my mind. But I wasn't about to say no to anything because I really do love people and want to serve God by serving people.<br />
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Once The Headache descended upon us and this whole medical crisis blew up in the middle of our ordinary life, everything had to change. Most of it against my will. One by one, God gently removed each precariously balanced role from my hands and said, "Honey, I'll take this." When I looked at each thing individually, I loved each one. But all piled up, I was simply carrying too much. I'm guessing I probably would never have given up most of these precious roles if I hadn't been forced to by the extremely overwhelming task of caring for a chronically ill child.<br />
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The hardest crown for me to lay down, by far, was that of Sunday School Teacher. I just flat out LOVE those people, and I'm afraid no one will love them as fiercely as I do. Sound crazy? I can't help it. Even with being exhausted and--quite honestly--burned out, I just couldn't give it up. So God pulled it from my kung-fu grip and patted me on the head.<br />
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So here I am. I am not a teacher. I am not a church decorator. I am not a party planner. I am not a decision-maker or a cupcake-baker. I no longer have perfect attendance. I'm wandering in uncharted territory where the boundaries aren't as clearly marked.<br />
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Jen Hatmaker says living the gospel life was simple according to Jesus: love God and love people (see Matthew 22:36-40). So I'm gonna work on these. Each day I basically say, "God, what in the world does trusting You look like today?" I'm learning what it means to love Him when He doesn't do what I wish He would do, when I am empty, when I don't understand, when we have a good day, when I get sleep, when I'm too tired for anything. Oh, I love Him. I'm practicing living out that love.<br />
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And the second most important commandment is to love people. Sometimes that might look like church-organized events or ministries. But sometimes that looks like taking my daughter to a birthday party and seeking out the one mom who doesn't know anybody else and drawing her into the conversation very deliberately so she knows she's welcome in our circle of friends. That used to look like my family going to church on Wednesday nights so Jared and I could spend quality time praying for the people of our church while our kids participated in a Christian scouting program. I love the Wednesday night crowd. But now loving people looks like staying in on Wednesday nights so my kids can get a little time with their parents instead of being asked to listen and perform after a long day of school. It's baking banana bread with my daughter while my boys play a game together. It's getting my kids to bed at a decent time so we can all be more lovely on Thursday mornings.<br />
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We are slooooowwwly figuring out what our "new normal" is. I'm still not a huge fan but I'm learning how to deal with it. I still feel like I have dirty secrets (like not attending Wednesday night church) and like I wear some mark of shame for no longer being who I was. However, I'm also discovering that the time I used to invest in my weekly lessons can be spent reading books like <i>For the Love</i> or even--gasp--fiction books! I'm not as busy with school volunteer work, so I can get to work lifting up other moms at the school. I'm focusing more on my family. I'm listening to people rather than trying to earn their approval.<br />
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I'm learning who I am in Christ. It's His approval that matters (ugh, will I ever learn this??). He sees what my life looks like right now. I don't have to explain to Him exactly what is so difficult about a kid with a headache. He gets me. Apparently He still has plans for me and they do not line up with my plans to wear pajamas all day, eat pure crap, and wait for life to change. He is changing my course in order to shape me and use me. He wants me to know that I am loved. I am chosen. I am redeemed. I am clothed in righteousness. I am His. Every <strike>uptight</strike> part of me.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-72278590257383057762016-04-05T20:54:00.002-05:002016-04-05T20:54:26.391-05:00A Modern WreathYesterday I just wanted to do something, anything, to feel <i>normal</i>. So I decided to tackle a craft. And finish the heck out of that thing so I could feel like I accomplished something.<br />
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Inspired by <a href="http://prettyprovidence.com/modern-succulent-wreath/" target="_blank">this wreath</a> that I recently spotted on Instagram, I made a new modern wreath for our front door.<br />
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I had some navy and white striped fabric left over from a previous project. I went to Hobby Lobby and bought two embroidery hoops, some heavy duty Heat & Bond, and some fake succulents. I had the white ribbon on hand already.<br />
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I love succulents. They're like a plant-flower hybrid. I really want some live ones in my house. But at least now I found an excuse to get some fake ones! <br />
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I decided to use an 18" embroidery hoop and a 12" hoop. I just liked these proportions.<br />
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I started by laying the bigger hoop on my fabric and cutting a square of fabric that was a little bigger than the hoop.<br />
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Then I cut a matching size (ish) square of the Heat & Bond.<br />
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I followed the package instructions and ironed the Heat & Bond to the back of my fabric. This isn't strictly necessary but it gives the fabric more thickness and stiffness.<br />
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The next step was to cut out a donut-shaped piece of my fabric. Mmm donuts.<br />
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I chose to separate the two rings of my bigger embroidery hoop and trace around the inner ring. You could also trace around the outer ring and just cut a little inside your line so your fabric doesn't hang outside the hoop.<br />
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I used a black pen on the white stripes and a white pencil on the navy stripes. Because I'm fancy like that.<br />
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Next I traced my inner circle. I laid the smaller hoop on the fabric and measured all around it to make sure it was centered. C'mon people, you knew I would be obsessive. I traced inside the small hoop and knew I'd have to cut just outside the line to avoid having fabric show in the middle of the wreath.<br />
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I cut out the fabric donut. <br />
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My glue gun had been heating up while I was <strike>thinking about donuts</strike> cutting out the fabric. I very carefully hot glued the embroidery hoops in their proper places.<br />
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You may have noticed that I chose to place the screw-clasp-closure-thingy on the very top of the big embroidery hoop and in the bottom right region of the smaller embroidery hoop. I knew my succulents would cover said thingy on the smaller hoop.<br />
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I had picked up some random fake succulents from Hobby Lobby. I used wire cutters to cut off the stems. I played around with the arrangement and then hot glued them to my wreath.<br />
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I got a white ribbon from my endless hoard of ribbons and fed it between the two rings of the big embroidery hoop. Luckily I hadn't glued them together. I tied a pretty bow. Then I realized that it would be slightly twisted if I hung it on my wreath hanger as-is. So I grabbed a white pipe cleaner, fed it through the knot of the bow, twisted the ends, and made a ring.<br />
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That made it hand straight forward on my wreath hanger. When I put it up on our front door, I had to retie the bow because the wreath hung too low.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't we wish that my front door was painted a fun color?</td></tr>
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Yes, it's crooked in this picture. Yes, I fixed it. No, I didn't take a new picture.<br />
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So I accomplished something. I did something creative for the first time in quite awhile. It did come at a price. When Nolan and I went to Hobby Lobby for these supplies, he was suffering with a colossal headache. We had to stop three different times for him to lay down on the floor in Hobby Lobby. While other shoppers and employees looked at us like we were loony. But lying flat eased the pain and then we could make it through a few more aisles. I felt terribly selfish for dragging him to Hobby Lobby. But we are trying to get to a new normal where we don't just shut ourselves at home and lay around trying not to anger his pain. So I made a wreath. Apparently that is part of my new normal.<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-88814152270758096692016-03-25T08:45:00.000-05:002016-03-25T08:45:49.607-05:00BetterLast night I was discussing current events with my father-in-law. The recent bombing in Brussels, Belgium, took place in an airport through which my husband has traveled many times. It made me tense up with fear, realizing that my husband could have easily been one of the many injured or killed.<br />
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I have prayed so many times for God to take away the travel related to my husband's job. God's answer has been, "No, but I will protect him."<br />
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I have prayed so so so many times for God to take away my son's constant pain related to his current health crisis. God's answer has been, "No, but I will walk him through it."<br />
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Maybe God's answer is better than what I'm asking for. Maybe His presence is better than smooth circumstances. Maybe learning true faith is better than counterfeit calm. Maybe relying on Him for survival is better than fooling myself into believing I've got everything under control.<br />
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"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33<br />
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"Your unfailing love is better than life itself; how I praise you!" Psalm 63:3<br />
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JessicaJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882194922792522405.post-73295148553554428022016-03-14T13:30:00.001-05:002016-03-14T13:31:13.363-05:00How to Help Someone In Need<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am currently in one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I've been through hard stuff before, but this is different hard. I suppose I'd never grow if God only allowed me to experience difficulties I've already overcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My son has been in a health crisis for over three months. Every single day and night. We don't sleep and there are very few remnants of our previously normal daily life left. I've had to withdraw from all my commitments and responsibilities, some that I was ready to release and some that left me with a stinging bareness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've had to accept help. I 100% love being a helper, and I 100% loathe being a helpee. I have managed to resist help through all sorts of tough times. But here I am in a new season where I don't have a choice but to allow others in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wanted to share with you what I have found most helpful in the help department. Let's face it: you're busy too. If you are going to invest time, energy, and/or money into another person, you might as well maximize your efforts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Please hear me. This is critically important. Any gesture of help--kind words, a text to check in, a hug, a meal, a ride, a gift card, a card in the mail, babysitting--is seen as an act of love. You don't have to do things the "right" way. I want to give you tips from my point of view, but I can tell you that I have appreciated every single anything that anyone has done for me or to me in order to help me on this journey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Don't be paralyzed by perfectionism. Know that your heart will be appreciated every bit as much as your actions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Helping Someone Emotionally</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>1. Try to understand what the person is going through...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Take a moment to think about what the person is experiencing. Put yourself in their shoes. Imagine what they could be feeling. Observe and ask questions. Some people might like the chance to talk about what they're experiencing and some may be too tired to talk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>2. ... But don't assume that you already understand.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You can sympathize with a person when you know enough about what they are going through. But empathy comes from having experienced the same thing. I have so many wonderful people who see my pain and exhaustion and reach out to me. But I really connect with other parents who have actually experienced a child going through a health crisis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have also encountered many people who simply don't understand why our life is so difficult right now. They know a tiny bit of information, assume they understand the situation, and make comments that do more harm than good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Don't be afraid to say something like, "I don't fully understand what you're going through, but I can imagine that it must be difficult."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>3. Use personal experience to connect.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe you haven't gone through the same exact circumstances before, but you likely have something in your arsenal of experiences that gives you some insight. Briefly mention what it was, how it made you feel, and how it helps you understand this person. You might say, "I haven't lost a parent, but my grandmother was extremely important to me. When she died, I felt like the world was a different place without her in it. I'm praying for comfort for you as you grieve the loss of your mom."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes opening up and telling how you felt in a hard time allows the other person to feel safe enough to share their feelings. Be the first one to be vulnerable. It's a great gift to offer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Helping Someone Practically</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1. <i>Take a meal.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is one of the most common ways to help someone. I often say that food is my love language. I love to give people food they will enjoy. It's just a fact of life that everyone eventually needs to eat, so it's a known need to meet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are my favorite tips for taking someone a meal:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Use disposable dishes</u>--foil pans, Ziploc or Glad containers, zip top bags. Stress that you do not need any containers returned to you. Let them off the hook of washing extra dishes and returning them. Bonus points for bringing paper plates, plastic forks, and plastic cups for the actual meal to be eaten on/with.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Be on time</u>. Tell the person when you're coming with the meal and then try your best to be there at that time. You don't want hungry kids getting impatient or a nursing mother trying to hold a baby off until after guests have come.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Ask about food allergies and special dietary restrictions</u>. No sense in taking a meal that can't be eaten. You can also keep components of a meal separated for anyone who is picky.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Offer homemade meal choices</u>. You might offer two or three meals that are favorites or easy to make and ask which one would be most enjoyed by the person or family.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Offer restaurant choices</u>. I had someone send me a text saying they wanted to bring me dinner and asked what restaurant is our favorite for take-out. Sometimes it's easier on everyone if you simply pick up food from a restaurant where everyone already knows what they like.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Offer day choices</u>. There's a fine balance between being bossy enough to nudge the person into accepting your help and still being sensitive. The best way to handle the balance with meals goes something like this: "I would love to bring you a meal this week. I can do Monday, Thursday, or Friday. Which day works for you?" Then the person doesn't have to decide if they'll accept a meal, simply when that help would be most convenient.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Inject something healthy</u>. I love me some comfort food, but sometimes I need to eat something that's good for my body. A friend recently brought us a delicious salad with all sorts of yummy healthy ingredients. It was awesome. She also brought a big bowl of strawberries, which are my kids' favorite. It felt so good to have fruits and vegetables, especially when I can't get out for fresh produce.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Give a meal for later</u>. You can bring a meal for their freezer that can be eaten on whatever day they choose. You can also give a gift card for a restaurant that delivers. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Make the same meal for yourself</u>. It's easy to<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> make a<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> double batch of a meal and simply put it in two pans. Add the same side dishes and the same des<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">sert (of course!) and you've got both families covered. Or purchase your own di<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">nner from the same restaurant when you <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">order dinner for the <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">person/family in need.</span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>2. Do some shopping.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of my friends regularly texts me to let me know when she's on her way to Walmart or the grocery store. I tell her whatever items I need and pay her back when she delivers them. This has been extremely helpful. She always seems to text right when we have a critical item or two that we really need. I've never given anyone my full grocery list, but I'm so happy to get what we absolutely need.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>3. Run errands.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is the same idea as getting someone's groceries. You could let the person know when you are going to run your own errands and ask what they need. It's easier to accept the help when they know you already have to be out for your own errands. When a family is in crisis (or recovering from surgery or adjusting to a new baby), they might not be able to do things like return library books or pick up dry cleaning. You can clear these things off their to-do list while you're tackling your own. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>4. Clean--with caution.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This one is tricky, am I right ladies? Every woman wants a spotless house, but we all feel like we have to present a perfectly clean house to anyone who comes into our home. We are a clean-before-the-cleaning-lady-comes breed. So this one requires some sensitivity. There are only a few people I will allow to see my house as it really is and even fewer I would allow to help me clean it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alternative ideas: Clean someone's car, rake leaves, mow grass. Stick to outdoor spaces or limited areas to avoid shame for the person who hasn't been able to clean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>5. Provide a ride.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You might drive someone to appointments simply to give them a little time off from driving. Or offer to pick up or drop off kids. When Nolan is having a really bad day, my friend will pick up my other two children from school and bring them to my house. This spares me from having to drag Nolan out when he is in pain, and it also saves me from feeling like I have to put on my happy mask in front of the other school parents. I've had another friend pick up homework and papers from the office of Nolan's school when she's there to pick up her own son. It saves me a trip and gives us what we need.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>6. Babysit.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have had friends stay with Nolan for an hour so I can go volunteer at the school for one of my other kids' classes. Family members have watched our kids so Jared and I can have a date. I even accepted an offer from someone who stayed with all three kids so I could run a few errands by myself. Sometimes I need someone to run the errands, and sometimes I just need a minute outside this house by myself! You can offer similar babysitting depending on the situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>7. Manage communications.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Nolan was in the hospital, my friend Michele created a group text including a bunch of our friends. I would text Michele our updates, and she would copy the update and send it to the group. It allowed me to send one text and still reach the group. Michele fielded their follow-up questions and gracefully accepted their suggestions. I was busy talking to doctors and nurses and taking phone calls and texts from family members.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe you can help update a particular group of people. Maybe help manage a Caring Bridge page or Facebook updates. Organize a meal calendar or rides to chemo or dialysis or appointments. Be the one to let others know when there's a need they can fill.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>8. Maintain their car. </i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Have you ever had your gas light come on when you're already running late and don't have time to stop? When a person is going through a difficult time, they're not thinking about things like getting an oil change. If you have time, park your car at the person's house, ask for their keys, and take their car in for maintenance. You can bring along a book or work or Bible study homework. When you return the car and keys, let the person know that you enjoyed the wait time for leisure or catching up on work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>9. Complete home repairs.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My brother recently came over and fixed a plumbing issue we've had for way too long. Between Nolan's situation and Jared's work schedule, we just couldn't get to it. Thankfully, my brother had the skills and patience to figure out the problem, and he took the time to come over and fix it. We are still delighted every single day to notice that the problem is not there. Maybe you have skills you can offer. Clean out gutters, fix a leak, paint, drywall, fix a roof, hang a shelf. Do whatever is unfinished or undone that may bring a little more peace to the person's home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>It's the Little Things</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Don't think you have to make a big gesture in order to have a big impact. I'm a girl who loves the little things. Try these simple ideas.</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Send a text</u>. I always love a quick text from someone, whether it's to check in and ask how things are going or to offer words of encouragement. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Send a card</u>. Oh how I love the written word, especially when it is literally hand-written. You can pick up a nicely worded card and sign your name or get a cheap blank card and write your own message. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Offer a Bible verse</u>. Pray for the person and ask God for a verse. You can use any form of communication to send the verse (text, email, card, Facebook, even Pinterest or Instagram). This is also a favorite of mine when people give me a verse of encouragement.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Reach out and touch someone</u>. Some days there's nothing you can do to help but a hug can bring comfort. If it's appropriate for the relationship, rub the person's back. They probably have built up tension that you can help relieve.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><u>Bring a coffee</u>. Get one for you and one for the person in need. Tell them you're going and just need to know their order. That offer is hard to resist. Maybe grab a donut too.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Few More Tips</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You don't have to pay for everything. Tell the person upfront that you'd be happy to get their groceries/dry cleaning/gas/prescription and they can write you a check when you deliver the goods. This helps eliminate the awkwardness.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You will say, "Let me know if there's anything I can do," and they will likely never let you know. That sentiment is still received as heartfelt support, but it also puts the responsibility on the other person to reach out to you. So pick something to do, and do it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be real. Be honest. Show up with no makeup on. Wear grubby clothes when you stop by. Let them see your home when it's not perfect. Let your imperfections show so they know they don't have to hide theirs with you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Keep checking. Needs change. People always have to eat again. Groceries run low yet again. There are set backs and celebrations. You can participate in different ways as their journey changes course.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Never underestimate the power of humor. Sometimes there's nothing to do but laugh. The more stressed I feel, the more sarcastic I become. Sometimes a joke or funny card or meme can break the tension and lighten someone's mood.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happy helping!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jessica</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07481523822048451854noreply@blogger.com0