At our house we’ve adopted a great conversation starter when we gather around the table for dinner at the end of the day. Each of us verbally notes our high for the day, then our low, and lastly the funny of our day. It always amazes me how some days we’ve spent all day together yet each of us has something different to point out. Side note: sometimes when it’s my husband’s turn to state his high for the day he’ll keenly rattle off the “high temperature” for the day…before giving us his true answer.☺️
These table conversations are important because they cause us to know one another’s hearts, feelings, cares, and concerns a little more. Our kids enjoy the idea of being the only one in the “family spotlight” for a few moments during their turn, highlighting whatever it is for the day that stuck out most to them. Often times these smaller talks lead to larger discussions, taking it to a deeper level where we can really reflect, analyze, and engage with one another.
Since you and I most likely won’t be sharing dinner any time soon I thought I’d share my high, low, and funny over this past week (via the blog). Please feel free to do the same in the comment section below if you wish. Continue reading “A High, Low, and a Funny”
That was nearly twenty years ago; I can still feel the sting of the pain even now…Goodness I miss my dad…
*This is part 3 of a 3 part series- links to parts 1 and 2 are located at the bottom of this post
Growing up I took for granted the idea of family time and commitment. We had many fun times, but I failed to place much value on our years together while they were occurring.
I’ve managed to mentally revisit and collect the moments we spent together and I hold on to those precious memories now.
I can also identify our number one struggle as well. We believed in God, but we were far from a relationship with Jesus, therefore our family-dynamic suffered in following Christian morals, which led to lenient parenting. Often times I was absent—drinking and partying with friends. House rules and expectations were shallow for me; late nights and a selfish mentality were abundant. Mistakes and poor choices were high as I ran wild.
It wasn’t until I was married with three young children and in my mid-twenties that I recognized the hurt and brokenness in me. I thought I could fix it on my own and I tried for the next five years.
I watched as my mother, meanwhile, had found healing over my father’s death by seeking Christ. I remember relying heavily on her for wisdom during that trying period and she pointed me to Jesus every time.
Our family began a tradition a few years ago that we look forward to each Christmas season. At some point, shortly before Christmas Day, we devote one evening to “light sight-seeing” and have somewhat of a set routine…
After loading up in the vehicle, we drive the few miles into town, with a pit stop to the local convenience store first, where we fill up cups of overly flavored hot chocolate, cappuccino, or coffee to sip on during our adventure. It’s not Starbucks by any means, but it excites my children to choose from the many options, mix flavors, and make their own concoction—plus its way easier on the pocket-book!
This year after returning myself, the kids, and our piping hot beverages to the vehicle we were greeted by my lovely husband, who was patiently waiting on us and who I figured was also creating the perfect Christmas music play-list…but as we left the gas station parking lot let’s just say ‘Joy to the World’ wasn’t music to our ears…and I hardly think when Axl Rose belts out ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ he’s referring to sweet little Baby Jesus, although I believe my husband would beg to differ apparently… Continue reading “Light of the World”
He walked over to my “temporary” desk while I substitute taught and the words abruptly and nonchalantly spilled from his mouth, “my dad just recently died.”
Taken aback, I looked up from the top of my glasses and the pile of papers I’d been sorting to place a face to the small voice that had just offered me such matter-of-fact information. A young boy of about ten years old with light-colored hair, freckles, and a fair skin tone stood just feet away from me.
My mind quickly searched for words of comfort to give and with concern shown on my face the normal cliché consoling-phrase jumped its way out, “I’m really sorry.” …and I really meant it, but as I offered those overused words, my heart felt unsatisfied and desired to extend on the moment.
I’m in braces…again…for the second time in my life. The last time was eighteen years ago when I was a teenager and having braces was considered sort of “cool” at that age.
There’s a reason you don’t see many adults parading around with braces on their teeth. Advanced technology has allowed individuals the option to replace a mouthful of wires, brackets, and a rainbow of colorful bands with Invisalign, which corrects your teeth using clear aligners that fit tightly and gradually shift your teeth into the right position and provide little to no evidence of visibility. Also I’m pretty confident someone out there considered the fact that most adults aren’t going to want to wear a mouthful of metal while verbally training their young children. Plus I’m not sure about all thirty-something year olds but I feel like once I hit thirty my body showed a few signs of aging and apparently my mouth must be drooping somewhat these days because I now have deep cuts on the inside of my lip…caused by…braces.
So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son. John 1:14
allowing the world’s words to speak louder than God’s Word only brings hurt…my story of learning the hard way…
It’s amazing how the simplicity of a word can cause such a bold effect. Words have the potential to separate a satisfactory writing from an accomplished writer. Combining the right words holds the possibility of creating a beautiful story, but what about single words? Words on their own, words that describe:
These are words that not only describe, for better or worse, but can define and in some cases they define one’s character.
At age fourteen, just an insecure new teenager trying to overcome sexual abuse I’d experienced as a young girl, I remember being referred to by a certain intimidating boy as prude. Having not a clue what this word meant at the time and feeling verbally threatened I quietly, but quickly searched out the meaning.
prude (adj.)- one who is too concerned with being proper or modest; a derogatory label affixed most often to girls or women who are not forth coming romantically
As I studied my peer’s behavior it was considerably prominent they were not a description of the term, prude. In fact they were quite the opposite. And in my vulnerable submissive mind this became a problem—for me. In a matter of months I turned someone else’s accurate representation of myself in a complete one-eighty due to fear of acceptance. Continue reading “The Effect of Words”
the moment when you finally realize life is so much sweeter with Jesus involved makes even candy seem bitter when compared—my story of redemption, grace, and hope…
Embarrassing, ashamed, regret, guilt…we all have felt those emotions at one point or another whether we care to admit it or not. Negative situations do not show favoritism to certain individuals, instead as a ramification of sin we’re all at risk of being held objective to negativity. It can come from poor self-made choices, an innocent accident, or even someone’s misconstrued idea of us.
I’ve been there, more than once, more times than I care to acknowledge. I’ve felt those negative moments of despair where you feel so lost and broken that you’ve almost become numb to feeling anything at all. Sometimes recalling those shameful experiences means revisiting dark corners where deep memories hide.
Too often we vacate the idea of “speaking up” about a difficult encounter we’ve struggled with or currently struggle with. We cower to the idea of becoming vulnerable to someone else’s opinion of us if we would happen to open-up regarding a particular situation that seems less than favorable to ourselves and society.
One of my most disconcerting memories occurred when I was just a few years over the legal drinking age. Little did I know at the time it would serve as a humbling experience and a much-needed building block for my faith to grow a few years later…