Christmas - His Birth was Just the Beginning...

From Matthew 1:18-23; Colossians 1:15-17, 19-22; 1 Peter 2:24; Matthew 28:19-20; Hebrews 9:28; Revelation 21:1, 3-5; 22:20

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When His mother, Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel" (which means God with us).
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created... all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things.. Making peace by the blood of His cross.
And you, who were once alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, He has now reconciled in His body of flesh by His death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before Him.
He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed.
Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age... And He will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for Him.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth... Behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away... "Behold, I am making all things new... These words are trustworthy and true."
He who testifies to these things says, "Surely, I am coming soon."
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Getting through the Everyday

I don't know what has been different about the last several days, but I have been missing my mom seemingly with every breath I take. I've wanted to talk to her more recently than I had since the first few months after her passing. I miss her every day, but lately it's more than just missing her; it's the fact that she is noticeably missing from my life that is causing me pain these days.
You would think that the holidays would be the worst, and in a sense, you'd be right. Thanksgiving seemed impossible to do without her, even as we were doing it. And now that the Christmas season is upon us, tasks that should be enjoyable, such as decorating the house and going shopping for gifts, become dreadful. But even at this time of year, it's the everydayness of everyday that's still the hardest for me. It's going through the morning without a, "I hope you have a good day" text from her. It's missing the way she would laugh when she'd get really tickled about something, or even the way she would refuse to laugh, even when something really was actually funny, just to prove a point. It's not having her around to watch movies with on the weekends. It's every moment of every day that I still remember she's gone.
Sometimes I look back on the year and wonder how I survived, how my siblings survived. And I remember waking up some days thinking that we wouldn't. Yet through her absence over these last seven months, and even through the holidays, God has shown me much about who He really is.
I had a conversation about Heaven with my older brother about four and a half weeks before Mom died. David, who is the wisest Bible scholar I know, was telling me some of his views on what will take place when all is said and done and we stand before King Jesus, and I just remember crying. When he asked what was wrong with me, I simply said, "It's just too good. He is too good." I had no idea what could come in the following months, or how fully I would come to question that statement.
Though the journey has often felt unbearable, God has shown me his great faithfulness. He's shown me that even through days of doubt, He is still the same God that caused me to cry out of His goodness. He's shown me how to survive with Him, when I felt like I had nothing else. He's shown me that He still holds firmly onto me, even when I let go of Him. He's shown me that He's still too good, because He's still the God who's saved me. He's still the God who will come back for me, and rescue me from the sorrows of this earth. He's still the God who will declare me justified when I stand before Him. And He's still the God that will bring my family together again to reign with Him in the end when He's the king of this earth. He is still too good.
I don't know what happens next. I don't now how to get through Christmas, New Years, and every other day. I don't know how to look ahead to 2014 and not wonder what I might lose. I don't know if I'll ever go through a full day where there isn't an actual, physical aching in my chest because I miss my mom that much.
But I do know that in whatever lies ahead, God will show Himself faithful and powerful, just as He has done these last months. I do know that when some days seem so much harder than others, He will carry me through each moment that I can't get through myself. I do know that when the story ends and my God proves victorious over the pain and sorrows of this life, I will stand before Him and say, "You are still too good."

Let Me Try Again...

As soon as I published my post last night, I could feel my heart drop. I knew it wasn't what I wanted it to be, and I just wanted to delete it. Not because there was really anything wrong with it, I didn't say anything I didn't want to say. It was more that I left so much unsaid. It's not enough to communicate that today will be hard and that I will miss my mom. I believe it is important to communicate the depth with which she will be missed.
But how can I do that? What words could I use that would ever be enough? It's not simply that I miss her and that it makes me sad; it's the fact that even moments that should be filled with nothing but joy are reminders of the fact that she's not here, and she never will be again. It's the fact that as much as I will miss her today, it's not my day, and I will have to watch my sister long for her presence even more. It's the fact that it's not just today that will be hard, but every day that lies ahead of us will be tinged with her absence. The fact that she will miss the birth of two new grandchildren, and that my sister and sister-in-law won't simply get to focus on the joy of bringing new life into the world, because they will have to miss her, too.
It's the fact that in the coming days, our family will have to endure the loss of another loved one - the fourth death in the family for my siblings and me this year alone. And it's also the fact that we won't simply be allowed to grieve that loss, because we will still be grieving the loss of Mom. That we will have to see my grandma lose her husband and know that, though she will still be well taken care of, she will miss out on letting my mom take care of her. That we will look in the kitchen knowing that she should be in there, cooking or cleaning up or talking to and encouraging her sisters and mother-in-law, but she won't be there. It won't be just one loss; it will be the loss of her all over again.
Everyday seems to bring reminders that cause us to come to terms, again, with the fact that she's no longer here. Those are hard enough, But it's the big days, like today, that the loss can seem unbearable. But these are also the days that God steps in and reminds that, though Mom is not here, He is. He has not left us alone. He has carried us through days that we didn't think we could survive, and He will continue to do so.
After I wrote my post last night, my grandma Prairie sent me this reminder: "Loss of a loved one is so dreadfully painful, it is no wonder that some people literally die with a broken heart. No, life is not fair here on earth, but it IS in heaven and He will make it up to us then for eternity." It's just like her to encourage others when she is going through so much herself. But she's right; this isn't all there is. This pain isn't forever. And I trust that God will show Himself more glorious in these pain-seared days until He can show us His full glory, for all eternity.

Dear Mom (3)

Dear Mom,
Tomorrow is a big day. At 9:15 tomorrow morning, I'm going with Sarah to an ultrasound to find out what her baby is, and I'll be missing you more than ever. If anyone should be able to go with her, it should be you. I've never known anyone to love as deeply as you loved your grandchildren. You should get to be one of the first to know the sex of the baby. You should get to be a part of the baby's birth. You should get to be a part of the baby's life. And the baby should get to have you in its life.
This is such a joyous time - our family is anticipating two new lives entering our world next spring. But the joy is not without pain. As we realize that life goes on in the birth of these babies, we can't help but remember how your life was seemingly ripped from us, how much we miss you, and how much we still need you.
We need you to love our babies. We need you to take care of them. We need you to take care of us.
We found out last week that Grandpa Prairie is nearing his last days. This would have been a great loss no matter when it happened, but now, as we draw closer to the end of his days on this earth, it feels impossible to have to endure another loss - especially without you. You were always the glue that held us all together. You were always there to take care of everyone, however they needed you. And I just don't know how we're going to do this without you.
But I have to trust that we will. That God is not going to leave us alone in any of this. That He will provide your grandchildren with someone to love them as you would. That He will show us how to take care of each other, in times of blessing and in times of loss.
I've got to stop thinking that you should be here, as if you're missing out on something. You're not. Your death was our loss, but it was your gain. You're not missing anything.
We will miss you tomorrow. We will miss you as we say goodbye to Grandpa, and as we say hello to Sarah and Brandi's babies. And we will miss you everyday in between. But God will give us what we need, just as he has thus far.

Gideon Diaries

It's no secret that I recently got a dog. Pictures and anecdotes of Gideon have taken over social media the last two months he's been with me. He's a delight, really, but anyone interested on taking on a 3 pound Pomeranian might be in for more than they bargained for. So here are some helpful tips from my experience:


1. Try not to go anywhere. Ever. Because when you come back he will be mad at you for "abandoning" him and he will poop in your house.
2. Do not give him human food. Ever. Because when you do, he will get diarrhea and he will poop in your house.
3. Try not to take him outside when it's possible that other people in the neighborhood will be outside. If he sees another person or, God forbid, another animal or, even worse, another person walking another animal, he will have a meltdown and will not poop outside. He will wait until you take him in, and then, he will poop in your house.
4. If you have a window low enough to the floor that your dog with 4 inch long legs can look out of it, try to keep it completely covered (with something the dog can't chew through... like some kind of metal), because if he sees someone, or thinks he sees someone, walking past the house, he will have a meltdown. And he just might poop in your house.
5. Try not to keep anything in his reach. I mean, anything. As I type this sentence, Gideon is barking at/trying to attack the rug by the front door. I also have a hole in one of the throw pillows on the couch, bite marks all over my hands, and I recently caught him trying to chew on the wall. This is not a joke. Don't let him near anything.
6. Don't bother trying to buy him toys thinking it will distract from the things you don't want him chewing on. He'll have no interest in anything he's actually allowed to play with. Save your money for new couch pillows or band-aids.
7. Make sure every door to every room is closed before you let him free in the house. It's never fun to find shreds of toilet paper all over the bathroom floor when you need to use it.
8. Speaking of the bathroom, when you need to go, make sure you outrun him and close the door before he can catch up to you. It's a little uncomfortable to have a dog's paws resting on your knees while you're trying to pee.
9. Don't feed your dog treats, even as a reward when he does something right. Because it will soon turn into, "Oh, you haven't barked in 5 seconds, here's a treat!" or "You haven't pooped in the house today, here's a treat!" And then, before you know it, it's become, "Oh my word, please stop chewing on my hands... just go have a treat!!!" And then he'll stop eating his dog food and only ever want to eat treats.
10. Don't talk on the phone to anyone. Or invite anyone over. Obviously if you aren't giving your dog 100% of your attention at all times, it means you don't love him. So he will find a way to get your attention, like by pooping in the house.


You may have read this post in a sarcastic tone, but that was a mistake. Unfortunately, all of these thoughts have legitimately gone through my had since I brought Gideon home. Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy, but sometimes I want to put him in a box and mail him back to my cousin in Michigan (who somehow  forgot to tell me all of the tips I've passed on to you when she gave him to me...  hmm...).  

I've been thinking a lot about Heaven...

I've been thinking a lot about Heaven. I've written on the subject before; it seems as though it's been at the forefront of my mind all year, and even more so since Mom died. It just feels like home.
I talk about it a lot, though not nearly as much as I think about it, for fear that those listening will find me morbidly preoccupied with death. In actuality, it is not death with which my thoughts are consumed - it's Heaven. However, if death is the road I must take to get there, that does not frighten me.
Recently, Heaven stopped being an idea and became a real place to me. It is not a state of mind which I will enter after death, but a physical space where actual beings exist. I have never believed that more strongly than I do now. I find myself longing for that place quite frequently. As I said before, it just feels like home.
There were days after Mom died that I didn't think I would survive. There were moments that the pain was so intense that I had trouble breathing. I would go to bed at night and beg Jesus to come back for us. When I would wake up in my bed the next morning, I remember saying to myself, "You just have to survive today. You can worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes. You just have to make it through today. And maybe Jesus will come back before tomorrow."
It's almost as if I've felt entitled to enter Heaven now. I've told many friends that I feel old. They usually laugh it off and remind me of how young I am. At 24 years, I know that I am not actually old, but I feel it. I've lived a long life, and it has taken its toll on me. But while it is good and Biblical that my heart longs for the pains of this world to end and be replaced with the unending joys of Heaven, it is not right for me to feel as though I may enter Heaven at my demand just because this life has come with trials.
It's hard to think of wanting to be in Heaven as a bad thing, but it is problematic when the desire for Heaven becomes a distraction from the work believers are called to do on this earth. This is exactly what has happened. I became somewhat hard and bitter since my mom's death. I often felt as though I'd been wronged by God because He took her, and I used my grief as an excuse to live in a less than holy manner. I didn't go to church for several weeks after she died. I had a hard time praying and reading Scripture, because I knew what God had to say to me and I didn't feel ready to hear it. I knew the truth, and I knew I wanted to turn back to it eventually, but unless He was going to do what I wanted Him to do, I just didn't want to hear from Him for a while. I was hurt, and I wanted Him to know it.
I was only hurting myself more, of course. As if God was going to give in to complaints so that He could move on to accomplishing His plans. I was missing the miracle of why my parents are in Heaven, and why I'll be allowed to join them someday. I'd lost the joy of my salvation.
But God, in His goodness, helped me find it. The truth is, no matter how I feel, I have been saved, and my salvation is a miracle. It is God's grace that has made me a citizen of Heaven, and I should always, always be humbled by that fact. One day, I will go home; just maybe not in my preferred time frame.
God still has me on this earth - a fact for which I must be thankful, for it is an honor to know that He will trust me with doing His work for a while longer. If I spend this lifetime wishing I was in the next, I will have wasted the time He's given me. However, there is a way to be satisfied in this life and to hasten the coming of the next. Christ has saved me for a specific purpose - to let others know about the salvation He offers. The more people who know Him, the closer we are to Heaven.
I will experience pain in this world, because it is not Heaven, but I am still responsible to live in a way that reflects my salvation. I am still responsible to praise God for the life He has given me. Because until I make it to Heaven, nothing else on this earth will satisfy.

Dear Mom (2)

I miss you so much more than I know how to say. I miss you every minute of every day. It's as if a part of my own self has died with you. 

The pain has been constant, and is often overwhelming. I find myself fighting tears several times a day. I find myself wanting to talk about you every chance I get. I find myself wanting to talk to you. I pick up my phone and expect a text from you. I pick up my phone to call you. I feel as if I lose you all over again when I realize I can't talk to you.

I don't hide my struggles well. I feel sorry for myself most of the time. I feel sorry for David, Sarah, and Josh, too. I feel sorry for Judah, Asher, and Selah. They should have you here with them. 

You were so good to all of us. Our lives will always have a void where you belong. And it will never feel real that you are gone. 

I love you so much; every day I realize just how much. I realize I didn't love you enough while you were here, and I would do anything to be able to let you know now what you mean to me. 

I wish you were here, selfishly.  I now dread future events that I should look forward to. Wedding days, births, and other milestones seem like just another mountain I'll have to climb without you.  

But I trust that you are where you should be. I trust that you are Home. I trust that you are happy and perfect. I trust that you are serving Jesus alongside Dad and the other saints. And that's what gets me through. That and the knowledge that one day I will join you.

I hope that day is soon. 

Alaska

Despite the pain associated with going on this trip that I expressed in my last post, I loved Alaska. I knew I would; I knew that I was dreading it without cause and that it would turn out to be a good trip. But it was far better than I ever could have expected.

First of all, Alaska is the most beautiful place on earth. The views never got old. The mountains were never any less breathtaking. I was never any less fascinated that the sun shone at all hours.

The view from my window the night I arrived. Taken at 1:00 AM.

Various views of Alaska

 I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to see such beautiful aspects of God's creation. That He opened my eyes to the fact that He is bigger, more powerful, and more beautiful than I knew.

We spent our days ministering to children in a local park. We brought them lunch, played games with them, taught them about Jesus, made crafts with them, loved on them, and let them love on us. I will never forget the time I spent with those kids.

I loved almost everything about Alaska, but that doesn't mean it was easy to be there. It was hard to come back from the park at the end of the day and know that I couldn't call my mom. I longed to tell her about everything I had seen, the people I had met, the work we had been doing, and what I was learning. I knew she would have loved to hear about the trip. I knew she would have texted me every day that I was there. I felt her absence more strongly while I was there. I missed her more than ever.

It was hard to remember all that I would have to face when I went back home. Bills, decisions, etc. It was hard to know that when I left Alaska, real life would go on.
There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't feel as emotionally tired as I felt physically. But there also wasn't a day that went by that God didn't give me what I needed for that day. There wasn't a day that went by that He didn't remind me of the importance of my mission. That no matter what I'm going through, my mission is the same. It's always just as important, whether I feel like I can do it or not. And that I can't do it on my own. That I can only give from what He has given to me, and that He will sustain me to accomplish the mission that He has given me.
I can't wait to go back.

Alaska Bound

I'm on a bus to Nashville right now and will be flying to Anchorage, Alaska later this afternoon. I should be excited. Or at least nervous. Or something. But I'm not. The only feeling I can muster up right now is the aching in my heart; the gut wrenching knowledge that my mom should have been there to send me off this morning.
She was so excited for me to go on this trip. And I was too, at first. She had always wanted to go to Alaska, and she shared in the joy of three of her kids who had the opportunity to go. And I was excited to come home and how her pictures and tell her how much she would have loved it.
Now it all feels pointless. I feel as though I don't have the energy that this trip will require - physically, mentally, or emotionally. I feel as though I have nothing to offer to the teens going on this trip, or to those to whom we will be ministering in Alaska. I feel empty. I feel tired.
But here I am, making this journey anyway, trusting that it will be profitable. Trusting that God will supply what I need while I'm there. Trusting that He knew what would be going on in my life at this time when I signed up for this trip months ago. That He has a plan to use me, as well as teach me on this trip.
So pray for me. Pray for our team. Pray for Alaska. I know our mission is not in vain.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,
Happy Mother's Day. If you had asked me two weeks ago, this is not how I planned on spending this day. When you went into the hospital, I decided that we should really do something special for Mother's Day. I knew you'd be out of the hospital by then and we'd be able to celebrate you however we wanted. But obviously, that didn't work out quite like I expected it to, and today was actually one of the hardest days yet.
I miss you so much, and I can't help but think of how I wanted to spend time with you today, and how I should have wanted to spend more time with you when you were here. I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry that there were so many days that I would stay in my downstairs apartment, and not even come up to say, "Hi" to you. I'm so sorry that I was so bitter that I was still living at home with you. I'm so sorry that there were so many days that I was just a downright jerk to you. I would do anything to take those things back.
However, I am so thankful for how God was working in me and changing my heart in the week and a half before your death. I'm so thankful for all the time I did get to spend with you while I stayed with you in the hospital. I'm so thankful for the talks that we had and the friendship that we developed in those last days. I'm so thankful that I saw you mouth the words, "I love you" to me as you were being taken away to surgery. I'm so thankful that during my last visit with you, you were able to just be my mom and to comfort me, and that I didn't have to be your caretaker. I'm so thankful that the last words you spoke to me were, "I'm so proud of you."
You were a gift to us, even though we didn't always realize it. You were strong, hardworking, gracious, and loving. I would do anything to be able to look into your eyes and tell you that. I love you, and I miss you more than you could have imagined, and I hope to see you soon.
                                                                 
                                                                    Love,
                                                                 Stephanie

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Part 3

As a father shows compassion to his children,

 so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear Him. 

For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 103:13-14

The last two weeks have been the most difficult days of my life. I am honestly having a hard time remembering anything that happened before my mom went into the hospital. Memories of seeing her in the ambulance, having her admitted to the hospital, being with her when she passed out last Saturday morning, waiting through hours of surgery, crying to her as I had to leave her for the night in ICU, hearing the nurse tell us the news that she had died, have all consumed my mind. 

I don't want to be around people, but I don't want to be alone. I feel hungry, but eating puts my stomach in knots. I'm exhausted, but sleep does not come easily. I want to talk about it, but doing so frustrates me. I wake up every morning and beg God that this nightmare is over. But it never is. 

I was lying in bed Friday night, praying for the first time since Mom took her last breath, and all I could do was cry to Him. I begged Him for sleep. I begged Him to turn my mind off for just a few hours. I begged him for answers. 

I told Him this was too much. It was too hard. He was taking too much from my family. It was hurting too deeply. 

The answers I begged for never came; only this verse entered my mind. I know we're not "supposed to" get mad at God. I know we're not "supposed to" question His plan. But I kept feeling in my spirit that He was saying, "It's OK. I can take it."

The fact is, this is too much. It is too hard. I can't handle it, and He knows that. He knows my frame. He remembers that I am dust. And He doesn't expect me to handle it.

So for now, I'll keep crying to Him. I'll take comfort in knowing that He's listening. And I'll trust that He is still good.

Trusting in God's Goodness -- Part 2

If I had words, I would write them. The pain is unimaginable. It's physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. The loss is too deep. I know the words I wrote several days ago about my mother and my God are still true today. I'm unsure of everything else, but I'm sure of God's goodness.

Your prayers and messages have meant more than you can know. Please, keep them up.

Sunday Music Corner

Disclaimer: I blatantly stole the name and idea for this post from my friend, Nathaniel Haston. You can catch his version and other great posts from him, my brother David, and Jeremy Mattheiss here.
This song has been on my heart after a long day yesterday and very little sleep last night. I'm realizing very quickly that this situation with mom is out of my hands. No matter how closely I watch her, I cannot control what is going on in her body. So I am asking God to open up my eyes to what He is doing around me. To see the good that He is working out. To remind me that I'm not alone and that He's fighting for us, in this situation and in every facet of our lives.
Hope you enjoy.

Trusting in God's Goodness -- An Update on Mom

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.

Romans 8:28

I have to admit, this has never been my favorite verse. I would hate to say, "I don't like that verse," because I do believe that it is from the mouth of God, and it is important. However, I will say that I don't like how often this verse is taken out of context to mean "God will make any situation work out in my favor." But these days, this verse has been special to me. 

Sometimes I forget that God truly has good things for me. I focus a lot on that fact that this life can be hard and full of trials, and forget the good that God intends to bring through those things. For weeks God has been bringing reminders that He is good. That He has good things for me. That the good things that come from the trials is what brings Him glory, not the trial itself. That all of this is for a purpose: to make me like Him. 

And today, I am better understand why He's been bringing these reminders.

My mom had experienced two episodes of dizzy spells/vomiting since Easter. The first was suspected to be a virus, as several other family members had been sick with similar symptoms. The second was a brief experience, and was completely cleared up an hour after it had begun. Nothing was thought of it. 

Tuesday night of this past week, mom and I met for dinner at Logan's after work. There was nothing abnormal about our time together; she was completely herself. After we ate and (she) paid the bill, we went our separate ways. I had told her I might stop by the tanning bed on my way home, but wasn't sure I was feeling like it, because I'm exactly the type of person who is sometimes too lazy to take the time to lie in a tanning bed and do nothing for fifteen minutes.
When I got out of the tanning bed, I noticed a missed call from her, which is nothing out of the ordinary. Then I noticed I also had a missed call from a family friend. Now this was pretty out of the ordinary. I knew something wasn't right. I called Mrs. Beth right back. "Your mom got sick again. We're on our way to Logan's." I hung up the phone, called my mom back, and told her I was on my way. I had no other information. I assumed I would pick her up from the restaurant, take her home, and talk her into making a Dr. appointment for as soon as possible. When I pulled into the parking lot though, I knew my plans would have to change.
I was greeted by an ambulance, a police officer taking another customer's insurance information, and an audience of customers and restaurant staff.
I parked my car and ran to the ambulance, where my mom was hooked up to monitors to be evaluated. She was more pale than I'd ever seen her, and soaked with sweat. She told me that as soon as she pulled out of the Logan's parking lot, she had started to feel dizzy, and knew she was going to be sick again. She pulled back into the restaurant's second entrance, passed out, and bumped into a parked car.
I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing for a bit when I heard this. I felt so many things at once: guilt that I hadn't been available when she needed me, thankful for those who had been around and helped her, fear of what all this meant, worry about what was going to happen. But I didn't have time to think about that in that moment. I was told to talk to the police officer and gather the information my mom would need to know about the accident. Luckily the damage was minimal, and everyone involved was friendly and much more concerned with the safety of my mom.
Our family friends, Fred and Beth, finally arrived. Mom was transported to the Emergency Room via ambulance. I followed with Fred and Beth. We made the phone calls we needed to make informing those who would first need to know the situation. Then we waited. Family members began to fill the waiting room, and we waited some more.
Eventually, we came to find out that the ER would perform a series of tests, but they would not be able to do all that the doctor had thought would be necessary. He had me step out into the hallway and advised me to have her admitted to the hospital when they had finished the tests they were able to provide. I was both relieved and concerned to hear his words. Relieved because I knew I would not be satisfied simply going home with inconclusive tests, knowing I wouldn't be able to convince my stubborn mother to go back at a later time for more testing. Concerned because of the uncertainty of what admittance to the hospital would bring.
Tuesday night seemed as though it would never end. Mom was admitted to the hospital after 2:00 AM. Sleep never really came for either of us, so Wednesday still felt like Tuesday. We waited for what felt like forever for the doctor to have her tests done. Late in the afternoon, the nurses finally took her for an MRI and an Echocardiogram. Then began the answers we'd been anticipating...
We came to find out that the Echo showed a faulty aortic valve in mom's heart. They scheduled a heart catheterization for Thursday afternoon, to confirm whether what the Echo showed was actually the case, and also to check her arteries. The waiting continued.
When the procedure was finished, the doctor finally came into the room with an update. He told us that the valve was worse than they had originally thought, and that two of mom's arteries were partially blocked. They scheduled surgery for Tuesday morning, in which they plan to completely replace the aortic valve and bypass the two arteries.
I can't speak for the rest of my family, but I'm not sure I knew what to feel at this point. The initial reaction to everything that had been going on this week was, "Why us? Why our family? Have we not experienced enough sickness and suffering? Why her? Has she not been through enough?" But God didn't seem to let those thoughts last long. Instead, He reminded me once again of the goodness He would have in store through this experience.
It's hard to accept when what is inconvenient to us turns out to be a part of God's plan. I know it was hard for my mom to accept that this hospital room is where God has her right now. And it's also hard to see the good that will come from a situation like this - a situation in which no answer is certain. But the best part is, we can trust that, not only will good come from it, but that it will be a better good than we could even pick for ourselves. We can trust that God made this plan because He knew, when all is said and done, that this is what will bring Him most glory. That this is what will make us most like Him.
The truth is, everything doesn't work out how we want it just because God loves us. The truth is, God loves us too much to let us decide how things should work out. The truth is, God has bigger and better plans for us because He is good, and He wants to grow us into believers who are like His Son.
I don't know how all of this will turn out, and of course I beg my brothers and sisters in Christ to pray on our behalf for an outcome that we would deem "good," but I choose to rest and rejoice in the knowledge that God has a perfect plan that will bring Him perfect glory; and that is the best definition of "good."      

Update

It's been a long year and a half. All my readers know that God has been teaching me much throughout this journey. About Himself, His Word, and mostly about patience and trust in times of waiting. I have waited for Him to move me. I have (not so patiently) begged Him to change my circumstances. To lead me somewhere. And now, I am happy to announce that He is beginning to open doors.
One of my New Year's resolutions was to make plans to go back to school this year. I applied to Chattanooga State early in the year and planned on enrolling in the one year LPN program. It seemed perfect; it was going to be my ticket out of my routine life and into the "real" world. However, after a while the excitement began to fade and turn to dread. I was nervous about starting something completely new, I realized I'd have to significantly cut back my hours at work, which made me worry about finances, and then I remembered that I don't even agree with a lot of what is taught in modern medicine. But I had to go to school. I had to find my "way out."
Then I came into contact with someone from the college I had previously attended. It reminded me of how much I missed the kinds of classes I had taken there, and I wanted another chance to take Biblically focused classes. So, almost on a whim, I contacted my adviser at BBC, told her what I was thinking, and asked her advice. Through communication with her, I realized that I had fewer credits left toward my degree than I had thought, and that it would be possible to finish my degree online while keeping all my hours at work! So, today I turned in my application for re-admittance to BBC to finish my Bachelor's in Counseling in the next year.
I'm not even sure I can describe how I feel about God leading me back here. One word that comes to mind is definitely "grateful." I can't say with certainty that I have all the answers, that I know exactly what the next step will be once my degree is completed; but I don't feel like I have to. This is where God has me now. And I know that I can trust that He'll show me what the next step is when I'm done taking this one. And I feel grateful for that.
School has not been the only area in which God has been opening doors for me lately: In June I will take a missions trip with our church youth group to Anchorage, Alaska, He's provided financially, He's brought people into my life with whom I've been able to share the gospel and what it's meant in my life.
I write this post for two reasons:
1. Because many of my readers want an update (I think).
2. As a reminder for myself. Sometimes I forget to recognize how God is working, especially during periods of waiting. Writing all of this out, seeing all that God is doing at this time in my life, is leaving me astounded.
And I can't wait to see what's next.

A Blog Makeover

I have been considering this blog makeover for quite some time now. When I first started this blog, I had a specific purpose in mind. I didn't take much time considering the layout, the background, or anything aesthetic, for that matter. I just wanted to write.
Not just about anything, though; about me. About my life and where I wanted it to go. I was living in a state of regret at the time, and I was tired of it. I had just dropped out of college, broken up with my fiance, and was more spiritually confused than I had ever been. I didn't know specifically where I wanted my life to go, but I knew I wanted it to go forward. Hence the name, "No Looking Back."
However, as I quickly learned, sometimes you have to look back in order to move forward. The month or so following the start of my blog was a whirlwind for me, at least emotionally. I was searching for meaning in my life, and hoped to find it in independence. I wanted to make my own choices. To do what I wanted to do. To go where I wanted to go. Yet no matter how hard I tried to accomplish those things, I still couldn't get my life to fall into place.
I begged God for answers, even though I knew what they were. I knew so much about God - I started going to church when I was three days old; I spent six years at Christian school; I went to Bible college, for crying out loud. I knew it all. But I also knew that it didn't mean anything to me. I knew it wasn't real in my life. And I was begging God to make it real.
And one night, He did. I had stayed up late several nights in a row, reading my Bible and journaling prayers, and this night was no different. I remember crying as I asked God to give me a faith that meant something; that impassioned me no matter what the consequences. I wanted an experience like Saul on the road to Damascus. I wanted to be blinded by Jesus. I remember just writing over and over again, "I want Jesus. I want Jesus. I want Jesus."
And then it clicked. I don't know how else to explain it. Everything I knew about salvation was suddenly real for me. Applied to me. I knew I was covered by the blood of Christ at that moment. I knew I had been forgiven, and given a totally new life.
My life didn't change all at once, though. I kind of expected it too. I was still searching for meaning in other places - relationships, jobs, an apartment. Anything that would get me out of the physical situation I had been in. I think that's why writing was so hard for me last year. I was stuck in this transition period and I didn't know how to express it. My blogs never turned out how I wanted them. They were all either too wrapped up in myself or came across too "preachy." I didn't like most of what I was writing, so I just stopped writing.
So far, 2013 has been a little different. As all my readers know, not much has changed regarding my physical situation. No new job, relationship status, or living arrangements to report. But my heart has changed. I can tell that I have grown. I am not the same person I was when I started this blog. I can tell that God is working in me, and I know that that is worth sharing.
Thus, the blog makeover. As I mentioned, I have learned that in order to move forward, it is necessary to look back at times. Obviously I don't want to dwell in a state of looking toward the past, but I also don't want to be so caught up in looking toward the future that I forget to learn from where I've been. Therefore, the title, "No Looking Back" no longer seems relevant.
Instead, I have chosen the name, "Not My Own," from 1 Corinthians 6:19. No matter what phase of life I am in, this will always be my identity. Whether looking forward or back, I can take comfort in the truth that I am not my own; what I have done has been paid for, and what has yet to be done in me will be for God's glory.
The content of the blog will remain the same as it's been as of late. This is my blog. It's my story. I hope to continue to write about the things I'm learning - all in light of the fact that I am not my own. I have been bought with a price. I will glorify God.

Our Mission

We are called to do the difficult. We are called to do the dangerous. We are called to do the "I can't do that" and the "Surely God won't send me there!" We are called to do the uncomfortable, and even the "I don't want to do that." We are called to do more than we think we can do... And more than our friends and families will think we should do. We are called to make our Savior known, at any cost. This is our mission; how seriously are we willing to take it?

I'm Not Home Yet...

Please don't think me morbid for writing on this topic, but I've been thinking a lot about about the end of life lately...(insert pause for those who want to stop reading here).
I admit, this is an odd topic for someone my age; I don't know many 23 year olds who spend as much time pondering death and eternity as I do. But I must also acknowledge that I don't know many people my age who have experienced death around them as frequently as I have in my lifetime.
I wrote the other day on my longing for the return of Christ, and there is some aspect of that I may reiterate here, but my main focus for tonight is not so much Heaven. Rather, my thoughts are more inclined toward life and its end.
Everyone's life comes to an end at some point.Obviously, we all know this is true, yet I know few people who actually live in the reality of that truth. For example, I lead a small group of high school girls on Wednesday nights. Last week we spent some time discussing the mysteries of the rapture and one girl provided this insight: "I really just want to live to be about 99 years old, and then, the night before I were to die, I want Jesus to come back!" Another girl mentioned, "If I could just grow up, go to college, get married, have some kids, and watch them grow up a little bit, then I would be excited for the rapture."
This is not just the attitude of 14 year old girls, either. I know several people who have been married and had kids who still feel as if there are more life events that they want to experience before the return of Christ. And especially before death.
Now, I am not implying that young teens should begin planning the end of their lives. But the point is just that - it's impossible to plan the end of life! None of us know anything about when we'll hear the trumpet sound, or when we'll take our last breath. My grandfather was given two months to live - roughly two weeks later, we were at his funeral. My brother David, who is far wiser than I, tweeted shortly thereafter, "All of us are potentially within a week of our funeral. May we not waste our lives." While we shouldn't live in fear of that knowledge, leery of any possible danger lurking around every corner, we should live soberly, knowing that at any moment, we could be called to meet our Savior.
How, then, should we live? Worshipfully. Which I don't think is a word, but go with it.
If there is one thing I have learned in the last year, and trust me, there's way more than one, it's that God has me where I am in my life for one ultimate purpose - to make me more like Christ. No matter what I feel, or how difficult what I'm going through is, I can live in the knowledge that God is bringing me through this life so that I may one day be like His Son. And living in that knowledge, in the knowledge of not only what Christ has done for me, but also what He is presently doing for me, content in what He's doing in me now and looking for where He will lead me next, is what I think it means to live worshipfully.
From my perspective, death is not to be feared. Yes, at the very least the fact that death is unknown is scary. But life is also unknown. And I actually find death comforting. Not in a suicidal, "this life is awful and I want it to end," manner. But it just feels like going home. It feels like an honor to be called into the presence of Christ. And while I cherish this chapter on Earth, my soul truly longs for the next chapter in Heaven. To once again borrow from the wisdom of my older brother, it feels like the family reunion is coming. And I, for one, cannot wait.
So here's my prayer - that no matter when Christ comes or I take my final breath, whether tonight or 70 years from now, that I will be found in a state of worship. That I will, at all times, give in to the goodness of God, and the good things He has for me. That death will simply be a transition of one breath of worship to the next. That Christ's return will simply invoke a conversion of my earthly worship to a far greater heavenly one. And that I will live in awareness that this is not my home, and in anticipation of arriving home at any moment.

Feelings

I'm an emotional person. I'm sentimental. I miss people when they're not around - even if only for a short time. I feel a lot.
I feel lonely. I feel sad. I feel love. I feel whatever.
Feelings are not bad. They are a gift, and proof that God Himself feels, as we are made in His image. Feelings are not unimportant nuisances that should be ignored. However, nor should they dictate the way we live.
I have found that if I put my focus on my feelings, they become my truth. Unfortunately, my feelings are not always accurately lined up with real, biblical truth.
If I feel lonely, I distance myself from others, for fear that they don't want to be around me anyway.
If I feel sad, I tend to feel sad for days at a time, wallowing in the fact that nothing seems to go the way I plan or think it should go.
If I feel love, I feel it deeply. I get caught up in it as if nothing else matters.
The truth is though, that whether or not I feel lonely, I am never alone. Yes, we are created as relational beings. It benefits us to have a friend "with skin on." But no matter my physical circumstances, God has promised to be my friend. To listen when I talk. To know the yearnings of my heart when I don't know how to express them. And the truth is, if He intended me to have relationships, He will bring along those relationships. He never meant for me to be alone - physically or spiritually. But He does mean for me to be fully content in His presence alone.
The truth is, God has given me the joy of salvation. Sadness is just a feeling, not a state of being. No matter what else is going on around me, I should be able to remember the price that's been paid for me, and rejoice. Bad things happen. People let us down. Loved ones pass away. BUT... I have been saved! Nothing should mean more than that.
The truth is, love is not a feeling; it is an action. Love is knowing the what Christ accomplished for me, and desperately longing for others to know it. Love is so much more than wanting to be with someone, and wanting that someone to want to be with you. Love is an appreciation for the gospel, in every aspect of life. Love is a willingness to lay your own life down for another person. God is love.
It is a choice to let feelings dominate actions. It is a choice to remain in a certain state of emotion. It is a choice to know the truth, but not to live according to it. And it is a sin.
God intended me to feel. But He also intended to be bigger than my feelings. God doesn't say, "I will never leave you nor forsake you, except when you're on my nerves." God doesn't claim that His joy is our strength, except when we feel weak. God doesn't say, "There is no greater love than one who lays down his life for someone who we deem worth it." God doesn't base truth on our feelings.
Truth is truth. And I am called to live in truth.

Hebrews 9:28

"So Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for Him." --Hebrews 9:28

I came across this verse a few days ago, and haven't been able to get it out of my head. I find myself rejoicing in this truth... Longing for its hastening. 

I love that Christ no longer has to come to deal with sin. It's been dealt with. It's done.

I love that even though we've experienced salvation, we've only experienced an aspect of it - there's so much more to come!

I love that the Church is described as "eagerly waiting for Him." I used to be fearful at the thought of the rapture and end times. But I'm not anymore. The older I get, the less the things I thought mattered matter. I always wanted to get married and have kids before Christ took me home. But I know now that, even though I still desire those things, that is not the true longing of my heart; the longing of my heart is to be rescued, and that will only come to completion when I am in the actual presence of my Savior. 

I love that this world isn't all there is, and one day, I will be in the actual presence of my Savior.

Even so, come Lord Jesus. 

For My Grandma (Prairie)

I got a letter from my grandma today. I don't see her often, but I, along with my sister, niece, aunt, and cousin, was able to make a trip to Illinois the first weekend in February to visit her for her birthday. She told me that it was one of her best birthdays (she's had 77, so that's saying something).
I made the mistake of reading her letter in church this morning - I was pretty embarrassed to be crying my eyes out in the midst of the entire congregation. But I couldn't help myself. The thing about my grandma is, she is a deep well of wisdom; she has the ability to speak the exact words you need to hear, and speak them directly to your heart. The letter did just that.
I have this habit of complaining about the direction my life is currently going - which often feels like nowhere. I complain that I'm still single, still live at home, don't have a "real" job, don't have many friends, don't do anything exciting, etc. I complain about every little aspect as if it's some sort of trial I'm going through. And then I get this letter from my grandma.
If anyone knows about trials, it's her. If anyone has the right to complain, it's her. I don't know anyone who has experienced loss as deep as my grandma, nor anyone who has come out of loss so gracefully.
My grandma gave birth to seven children - two of those children are alive today. Two. My uncles Jonathan and Philip died before I was born. Jonathan was just a baby; Philip a teenager. I never knew them, but I have often found myself wondering about them. Wishing I could have known their personalities and their love. My dad was the first adult child to meet his brothers in heaven. I was just 9 when he passed away. I have missed him every day, but increasingly as I've gotten older. I have longed to get to know him as a person and get to talk to him as an adult. About seven years later, my uncle Mark died. Of all my uncles that have passed, I felt like I knew him the best, and I miss him often. Finally, a year and a half ago, my uncle Joel died of cancer. It was almost unbearable to go to yet another Prairie family funeral.
And that's just my perspective. I can only imagine the heartache my grandma must have felt burying each of her sons. Yet I've never heard her complain. Instead, I have heard her pray. I have heard her give godly advice to her daughters-in-law who lost husbands, to her grandchildren who lost fathers. I have seen her hurt, but I have never seen her dwell in that hurt.

My grandma, praying over the women of the Prairie family.

And now, her husband, my dear grandpa, is dealing with the nightmare that is Alzheimer's disease. He doesn't recognize his family, he doesn't remember his day to day routines, he can't take care of himself. My grandma reminds him to take his medicine, helps him shave, gets him ready for bed. Basically takes care of him as if he's a child. This task clearly takes its toll on my grandma, but she never fails to serve her husband as she's been called to do. And in the midst of all of this, she finds time to write me, and I know my sister and cousin as well, a heartfelt letter about what our visit meant to her.
Not only this, but she also made a point to speak the truth to me about where God has me in my life right now. She encouraged me to stay diligent in this stage of life and "don't push any doors open." She told me about her own waiting periods and how God remained faithful in guiding her and my grandpa into His ministry. She opened up about where God has her now and what He's teaching her about contentment and faithfulness. About studying and prayer. Everything she said was something I needed to hear. I know that God spoke to my heart through her.
I don't mean to sound as though I idolize my grandma. But I do have unspeakable mounds of respect for her. I admire the woman she is, and I hope to one day carry myself with the same beauty and grace with which she carries herself. Her children rise up and call her blessed. Her grandchildren rise up and strive to be her.

Me with my grandma on our last visit.

For My Grandpa (French)

When my grandma asked me to write a memorial to be read at my grandpa's funeral, I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it. I thought maybe I could tell about being a little girl and traveling 12 hours from Chattanooga to Michigan to visit them, only to be greeted by what he called "love pats," which actually felt a whole lot like spankings. I could tell about spending the night at his house and being awoken at ungodly hours of the morning by the sound of his yodeling up and down the halls (that's right - yodeling). I could tell about how I felt so safe with him that when I was 3 years old I made that 12 hour journey with him and my grandma, all by myself, to stay with them for several weeks. But I'm not sure that's what he'd want me to say.
What I think he would want me to say, and what I think would show him the most honor to say, is that his faith was strong. When many people lose faith as adversity strikes, my grandpa's faith grew. I have never seen anyone with such a strong desire to know God as I have seen in my grandpa in the last few years since his cancer diagnosis. He spent hours reading God's Word, studying it, determining to know it. In the last few weeks, as his pain increased and he could do little of that studying on his own, he would have someone reading his Bible to him as often and for as long as he could persuade them.
This desire doesn't come naturally. It only comes from a heart that has been rescued by God's grace. I believe this was true of my grandpa.
When we heard the news that he wasn't doing well, my family came up from Chattanooga as soon as we could. It was strange walking into the house knowing my grandpa wasn't there. It was clear that his presence was missing. We went to visit him in the hospice unit the next morning, and his pain was obvious. He slept a lot, moaned some, squeezed my hand. He was a shell of the man he was even the last time I saw him about two months ago.
Though the image of him in such pain weighed heavy on me, it will not be the way I remember him. The grandpa I remember is a strong man. He stands tall. He loves quietly, yet fervently. He gives. He laughs.
I picture him now, resting in the arms of his Savior, as that man. He is not sick. He is not weary. He is strong. He has won this battle. He is waiting for the rest of us with that unforgettable smile on his face. The smile I can't wait to see again.

My Thoughts on Politics

I normally try to avoid talking about politics at all costs. Not because I don't know what I believe or that I don't know how to defend what I believe, but mainly because I want to avoid the arguments that ensue from stating those beliefs.
With all the talk about gun control, the recent anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and the terrible awful that happened to Louie Giglio, I've found myself more tempted to tread the dangerous waters of commenting on friends' political statuses/retweeting political tweets, but I can't even bring myself to go there. I don't want to be one of "those" people.
The thing is, I'm not that passionate about politics. Please don't read that as "I hate America." I don't. America's great and I know there are freedoms I have that I don't even realize other countries don't have. But politics frustrate me. Let me rephrase that: people who constantly talk about politics, whether it's about what is going right or what is going wrong, frustrate me.
I get it; people are proud to be Americans. And there's nothing wrong with that. Unless it causes an individual to be an American first and foremost, and a Christian second.
I feel like I see so much of this: "Gun control is going to ruin this country." "If you take away our right to bear arms, you might as well take away our right to free speech." "We might have a doctor to cure cancer, or a president to lead our country rightly, but we probably aborted them." "Our country is so fallen that we can't even allow a man who doesn't believe in gay marriage to pray at the inauguration."
I don't mean to take any of these issues lightly, but my question is this: Where is Christ in any of that?
If you recall, the Bible says nothing about Americans, nor the rights they possess. In fact, it appears to me, that the Bible does not refer to any earthly rights of Christians. Quite the opposite, actually.

• "You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.” Matthew 5:10 (MSG)
• “It is through many persecutions that we must enter the kingdom of God.” Acts 14:22.
• “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. If they persecuted me, they will persecute you.” John 15:18-20 NIV
• “In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” 2 Timothy 3:12 NIV

Any freedom we have in this country is a privilege. A blessing that we do not deserve. And if we are more passionate about these blessings than we are about spreading the gospel, there is something incredibly wrong in our hearts. And I daresay, if/when, at some point, we lose these blessings, it is not the persecution Scripture speaks of; it's simply that we're not getting something that we want and think we deserve.

We are called to do one thing as Christians, and it is not to fight for our American rights. We are called to spread the gospel. And here's the kicker: if we spread the gospel as we are called to do, things are more likely to change in our country. Everything that goes wrong in America is simply a symptom of one underlying illness: the depravity of lost hearts. No matter how many petitions we sign, how many hours we hold signs outside of abortion clinics, or how many Facebook statuses we post about the travesty that happened to Louie Giglio, nothing will change in this country until we seek to change the hearts of the individuals around us. We have got to stop seeing the downfall of our country as something that's happening to us, and start seeing it as a reason to go out and tell the world of the great salvation they're missing out on!
Until people are redeemed, they will never act as if they've been redeemed, and we've got to stop expecting them to. We should not be surprised, nor offended, that Louie Giglio was uninvited to pray at President Obama's inauguration; instead, we should rejoice that he was counted worthy to be rejected as Christ was. This is what we are told would happen if we are Christlike. And if it's not happening to us as individuals, we must ask ourselves what we are doing wrong.
I'm not saying things will get better. I'm not saying our country will turn from wicked ways toward godliness. What I am saying is that it definitely won't if we don't answer our call to preach the gospel.
When hearts change, everything will change. 

Your Grace is Enough

I'm not known for my positive outlook on life. Unfortunately, I tend to dwell on the negatives of almost every situation. This morning I found myself doing just that, yet again. 

I felt such a weight of discouragement at the knowledge that every single day I continue on in my sin. Some of which may not seem so bad at times, others haunt me, but whatever it I'm dealing with, I deal with over and over again. Every day is a constant struggle of wanting to do right, and finding myself going astray. 

I've been reading Romans with a good friend of mine lately, specifically chapters 5-8, and I have found that I am not alone in this struggle. I know that I have died to sin and have been made a slave of righteousness (6), and that my flesh will still fail at times until I am fully sanctified (7), and that no matter what I do, I am in Christ, and will not suffer condemnation for my struggles (8). These are truths that should have brought comfort, but somehow I still felt disheartened and longing for the day that I will be fully sanctified - made complete in the image of Christ. That is a good longing, and not one that should bring about sadness, I know, but sometimes I just hate the thought that I'm not there yet. I have so much further to go. 

Thankfully, God stopped me right there. I woke up this morning with the song, "O For a Thousand Tongues" stuck in my head. Specifically, this stanza:

He breaks the power of cancelled sin,

He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the foulest clean,

His blood availed for me.

I suddenly became overwhelmed with the awareness that my sin has been cancelled. That Christ's righteousness has been imputed to me, and that doesn't fail when I do. When God looks at me, he doesn't see my mistakes; He sees the One that paid for them.

And the truth is, I am being sanctified. Romans 6:22 says, "But now that you have been set free from sin, and become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life." This doesn't mean we are free from the presence of sin, but we are free from its power. We are still susceptible to sin, though not a slave to it. And as we continue toward sanctification, even our susceptibility to sin weakens! Because we are being made like Christ! 

I am not there yet, but I will be. That is not a cause for distress in my present state, but rather a motivation to move forward. To actively long for the day that I will be done with this struggle. To praise God for the future He has. 

O for a thousand tongues to sing

My great Redeemer's praise,

The glories of my God and King,

The triumphs of His grace!

My Thoughts on Exercise

I don't know much about exercise, except that I hate it and try to do it as infrequently as I can get away with. However, with the recent passing of the holiday season and, what appears to be, the rapid halt of my metabolism, I have been forced to re-visit my dear old enemy: the treadmill. Which brought about a whole series of thoughts/observations, that I will now share...

"It's actually a good thing I ate all that pasta for dinner. You're supposed to 'carb up' before a run, right?"

"All I really need is a personal trainer. Who will come to my house every morning to drag my butt out of bed and make me skinny. For free. Is that too much to ask?"

"If I throw up while I'm on the treadmill, I'm totally adding it to my calories burned."

"Maybe one day, if I keep this up, my thighs won't slap together like that."

"If I get off to pee, I probably won't get back on. I'll just drink less water."

"I think I might just be too fat to exercise."

"There's nothing like listening to good worship music to keep my pace up! Except maybe listening to good worship music from my bed... Yeah, I can probably worship better from bed, actually. I can focus better from there."


"Next time I do this, I'm going to watch episodes of The Walking Dead and pretend I'm training for the zombie apocalypse. That should be good motivation."

"I think I can send this text and not fall off the treadmill and die."

"I really can't feel my legs."

On a more serious note, tonight was actually one of the best runs I've had in the last two weeks that I've been back at it (Yes, this is me on a good night). I ran for longer and at a faster pace. I guess the point is that it isn't easy. It isn't even fun. But while I almost always regret the times I decide to skip my workout, I never regret the times I go through with it. The times I push myself when I really don't think I can go any farther. When I stop to walk and, instead of turning the treadmill off, I jog for ten more minutes. It's not much, but it's progress. And that's the point.

Words

One of my favorite things to do is write. Words are so powerful and important. They are a gift, and I love almost nothing more.
Sometimes I think words are too important. By this I mean that they should not be wasted. I don't like quotes used as decorations or people who feel the need to constantly fill the silence with meaningless blabber (though I am too often guilty of this). I just think that words are too valuable to simply be spilled out for no reason. I'm a firm believer in speaking only if you have something worthwhile to say.
I also believe that sometimes words cannot do enough to portray what is in the heart, and in that instance, they should not be spoken.
I began this post with a desire to write about heartache that struck my family today, but it almost feels as if putting words to what happened would be a disservice to all the hearts involved. Sometimes it's better to hold on to what's in your heart - to process what you feel - before you speak and make it known.
So out of respect for my family, for our hearts, and for words, I will let there be silence.

I Think it will be Soon

Today was a big day. It didn't start out like a big day, but trust me, it turned into a big day. 

It all started when I decided to drop some items off at the thrift store. And for some reason I always drive to the one in Ooltewah, like twenty minutes away from my house... when I have a drop off location literally at the end of my street. I don't know why I do that. 

Anyway, I was driving around Ooltewah, and out of nowhere I decided to stop by the cemetery to visit my dad's grave.

Now, the part you all need to know is that I haven't visited my dad's grave in ten and a half years. The last time I was there was my 13th birthday. We had family in from out of town and they all wanted to stop by the cemetery before they left. Looking back, I get it. But at the time, I was pretty upset about it. And I made a decision to never go back on anyone else's terms. 

I rarely talk about my dad. Let alone write about him and post it on the internet. But like I said, this is a big day.

There have been several occasions over the last ten and a half years that have prompted me to visit the grave site. I thought about going when I graduated high school or before I left for college. I thought about going when I got engaged. I thought about going when I got unengaged. But I never felt like I was ready, or something. And the longer I went without going, the harder it became to go. 

And I don't even know why today was different. I was driving around and I just kind of wondered if I remembered where it was. I hadn't been there in so long, and I had never driven there before, so I didn't even really expect to find it. But I did. Somehow I remembered exactly where it was. And there was no turning back.

When I first got there, I just sat on the ground for a few minutes. I didn't know what to do; I just felt kind of weird about it. 

So I tried talking. If there's one thing I've wanted for the last 14 (almost) years, it's to talk to my dad. Especially as I've gotten older, I've just wanted to hear his opinions, to know what his direction would be in my life. To hear his advice. 

The fact is, I would be a completely different person if my dad had lived. I don't understand fully what that means, and I try not to think about it too often, because I've found that it doesn't do any good. But still, I have come to terms with its truth, and it's a hard fact to deal with. 

So, for about 45 minutes, I tried to muster about 14 years worth of words. To tell him I'm sorry for some of the choices I've made in the past. To tell him what I hope for the future. It was overwhelming, to say the least. 

I'm not exactly sure how all of this works. I don't know what, if anything, God allows those in Heaven to know about those they leave behind. I have a feeling that my dad is aware of at least some aspects of the life of his family, but that's just a feeling; I have no idea if it's true. But I have to admit, there was a certain element of healing associated with telling my dad what I wanted him to know. 

When I had said all I needed to say, I still didn't want to leave. But unfortunately, I didn't have the time to just sit at the cemetery all day. So I got up and said the only thing I could think of to say: "Soon, Dad. I think it will be soon."

I have this feeling, (again, just a feeling), that Christ will be calling His Church home soon. That all believers, and that my family, will be reunited soon. I don't know that that's true; but I really hope it is.

I don't know when I'll be going back to my dad's grave site. I don't have any plans regarding that. But I'm glad I went. And I'm glad that one day, whether soon or not, we will be reunited. 

Confessions (What I Learned in 2012)

I have a hard time blogging these days. I have made several attempts over the last few months to bet back into the groove, but have yet to muster up the courage to push "publish."
I made a lot of bold statements in the blogs of last year; I had big plans and goals, and I think I'm embarrassed that so few of them have come to fruition. I planned to move out - still live at home. I planned to run a half marathon - haven't run since. It is awkward and I just haven't quite figured out where I want my blog to go from there.
I still have been making plans and goals, but I feel apprehensive about letting the world know that, just in case I fail to accomplish them... again. However, through this time, I have learned some valuable truths that will now serve as filling for what I hope to become my "segue blog" (no promises).

1. It doesn't do any good to continuously replay my regrets in my mind. Big or small, what's done is done and I can't change that fact.
2. In fact, living with regrets at the forefront of my mind will lead to the repetition of regretful actions.
3. I almost always regret the time spent regretting my regret more than I regret the actual regret.
4. It is impossible to move forward while living in the past.
5. None of this means that I shouldn't recognize the wrong in what I've done (or what I've failed to do)... This is the only way to learn from my mistakes.
6. God has me where I am right now for a reason.
7. That doesn't mean I shouldn't be working toward where He may have me in the future.
8. It's okay to make plans.
9. It is also okay if not everything goes as planned.
10. I don't have all the answers.
11. That's no excuse to not live according to what I know is truth.
12. Loving God is an action, not an emotion.
13. It is always the right time to be adventurous.

To be (hopefully) continued...