9/11 ... Choosing to Remember

I am sitting in a cool room, lit by golden beams of sunlight streaming through the window. Looking out I see cardinals flit to and fro around the backyard, as well as the occasional bright color of a butterfly fluttering past. I am surrounded by the voices of my children, as they laugh and play in the next room with their neighborhood friends. All afternoon I’ve been mentally working on a grocery list, while Jon’s been tending to the yard work. In the background I hear the low hum of the dishwasher as it completes its cycle. And though I wish I could imagine it away, I know there is still a smallish mountain of laundry just waiting to be washed and dried and folded. It’s another perfectly normal day and somehow everything seems right in my little world ... just as it did ten years ago, before the towers fell.

Ten years ago in late August, I moved with my family to Monterey, CA. Joel was 17 months old. I was 7 months pregnant with Nathan. We moved there because my husband was in Army training, learning the Arabic language oddly enough. At the time, my biggest problem was figuring out childcare for my toddler when I went to my OB appointments every other week now that we were living in a new home so far away from all of our loved ones.

On the morning of September 11th, I was awakened by a phone call from Matt. It was very early in CA. I remember him saying that I should turn on the TV because something big was happening. I stumbled into the living room and turned on the news just in time to watch second plane crash into the WTC.

I had a terrible knot in my stomach. After a few quick minutes, I turned it off. For the rest of the day, I simply cared for my toddler, trying to pretend that life was the same, even though I knew that life would never quite be the same again.

Every so often over the next few days, I would try to watch a bit of the news coverage, but I never really could watch for very long before I would turn the TV back off. I told myself it was because I didn’t want Joel to watch those images. That was true, but honestly it was more because I didn’t want to watch those images either.

During those first few days and weeks following 9/11, time seem to drag by so slowly. I was always hyper-aware that we had been attacked and that our nation was at war with an unseen foe. But somehow, after a while, life sort of moved on. Within just a couple of months of 9/11, I had a new son to care for as well as a very active toddler to keep up with ... my life was moving forward and I was busy trying to keep up!

And now, ten years have passed. Ten autumns, ten winters, ten springs, ten summers ... full circle and back around.

Ten years ... yet somehow it doesn’t truly seem like it was all that long ago.

Ten years ago, I didn’t know that my precious toddler would grow into a tall, lanky young man, who would someday wear glasses. I certainly didn’t imagine that my sensitive boy would turn out to have a heart of courage. He grew into this child who wrote letters to presidents, won math bees, ran for office at his school clubs, asked his friends to donate money to children in Iraq instead of giving him birthday gifts. All I knew then was that his sweet, shy smile that melted my heart, and ten years later that still hasn’t changed.

Ten years ago, all I knew about Nathan was his name ... and that he kicked harder than his older brother. My California Beach Boy was born into post 9/11 America. Over the years he has grown into a chubby baby with the great laugh and then transformed with time into a handsome 9 year old ... big dimples, bright blue eyes, and a personality as big as his 5‘ 0”, 110 lb frame. He has 1001 interests and at least that many talents. Intensely loyal. Protector of the right. Defender of the weak. This is the son I carried ten years ago today.

Ten years ago, I never even dreamed that I’d be the mother of a little girl. But two years after 9/11, Julia breathed her first breath, and I’m forever blessed because of her pinkish giggles, purple ponies, and passion for life. Full of cuddles and hugs, yet fiercely strong-willed. Ten years ago today I didn’t know how much I needed my Julia.

Ten years ago I was married to another man. I thought I was going to die when my marriage fell apart. But God picked up the ashes of my life and molded it into something much more beautiful than I ever dreamed possible. Because of that, when I look back upon the last ten years of my life, I see ten years of blessings.

Of all the blessings from the past ten years, the best of them all has been Jon.

Jon. Tall, hazel-eyed, guitar-playing Jon. Like a warm wind blowing on a cool spring day ... like a cold glass of lemonade in the heat of summer ... like toasting cold fingers in front of a flickering fire on a brisk autumn night ... like gingerbread smells and singing familiar carols in the deep of winter ... my Jon. Comfortable. Cozy. Wrapped up in love. His name means “God has given” and that is exactly what he is ...a gift to me from God.

And so Jon brought to me blessing after blessing after blessing. Through his love, I gained two beautiful daughters ... Maddie, brown-eyed beauty with the gift of humor and laughter, and sweet, freckled Meg with the heart of gold. He gave me new friends to count among those old and dear. He gave me new perspectives on life. He brought me to a new place to call home. Through Jon I was given a new life, all fresh and bright again. These were my gifts, given to me by God through Jon. Ten years ago, I never knew what was going to happen, how my life would change, how a personal tragedy would eventually turn my life into something far more meaningful.

Grace has that sort of affect, I think. I look back on my life with grace-colored glasses and see the fingerprints of God over it all.

Grace has been poured upon my life, drenching my spirit and now everything has changed. Not perfect or without flaw because we still live in a fallen world and long for the perfection of paradise. Yet with grace, grace, grace we catch a glimpse of God’s glory.

This has been my life the past decade or so. From day to day it doesn’t seem like much ever happens, and yet when looked back on all at once ... well, my how things have changed! And all I did in the interim was live.

That’s the thing that seems so shocking and stunning about 9/11. All those victims ... those faces ... those numbers ... they represented real people. People who were in the middle of living life. On September 11, 2001 they were just working or taking trips or running errands. Life was happening and then suddenly, unexpectedly, tragically it was over.

In the past ten years, I’ve often heard it said that on September 11, 2001 life as we knew it in America ended. Perhaps. But I can honestly say that I don’t really live my life much differently than I did ten years ago. I still do the things I’ve always done ... care for my family, go to church, shop, drive, travel, etc. There’s no fear. I don’t do these sorts of things differently. Life’s not changed in that way. Not in the day to day living.

And yet, I can’t help but think of 9/11 and grieve for all the lives lost ... lives lost in planes crashes, burning buildings, toppling towers, and even on the battlefield in the Middle East. Living life as each of us do, one breath at a time, only to suddenly find that the next breath doesn’t come. Life is over. Life is done.

And this is the tragedy of 9/11 ... the senseless deaths of so many who were just going about life.

This morning, at about 9:15 am, I sat next to my Maddie-girl as she prayed and asked Jesus Christ to be her Saviour and to give her the blessed assurance of heaven. I don’t know if there is a greater joy on this earth than watching a person (especially when it is your child) experience the grace of Christ for the first time.

What Maddie did this morning has given her peace ... peace that when the tragedies come and the towers fall, she will not be alone. She has assurance that in her life there will be grace ... grace to drench her spirit and grace to turn her ashes into beauty. But mostly, she now knows that when life stops for her, when she no longer takes a new breath, that she will step into paradise ... perfect paradise where grace will no longer be needed.

When we turn to God and accept His grace in our life, falling towers can no longer threaten us. We will be able to live confidently in knowing that bad times and tragic events may happen, but God will not let us go. We will not fear for we are not alone. No matter what happens here on earth, the best is yet to be when we finally draw our last breath and go home to paradise in the presence of our Saviour.

No, I will never forget what happened on 9/11/01. But, I’ll never forget what happened on 9/11/11 either ... for in the grand scheme of life, the hope and the peace of salvation is far, far more important than the chaos of tragedy.

My prayer for each of my friends is this ... that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height, to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

Learning to Read

As hard as I try, I cannot remember life before I knew how to read. And I certainly cannot remember a time when I didn’t enjoy curling up with a good book and reading to my heart’s content.

It may sound strange, but I even associate certain books with periods in my life. Ramona Quimby might have been a pest, but she was my friend in 2nd and 3rd grades. I met Laura Ingalls in the 3rd and 4th grades. While Laura was intriguing, I identified much more with her sister Mary. I was heartbroken that Mary eventually became blind. In 9th grade, my mother insisted that I read Anne of Green Gables. I resisted initially, but in the end I found a kindred spirit. Oh, and lest I forget, there’s Father Tim who made his home in Mitford. I’ve read his stories over and over.

My favorite part of teaching has always been encouraging children to become readers and watching them delight in stories. When I taught 3rd grade, I always read Charlotte’s Web aloud to my students. It became a well-known fact that I couldn’t read the end of the story without sobbing. Most years, I had to have a student take over reading for me because I would cry so very hard. I knew Charlotte was going to die and still the tears flowed.

Waiting rooms, comfy sofas, on the bed, while I’m cooking, soaking in a bath, libraries, book stores, ... I love to read and read whenever I can. I nearly always carry a book with me just so I’m prepared should a few extra minutes suddenly pop into my schedule.

Yet, even I was sort of stunned to see a lady a church one Sunday morning without her Bible but holding a paperback book (The Help by Kathryn Stockett) instead. She clutched it tightly. It was ragged and dog-eared. I remember wondering why she had chosen to bring the book to church. For an instance I tried to envision the circumstance behind this decision, but then decided I really shouldn't judge her. But, three months later, I still find myself wondering why she brought a secular book to church instead of the Holy Bible, the very Word of God, a personal letter to His children.

It often seems to me that it is becoming more and more common place for people not to bring their Bibles to church, and this bothers me very deeply. I assume it has something to do with the big screens that are so common in churches today. The Bible passages are flashed onto the screen for everyone to see and no one has to look it up in their Bible anymore.

Over the summer I began to wonder since most folks don’t even bother to bring their Bible to church, if anyone still reads the Bible regularly between Sunday services. I do try read the Bible regularly, but honestly I don’t read for it for nearly as long as I might read another book, and I truthfully I tend to miss about as many days as I read, making my effort a very spotty 50% of the time. I feel guilty about this ... my attitude is just as poor as my habit. While I said I wanted to know God in a deeper way, I wasn’t even consistently trying to read what He wrote to His followers.

As a result of all this thinking and pondering and wondering how to change my Bible reading habits, I decided to take on a challenge ... read the Bible through in 90 days. It’s a neat program designed to help you read the Bible from cover to cover in just 3 months. I knew there were parts of the Bible I had never read before and I knew it would help me know God more if I had read everything His word has to say at least once. Besides, I figured I needed to put action to my words ... to show my desire instead of just talk about it.

This challenge has not been easy. In fact, this is a real struggle. I’m far behind in the reading schedule. Progress is excruciatingly slow. I feel like giving up. Currently, I am discouraged about making it through the most important book I will ever have the opportunity to read. But I won’t give up ...

You see, I’m learning to read ... learning to read what truly matters.

A Poem ... by Louisa May Alcott

Tonight I discovered that the author of one of my favorite books is also a poet ... and her poem touched me deeply. I've been out of sorts and out of control of my emotions and my reactions, and I'm struggle to keep control of myself. Perhaps I need to stop struggling with myself and let God take over the struggle, for I've always found that when I let God have control of me that I somehow have control of myself.


My Kingdom
by Louisa May Alcott

A little kingdom I possess
where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.


How can I learn to rule myself,
to be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life’s way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?


Dear Father, help me with the love
that casteth out my fear;
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.


I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win
Nor seek to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

This NOOK in my Side

NOOK.

A month ago, my life was blissful. I had no desire for an e-reader. Then my mother let me borrow her Kindle...

and I fell in love. :lol:

Actually, I guess I feel into envy. I wanted a Kindle so bad, but we couldn't afford one and so I hoped that [I]maybe[/I] I might get a Kindle for Christmas/anniversary. The crazy part is that I knew I was envious and so I wouldn't even pray about my Kindle desires.

Then this really amazing thing happened. I was visiting with a friend of mine and jokingly telling her how sorrowful I was about having to return my mother's Kindle. This friend of mine is quite a bit older than me, and she is fairly well off. She laughed and said, "I have a NOOK. But I hate it. I much prefer to read a real book. In fact, I haven't used my NOOK in months and months. If you want it, it's yours. I will gladly give it to you!" I was stunned into silence (which can be a hard thing to do because I like to talk just as much as I like to write). Here was this amazing and completely unexpected blessing that I certainly knew I didn't deserve it because of my envious heart.

So one might think I could be happy now ... but NO. I am miserable. I keep recalling how easy it was to use the Kindle. With my mother's Kindle, reading books was so easy. Downloading books was a snap. I had that Kindle for 10 wonderful days. I've had the NOOk for 3 weeks now, and it has been 3 weeks too long! It has many more features than the Kindle, but all I want to do is to read a book and I can't seem to do that with this dadgum NOOK!

I can't really afford to buy books for the NOOK right now, but I *should* be able to download library books onto it. I have been trying unsuccessfully to do so for 3 days. By the way, my library e-book system doesn't support Kindles ... so even if I did have a Kindle, I couldn't use the library system with my e-reader. More proof that I should be thrilled beyond words to have a NOOK, but apparently I have a heart that is hardened toward NOOKs.

It all boils down to this: I wish I didn't have this dadgum NOOK. I just want a Kindle ... and that makes me feel incredibly ungrateful. But it is the truth, as ashamed of it as I am. :(

Sigh. Somehow this blessing of a NOOK seems to be teaching me more about my ungrateful heart than anything else. Lord, teach me to be content ... without an e-reader!

Painting the Sistine Chapel

After six months, I can say that I'm finally finding my homeschooling groove once again! It's certainly different this time around ... older children, more children, a variety of ages and interests and talents. Coupled with moving and sick husband and kids who were used to public or private school settings, it has taken me several months to figure out how to do this, and as a former homeschooling mom I was not expecting such a long transition.

I'm finding my groove once again with a marvelous curriculum: Five in a Row. It's the same curriculum that I used before. Joel, Nathan and I loved it then. Once again, we are all loving learning with FIAR lessons. Each week, we read a book. From that book, we spin our language arts, history, geography, science, art, music, Bible, cooking and even math lessons for five days in a row.

And the kids are learning and the kids are engaged and the kids love school and I love teaching ... and all of this makes our home a happy place of learning.

This week our book is Angelo, written and illustrated by David Macaulay. From this story, we have discussed personification, birds, the process of restoring something old (like a building or painting), Opera, working diligently even in hard circumstances and as unto the Lord instead of for men. We've cooked spaghetti together. We've discussed showing kindness to the widows and respecting the elderly. The story takes place in Rome, so we are learning a lot about Italy.

As we talked about Italy and Rome, we discussed Michelangelo ... looked at his sculptures and paintings, and talked about his importance in art and history. As a fun activity, I let the kids paint Michelangelo style ... lying down! It's actually a legend that Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel while lying on his back. In a letter to a friend, Michelangelo actually wrote a funny little verse (talking about how his neck ached and paint dripped in his beard and how he struggled to maintain his balance) and he sketched himself painting ... standing up and leaned backwards! However, the kids still loved the experience. Here are some pictures of our fun afternoon of painting.




Meg, Julia and Nathan paint on their backs under the dining table. It was an afternoon of summertime fun, but none of us thought we'd like doing it for four years, which was how long it took Michelangelo to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel!




Maddie works on her painting while lying under a chair.



Joel's finished product ... "Paint in My Eye." I loved the title he gave his painting! He did indeed get paint drips in his eye, while paint dripped on Julia's hands, onto Meg's leg and hair, and all over my dining room floor. No matter how you go about it, painting on a ceiling isn't easy!

For more photos of our Michelangelo painting fun, please see my facebook album "Painting the Sistine Chapel."

Sometimes you just know ...

Sometimes you just know ... deep, deep down in the soul. In the hidden places of the heart there is a knowing so vague that cannot even be formed into coherent thoughts, much less formulated into words. Sometimes you know but cannot fully acknowledge even to yourself that you know ... and yet ,when it comes to pass, you know that you have known that it would all along.

Sometimes you just know ...

There was some part of me that knew as I drove past that house every morning on my way to teach ... it's white frame glimmering in the fog, green and rolling pastures surrounding the yard. The house seem to smile, and my heart knew it was a place where good things would happen. It was a good home ... for while I lived there, a baby boy came into my life, made me a mother and changed me forever for the better. And somehow, years before I ever unpacked the first box and hung the first picture on the walls, I knew that the house on the bayou would be mine.

Sometimes you just know ...

There was some part of me that knew the moment I walked into the room that this lady standing before me was a friend to keep. I was new to town ... 6 months pregnant with two small boys clinging to my hands, and an absent husband who was busy preparing to go fight in a war across the ocean. But her smile seemed to light up the room, and suddenly I didn't feel quite so alone. Sometimes ,looking back, I am surprised that she's my friend ... we have so little in common, yet over the years we have shared so much, mainly a love for Christ which has bonded us as sisters forever. And somehow, even as we exchanged our names with a smile, I knew that Josephine was going to be a cherished friend.

Sometimes you just know ...

There was some part of me that knew as I said goodbye on that cold February morning that it was the last goodbye. I don't quite know how, but I already knew deep down ... otherwise, why would I have cried for thirty miles down the highway, sobbing until my eyes were so blurred with tears that I couldn't see the road before me and my chest heaved so that it hurt to even breathe? The end had come ... though not at all when or how I expected, and the grief before the storm ever even started was nearly unbearable. Yet somehow, even as I drove away with him standing there on the driveway and me not yet knowing why my heart ached so much, I already knew that there would be joy again.

Sometimes you just know ...

There was some part of me that knew the job would one day be mine. I was scared to apply for the position, to move into a career that was not familiar to me. I was not sure it was even what I wanted to do, and yet it seemed to be perfectly suited for me as well. The morning of the interview I wore red, to boost my confidence. I wore the same perfume my grandmother had always worn ... it felt like a hug from her, encouragement from one who had also been a 4-H Extension Agent years before. And somehow, when a few days later the call came in offering me the job as 4-H Agent, I already knew that I would enjoy the experience.

Sometimes you just know ...

There was some part of me that knew just by reading the words he had written. I can't say how I knew but I knew very strongly that this was the man God had revealed to me as a result of my prayers ... the man I had asked him to show me, the kind of man who was worth waiting for, the kind of man worth marrying. I read his profile and knew ... this was a man devoted to his Savior, active and seeking in his relationship with Christ, humble and true. I knew that he was exactly who he had written, and so very much more.

I knew from the beginning when I first read his honest words, "I don't know that I am ready to date at this point, but I know that one day I hope to be married again."

I knew the first time I heard his voice on the other end of the telephone ... and it felt familiar, like coming home.

I knew the first time I looked into his hazel eyes ... and saw that charming sparkle and shimmer and zest for life.

I knew the night he suggested we were already more than just friends ... and then he asked if he could pray with me.

I knew the first time he held my hand, the first time he kissed me and then second first kiss that we shared.

I knew when he brought to me three roses on Valentine's Day ... yellow roses with a bright flame of red on the tip of each petal, a "Dream Come True" rose for a friendship turning into love. Three roses ... a signifcant number, for in our relationship there had always been three, God with us.

Before I even knew, my heart has always known ... that this man was given to me and I was given to him. Certainly this was not of our own choosing and somehow beyond our control ... and yet I wouldn't have it any other way.

There are just fifty days remaining ... Fifty days until we recite our vows. Fifty days until we join our lives together forever. Fifty days ... that's all there is to go. Then we will begin something new. And my heart is trembling with a bit of anxiety for I am fearful. Fearful of moving forward, fearful of blending two families, fearful of failing at a second chance, but mostly just fearful of the unknown. And yet ...

Somehow I already know ... it's going to be a wonderful life.

For it will not just be the two of us ... there will be three, God with us.

"...and they will call His name Emmanuel, which means God with us." (Matthew 1:23)

Without Fear

Since getting engaged a little over two weeks ago, I've experienced a little fear... well, actually quite a bit of fear. I am fearful of being unprepared for marriage, fearful of failing at a second marriage, fearful of not being the kind of wife my new husband will need, fearful of not being able to handle various aspects of blended family life, fearful of moving to a new town, fearful of changing jobs, fearful of being abandoned by a man I love yet again ... basically, I am fearful of the unknown. Additionally, I have been trying to prepare for my first ever speaking engagement for God, and finding that I am fearful in this as well ... fearful of failing God



As I have thought about and processed through these fears, God graciously brought to my remembrance this essay that I wrote nearly 2 years ago. He reminded me that a life that is lived in fear is not really a life that is lived well. I want to live my life well and bring much glory to God ... so let me not linger and dwell on my fears. Rather, let me live my life in such a way that I am bold and courageous, stepping out in faith, trusting that God holds me in the palm of His mighty hand and that He will be ever faithful to give me everything I need to live my life without fear.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without Fear

November 18, 2008



I have this homeschooling friend who recently became a single mother. She wrote about how she was looking for ways to bring in extra money so that she could continue to stay home full time rather than put her children into school and return to work. I read those words and paused for a second, wondering if I had not tried hard enough to figure out a way to continue to be home with my own kids. After all, putting the children into school wasn't part of my dream for this life. I wanted to admire my friend for her strong desire to continue to live out her life's dream. But as I reread the words, I noticed something else there ... FEAR. I realized that she seemed to be fearful. Maybe she was fearful of all the changes in her life now, or perhaps she was simply fearful of the public school system. I can't say exactly what her fears might have been, but I recognized her fearful state of mind.



I know all about fear. I have done many things in my life based on fear, including choosing my college degree. I knew what a teacher did and it was comfortable to imagine myself doing the same sort of work. I was fearful of choosing a different career ... what if I failed at that job, or didn't like it after I already earned the degree. And so, I chose the safe route. I became a teacher. Oddly enough, once I was in the classroom, I didn't really enjoy the work. I adore children, and I love learning. I do not, however, like attempting to teach a classroom of 25 pupils. And yet, for so long, I was fearful of doing anything else because of the unknown aspect.



I had so many fears.



I was fearful of moving away from my hometown. What if no one else liked me? What if all these people from my small little community like me because of who my family happens to be or because we go to church together?



I was fearful of putting my kids into public school for a myriad of reasons. What if my kids were teased or bullied? What if they had a bad teacher? What if they didn't get the best education? What if we lived in a school district that wasn't great?



I lived my life in fear. It wasn't a debilitating fear. I functioned fairly normally on a daily basis. But my deep-seated fears drove all of my decisions.



For my entire married life, I was extremely fearful of Matt leaving me. During that awful summer and fall when my marriage was ripping apart at the seams, I tried as hard as I could to keep him from leaving, to convince him to stay with me and the kids. Looking back, I can see that it was fear that drove how I responded to him. Nothing I did worked, and as it turned out, that great fear of mine came to pass. But ... and bear with me on this because it is hard to explain ... when he uttered those words, "I want a divorce. I want out of this marriage." there was this click in my heart. At that very moment, the biggest part of the fear was gone. The fear didn't totally go away at that moment and there were some times in the months ahead when I was extremely fearful. Yet, at that moment, it was as if deep down in my heart I knew I would survive this. This thing I had been fearing had actually happened and I hadn't fallen over dead.



I also knew that I was going to have swim or I would sink ... so right then and there, in that remote cabin in North Carolina, I made the decision to swim for Paige rather than to sink for Matt.



Let me make one thing clear ... I would have sunk WITH Matt. I would have fought for our marriage forever, with him fighting right next to me. But when he wanted out, when he refused to give me any hope of reconciliation, when he gave up the fight for us, then I began to refuse to sink for him. (I hope that makes sense. It's not a decision that I ever thought I'd have to make. However, we all know that a marriage is made up of two people ... and sadly when one person bails out of the marriage, the other will not be able to keep the marriage floating by themselves.)



Since that time, I've had to make a lot of decisions. I decided to return to work. Six weeks later, I decided to change careers. There have been other decisions, but these were the first big two. Making these and other big decisions has done several important things for me:



I've gained confidence in God and in His guidance offered to me. As my trust in Him has increased, my fear has decreased. I don't live in unhealthy fear anymore.



Those decisions were incredibly tough to make, but in the long run each one has helped me to move on in my life, process the grief and begin to refocus on my blessings. Learning to trust the Lord to help me make wise and good decisions has helped me to overcome the fear and to empower myself through Him.



I read an interesting quote tonight: We must give up the life we dreamed of in order to have the life that is before us.



No ... this isn't at all the life I dreamed of or planned for myself and my kids. I have lost a lot of my personal dreams ... dreams that I held dear to my heart. I no longer homeschool. I probably won't have the opportunity to live in a wide variety of places or travel the nation/world with as much ease as I did as a military spouse. I'm no longer a wife, serving my family. I am a single mom, and it is an incredibly tough job.



And yet, I can't sit around moaning about my life now. If I did that, I would not only have lost what I had then, I would be losing what I have now as well.



I know that the Lord does not intend for us to divorce our spouses. I would never ever recommend it to anyone. But it happened and with it my life changed. I could continue to sit in one spot, clinging to the little things of the past I could continue to grasp. Or I could step out in faith toward God and give myself fully to Him, even though I knew it would mean some dramatic changes. I'm glad I chose the latter, for even though life today certainly isn't a bed of roses, there is far too much right in my life for me not to embrace it with a heart of thanksgiving.



The thing about life is that it goes on every day. Good days, bad days, dark days, happy days ... life goes on. Joyous seasons, sad seasons, seasons of confusion ... life goes on. And really, when it boils down to the nitty-gritty day in and day out life, I'm incredibly blessed.



Every day I wake up to 3 beautiful children, who cause me to laugh and smile and occasionally pull my hair out. I have a cozy house with a beautiful view, a good job that pays me enough money to cover the bills without having to stress too much. My minivan is able to get me to work and home again every evening. The dog loves me and hates the cat, and the cat loves me and hates the dog ... that in itself reminds me that life is pretty much as it should be.



Day in and day out , life goes on. And, until the day I die, my life will go on. I can't choose much of what will happen to me while I'm living. But I can choose to live this life with a smile and a determination to love those around me. I can choose to enjoy every day. I can choose to be thankful for the blessings (both big and small) that touch my life. I can choose to wake up every morning and embrace life that day ... even if it is different from all the days before it. And, through Christ, I can live my life without fear.



Don't panic. I'm with you. There's no need to fear for I'm your God. I'll give you strength. I'll help you. I'll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you. (Isaiah 41:8)