If you know anything about me, I apparently love an odd job that provides a little cash flow -- courier for a law office, waitress, concession stand operator, cafeteria cashier (yes, indeed), an online boutique owner, and a tour guide. None of which are related to either of the degrees which I have mounted or hidden in my house. Well, maybe the tour guide. I was in my element with that job. A married lady arriving freshly to the Hudson Valley with a ring on her finger needed a job -- I didn't need a job. I just wanted one. I like to stay busy. Here we were at the United States Military Academy, and I wanted to be telling the story. It has MANY stories by the way. And so, I dressed myself in the appropriate black and gold attire, climbed on the bus, and gave my 90 minute spill about all things West Point. Here's where it gets interesting. This is where this blog is about to turn.
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
What These Times Have Taught Me
Tuesday, July 14, 2020
I remember it very well.
It was the first weekend of the suggested quarantine by President Trump. My in-laws were in town, and I was steadily forming hamburger patties for the grill.
The flood gates opened.
All of the emotions flooded out at one time. Panic. Fear. Relief. Anger. More. Jeremy noticed and stopped for a minute to have a quick eschatological discussion. That's heavy stuff for hamburger making. But it's what I needed in that moment. I needed to hear the gospel. I needed to hear this pandemic wasn't it. It's not what our lives are to revolve around. It's not what we put our hope in, and it's not what we fear. I NEEDED TO HEAR THAT.
Why Would God...
Monday, June 22, 2020
I had finally said it. I had finally verbally admitted to my husband what had been gnawing at me all morning.
It was the start of a brand new day. It was the start of a cycle -- another cycle -- that I didn't want to see coming. I was fine. I was really fine. I had dealt with this for the previous months since our miscarriage. And yet, something was eating away at me. I didn't want to be mad. I didn't want to be sad.
I just needed to know one thing.
Red Heart Balloon Complex
Friday, February 14, 2020
It was 7th period. Home economics.
It was my first year in Junior High, and my first year to understand what love really meant -- It took the form of a red-foil heart shaped balloon.
A club set up a booth in the cafeteria for the week with balloons for purchase. You could purchase said balloon and delivery for a set fee - minimal - compared to the extravagance of delivering something so earth-shattering to the one you love.
I had all of these hopes and expectations that a secret love interest would reveal himself to me during 7th period to the tune of a red hear balloon.
Alas, the day arrived. Friday - Valentine's Day.
Whilst learning how to make a pancake (I'm sure...), balloons began to arrive at the door. It was a knock and then a creek of the door and then a name and then a balloon appeared. The teacher would slowly walk the balloon to the recipient. Here I was -- Waiting. Patiently - for my moment. Knock after knock. Mind you, the club was not organized enough to deliver all balloons at one time. Nope. It just delayed the inevitable with each knock. There was no secret love. There was no balloon. The bell rang.
For the heart of a seventh grade girl with all her hopes and dreams pinned on this balloon, well, it was quite devastating. I laugh about that day now, but I realize how tender my heart was for acceptance and love of a fella at a very young age. Looking back I see how God's grace kept me. He showed me early on that His love was not in the form of a balloon that would deflate but was in the form of His Son coming and dying for me.
Oh how thankful I am that I don't have to worry about red hearted shaped balloons anymore. I don't want to revisit that day again. The complex is real, y'all.
Happy Valentine's Day!!
It was my first year in Junior High, and my first year to understand what love really meant -- It took the form of a red-foil heart shaped balloon.
A club set up a booth in the cafeteria for the week with balloons for purchase. You could purchase said balloon and delivery for a set fee - minimal - compared to the extravagance of delivering something so earth-shattering to the one you love.
I had all of these hopes and expectations that a secret love interest would reveal himself to me during 7th period to the tune of a red hear balloon.
Alas, the day arrived. Friday - Valentine's Day.
Whilst learning how to make a pancake (I'm sure...), balloons began to arrive at the door. It was a knock and then a creek of the door and then a name and then a balloon appeared. The teacher would slowly walk the balloon to the recipient. Here I was -- Waiting. Patiently - for my moment. Knock after knock. Mind you, the club was not organized enough to deliver all balloons at one time. Nope. It just delayed the inevitable with each knock. There was no secret love. There was no balloon. The bell rang.
For the heart of a seventh grade girl with all her hopes and dreams pinned on this balloon, well, it was quite devastating. I laugh about that day now, but I realize how tender my heart was for acceptance and love of a fella at a very young age. Looking back I see how God's grace kept me. He showed me early on that His love was not in the form of a balloon that would deflate but was in the form of His Son coming and dying for me.
Oh how thankful I am that I don't have to worry about red hearted shaped balloons anymore. I don't want to revisit that day again. The complex is real, y'all.
Happy Valentine's Day!!
Rooted
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him
and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.
Paul's letter to the Colossians, 2: 6-7
We have some bushes in our back yard that have been cut down to the root. It's an eye sore, really, because everything was removed except for the roots. As we walked around the yard surveying everything Saturday night, Jeremy commented on the ugliness of this root-remnant-mess. In good husband fashion, he pledged to remove the roots and dig down deep to get rid of the eye sore, if I wanted him too.
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