Perseverance & Hope

I woke up today feeling heavy. Not because of any one thing, but because several small things—each carrying weight in my heart—have been circling my mind all at once.

Yesterday, when I picked Hollis up from school, something felt different. Normally, he runs to me full of joy, but this time the classroom door opened, he locked eyes with me, froze… and began to sob. That has never happened before.

His class is in a season of change. His lead teacher is on maternity leave until October. His favorite paraprofessional recently left ahead of their family’s PCS. And yesterday, his RBT was also out, replaced by a substitute. Each of these changes on their own would be challenging—but together, they’ve created an environment that likely feels unpredictable and unsafe for him. Add in a rainy day with altered schedules, limited playtime, and the usual Monday readjustments, and it’s no wonder his little world felt overwhelming for a child who probably didn't know who to trust with his feelings until Mama came.

Walking through this season with him, I feel helpless at times. I know this situation is temporary. I know his teacher will return. I know new relationships will form, people will be replaced and stability will come again. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to watch him hurt. On the hard days, his pain feels heavy on my heart too.

It makes me wonder if this is, in some small way, how God sees us. He knows what’s ahead. He knows we will make it through. He even knows we will be stronger because of it. And yet, in His compassion, I imagine it still grieves Him to see us hurting.

I’m reminded of Romans 5:3–4 (NIV):

“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

As I try to model perseverance for my children, I’m praying that the spirit of joy in me would be louder than anxiety or defeat. That I would find creative, gentle ways to help Hollis express and process his feelings. And that we would all be reminded that our hope is found in Christ alone.

Today is just a day—good, bad, or otherwise. It has a time limit. And tomorrow belongs to the Lord.

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Perseverance & Hope

How I fight...

 How do you fight when your kids are acting a fool? What do you do when your home feels like it is stuck in unrest, and arguing? 

I've had several days in the last few weeks where I wanted to throw in the towel and "quit" because Momming is a tough gig sometimes and I'm reaching the point in our deployment where I'm just emotionally spent. Yesterday in particular almost broke me because every single kiddo had a different "thing" they did or struggled with that demanded my disciplining skill set. As I went to bed last night I determined that today was going to be "pray over the house" day. I started my morning with coffee and the Bible, got the kids off to school, came home while listening to one of my favorite Christian podcasts... and then I laid out my weapons. 

In today's podcast on Risen Motherhood they actually talked about the flamingo. Which made me immediately think of Reagan because Flamingos have always been her "thang". They talked about how Flamingos who have just become parents are often pink, and their babies are born gray. However, in the first few months of life the parents actually fade to a grayish color as their baby turns pink! Why is that?? Because the parents are sacrificing nutrients and self care they would normally prioritize, for the sake of nourishing and caring for their new offspring. Through this sacrifice, the little flamingo learns not only how to thrive on its own, but how to care for others. What!? As Judah would say "That's a fun fact". 

I joked last week with a friend that I sometimes feel like I used to stereotypical, bubbly, pink Barbie. Motherhood has drained me and now I'm Weird Barbie. It never dawned on me that this was actually by design and mimics what happens in nature, like what we see with the Flamingos. By sacrificing for my kids and letting them witness how I juggle and struggle... I'm teaching them. They are seeing first hand how important having a whole family together is, and what impact having Dad gone has. We are learning each day how to work better as a unit because we all have to lean on each other to make it work. They are also seeing on days like yesterday how not working together makes it all fall apart. 😅 so what did I do when the house seemingly fell in on me yesterday? I stood up and decided to pray over those walls and take refuge in the Lord. I hope that in my struggles my children are always reminded that God is the answer. No matter the problem, they can always turn to Him. I also hope they see a Mom who fights, not by raising her hand to them.... but by raising prayers and praise. I want to lovingly hold them accountable to boundaries we hold to be important, while showing them how to correct course and place God back in the center. Today, I fought these battles by setting time aside to lay it God's feet. Every door frame, every bed, every room in this house is now soaking in prayer and you can feel the peace that has returned. Bestie, please don't ever forget the power of prayer and what your words can do. 

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How I fight...

The Steps We Miss

 I have been on a journey, or a struggle, to reclaim my health and hopefully lose a few pounds along the way. This journey has taken me much longer than I planned and along the way there have been many set backs; and emergency C-section, Covid x2, a stress fracture in my foot, a year in physical therapy, 3 vein surgeries, and a torn Achilles tendon - to name a few. Through lots of encouragement from my amazing husband, I complete PT/recovery time and try again. A new diet, a new workout plan, a new pair of sneakers.... whatever it takes to keep moving forward. I love him for always hyping me up and helping me find balance between my health goals and real life. But sometimes....it isn't so easy. 

Can I just say that I have wanted to quit so many times? The scale doesn't move fast enough or it moves the wrong direction. I see gains in my time per lap, only to spend two weeks resting because we all got "the virus" again. I trudge to rebuild what I lost. I spend weeks hacking on the trail or in the gym doing half of what was easy before. Or I have a great workout, feel amazing and then can't move by the afternoon.  I have been discouraged by comments from other women on the track, and by gross men at the gym. I get so caught up in trying to meet my own expectations that I lose sight of the gift it is to be able to get up and move my body in the first place. 

My last visit to the track for a run, I prayed a lot while I was going. They had just sifted the sand on the track and it was squishy, slippery, and in some parts a bit muddy. Usually when I am in the zone, I love watching the sunrise over the trees in the morning on my trail. I love seeing the cute squirrels carrying nuts up into their winter store houses. I enjoy smiling and waving at the regular crowd. I am such a happy soul in nature. But today.... today my gaze had to be two feet in front of me at all times. Today my eyes had to constantly scour the ground for safe footing and there was no time for taking in the scenery. It only took two slips that almost rolled an ankle for me to understand the importance of keeping my eyes to the ground as I trudged up and down the sandy track. 

Then, the Lord brought my eyes to a set of tracks. It appeared that someone who had run this track before me had a very similar gate to me because our feet were almost the same size and our steps aligned perfectly. I quickly found myself running in another person's footsteps because if someone had already tested that patch of sand for safety and lived to make a decent footprint... surely it could hold me too. Luckily this person's shoe had an easy to spot step pattern among the hundreds of others around it, and I literally ran a mile in someone elses shoes(prints). Then, the Lord spoke to me so clearly I had to stop and take a picture to remember it. 

"YOU ARE ALL MY CREATION the same way this beautiful park is that you delight in so much" 

What!?! 

My eyes wandered to all the other sets of footprints around me. Some were smaller, some bigger. Some wove in and out from each other like a couple, or a pair of friends walking side by side. God drew my attention to the array of people those footprints had come from. I realized if we lined the owners up side by side you'd have a bingo card of height/weight ratios. You would also have a kaleidoscope of skin tones, and a yard stick of ages. However, one thing all these footprints have in common is they belong to someone who made a choice to try and be healthier today than they were yesterday. WE ARE all connected, we all showed up at the same trail, put in the steps, the work, the consistency, and yet we will all still fall in a wide scale of shapes and sizes because bodies are just different! Just like no two shoe prints were the exact same, we aren't supposed to be the same as the person next to us either. If I had a way to look back at my first few steps, the first week I hit the track they were probably made with trepidation and care. I wasn't sure how far I could run, I did a lot more walking and I even threw in some dance moves if the beat in my headphones was right. Today my time is consistent and I know the twists and turns of the trail. My steps probably look more rehearsed and confident. That comes with time and that is a definite non-scale victory. 

 I'm on the journey to be healthier and I often feel very alone, very misunderstood, very discouraged, and exhausted of restarting again and again. But today God gave me new eyes to see that the road is not so lonely... there are people who have already run the trail before you. There are people on the trail with you now... and if I can just get over my own incessant need to compare myself to others, or to my 20yr old self.... I would see that today was another step in the right direction. I am moving forward. I am getting stronger. If you're on a journey like this too... YOU are not alone. Walk alongside me. We've got this. Just keep going.  You aren't going to have the same stride as the person next to you and that's OK. Find your own and OWN it. 

Love ❤️  ya! 

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The Steps We Miss

9- 11 Never Forget

 I often remember my grandfather sharing tales of his Korean war experiences, and to the mind of a young child these visons seemed like foggy made up dreams far from the reality I knew. Almost like the bedtime stories Wendy recites for the Lost Boys in Peter Pan. However, as a parent now I see the need to tell these stories and pass them down to other generations. In this way we weave threads together and knit the line that connects us to our family past, and family of the future. Like many of you reading this, I remember exactly where I stood when the World Trade Center was hit. I remember watching the second plane hit behind Katie Couric's head on live TV. I remember the Firefighters who ran into the smoke and never came out. I remember the brave woman who fixed her skirt before she jumped to her death. I remember the weeks and months that followed. The steam engine that is the American political machine amping up boys across the nation to go defend US Soil. I knew those boys. I grew up with those boys. I dated those boys... I married that boy. The one who jumped quickly from boy to man and who found out that there are scars of war that go much deeper than any physical trauma the body might endure while deployed. I remember being the wife of a soldier when it was cool to wear a yellow ribbon on your lapel, or your purse. I remember yellow ribbon magnets on cars. Yellow ribbons were tied to tree's lining neighborhoods. I remember painting white sheets to hang on the side of the freeway to welcome soldiers home. I remember a nation that stood together and bled together. That younger, less exhausted version of me barely recognizes the world of today. Who knew in 22 years things would change so much? Who knew that social media would become the next biggest weapon to emerge from modern technology? Who knew the news would start censoring content? When did we stop remembering the things that matter? When did finding out the truth become less cool than creating an entertaining story that gauges likes and followers? Am I the only one struggling with where things are headed?  

If we want the people who lost their lives 22 years ago to truly be honored, we can not stop talking about it. We have to keep knitting the thread, we have to make the story so real for our kids today that they can't be swayed by "modern interpretations" of what happened. You saw it first hand, you lived it, you owe it to them to feed them that truth. We owe it to the country we love to keep telling stories, and keep reminding our children that we are One Nation Under God, Indivisible; with Liberty and Justice for ALL. 

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9- 11 Never Forget

Dining Table Blues

 This season of life is a weird one. I am solo parenting for the first time, full time, while my husband serves our country overseas. Getting the kids back into school, figuring out our new "normal" has had quite the learning curve. There have been days when I have felt overwhelmed, or just exhausted and I have asked the kids to give mommy a quick 30 minute break to herself. Even if it is just so I can put laundry away in silence upstairs alone. They all pitch in and keep tabs on their little brother while I gather my thoughts and it has worked out well so far. 

Then, a few days ago I came downstairs feeling pretty refreshed having re-organized my towel closet in under 20 minutes and my oldest son presented me with a coupon book he had made me after finishing his homework. It had a stack of handmade hand cut coupons with all different items on them; some were for hugs, for back rubs, for snow cones, or mom gets the remote nights. He said "I know it is really hard with Dad gone so I wanted to give you these coupons to help". I hugged him back and savored the sweetness of a kid who was doing something kind for me. 

Later when I was cleaning the table up from homework time to prep for dinner, I saw that his "coupon" construction zone had left a large section of artwork on my table and next to the blue artwork was a SHARPIE marker. Deep breaths. This is one of those moments where a pause to breath is the difference between me responding as a mother in my flesh, and responding as the mother of grace God calls me to be. 

In that moments I could yell, or be upset at the new blue marks my table dons. I could risk removing the stained finish and scrub it with a magic eraser or some rubbing alcohol. Or, I can choose to make it a precious reminder of the day while their Daddy was deployed that D decided to do someone kind for his Mama. I chose option three. One day (God willing) when I have grandchildren sitting at this table it will be a beautiful tale of their father's selflessness, and concern for his mom. One day the blue will fade into smaller pieces of a gentle memory as the table wears with time. But, unlike time, my heart will remember this sweet moment forever. 

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Dining Table Blues

My Favorite Unique Teacher Gifts

 Back to school crafting made easy. 

When it comes to bringing your children's teachers a "Nice to meet you" gift.... I have always felt like the last thing teachers need is another cup, or another apple plaque for their desks. So this year I am going to share my creative juices with you and show you two of my all time favorite teacher gifts that will make you stand out in the sea of new students. 

First- The Custom Hand Sanitizer Bottle. I have always felt like this says "I care about YOU and your classroom, but also about my child's health" Bonus points if you can find school colored ribbon or match the ribbon to their favorite sports teams colors

 

Here is one I made a few years ago. 

++ Hack: use a blowdryer to heat the label on the bottle and remove it so you have a clean surface to place your vinyl on. If there is glue residue left behind you can get rid of it using rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab. Then rinse with soap and water and let fully dry before applying your design. 

My favorite deal on hand sanitizer pumps can be found here: 

Hand Sanitizer Mega Pump

& here is a free png design you can save to make your own bottle! 

Next up is my new favorite project because it gives teachers something they need, while imparting a little bit of my personal parenting beliefs/style into the classroom as well. Spread positivity like glitter right?! But don't actually use glitter... teachers hate the clean up! 

 

These jars came in a set of 4 and can be purchased here: 

Clear Plastic Mini Candy Jar  

I used my Cricut to make the quote on the front "There are no mistakes, only lessons"

then I added the teachers names to the back of the jars. Each jar holds about 75 erasers. 

You can buy those in bulk here: 

Pink Pencil Top Erasers Bulk 

All together these gifts cost me 21.50 and I was able to make something special and unique for each of our children's new teachers. 

** Tip from a Southern Mama- never go to Open House empty handed! 

Happy Crafting Lovelies! 

. 

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My Favorite Unique Teacher Gifts

Random thoughts on John the Baptist

 Random thoughts for the morning. Last week the kids were asking us why the sun was still up at 9pm... my husband began to explain Summer Solstice to them and googled the historical significance. In doing this we learned that the church of the 4th century tried to piggyback on the pagan tradition of mid-summer by declaring the feast of John the Baptist, in celebration of his birth. This made me laugh hysterically. Not because I am opposed in any way to the church aligning celebrations with naturally occurring events, but because of ALL the people in the bible I'm fairly certain John the Baptist would hate a day that was dedicated to him. A man who's faith was so strong he often inflicted discomfort on himself intentionally to further focus his prayer and repentance. A man who ate locusts, and slept on the dirt. A man who lived with absolute humility and understood better than most that his purpose was to point people to Christ.

I am sure the church of the 4th century had the best of intentions. I am sure they felt his life of service, prayer, and humility were all traits we should aspire to. But I wonder how many times we, with good intentions, get it wrong too? Our hearts are in the right place, but we didn't really stop and "hear" the other person and so we made assumptions and we got it wrong. totally guilty, I have done that. Being vulnerable enough to let people truly know you is hard. In turn, listening and truly trying to understand someone is equally hard. If you are in the midst of a communication fumble, just know there is nothing new under the sun. Even the church gets it wrong sometimes. John the Baptist is likely holding his head in his hand this week and saying "guys, not again, it is not about me, it is about HIM". I'm so thankful that when we get it wrong God truly knows our hearts, and He see's the intention behind it, even when others don't. Grateful today, for a Solstice reminder of the gift of grace!

This past Friday, on St. John the Baptists feast day; which marks the day of his birth in the Catholic calendar, Roe v Wade was overturned in the US. While I have many friends sitting on both sides of this debate right now I can't help but sit in awe that the only fetus discussed in the bible, one who recognized the very essence of Christ from inside Mary's womb, while he too was in utero is now sharing his nativity day with the overturning of 50 years of abortion law precedent. No matter what side of the isle you sit on in this debate, there is such power in the exchange of Mary and Elizabeth's shared maternity. God is never coincidental, He is incredibly INTENTIONAL in all things. Challenge yourself to remember that sometimes things are said with hearts in the right place, but maybe not a full grasping of the facts at hand, lets remember to show each other grace too and let God be the sovereign redeemer He is!

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Random thoughts on John the Baptist