I'm An INFJ...What Are You?

I think horoscopes are a crock of manure. Most of the time they are so vaguely written that they could apply to 98 percent of the population, and, just like the fortunes in fortune cookies, they’re more accurate when you add “on the toilet” or "in bed" at the end of them.

Or they’re totally inaccurate, meaning that everything ever written about your sign is the complete opposite of you. As an Aries I supposedly have spontaneity, extreme boldness, and a magnetic personality. Sure, if cuddling up on the couch with a rousing game of Candy Crush is your idea of a hot Saturday night, then yeah, I’m your woman!

Anyway, I just wanted to bring that up so you wouldn't think I was crazy when I told you about my love for personality profiles. I don’t usually buy into any of that stuff that claims to know all of your innermost secrets, but then I discovered the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. And then my mind was officially blown.

 

According to the Myers-Briggs assessment, I am an INFJ, which led me to the discovery that I was right all along - I’m a total fruit loop. Okay, not exactly, but based on the info I found online, it’s the rarest of the types, making up only 1-3 percent of the population. And here are some of the traits listed that struck me the most:

1)"INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals." Well, ahem…thank you.

2) "INFJs are far less serious inwardly than they may appear outwardly. Their inner world is well described as playful, imaginative, colorful, mischievous, and daring." GUILTY!

3) "At intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent ‘givers.’" <insert sound of mind being blown>

4) "...many INFJs report feeling like aliens in the world." Now this is just getting creepy.

Clint, the hubs, is an INTJ, which is another one of the rarest types, accounting for 1-4 percent of the population. Yep, he and I are just a couple of weirdos. The most interesting standouts about him:

1) "They generally withhold strong emotion and do not like to waste time with what they consider irrational social rituals."  It would take me ten pages to go into all the reasons why this is accurate and hilarious, including an explanation of what happens when we have to pull over for a funeral procession, but I'll just leave it at this - it's accurate. And hilarious.

2) "They may even be considered the most independent of all of the sixteen personality types." Again, accurate and hilarious.

3) "By nature INTJs can be demanding in their expectations, and approach relationships in a rational manner." Seriously, it’s like Wikipedia wrote this article specifically about Clint.

So, I don't know - maybe Carl Jung really was on to something when he came up with his theories. All I know is it's fun to get some insight into your quirks...and your husband's quirks. And then laugh at them. A lot.

And it's also nice to know that I'm not alone in my weirdnesses...even if there aren't that many of us.

What about you? What's your type?

The Beauty Of Turning Thirty

I turned thirty last week. People act like it's some sort of scary milestone that everyone is supposed to dread, but I figure I've got a few more years before I need to bust out the Depends. Besides, I think I reached my peak at around 25, so it has all been going downhill anyway. No biggie.

A few years ago my youngest sister – in her teens – commented on the ugliness of my slip-on backless shoes.

I shrugged. “They're comfortable,” I said.

She eyed me for a moment.

“Thirty's comin',” she said.

I just laughed in hearty agreement. Thirty was nothing to fear. It was just another tickmark on the wall, another calendar day gone by, and now that it's arrived, I feel exactly the same way. Plus I'm totally okay with sometimes wearing ugly, comfortable shoes and not giving a flip what anyone else thinks.

But I suppose I sometimes feel like those shoes. The hardest part about getting older, I think, is that we start to believe our external beauty is fading – at least, we women do. (Why do men get better looking as they get older? Seriously, what is up with that? So not fair...)

We don't like to admit it, but beauty is so important to us girls. Especially us mamas, because we tend to push ourselves to the side while we care for others' needs. We may shift our focus and priorities as we get older, but that doesn't mean we don't still long for others to see beauty in us.

I have never felt 'beautiful' by the world's standards, so I can't really say I feel like I'm losing something in this new decade. Instead I'm finally beginning to grasp what beauty truly is. It has nothing to do with the lies that we tell ourselves for thirty years, and many times our whole lives. (You know, that list you keep of what you need to change about yourself in order to be attractive.)

If beauty was meant to be found in perfection, then there would be none.

No, beauty has never had a standard. It has never been about achieving some vague idea of 'perfect'. It's in what we create out of the imperfection.

It's in our silliness, in laughing at ourselves, in our loving each other despite our faults. It's in the worn hands that have labored sacrificially, and in the little eyes that reflect a love I don't deserve. It's in the hope that springs from our brokenness; it's in every precious moment we take a breath.

With age comes wisdom (I have the strands of gray to prove it), and perhaps that is why I see more beauty around me than ever before. I know the truth about it. 

I know that I am completely and utterly imperfect, and I know that I'm okay with that.

These thirty years have molded me each and every step of the way. They have not always been kind, but they have been full, they have been blessed, and I am a richer woman than I ever could have imagined I would be.

I know how much life can be lived in thirty years, how much beauty can be found. And to that I say, bring on the next thirty.

Like Snowflakes, Soft And Gentle, May Peace Come To Us

Several weeks ago, a bookmark with an etching of a tiny, delicate snowflake and those words written on it fell out of my book and onto my lap, and I thought, “Yes, THAT is peace.” It’s an image that has stuck in the back of my mind, one that appears again when my household gets noisy and crazy.

Some days are just like that. My one-year-old and three-year-old chase each other in and out of rooms, laughing and shrieking, and I say “settle down” about 87 times before I remember those words about peace and think, oh wow,peace…I desperately need peace.

Other days I hear about children getting murdered. And I get a dose of perspective.

I listen to a mother tearfully describe her precious daughter who loved ponies and was going to get cowgirl boots for Christmas. I watch the screen cut back to the news anchor whose voice breaks as she struggles to get her words out, and I shuffle to the television to turn it off because I’m barely able to see it anyway…barely able to hear anything over my sobs.

No one needs peace right now more than the families of those sweet babies. They need peace to fill their world, grace to fall around them like flurries of snow. To be given the comfort they can no longer give their children. To be given hope they’ll one day live again.

After my friend Charles died, I spent about a year with a strange ache inside of me, as though at every moment I was acutely aware of his lack of presence on this earth. Grief can physically feel like an anchor weighing you down, pulling you under, refusing to let you surface no matter how hard you struggle. I think that’s why hope is described as an anchor in the Bible – because you have to replace the grief with the secure anchor of hope.

I know everyone wants to understand why this stuff happens. Why must we face evil? Why must we feel fear and pain? Why can’t we fix it? Why can’t we just make that evil disappear?

But the reality is it’s there. The reality is not one of us is guaranteed tomorrow.

I have tried before, unsuccessfully, to prepare myself for a possible future reality in which I no longer have my children. Gut-wrenching doesn’t even begin to describe the grief and pain that I see in such a world. Yet it’s a reality that parents face.

It’s a reality we all face – the sorrow and brokenness of a world that was never meant to be permanent.  And to be honest, I often choose to bury my head in the sand and pretend that reality does not exist. The pain is too great, the stakes too high. But my ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. My ignoring it doesn’t change the nature of its truth.

This world is not meant to be faced alone, and thankfully, it’s not meant to be faced forever. There’s a better one waiting for us. There’s light beyond the darkness, and no more tears beyond the pain of this earth.

I stalk a forum that my husband is on, and in reading through some of the posts after this tragedy, no words affected me quite like his:

“Evil has no self-restraint, but God has love and mercy immeasurable, and believe me, those children aren't lost but are safe and sound in the bosom of their Savior.”

His words broke me. It’s a truth that I know. It’s a truth that I often refer to in passing or smile and nod at when another person speaks of it. But this eternal truth needs far more attention – because it is the only one that provides an ounce of hope, the only one that knows of sorrow. Here we are, in the midst of the raging battlefield as the silent snow falls all around us. The light in the darkness.

Time does not heal, but hope does fill in those trenches that the grief dug. That’s all I know to do – cling to that hope as I continue down this path of brokenness and heartache.

Wonder {Five Minute Friday}

5 minutes. Unedited. Topic: Wonder.

GO.

Sometimes my breath catches when I think of the moments of awe I’ve had, and I wonder if I’ll ever have them again.

I wonder if I’ll ever feel that wonder again.

As a girl, when I looked at the world through innocent eyes, I felt it. That sense of awe. That hope. That soaring feeling of a life not yet lived, waiting to begin. All things new. It was just out of reach – everything I’d ever dreamed of. Hoped for. Prayed for.

And now I don’t know how many more moments like that I’ll have. Life has become more real, and with its blessings, more beautiful in many ways. But also more real. It can be scary, cold, indifferent, difficult…

It can change without a moment’s notice and leave us broken and battered in its midst. And yet that wonder still exists. It’s still out there for those who want it, a desire left untouched until the world opens up and gives it to us all over again.

God graces me with His love. Pours it out with all the mighty strength he holds, and yet my sense of wonder is not the same. I long to be that girl again, wishing for a life well lived, not knowing what lies beyond the horizon, and being okay with that.

STOP.

I'm not good at getting my jumbled thoughts out in just five minutes, especially because I feel like I could go on forever on this topic. I love wonder. It's probably one of my favorite things, and it just doesn't seem to happen as often or with as much intensity as it used to.

But another one of my favorite things is this cutie:

And today is his first birthday! I just wanted to give him a shout out, since he's one of the things that still fills me with wonder. Happy birthday, my sweet little Abram boy!

I Don't Want To Be Controversial

Many years ago – back when my children were just a distant dream – some friends and I were hanging out and ended up taking one of those silly magazine quizzes. I think it had something to do with values, and the idea behind it was that most men chose one set of answers while most women chose the other set of answers, but anyway, one of the questions asked which you would rather your children remember you teaching them – right from wrong, or not to hurt others.

Of course I want to be remembered for both, but I could only choose one, and being the softie that I am, I was the only one of the group who chose ‘not to hurt others’ (which is apparently the more common female choice, just in case you were wondering).

An argument ensued about why teaching right from wrong was more important – and I don’t disagree – but the question asked which you wanted to be remembered for. My thinking was that as a nurturer, my role in my children’s life was to teach kindness and compassion, while a father’s role was more about teaching solid values. Both parents should obviously be role models in both of those areas, but I guess I’m simply a traditionalist in feeling that children should remember their mother’s gentleness and remember their father for his discipleship. And ideally those individual roles should mesh together in a beautiful weaving.

Anyway, my purpose in explaining all of that is so that you can perhaps gain a better understanding about a certain aspect of my personality. I do not like to hurt others or see others hurt, so much so that I chose that answer.

I realize most ‘normal’ people don’t want to see others hurt, but I’m talking about being that way to a fault. I probably hold back words when I shouldn’t (I should speak up but don’t for fear of offending someone), and I definitely try too hard. By that I mean I can be overly polite or struggle so hard to say the perfect thing and keep from offending that maybe I just end up annoying instead.

I don’t know – maybe that’s not true. It’s just how I see it.

When I began this blog, my intention was to always keep it encouraging and to steer clear of controversial topics. That isn’t because I don’t find them to be important or because I don’t have strong opinions on current events (I do), but because I asked myself what I wanted this blog to be, and one thing I didn’t want it to be was divisive.

The problem is I’m beginning to see that no topic is completely safe from controversy.

Take a look at my Facebook news feed and you’ll see that I have friends from all walks of life. You’ll see a vast variety of religious, political, and social beliefs, and while I find myself feeling a bit like Samuel L. Jackson at times,

I try my darndest to be respectful.

It’s too easy to be misunderstood in social media. People already have assumptions about you based on the very little they already know, so having web debates never quite feels pure. Sometimes I feel like I’m already being looked at through a dirty lens, you know? So what’s the point?

Now, that’s not to say that we shouldn’t have discussions about issues that are important to us. I’m all for intelligent discourse. The part that confounds me is when people start getting outright hateful by making far-reaching judgments about entire groups or by allowing their anger to blind them from the implications that exist within their words.

Consider how hurtful your bias may be. Consider what your words truly mean and what they say about you. Consider that your judgment might actually be quite arrogant and born out of experiences from your past that are no longer relevant. Consider that you’re wrong. Consider that even if you are right, the manner in which you speak your words can have profound, lasting effects on the soul to whom you’re speaking.

Or maybe not even to whom you’re speaking – just a passerby who happens to see your post or read your comment.

Luckily, I’m not easily offended. I have a pretty broad sense of humor and a fairly high tolerance for bad manners. But I do get hurt. We all do, whether we’re willing to admit it or not. It’s just unavoidable when we’re in the midst of a social universe unlike one that’s ever previously existed.

More often than not, though, I get angry, and it’s an anger that comes from a place of deep conviction and passion. I’m sure that, especially right now, most of us can relate to that. My hope is that, despite my anger, my words will always come from a place of love – though I know my humanity will prevent me from achieving that.

That’s why I keep quiet. That’s why I stay out of it. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to offend. I don’t want my passion to put me in a place of vulnerability.

But then again, that’s life, and how am I to avoid it unless I squelch that passion?

Just as in all things in life, there is a balance, and I’m struggling to find it. When do you stay silent, and when do you speak up for what’s right?

Facing My Fears In The Journey

Sometimes I’m afraid of life.

I’m strong. I have faith. I am beyond thankful for my blessings. But I sometimes think about the road ahead and wonder what speedbumps are lying there, waiting for me while I’m distracted by the pretty landscape.

There are things in this life I don’t think I could handle, and I pray that I never experience them to find out. Despite the reality that I am uniquely created to handle all that this life holds for me, I’ll admit – I sometimes doubt myself.

The world in which we live carries enough worry of its own. This is an era in which erroneous and grossly exaggerated information spreads like wildfire (while simultaneously taking the focus off of far more pressing issues), an era in which individuals create their own definitions and become belligerent when someone disagrees, and a world in which everyone seems to hate each other for reasons they can’t adequately articulate.

Life is short, truth is relative, and nothing matters unless it matters to you.

Maybe it has always been like this, but honestly, it’s all wildly depressing to me. It’s so easy to get caught up in the trivial – today’s big thing that’s gone tomorrow.

But all it takes is a bolt of lightning to shift our focus in ways we never could have imagined, when we start to see the world for what it is – a broken place where we’re supposed to work together to heal each other.

And we fail at that. Miserably.

I don’t want to live my whole life with my eyes glued to the road, determined to dodge every bump. Sometimes the flat tire comes at just the right corner for us to enjoy the view or spot another fellow weary traveler to encourage. And we never know if those flat tires prevent us from joining the three-car-pileup further on down the road.

All I can do is spiritually prepare myself for what’s to come in the hopes that I can face life’s challenges in a way that makes my children proud. I want to show them that this world, while broken, holds great meaning and Truth, and that they can have a life of incredible influence, no matter what obstacles come their way.

I hope I can do that, and I can only hope that I’ll have the courage to hold fast to that when I’m broken.

The Dream – You Probably Have It Too

There is something strange that happens to me all too often.

I am in a very public, unfamiliar place, and suddenly I really gotta go. I search and search and finally locate a restroom, only to discover that everything that could possibly go wrong in a bathroom has gone horribly wrong.

Not only are the toilets missing seats, covered in urine (or worse), clogged with toilet paper (or worse), and just downright filthy and disgusting in every imaginable way, but there are also no doors on the stalls (or no stalls at all) and there are hordes of people milling about. So I end up precariously teetering above the tainted porcelain while trying to shield my goods from all the potential onlookers.

Thank God this only happens in my mind, in the form of a bizarre recurring dream.  (And, well, perhaps also at the occasional small town truck stop…)

Apparently, this is actually a super common dream for people to have. There are even forums on the Internet dedicated to the discussion of the awful bathroom dream, as I discovered in my googling attempt to unlock the puzzle of my psyche. Turns out bathroom dreams signify that you’re holding onto burdens or negative emotions and need a release, and the inability to get privacy in the bathroom indicates that you are afraid of being criticized for those emotions.

Fascinating.

My husband doesn’t have the bathroom dream. He has a recurring dream in which all of his teeth are falling out. Oddly enough, this is another popular recurring dream that supposedly signifies a fear of failure or lack of control.

I know – I sound so wise. But I’m no dream interpreter, people. I’m just telling you what the Internet told me.

Personally, the dreams I find most fascinating are not the recurring ones, but the ones that stick with you forever, even though you only had them once. Like the time I dreamed we had a baby girl, and her name was Rupus Milton. Yes, Rupus Milton. And I was so angry because I just knew that Clint had named her.

It must have been a prophecy. Years later, when I was pregnant with our daughter, he tried to convince me that her middle name should be Menodora. Thank you, Psyche, for the foreknowledge that my husband couldn’t be trusted with baby naming.

And thank you for letting me know that I need to release my emotions. I haven’t had the bathroom dream in quite some time, so perhaps I’m getting better at not keeping my feelings bottled up. I’m worried, however, that I may be getting a little too open with my emotions. Last night I had the famous “naked” dream (a version, anyway – I was just topless), and it didn’t really phase me. In fact I never seem to be bothered by missing clothes in my dreams.

Now what does that say about me?

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Today's post was inspired by the 'Dreams' prompt at Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

A Devotional - Because I Need It

A while back I read something that talked about ‘spiritual markers’ – specific times of God’s activity in one’s life. It’s something I hadn’t given a lot of thought to, perhaps because I focus so much on the future and decisions I’m making day to day that I forget to stop and think about the past. And it’s so important to think about the past. Not to dwell on it, but to learn from it, and to allow it to mold us into something better.

So I thought about it, and I made my list. I tried to recall the times that I can look back on and specifically say God was doing things to bring me to the place where I am now.

I’m not going to bore you with my entire list, but it contained some basics, some mini events, some big events…a full life of a sometimes-easy-sometimes-difficult spiritual journey. Things like:

·         My decision to accept salvation. It laid the foundation for everything that was to come.

·         My college experience, where I learned just how much negativity about what I believed was out there. Mostly, it made me sad. But it also made me realize that I needed courage that I still didn’t possess.

·         The death of a close friend. The injustice of it broke me – and often made me wonder if the pieces might be unsalvageable - but then it forced me to eventually learn what justice truly was.

·         My marriage. The decision about the most important earthly relationship I’ll ever have.

·         The wait for children. Excrutiating. Confusing. Depressing. The hardest lessons of patience and trusting Him.

And so much more. Through all of it, I knew I wanted to be better, and whenever I stopped relying so much on myself, I slowly began to learn that I could be better. A new me.

But the thing I wonder most is – am I even close to being the ‘me’ I want to be? All of my spiritual markers have collectively brought me through the fire, but did I truly come out refined on the other side?

I worry that I’m not being everything I need to be. As a Christian, do I always show God’s love to others through my actions? Do people see me as kind, humble, and living purposefully? Or just annoying, awkward, and weird?

I put too much pressure on myself, and a lot of that comes from my misguided desire for everyone to like me. When am I going to learn that it isn’t about me? I can’t be everything to everyone. The best I can do is to simply be a vessel for Him and not allow myself to get in the way. Because I can’t do it. Not all people will like me. Not all people will understand me. It’s more likely that few people will even be interested in getting to know me.

It’s not me they need. It’s Him.

So what has been the purpose of this life of mine? What is its future purpose? Where am I going, and what do I need to do to get there?

I don’t have all those answers, but in looking back at all of my spiritual markers, I am certain of one of the answers. He has been with me the whole way. Faithful in a way that I’ll never be. That’s why I can’t rely on myself – I’ve got to rely on Him.

I don’t always clearly see His guidance. And truth be told, I don’t always seek it. I need to be better.

It’s time to be better.

Feelings, Feelings, Feelings...And Perspective

You know how sometimes, as a woman (if you are one), or perhaps simply as a blue personality, you just have times in your life when you experience a great deal of emotion?

It’s not that you’re simply sad or depressed or any one definable emotion…you’re just feeling a lot. And it doesn’t necessarily stem from something specific, but perhaps it’s a combination of many things all affecting you at once?

That’s what I’ve been experiencing lately.  And whenever I have these bouts of heightened sensibility, or whatever you might call it, I have a hard time pinpointing what it is derived from.
Though I’m not sure why I’ve been so delicate lately, I know there are several things that have deeply affected me.

Feeling frustrated with doing the same thing day in and day out and never feeling accomplished.

Feeling lonely and sorry for myself as I wish that I had more family around to help out.

Feeling like I’m at the breaking point with dealing with Baby Boy’s crankiness, only for him to be hit with illness and finding out what cranky really looks like.

Feeling brokenhearted and crying for someone I’ve never met who went into early labor and lost her twin boys.

And then feeling like a jerk for feeling frustrated when I should be feeling grateful that I have a sick baby to hold.

That’s a lot of feeling, right?

I generally have a pretty good perspective on things, but sometimes I fall into those ‘feeling’ traps and lose the positivity.

But when I do, it doesn’t take much for me to get turned back around. It’s almost as though God thwacks me on the head and says, “Hey, look. It could be so much worse, ya know?”

I know. I especially know when I think back to some of the harder times that have been, or even when I think forward to some of the harder times that have yet to be. This life holds so much. I guess all the pain and fear and wonder and beauty just gets to be too much sometimes.

Last night Abram had a lot of trouble sleeping since he’s so congested. All he could do was cry, so I cuddled with him until he finally calmed down. We laid there and stared at each other, and as he gazed up at me with those big blue eyes, he even gave me a little smile. He’s sick and hurting and tired, and he could still smile when he saw my face.

How’s that for a lesson?

Life is sprinkled with those moments, and maybe that’s why it’s so easy to get lost in emotions. There’s so much to feel. And maybe, even though it’s hard sometimes, that’s better than not feeling at all.

I'm Totally Normal. I Promise! Okay, I'm A Little Weird.

Many of you would probably be surprised to know that I have very likely had a conversation with you that you don’t remember.

How is that possible, you say? Are you a hypnotist? Did you drug me? Quit being freaky, Rachel!

Well, you don’t remember because you weren’t actually a part of the convo. It was just my imagined version of you. That’s right – I have conversations with people in my head.

In fact, if I know you IRL (in real life), I’ve probably had a mental chat with you at least once. That’s how often it happens…while I’m getting ready in the morning, while I’m driving down the road, while I’m perusing the aisles at Target…

(Well, maybe it doesn’t happen quite so often now that I have munchkins constantly interrupting my thoughts, but you get the idea.)

Socially Awkward Penguin gets me.

I guess it’s just that when I start thinking about a topic, I imagine talking about it to whomever I think would be most interested in discussing it with me. Or I think about having a conversation I would like to have but probably never will. Or maybe I’m just bored and you happen to pop into my head. (Lucky you!)

These fictional heart-to-hearts can be brought on by any number of things – a dream, a recovered memory, a Facebook status, a random thought, or even nothing at all. Most of the time I don’t even pay attention to the fact that I’m doing it. But today I did, and it made me think.

I thought about how bad I am at verbal discussions and how I have a tendency toward social awkwardness, and I found myself wishing I could be as eloquent and verbose as I am in my own head.

I’m just not that cool IRL.

It’s probably another reason why I blog. Blogging is my way of releasing some of the internal that I’m not very good at making external.

But anyway, I guess this is my way of saying, Friends, I think about you a lot. You have clearly impacted me in more ways than you know because I carry you with me daily.

Luckily, I googled it (typical me), and despite the fact that it brought up several psych forum hits, I found out that having imagined conversations with people in your head is actually quite normal. (Phew, good to know!)

You probably even have conversations with me in your head. At least I like to think so.

Out of Control

You know the saying, “When it rains, it pours”?

That has pretty much been my life over the past several days.

It seems like it always begins with something minor, and you think, “Meh, that was kind of annoying, but I’m tough!”  And then it’s followed by one thing after another…and another.

The worst has been an unfortunate and stressful situation with a family member. I’m just having to distance myself because it’s a painful situation that I need to learn to let go of. I have to realize that I can’t control other people’s actions; I only have power over my own battles.  

Then I thought the kicker was Hannah coming down with a cold. Since her brother’s birth is quickly approaching, I’ve been saturating her in antibacterial hand sanitizer for the past few weeks in order to avoid illness, but apparently to no avail. Serves me right. Once again, I’ve been trying to control something that is ultimately out of my hands. I can’t help it that I have this vision of her meeting her brother for the first time, and holding him, and kissing him…and now I’m hoping he stays put for a while so she can get well first. But as we all know very well, birth timing is definitely something I have no control over.

And then Sunday night I pulled up to the drive thru, just wanting to grab a burger for my sick baby and get back home to her, and I became the victim of a hit and run. There was only minor damage to the car, but seriously, who smacks into someone’s vehicle and then just speeds off? It’s just more behavior that I can’t change, another circumstance out of my control.

I’m sensing a theme here. Life is full of the “out-of-control” moments. And I think they teach us to step back and say, “God, I know this is in your hands. Help me to let go.” It’s a lot easier to do when it’s just the little stuff. But when the big stuff comes along…well, I guess that’s when we can look back and truly be thankful for the preparation that the little stuff gave us.

I know I’m lucky. I’ve been blessed with an amazingly strong and faithful husband to lean on and a precious little family that brings the rainbow in the midst of the rain. I can only hope that I never have to face some of the “big stuff” that I fear, but at least I have the tools to do so.

And thank God for those sweet “out-of-control” moments that make it all worthwhile.

Autumn Musings

Well, we “got our pumpkin patch on” this weekend, and a fun time was had by all! Since the weather has been so nice, we ended up going back to the same place as last year, and hooray, this time it was much cooler! There also seemed to be a lot more going on this year – more animals at the petting zoo, a bigger hay bale maze, tire swings, and a bounce house (Hannah’s favorite!). I love making these kinds of memories.

At one point I found myself watching all the other families walking around and thinking about how fortunate we all are to have the freedom to do stuff like this. Despite the economic hardships that so many of us are facing, we don’t give it a second thought that we can go on a peaceful outing with our families. It puts things in perspective when we consider what is going on in many other parts of the world, and when we consider what hardship truly means. Most of us never even worry about what the day will bring. Not that we should – especially when we know that God is in control and working all things out for good – but it was just a thought that gave me great peace. I am thankful.

I think about not taking things for granted a lot more these days. Hannah is more precious to me than anything I’ve ever known in my life. I always thought that I understood the love that a mother has for her children, but I had only scratched the surface until I had a daughter of my own. Growing up I had a sense of fierce protection for my little sisters, and a love so deep and strong that I knew I would give up my life for them and do anything to keep them safe. That’s the way it is with my babies, but on a level that I never could have imagined before.

Hannah is my best little friend, and it’s exciting to know that our bond is only going to grow stronger as time passes. When I look back at all we’ve experienced together as a family, I feel overwhelmed with awe-inspiring joy at the beauty of our life. And when I look forward to the future, I feel breathless with anticipation in knowing that we are only going to grow richer in love.
  
I pray that there are many more breathtakingly beautiful excursions in store for my family, and for all of you and yours as well.