I'm in serious need of a new start, or a new wind in my sails, so to speak. I don't want to keep living life the way I have been. This probably sounds like I'm whining about how boring and underprivileged I am in a society that is richer than the rest of the world, but the truth is, I feel like I'm only living up to a minute part of my potential. I keep thinking, "There has to be more than this...what the heck I am doing? Why am I not doing what I really want to be doing?" There are a million reasons why I feel trapped into a life that should be the shining example of freedom. And the truth is that all of those reasons are bouncing around in this ill-used brain of mine with no seeming escape. I've come to realize that the entrapment is of my own doing, and I'm going to have to bite the bullet to become uninhibited.
It's fascinating to me how the mind becomes a battlefield that transforms landscapes all on its own. I feel like I'm in new territory, even though my location hasn't changed, except a month-long change in trajectory only to find myself physically right back where I was long before I left, but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally miles and miles and miles away. I'm not here and I'm not there and so I feel lost and found all at the same time. It's probably more accurate to say that I'm more found than I ever was before when I was really, really lost; I'm just lost as to how to practically get to where I know I'm found, if that makes any sense.
I guess it's just safe to say that I'm almost ready...kinda like almost ready to walk out the door, but that would be assuming I found exactly where the front door was, how to get to it, and exactly where I was going once I stepped outside of it. I'm exhausted beyond words and at peace but anxious all at the same time. You haven't seen me in a while, and that's because I haven't been here for a while. You may not see me for a while more and that's because I won't be where you are for a while. But I want you to know I'm not retreating, as I have done so painfully for so painfully long. I've simply decided to let the wind fill my sails.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Spilled milk and Tears
My near-19-month old is playing with her milk more than she is drinking it. Thank goodness it is in the sippie cup, and not everywhere else, cause we've already been down that road this morning.
Do you ever have moments in your life where something from your past creeps out and rears it ugly head? I have this issue all the time, and usually it's the mild stuff. You know, like, when I did something that was really embarrassing or not very smart, like the time I decided I was going to prove that the ball wasn't going through the ring in the science experiment in high school. That would be the experiment where you use heat to expand things. In this case a ball on the end of a rod and a ring on the end of a rod. I'll just say my teacher had to write up an accident report and I couldn't use my thumb for a week or two. I was reminded of this goof when I tried to clean a piece of ground sirloin off of the gas stove from which I had just removed the pan and turned the burner off. Still smh.
And then there are the parts of my past that are really ugly, really scary, and I avoid them at all costs because the pain is more than I can tolerate on a day-to-day basis. I shared something with a friend that I haven't opened up about in years. I do this for a reason. Okay, several reasons, but I'm not sure that I can even spell those all out. I should have gone to counseling. I still should go to counseling. But I'm stubborn.
I wasn't expecting the pain to come flooding back though. I was just trying to put things in perspective. Haha. It's funny how God works, cause His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. So when the pain came rushing over me, and I couldn't ward it off anymore, I just let the hurt sink in. I held His hand, and hurt, and cried. I sat in my car listening to Oceans by Hillsong (Please listen to this song if you are struggling.) and let the tears roll down my mascara-ed lashes and over my powdered and blushed cheeks into the folds of my cerulean scarf. (Thank you Jesus for the mercy of water-proof mascara, despite how shallow that sounds.) And when I couldn't sit in my car any longer, I dried the tears and walked through the brisk cold to my trig exam, and then my social diversity in education class where all of us were on welfare as we tried to come up with a budget and learn about what it means to be poor and/or homeless, and then finally my American history class where we learned about why the U.S. felt that it was not a good idea to join in WWII prior to being bombed at Pearl Harbor. And then I got back in my car and let the hurt roll in like waves. Except at this point my blood sugar had plummeted and I really was a wreck.
See here's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt. (This would be very similar to the John Green quote, "That's the thing about pain...It demands to be felt.") But pain is not just a feeling. It is a place where something inexplicable and extreme has happened and we don't know how to come to grips with it. It is the site where something has torn apart the very fabric of who we are and taken something from us with neither permission nor hope of restoration of our own volition. It is deep, it is consuming, and it is relentless. It can be hell...if we let it. So the answer to keeping the pain at bay is to avoid it - at all costs if necessary. And I don't know about you, but I do the same with what caused the pain in the first place.
But here's the thing about God. He knows pain. He's suffered it. He's endured it. He knows how deep its rabbit hole goes and He knows how consuming it can be. He knows what it's like at oh-dark-thirty when all hope seems lost and without reason or cause. He's been the victim.
He's also conquered it.
He knows the way out.
It's through it.
He's been though hell and lived to tell about it.
But the "it" isn't about hell itself, "it" is about who He is regardless of hell.
He is love.
He is mercy.
He is grace.
He is hope.
He is peace.
He is joy.
He is faithful.
He is gentle.
He is kind.
He is patient.
He is good.
He is community.
He is mighty.
He is wise.
He is beautiful.
God is big and God is good. And those two things cover over any pain hell's fury may bring against us.
So today, I have been rescued. I cried for help, and He met me there. He held me there. He loved me there. Today, I am evidence of who He is. What matters is not my perspective, but His. And He died for me and rose for me to have access to that glorious perspective. Here's a thought: God's love will match our pain, our guilt, our shame, and then some to show us He how much He loves us. It's not about where we fall short; it's about who He is and who He says we are.
Do you ever have moments in your life where something from your past creeps out and rears it ugly head? I have this issue all the time, and usually it's the mild stuff. You know, like, when I did something that was really embarrassing or not very smart, like the time I decided I was going to prove that the ball wasn't going through the ring in the science experiment in high school. That would be the experiment where you use heat to expand things. In this case a ball on the end of a rod and a ring on the end of a rod. I'll just say my teacher had to write up an accident report and I couldn't use my thumb for a week or two. I was reminded of this goof when I tried to clean a piece of ground sirloin off of the gas stove from which I had just removed the pan and turned the burner off. Still smh.
And then there are the parts of my past that are really ugly, really scary, and I avoid them at all costs because the pain is more than I can tolerate on a day-to-day basis. I shared something with a friend that I haven't opened up about in years. I do this for a reason. Okay, several reasons, but I'm not sure that I can even spell those all out. I should have gone to counseling. I still should go to counseling. But I'm stubborn.
I wasn't expecting the pain to come flooding back though. I was just trying to put things in perspective. Haha. It's funny how God works, cause His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. So when the pain came rushing over me, and I couldn't ward it off anymore, I just let the hurt sink in. I held His hand, and hurt, and cried. I sat in my car listening to Oceans by Hillsong (Please listen to this song if you are struggling.) and let the tears roll down my mascara-ed lashes and over my powdered and blushed cheeks into the folds of my cerulean scarf. (Thank you Jesus for the mercy of water-proof mascara, despite how shallow that sounds.) And when I couldn't sit in my car any longer, I dried the tears and walked through the brisk cold to my trig exam, and then my social diversity in education class where all of us were on welfare as we tried to come up with a budget and learn about what it means to be poor and/or homeless, and then finally my American history class where we learned about why the U.S. felt that it was not a good idea to join in WWII prior to being bombed at Pearl Harbor. And then I got back in my car and let the hurt roll in like waves. Except at this point my blood sugar had plummeted and I really was a wreck.
See here's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt. (This would be very similar to the John Green quote, "That's the thing about pain...It demands to be felt.") But pain is not just a feeling. It is a place where something inexplicable and extreme has happened and we don't know how to come to grips with it. It is the site where something has torn apart the very fabric of who we are and taken something from us with neither permission nor hope of restoration of our own volition. It is deep, it is consuming, and it is relentless. It can be hell...if we let it. So the answer to keeping the pain at bay is to avoid it - at all costs if necessary. And I don't know about you, but I do the same with what caused the pain in the first place.
But here's the thing about God. He knows pain. He's suffered it. He's endured it. He knows how deep its rabbit hole goes and He knows how consuming it can be. He knows what it's like at oh-dark-thirty when all hope seems lost and without reason or cause. He's been the victim.
He's also conquered it.
He knows the way out.
It's through it.
He's been though hell and lived to tell about it.
But the "it" isn't about hell itself, "it" is about who He is regardless of hell.
He is love.
He is mercy.
He is grace.
He is hope.
He is peace.
He is joy.
He is faithful.
He is gentle.
He is kind.
He is patient.
He is good.
He is community.
He is mighty.
He is wise.
He is beautiful.
God is big and God is good. And those two things cover over any pain hell's fury may bring against us.
So today, I have been rescued. I cried for help, and He met me there. He held me there. He loved me there. Today, I am evidence of who He is. What matters is not my perspective, but His. And He died for me and rose for me to have access to that glorious perspective. Here's a thought: God's love will match our pain, our guilt, our shame, and then some to show us He how much He loves us. It's not about where we fall short; it's about who He is and who He says we are.
Friday, February 7, 2014
New Grace
It seems that God's seasons bring about an infinite amount of worth in wisdom unknown to this still feeble heart of mine. What I considered a complete loss turns out to be foundations upon which he is in the process of setting pillars. New pillars. New graces.
The storms of life know no boundaries. They know no circumstance, and neither do they care. Some come without warning, others with sirens blaring. It is true that my heart and soul have been battered by the winds of both shame and shock. My mind cannot wrap itself around the devastation my actions have borne. But this is not what makes the world spin round, for me or anyone else.
God moves in like a mighty rushing wind, and he breathes new life into old, dry bones. He makes all things new. He pours out grace upon grace upon grace. Just as the storms of life know no boundaries, neither does his love. It is unfailing, unchanging, unyielding. It is fiercely jealous. It does not stop at the gates of hell and refuse to enter. It flows like a river. It streams into those places that are the darkest, deepest, hardest, coldest, and most barren and empty.
It is true that as water takes the path of least resistance, so do we, his flock. The reality, however, is that the path of least resistance is my own resistance to his truth, his hope, his love, his grace, his peace. But where I fail in my human condition is not simply in my sin; it is the eventual despair in the lie that all is lost. It is believing that my worth is dashed on the rocks and my purpose is forever gone. It is caving to the thief's intent to steal, kill, and destroy that which Christ purchased for me with his blood and sealed with his glorious resurrection.
It is beautiful, then, that if I "humble [myself] therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift [me] up in due time." (1 Peter 5:6 NIV)
The season lasts for a night, and with the morning comes shouts of joy: "For his anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5 NKJV)
"But your dead will live, LORD; their bodies will rise- let those who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy- your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead." (Isaiah 26:19 NIV)
"And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." (1 Peter 5:10 NIV)
"Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given." (John 1:16 NIV)
"Let the morning bring me word of his unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life." (Psalm 143:8 NIV)
And so the seasons change, new life burgeons forth, and his mercies are new every morning. Joy floods the floor of my soul, and hope flies untethered. Strength returns and my footing becomes firm and steadfast once more. His peace covers me, hems me in, and comforts me. New grace replaces grace already given, and I find the spark being fanned into a passionate fire into a full-blown blaze.
Indeed, grace, love, and peace to you also.
The storms of life know no boundaries. They know no circumstance, and neither do they care. Some come without warning, others with sirens blaring. It is true that my heart and soul have been battered by the winds of both shame and shock. My mind cannot wrap itself around the devastation my actions have borne. But this is not what makes the world spin round, for me or anyone else.
It is true that as water takes the path of least resistance, so do we, his flock. The reality, however, is that the path of least resistance is my own resistance to his truth, his hope, his love, his grace, his peace. But where I fail in my human condition is not simply in my sin; it is the eventual despair in the lie that all is lost. It is believing that my worth is dashed on the rocks and my purpose is forever gone. It is caving to the thief's intent to steal, kill, and destroy that which Christ purchased for me with his blood and sealed with his glorious resurrection.
It is beautiful, then, that if I "humble [myself] therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift [me] up in due time." (1 Peter 5:6 NIV)
The season lasts for a night, and with the morning comes shouts of joy: "For his anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5 NKJV)
"But your dead will live, LORD; their bodies will rise- let those who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy- your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead." (Isaiah 26:19 NIV)
"And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." (1 Peter 5:10 NIV)
"Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given." (John 1:16 NIV)
"Let the morning bring me word of his unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life." (Psalm 143:8 NIV)
And so the seasons change, new life burgeons forth, and his mercies are new every morning. Joy floods the floor of my soul, and hope flies untethered. Strength returns and my footing becomes firm and steadfast once more. His peace covers me, hems me in, and comforts me. New grace replaces grace already given, and I find the spark being fanned into a passionate fire into a full-blown blaze.
Indeed, grace, love, and peace to you also.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Work, work, work!!!
Well, (Now I know you are going to tell me that's a really deep subject, and it is, but not here, cause I'm not talking about a well.) things have been crazy lately. Not like pull-your-hair-out-and-run-around-like-a-chicken-with-your-head-cut-off kind of crazy, but not far from it.
First, let me say that in order for me to feel like any kind of approachable human, I must have at least eight hours of sleep, ten to be a nice human, and any more than that to be a wonderful human. And then, of course, there's at least sometimes two cups of coffee in the morning. I probably wouldn't have to think about coffee if I got a consistent amount of sleep on a consistent basis. And eventually that will happen...right?
Next, I need to tell you that painting 16 square feet less than 800, mostly by yourself is a lot of work. I mean, a LOT of work. You might think that painting four rooms, a hallway (of sorts), a bathroom, and a couple of closets is no big deal. It should be done in a week, you think. I'm here to tell you, much to your dismay, as it was/is mine, that pretty much a month later, there is still a serious amount of painting to do. I called it at the kitchen door leading to the back of the house, so anything past that threshold is either not important enough for me to care right now or not important enough for me to care at all. And despite having three rooms, the hallway (of sorts), the bathroom, and two closets, the kitchen cabinets still need to be painted. That wouldn't necessarily be a big deal, except that all the exterior surfaces to which the term "cabinets" applies, need at least two, if not three coats of paint. We purchased 21.5 gallons of paint, and I have used almost all of it. I kid you not. The only color that hasn't required 3+ coats is the blue I chose, and that is shocking.
Needless to say, I am plum worn out! And that's not all, folks. There is some serious cleaning that needs to occur. (I managed to get paint everywhere. Please don't lecture me about the significance of dropcloths. I might have to drop kick you, whatever that means.) Beyond the cleaning that has already occurred, even more needs to be done. The bathroom needs a brutal cleaning, and the windows need some super sparkle, my front porch needs to become home to some freshly-painted rocking chairs - come springtime - and some humans rather than the spiders and moths that are inhabiting it now. The shutters will be painted a navy color, and the front door a fresh coat of paint as well. (I painted it this beautiful pink, and it was great until a few days after coming home from a Christmas break to find it destroyed by the elements. Yes, I used exterior paint. It's so bad, that the vendor is coming out to look at it. Maybe he'll give me free paint so I can do the doors and shutters. I'll cross my fingers.)
Things get kind of crazy where sleep gets involved, because I have been working till almost midnight almost every night except a few here and there, and I am honestly out of energy. But because there is so much that needs to be done still in order to make moving in as smooth as possible (and the fact that spring semester at school started today), I must forge ahead. Maybe one day, I'll get to sleep more than 8 hours. Maybe.
Soon, I will be able to wear normal clothes in my house, and not grungy work clothes covered in paint. Ooooh goody!
First, let me say that in order for me to feel like any kind of approachable human, I must have at least eight hours of sleep, ten to be a nice human, and any more than that to be a wonderful human. And then, of course, there's at least sometimes two cups of coffee in the morning. I probably wouldn't have to think about coffee if I got a consistent amount of sleep on a consistent basis. And eventually that will happen...right?
Next, I need to tell you that painting 16 square feet less than 800, mostly by yourself is a lot of work. I mean, a LOT of work. You might think that painting four rooms, a hallway (of sorts), a bathroom, and a couple of closets is no big deal. It should be done in a week, you think. I'm here to tell you, much to your dismay, as it was/is mine, that pretty much a month later, there is still a serious amount of painting to do. I called it at the kitchen door leading to the back of the house, so anything past that threshold is either not important enough for me to care right now or not important enough for me to care at all. And despite having three rooms, the hallway (of sorts), the bathroom, and two closets, the kitchen cabinets still need to be painted. That wouldn't necessarily be a big deal, except that all the exterior surfaces to which the term "cabinets" applies, need at least two, if not three coats of paint. We purchased 21.5 gallons of paint, and I have used almost all of it. I kid you not. The only color that hasn't required 3+ coats is the blue I chose, and that is shocking.
Needless to say, I am plum worn out! And that's not all, folks. There is some serious cleaning that needs to occur. (I managed to get paint everywhere. Please don't lecture me about the significance of dropcloths. I might have to drop kick you, whatever that means.) Beyond the cleaning that has already occurred, even more needs to be done. The bathroom needs a brutal cleaning, and the windows need some super sparkle, my front porch needs to become home to some freshly-painted rocking chairs - come springtime - and some humans rather than the spiders and moths that are inhabiting it now. The shutters will be painted a navy color, and the front door a fresh coat of paint as well. (I painted it this beautiful pink, and it was great until a few days after coming home from a Christmas break to find it destroyed by the elements. Yes, I used exterior paint. It's so bad, that the vendor is coming out to look at it. Maybe he'll give me free paint so I can do the doors and shutters. I'll cross my fingers.)
Things get kind of crazy where sleep gets involved, because I have been working till almost midnight almost every night except a few here and there, and I am honestly out of energy. But because there is so much that needs to be done still in order to make moving in as smooth as possible (and the fact that spring semester at school started today), I must forge ahead. Maybe one day, I'll get to sleep more than 8 hours. Maybe.
Soon, I will be able to wear normal clothes in my house, and not grungy work clothes covered in paint. Ooooh goody!
Sunday, December 1, 2013
What's the deal with putting Christ back in Christmas anyways?
I'm sure I'm going to catch some flak for this post. That's okay. You are just as welcome to share your disagreement as I am. I just choose to do so here, on my own blog.
What is the deal with putting Christ back in Christmas? How does that question accurately capture the spirit of the season? It's as delineating as standing on the street corner in long robes with elaborate prayers that have nothing to do with a relationship with God.
Have you gotten your flak ready for throwing?
My whole point is this: Christ only leaves Christmas when you show him the door. It's a personal thing that exists between you and the Father. It is not the responsibility of a society that is believed to have been founded on biblical principles. It is your responsibility. It is my responsibility. But it is not a responsibility to be shirked on society. If you believe that Jesus is the Reason for the Season, then act like it. But pointing your finger to society in a manner to express blame for the diminishing role you think he's playing during the holiday season is no different than saying you won't eat with tax collectors or prostitutes.
Here comes the flak. I can feel it.
Now before you get your panties all in a wad, hear me out. I believe that Jesus is the Reason for the season, beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I also believe that this is the season for expressing thanks and giving and love and wonder and joy and hope and peace and new beginnings. Accusing someone of deflating the season's meaning because they don't believe as you do does not encourage any one of those expressions. Not in the least. Christ is come! And Christ has come to all, not just those who believe that he is the Reason for the Season. This is the season that we should be saying, "God bless us everyone!" You cannot say that and, "Put Christ back in Christmas!" as though he has been stolen and you are accusing the thieves. They simply do not operate in the same way.
This is not a new debate. I realize this. I remember when I first learned people were up in arms because of the use of the letter "X" to shortcut the whole word. You wanna hear something interesting? The letter "X" in Greek stands for Chi, pronounced Ki, with the "I" being a long vowel sound. Kinda like Pie but with the letters "CH" in front. Do you know what Chi means? Christ. Basically, the letter "X" is the symbol for the Greek word meaning Christ.
Where do you think the word "holidays" came from? Holy days.
And what argument can be presented for the term "Season's Greetings!"?
Seriously. This is a circular argument. It probably wouldn't be such a big deal if we Christians stopped acting like we are under constant attack and found our footing in Christ like we say we have. We have been given the power to overcome, not flounder about in our own ignorance. We are called to love, not point the finger of blame every time somebody wrongs us. The world, I can guarantee you, is fully aware of what we are called to do. They know it better than we do in most cases. And, shocker of all shockers, have no qualms about doing what we are afraid we'll be tainted by doing if we do what we are called to do. We have our heads and hearts so far up our butts we have forgotten why we came to believe in the first place. We are running around like a bunch of bumbling idiots shouting, "Put Christ back in Christmas!!!" We fail to remember that it is the Father who gets to decide what lines get to be drawn where. All we have to remember is to open our hearts this season. Let in the sick, and the lost, and the lonely. Let in the everyones who need God's blessings. Open our minds up to the possibilities that we are his instruments of peace. That is the real, true essence of putting Christ back in Christmas.
What is the deal with putting Christ back in Christmas? How does that question accurately capture the spirit of the season? It's as delineating as standing on the street corner in long robes with elaborate prayers that have nothing to do with a relationship with God.
Have you gotten your flak ready for throwing?
My whole point is this: Christ only leaves Christmas when you show him the door. It's a personal thing that exists between you and the Father. It is not the responsibility of a society that is believed to have been founded on biblical principles. It is your responsibility. It is my responsibility. But it is not a responsibility to be shirked on society. If you believe that Jesus is the Reason for the Season, then act like it. But pointing your finger to society in a manner to express blame for the diminishing role you think he's playing during the holiday season is no different than saying you won't eat with tax collectors or prostitutes.
Here comes the flak. I can feel it.
Now before you get your panties all in a wad, hear me out. I believe that Jesus is the Reason for the season, beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I also believe that this is the season for expressing thanks and giving and love and wonder and joy and hope and peace and new beginnings. Accusing someone of deflating the season's meaning because they don't believe as you do does not encourage any one of those expressions. Not in the least. Christ is come! And Christ has come to all, not just those who believe that he is the Reason for the Season. This is the season that we should be saying, "God bless us everyone!" You cannot say that and, "Put Christ back in Christmas!" as though he has been stolen and you are accusing the thieves. They simply do not operate in the same way.
This is not a new debate. I realize this. I remember when I first learned people were up in arms because of the use of the letter "X" to shortcut the whole word. You wanna hear something interesting? The letter "X" in Greek stands for Chi, pronounced Ki, with the "I" being a long vowel sound. Kinda like Pie but with the letters "CH" in front. Do you know what Chi means? Christ. Basically, the letter "X" is the symbol for the Greek word meaning Christ.
Where do you think the word "holidays" came from? Holy days.
And what argument can be presented for the term "Season's Greetings!"?
Seriously. This is a circular argument. It probably wouldn't be such a big deal if we Christians stopped acting like we are under constant attack and found our footing in Christ like we say we have. We have been given the power to overcome, not flounder about in our own ignorance. We are called to love, not point the finger of blame every time somebody wrongs us. The world, I can guarantee you, is fully aware of what we are called to do. They know it better than we do in most cases. And, shocker of all shockers, have no qualms about doing what we are afraid we'll be tainted by doing if we do what we are called to do. We have our heads and hearts so far up our butts we have forgotten why we came to believe in the first place. We are running around like a bunch of bumbling idiots shouting, "Put Christ back in Christmas!!!" We fail to remember that it is the Father who gets to decide what lines get to be drawn where. All we have to remember is to open our hearts this season. Let in the sick, and the lost, and the lonely. Let in the everyones who need God's blessings. Open our minds up to the possibilities that we are his instruments of peace. That is the real, true essence of putting Christ back in Christmas.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Moving!
My, oh my, is it dreary! Like three days in a row of dreary yuckiness. That's okay though. My little Sassafras is taking a very much-needed and overdue nap. Thank the Good Lord. And I am sitting down, waiting on my too-hot-to-drink cup of decaf (because we all know that if I drink caffeine this late in the day, I will be worthless, w-o-r-t-h-l-e-s-s, tomorrow) to cool off so that I can drink it, in front of figure skating. Seriously, what else would make this day totally worth its dreariness?
Thanks to my wonderful parents, I am moving. That's right. Moving! I am beside myself with excitement. But in all honesty, this has been in the process for about a month now. After putting in an offer, we found out that the appraisal came in way to low to compensate. So, after contesting the appraisal, it came back higher, and we were able to seal the deal. In December, it will be official, and my sweet little girl and I will be on our own. Hip! Hip! Hooray!!!
Thanks to my wonderful parents, I am moving. That's right. Moving! I am beside myself with excitement. But in all honesty, this has been in the process for about a month now. After putting in an offer, we found out that the appraisal came in way to low to compensate. So, after contesting the appraisal, it came back higher, and we were able to seal the deal. In December, it will be official, and my sweet little girl and I will be on our own. Hip! Hip! Hooray!!!
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| Isn't it adorable?! I am so completely excited! |
So, all the important details: As you can see it has an awesome porch, hardwoods throughout, a garage, two beds, his and her walk-in closets in the master, one bath, an eat-in kitchen, and a laundry room. There is so much storage in this little house, which is incredible considering it was built in 1954. Storage wasn't exactly the necessity it is now. There are cabinets galore in the kitchen, too!
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| See all those cabinets? There's more to the right of the dishwasher!
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The previous owners have included some pretty fancy-shmancy appliances which aren't pictured here. We are going to take out that cook top and the oven that can't be seen in the above picture, and replace them with a gas cooktop range. I am so incredibly blessed!
This home answers so many prayers that I have had for so many years. My baby girl and I will have a place of our own, where we can live our lives. We can play in her bedroom, because currently, her bed is in my room. There will be a place to put all of the things I have been gathering, and that have been gathered for me, over the last several years. I will have a place to park my car that is out of the elements. My Little Bit will have a fenced-in yard to play in. I'll have a porch to sit on and enjoy some sweet time with my Lord and his Word. Indeed, this home answers prayers that I haven't even realized I needed answers to. I think it is safe to say that this home is worth a thousand thanks for being given to me.
Well, homework beckons, and I have to figure out what to do about dinner before my sweet girl wakes up. Hope you have a wonderful evening!
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