Winner, Winner, Turkey Dinner

Thank you to everyone who participated in PARDYMAMA'S Thanks & Giving Give Away!  We have a winner!

Jeff's name was drawn at random (by my 4-year-old) from the jar of names early this morning!  As a Thank You for his support of the blog, Jeff won a $5 Starbucks Card!  And, to inspire him in Giving to others this holiday season, he also won a $20 gift card to JUSTGIVE.ORG!

Check it out, at Just Give you can give a gift card that let's the recipient choose a charity of their choice!  There are nearly limitless options and causes to pick from, so the person can give wherever they feel led.  Just Give is PERFECT for gift giving to "the person who has everything" or for that tricky individual that you just aren't sure what to get.

As Thanksgiving draws near (are you thawing that turkey yet?) let's do our best to encourage one another to look outside ourselves, to give just a little bit more than usual, to step beyond our comfort zone and ask God for the opportunity to bless another.

Thanks again to ALL my readers - I am so incredibly humbled and grateful whenever I hear that something God used my fingers to write has touched you in some way.  As I have told many, "I just pray and type, and God does the rest..." and that is the honest-to-goodness truth.  This little blog has grown to more than I ever could imagine, and God isn't through with it yet!  I am so glad to share time with you and "visit" across this webpage.  Thank you so much for the time you spend here - you inspire me to keep writing and seeking Jesus for the wisdom in the words that pop up on this site.

Here's to Thanks AND Giving...let's keep it going!

Polar Express

Toddlers are extraordinary beings.  They are the only humans who can appropriately lose control of their emotions without shocking those around them.  I mean, we expect two-year-olds to throw tantrums and be a little crazy (okay, a lot crazy).

Toddlers are going through so much change in their little lives/bodies/worlds, that it's within their natural development to experience polarizing emotions within a single moment.  There's nothing rational, balance, comfortable, or reasonable about it.  And, as a parent, it can be a roller coaster to go from this...

...to this...

...all within a very short time frame.

You can see why God made them cute, right?  You can understand how maddening it is to be the one who helps contain the emotions that so rapidly cycle up and down throughout the day!?

Today, I'm so grateful God made kids unreasonably adorable to match their irrational development.  I'm so glad that there are the "He's got the whole world in His Hands" moments of the day to help us moms get through the "WHY did daddy have to go to work?!" tantrums.  I'm so glad that I am here to witness the good and the bad, to help channel the emotions into a healthy place of understanding, and to get to be the one that hugs through the unknowns when I've no other impulse or notion as to what to do.

I'm so glad toddlers are ridiculously out of their minds.  Their polarizing expressway to crazyville helps keep me on track to remembering how out of control we are as humans without a solid God to look to for guidance and direction.

Thank you, God, for one more day of survival with toddlers.  Moms - take a deep breath - hug your babes and know you are not alone.  The crazy train has many, many passengers, but the trip is short.  Let's do our best to savor the view along the way.

What are you thankful for?? LAST CHANCE to COMMENT and enter the GIVE AWAY!!!!

These are a Few of my Favorite Things...

All parents have much to be thankful for.  As a mother, I thank God each and every day for my sweet girls who I survived another day with.  I'm grateful for their health, their feisty nature, their imaginative spirits, and their enthusiasm for all things sugarcoated.  I love them more than anything, and more often than not I stare at their beautiful faces in awe that I get to be their mother.

But, many days (many, many, many) I am thankful for other things.  Maybe you can relate...

The Top 20 Things All Parents are Truly Thankful For:

1.  Baby Wipes (the good kind, thick and the size of beach towels)  

2.  Remote controls on anything 

3.  Volume adjustment on electronic toys (why don't kids come with this, God?) 

4.  Juice boxes (one less sippy cup I have to wash) 

5.  Slippers (as I crunch across the Cheerio-laden floor) 

6.  Cheerios (acceptable at any temperature and in replacement of any "real meal") 

7.  Vacuums (sanitizer and sanity saver) 

8.  Netflix (without whom I could not parent my children) 

9.  Disposable diapers (more power to those of whom choose otherwise) 

10. Car seats (not only do they protect children, they render them immobile!) 

11.  Pixar (Thank you for respecting my brain while keeping my kid entertained) 

12.  Velcro (buttons, snaps, and zippers are just time wasters) 

13.  Target (They've turned the chore of shopping into feeling like an actual escape) 

14.  Coffee 

15.  iPhones (should come out with a kid version called the iPacifier) 

16.  Storybooks with BIG FONT (because bedtime is hard enough) 

17.  Benadryl (cause zombies) 

18.  The "Silent Game"  

19.  BABYSITTERS!  (keep'em alive and we'll pay you in Dino-chicken nuggets) 

20.  Other honest moms and dads who don't act like they live according to Pinterest!

Now...what are you thankful for???  Remember - leave a COMMENT saying what you are grateful for on any blog post here all this week and you could win the THANKS & GIVING GIVE AWAY!

Please Pass the Peace

As a freelance writer beyond my own blog, I submit about ten times more content than ever gets seen by an audience.  Material gets used, recycled, or rejected on a regular basis, and that's all part of the joy and creative frustration I have as a writer.   Here is a piece I wrote for a magazine that didn't fit their need (that's nice-talk for "rejected") but I'm sharing with you here! 

How can we handle stressful relationships with family around the holidays?  What can we teach our children about it?

I hope you enjoy my article below - no subscription necessary.  ;)

Thanksgiving is a time to count your blessings, be with your family, and perfect your carving skills on a giant bird straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  But, let’s face it, not every holiday get-together is quite as picturesque as we may dream it to be.  Often, as we set the table and sit next to those “near and dear” to us, we fill ourselves with more anxiety and stress than stuffing and gravy.  No family is perfect, and that can be magnified this time of year, especially when there are certain individuals in your family that you’d rather not be so hospitable to.

Each family is unique.  Some family members struggle with past grievances, some hold grudges or resentment, and others are in the middle of seeking second chances that are harder to come by than a second helping of mashed potatoes (those are always the first to go at our home!) 

While tensions might rise high among adults, this stress doesn’t have to trickle down onto your children.  In fact, it’s a great opportunity to be an example to them and even teach a lesson or two.  Offering your home as a haven during the holidays is a huge way to indicate to your children that anyone is welcome (barring safety concerns).

The best lesson a child can witness in extending grace and second chances to another family member is this:  Compassion is always the right response.  When you try to understand another person, you start with compassion.  It’s the only response you will never regret, and its power can be contagious.

So, what is compassion?  What does it look like?  

In short, it looks like Jesus!  Sympathizing with others through their suffering, offering to help when and where you can, considering their feelings before speaking or taking action, and extending mercy and kindness beyond expectation.  Sometimes this is as simple as serving a slice of pie and asking how someone is.  Other times it involves awkward hugs and tear-filled piles of Kleenexes.  That’s okay.  There’s no wrong way to offer genuine compassion.  Seek the Holy Spirit in prayer to help show you simple ways to do this in your own family situation.

There is, however, a big difference between compassion and compromise, and that can be hard to remember in the middle of an emotional gathering.  By showing compassion towards someone who has hurt you in the past, it’s valuable to know that it doesn’t mean you are compromising your beliefs or agreeing with their actions.  It’s important to clarify this to your children as well, making sure they understand the difference. 

Just as Jesus grieves our sinful behavior, His pain doesn’t diminish His willingness to forgive us.  He paid the price on the cross, and He’s already rejoicing in our redemption. In the same way, by allowing family members into your home, and by offering them love, forgiveness, and even delicious food, you are showing your children through your actions that you are making an effort to build bridges and restore peace.  Not only will this inspire them to do the same, but it also assures them that you are willing to extend them the same redeeming grace no matter the path their future may take. 

When we show our children the power of forgiveness and the unconditional strength that compassion restores in relationships, it encourages them to love as Jesus loves us.  With that kind of reinforcement of faith in action, I can’t imagine anything better to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. 

What are you thankful for???  Be sure and COMMENT below for your chance to win in this year's Thanks & Giving GIVE AWAY!

Thanks & Giving GIVE AWAY

With Thanksgiving next week (how is that possible?) I wanted to come up with a fun way to say THANKS to my readers!  So, all this week you have a chance to enter PARDYMAMA'S Thanks & Giving Give Away!

It's easy-peasy - all you have to do is leave a COMMENT saying something you are thankful for!  That's it!  We want to show people everywhere that everyone has a reason to be grateful on Thanksgiving Day, and I hope the comments that are left inspire you to keep a heart full of gratitude as the busy week ahead might get a little hectic.

Leave a comment saying what you are grateful for, and I'll enter you in the drawing to win:

 A $5 Starbucks Card & a $20 gift card to Just Give 

Just Give is an organization that allows YOU to pick a charity of your choice and make a donation!

I want to say THANKS by letting you enjoy a peppermint mocha latte on me, and give you the gift of GIVING to others, however you choose!

Spread the word!  Share the love!  And know that I am so grateful for your stopping by PARDYMAMA week after week to keep the inspiration flowing.

Now...What are you thankful for???  Let's hear it!

Class

Well, enough of you kind folks have inquired as to how my class went on last Friday, I've decided to indulge you.  ;)

As part of my grad school curriculum, I was given the opportunity to teach an undergrad Marriage & Family Therapy class for one day.  My topic was "Ethical Dilemmas" and to be honest, only a few weeks ago I probably knew as much about the topic as any of you (or possibly, much, much less).  So, I did what any good American would do, and began with googling "what is ethics" and went from there!

Certainly, I was able to read ahead in my studies (since, ironically, we have yet to cover this subject in my own grad classes - yikes!) and track down some literature that helped me learn more about the subject and led me to do what every good teacher ends up doing when preparing for a class:  scavenging YouTube clips of relevant material.

The class I taught was about 20 students, mostly upperclassman, and the majority were female.  The professor met me at the beginning of class and was incredibly encouraging as I set up my prezi ("prezi" is the new hipster method of PowerPoint as I've recently come to find out) and looked out upon my minions...er, I mean students.

I figured I probably looked a million years old to them and while I may have smiled back with a trying-to-hard-to-get-them-to-like-me smile, I knew they expected me to know what I was talking about when I opened my mouth, and that was an exhilarating and daunting feeling.  Lucky for me, I was armed with a bag of KitKats and fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence that none of them seemed the wiser to.

I introduced them to ethics, what it was, what makes up an ethical dilemma, and we began watching a variety of clips I pulled to demonstrate the breadth of how and where and why ethical dilemmas present themselves among the most mundane to the most dramatic of circumstances.  Hunger Games, Breaking Bad, Grey's Anatomy, and an old smoking ad that showed a medical doctor endorsing Camel Lights helped spur our conversation about recognizing the ethics in a variety of situations.

Finally, I showed them the "ethical dilemma of all ethical dilemmas" and played the clip of Sophie's Choice that I'm sure left them all scarred for life.  To my surprise, one student actually knew the name of the film and the cinephile in me was proud that apparently someone is still teaching these kids pop culture influences within cinematic history.

After this, I broke them into groups where they came up with their own ethical dilemmas and had to distinguish the two sides (at least) to the situation and give pros and cons (or, cons and cons) for each side.  This played out well (the KitKats didn't hurt) and they seemed genuinely engaged as they shared their dramatic scenarios which ranged from heart transplant narratives to euthanizing a family pet.

With each story, I then (here's where my extemporaneous speech background comes in handy!) "upped the ante" on the spot and made the choices even harder.  For example, one group suggested the ethical dilemma of choosing between giving a heart transplant to a mother or a doctor...and after we discussed that, I said "what if it was an elderly nobel prize winner and a twenty-year-old criminal?"  It was nice to see the wheels turning in their heads.

I wrapped up the class with some talk about the Code of Ethics that therapists abide by, what that means and how we use it and/or struggle with it.  And, I gave them the basic outlines for assessing situations within therapy that might present ethical dilemmas and how those are approached in professional practice.

Overall, it was awesome.  It was refreshing to be in front of a group of students who were respectful and engaged.  I don't think I'll be applying for any teaching positions any time soon, but I'm grateful for the experience and humbled that my colleagues entrusted me with the responsibility of it.  It also makes me really, truly grateful for my college professors (past and present) and the unseen amounts of time and energy that they surely pour into their work day in and day out.  Wow.

Professor Pardy, signing off.

Thank You: A Veteran's Day Post

Today is Veteran's Day, and I just got off the phone with my dad who served in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot in the Army.  He helped to change the world before I was ever a twinkle in his eye, and I'm forever grateful to him for his patriotism and sacrifices he made as an American willing to do the unthinkable for the next generation.


But, my dad is only one amazing example of the selfless acts that happen every day among military families around the world, fighting for our freedom and paving the way for liberties that we take for granted on a daily basis.

Veteran's Day is our chance as "regular folk" to not just stop and recognize how blessed we are to live in a free country, but for us to stop and recognize the individuals that make that possible.  In a way, it's just as vital as the Fourth of July:  it's not only acknowledging the history of what our country's been through, but the very present of how we are affected by it.

Thank you to all service men and women past and present and future...we are indebted to you, and may God be with you.

Yesterday, I got to witness an incredible act of kindness in the most unlikely of circumstances.  I've recently taken on a seasonal position at Pottery Barn Kids at a local mall.  If you've never been to PBK, it's a jolly shop full of overpriced, exquisite children's merchandise.  It's lovely, and while it attracts the most pretentious of clientele, it makes for a spectactularly-Christmassy place to work.  Merry and bright, indeed.

I had just started my shift, when a pregnant, well-to-do woman approached me and my co-worker at the cash register.  She had been shopping for a few minutes with her young child and husband, and she had a peculiar look on her face as she walked up to us.

"Do you see that family over there?" she quietly spoke and glanced behind her as my co-worker and I leaned in to hear what she was saying.  We both nodded, curious what she was about to say.  The family she pointed to was a young family as well: a very pregnant woman, her husband, their little boy, and grandmother.

The woman turned her back to the family and continued to speak quietly.  "Well," she said, "I overheard them speaking, and they are a military family.  I have a strange request, but I'd like to do a sort of random act of kindness.  Could I buy them a gift card and have you give it to them for me?  I don't know them at all and I'd like it to be anonymous.  But, hurry if you can, because I think it might change what they decide to purchase today."

My co-worker and I were stunned. Yes, of course we were happy to help.

"Great," she smiled and got out her wallet.  "Go ahead and make the gift card for five hundred dollars."

Five hundred dollars?!?!

My co-worker and I both audibly gasped.  I told her outright how inspiring I found her act, and she kind of shrugged and smiled.  She bought the card and left immediately.

I watched as my co-worker walked it over to the family and changed the course of their day (not to mention, their nursery) in a single moment.  They were shocked.  We were all shocked.  Never before had I seen such a spontaneous act of generosity in that magnitude.  I thought about the woman who bought the gift card and thought to myself, Wow, those are the kind of people you want to be wealthy! And I was instantly convicted of my tendency to judge the rich.

Maybe we don't all have $500 to gift to a veteran today...but, chances are good that we all know someone who has sacrificed for our country, and we can take time out to thank them in our own way.  It's no coincidence that I was there to witness that yesterday.  I instantly thought I've got to blog about this! and I couldn't wait to tell you all such a wonderful story.  We can all pay it forward in some way, and not just today.  Inspiration can come from the most unlikely of places, and you never know when the opportunity might fall in your lap for you to thank a stranger.

Thank you, Veterans. Your lives are filled with random acts of kindness that inspire generations of spontaneous generosity.  I pray we can all be humbled by your courage and have a chance to pay it forward.  Happy Veteran's Day.

Hump Day

Wednesday!  Welcome to half-way through the week!

My 2-year-old woke me up around 5am this morning, an all-too-common-occurrence in our home.  As we were watching "Monsters University" before the TODAY Show even came on the air, I was trying to remember what day it was.  Honestly, things get busy so quickly, it was kind of nice to just sit and snuggle and not think at all.  The sweet hugs from my girl and the silliness of Mike Wazowski were a pretty good combo as far as waking up goes.  (I mean, if you have to be up at 5am, that's not a terrible way to spend it, I suppose!)

By 8am, I was low on coffee, energy, and inspiration.  So, I cracked open my copy of Jesus Calling and read a few pages from this daily devotional that I love so much.  Even though it is a day-by-day read, there are always plenty of days that slip through the cracks of life's craziness, so I like to flip around and find inspiration.

Here's something that resonated with me and I hope encourages you today:

From the book Jesus Calling, January 16: 

Come to Me, and rest in My Loving Presence.  You know that this day will bring difficulties, and you are trying to think your way through those trials.  As you anticipate what is ahead of you, you forget that I am with you - now and always.  Rehearsing your troubles results in experiencing them many times, whereas you are meant to go through them only when they actually occur.  Do not multiply your suffering in this way!  Instead, come to Me, and relax in My Peace.  I will strengthen you and prepare you for this day, transforming your fear into confident trust.

Have a beautiful day, my friends!

Half Full

Do you ever get up in the morning and just know you're going to have a rough day?  Sometimes just getting out of bed and pouring that first cup of coffee is the only "win" we have all day.  I understand.  Oh boy, do I understand!

For the last few weeks, my husband and I have abruptly woken up to the sound of angry screams and yelling.  Toddlers on the rampage, first thing in the morning. 

Call me crazy, but when I became a parent I envisioned early mornings (maybe not this early) of happy children skipping into our bedroom as we woke up to their smiling faces eager to take on the beauty of a new day.  It's not like I had delusions of perfect lighting and birds singing like in those coffee commercials you see on TV...but, I certainly never anticipated the adrenaline-erupting scene from Rambo that gives me a heart attack each and every day.

I don't know what sets these crazy girls off, but within minutes of waking up, they are screaming and fighting with each other nearly every morning.  Someone bursts into tears and then bursts into our room demanding justice which usually involves the negotiating talents of a Harvard-educated lawyer (neither of which we are) to talk one of them off the ledge.  The momentary apocalypse subsides within minutes, but by this time...well, to say we've been catapulted from the wrong side of the bed is an understatement.

It can take all of my patience, prayers, and poise to pull myself together and not have a sour mood the rest of the day.  You know when you want to punch your family in the face before breakfast, it's going to be a rough one.  Whew.  (Can I get an AMEN?)

You often hear that the best remedy to diffuse a bad attitude is to think of everything you are grateful for.  Ok (deep breath) deal.  I pray, I thank God for my screaming-yet-healthy children, for my home, for my husband, for the coffee I'm making the third round of by this time of the morning, and so forth.  And I am reminded of the old adage to "look at the glass as half full and not as half empty" as they say.  The power of positivity can be incredible, no doubt (thank you, Norman Vincent Peale).

My day can be turned around in this moment, or not.  It's really my choice, and it's a powerful one.  My next prayer is for my attitude to not only change, but to be useful...I'm pouring into two-legged-sponges-with-feisty-brains, after all.  A Mother isn't just a title - it's a lifestyle, 24/7, and I'm going to need that second helping of grace to make it to nap time!

It's during this prayer that I realize my glass isn't half full.  It's FULL.  Really full.  I was so focused on trying to see the half-way mark that I didn't realize there wasn't one.

There's no "half full" with Jesus - it's all or nothing.  Jesus doesn't need me to be positive - Jesus needs me to need HIM.  And, when I'm having one of those terrible days that drives me to the point of needing to remind myself of the tiniest things to be grateful for, I might be missing exactly what to focus on.

I can't change the day if I can't be changed.

And I can't lead my girls by example if I'm not letting myself be changed by the power of Christ on a daily basis - yes, even before my first cup of coffee on a morning full of mayhem.  The volume of my children's yelling and fighting might not change by my viewing them in a more positive light.  I might wait a few extra minutes before I lose my mind, but the fuse is still too short.  Instead, I am reminded of the goodness of the power of Christ in me - how, in moments like these and many others, I don't have to call on my own strength for extra patience or guidance (Hallelujah).

If you're struggling to see the halfway mark on your glass...stop.  Your gratitude can't save you.  You can name every hair on your head and it will never match the understanding, wholly accepting, merciful peace that Jesus grants us in our most ugly moments.  Only Jesus can quench our thirst for harmony.

We should all be "more" grateful, "more" understanding, "more" thoughtful, and "more" positive (aren't you exhausted and feeling guilty already?) But, whenever I am those things, don't be mistaken to think it's by my own strength, it's not!  I can only ever be those things when I've finally given up on my half, and I'm fully focused on the overflowing, brim-toppling, surface-spilling grace from the Heavenly Father.

That's when I can know for sure - it's gonna be a good day.

Early

Early morning light.

I would not call myself a "morning person".  I loathe the sound of an alarm, and since sleep is sometimes hard to come by around here, I genuinely cherish it when I get to partake.

However, nearly equal to my need for sleep, is my need for quiet time.  

As my girls grow and get louder and louder (seriously, I think their volume increases daily) I find myself praying for peace and quiet (and patience!) on a regular basis.  In the midst of homework and housework, it doesn't seem like too much to ask for a gal to get some silence once and a while.  Right?

Time management hasn't always been a strong suit of mine, but necessity has lent me whole new abilities I didn't even know I had the capacity for.  While my prayers for God to suddenly create the 30-hour-day go unanswered (well, unanswered with a 'yes', anyway) my prayers for "finding time" have not.

It was 3:58 in the morning when I woke up today.  This isn't just early, this is ungodly in my book.  The wee hour of the day when it is not-yet-morning and too-late-to-be-nighttime.  And, it seemed so entirely unreasonable to get up and out of bed by choice.

This has been happening to me about once a week lately.  And, to my surprise, I don't entirely hate it.  Mind you, the first several minutes when I wake I'm questioning my sanity and trying to justify a million reasons why I should ignore this prompting to get up and utilize the "free time".  I let the wheels in my head turn for a while before I'm entirely convinced it is worth any while at all.

Then, I got up.  I came downstairs.  I made coffee, and here I am, sitting in the wonderful QUIET chatting with all of you in the only moment this day might give me where my focus can be held for more than a minute's time.  And I'm loving it.

I used to hear about people getting up before the sun and thought they had lost their minds.  I thought we should banish them to some island far away from normal stay-up-late-and-drink-coffee-until-noon people like myself.  I still prefer to reside in the comfortable category of those who would rather sleep in.  I don't think I'm ready to call myself a morning person yet by any means (zombie, maybe, but not morning person).

But, I'm reminded as I take advantage of sweet, calm moments like this that God is providing ALL I need...even peace and quiet within a week filled with deadlines and screaming children and too-high-of-expectations on myself (yeah, we're going to have to eat frozen pizza one more time this week).

Maybe you are struggling to fit something into your own schedule?  Time with your kids, time with God, time for friends, time to rest.  If there's one thing we all have in common, it seems to be that there's just never enough time for any of us, right?

But, even at this ungodly hour, I'm feeling blessed to know that God already has provided all the time I need.  I'm still working out the kinks (and will continue to do so my whole life) on how exactly I prioritize and use that time wisely...but, He has made no mistake on limiting the structure of our days.

Twenty-four hours is all we've got before the next day arrives.  And today, God provided that 4am wake up call right when I needed it most.  [Take a deep breath with me here.]  Peace.  Quiet.  And a moment out of the normal routine to stop and recognize His provision.

Thank you, Lord.  (And thanks for coffee, too!)

TBT: Non-Parents Just Don't Understand

*In the spirit of TBT (Throw-Back-Thursday) - I thought it would be fun to start something new on Thursdays and re-issue some of my more popular posts.  This gem is from March 2012 (ala "back when I had bangs") and I hope you enjoy it!



I love my kid-free friends, I really do. In fact, now that I'm a parent, maybe I sometimes like them even more than my friends who have kids. Okay, easy now, maybe not "more"...but, you have to admit that there are some days when the last thing you want to hear about is how someone else's kid threw up on them or how nap time was a total train wreck again, etc.

I mean, it is only natural to seek out friendship with fellow parents (fellow caffeine addicts) and partner together in sharing the ups and downs of this new job that epically transformed both your lives - to commiserate together and compare notes on which vegetable your kid isn't eating, pat each other on the back for making it through another sleepless night, and even (dare I say) ask advice when you are surely at the end of your rope and none of the ten books on your nightstand seem to hold the answer of how to get your toddler potty trained. We need each other, no doubt.

But, sometimes, once in a while, it is nice to sit across from someone completely outside of my new peer group and stare into their lives. Work. Dating. Drama. Freedom. Talking with a non-parent friend can be as good as a rerun of Felicity and a bowl of popcorn. It helps me vicariously get a taste of those long lost chapters of my life that I now view with such optimism.

Of course, at the time, drama with a boyfriend or a new conflict on the job with a co-worker was ten times more miserable than the worst day I can imagine with my babies at home (well, maybe not ten times). But, when I was able to be more central to the focus of my own attention, everything around me seemed to hold so much weight. And now - well, if it doesn't effect my kids, then it probably doesn't bother me. Honestly, give me a secure and protected nap time for my toddler, get my baby to eat her rice cereal gruel, and I'm a happy camper for the most part (sleep-deprived, but happy). This is all to say - I love my non-parent friends. They bring me joy and cheerfulness (and sometimes dinner!) and an appreciation of the memories I hold for that time in my life.

Before I had kids, I would have considered myself one of those women who was pretty accurate on my expectations of parenthood. I suppose this makes up about 99% of pregnant women out there. But, oh how there is a vast canyon (a gorge) between what you think you expect...and reality.

I truly had everything going for me - I had 7 nephews and nieces, I had been a nanny throughout the years in my twenties. I had even been the caretaker of premie newborn twins overnight. Yes, there were some things that I totally understood and could anticipate. Other gaps in my knowledge I attempted to fill with books, doctor's visits, even a twelve-week birthing class with my husband. That is to say, if there was a way to get my hands on a piece of knowledge in preparation for parenthood, I found it, swallowed it, and digested it until I was sick (or was that just morning sickness?)

Still, it wasn't until we brought that bundle of joy home with us that we began to fully be able to answer the question that was truly on our minds for the full nine-month journey leading up to it: What the heck do you do all day with a baby?

Oh, sweet, naive, free-as-a-little-bird non-parents. Nothing can prepare you for this answer. The unpredictability of every day since bringing home that baby has only grown - much like the baby herself! I won't drone on and on about how we fill each and every hour (otherwise, what would I have to write about next week?) But, rather, I'd like to submit the following letter...a letter to the parent-friends I knew, back when I was that same non-parent friend coming by to gab about my latest drama...

Dear Parent-Friends of my past,
I had no idea what hard workers you are! Oh my. I have greatly underestimated your day, your endurance, your sheer fortitude in perseverance. I'm sorry that I would get frustrated when you would interrupt our conversations on the phone to tend to your kids. I'm sorry it was super annoying to me that you would alter between baby-talking to your child and then turn to me with a half-listening ear as if there wasn't a kid screaming at you. 

I'm sorry I didn't help you fold laundry or do dishes when I came over for dinner. I'm sorry that I would sit and watch TV while you put your kids to bed and I wouldn't even pause the show for you until you came back into the room - and little did I know you were trying to do the speedy-to-bed version of their favorite storybook just so you could spend a few more minutes with me. I'm sorry that I would talk on and on about myself and my life drama and expect you to give me a complete analysis full of sound advice, while I wouldn't even bother to ask you how your day was...or, if I did, I would roll my eyes as if your story about your child losing a library book or not getting their nap was of lesser importance than my "real" issues. 

I'm sorry that I didn't offer to babysit more often and for free and without expectation. Did I tell you that I value looking at your life and your marriage as a wonderful example? I'm sorry I didn't support you more tangibly, especially in exchange for all the words of wisdom you freely offered me. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate what you did all day. I'm sorry that I actually thought you had one of the easiest jobs simply because you didn't leave the house all that often. I'm sorry I didn't realize you didn't leave the house all that often because it would take half an army to get you out the door on time - and I'm sorry I would get annoyed when you did arrive late if we met at my place instead. 

I'm sorry I didn't bring the outside world to you more often. I'm sorry I didn't ask you more intelligent questions...that simply because I saw you sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" 8,000 times to your child at bath time I figured you wouldn't be the person to ask about the latest crisis in Africa or what a certain Scripture meant. I'm sorry I didn't think of you as an equal breadwinner in your home simply because your husband has an "employer". 

I'm sorry I didn't play more fervently with your children when I came over so that they would sleep better for you that night - because, there I was thinking I knew what exhaustion was since I had stayed up talking with my friends all night. I'm sorry I feared for your style when you would meet me at the door in pajama bottoms. I totally judged you and thought you were being lazy. I'm sorry if I made you feel worse just by showing you how cute my new manicure was. I'm sorry I didn't send you out for a manicure, right there in your pajama bottoms. 

I'm sorry I didn't realize what a triumph you were doing with your kids - really, truly, stellar work. They are kind and funny kids and I actually like them a lot, and their clothes almost always matched alright. That was all you - making sure they were polite and in order - and there I was thinking the whole time it might be sort of nice to have a kid someday if they came out like that - easy, polite, and matching and all. 

I'm sorry I waited until now to tell you that you are a huge reason I decided to have children at all - and I think of you every time, every day, when I question whether or not I'm actually fit to be the person in charge of these little humans who teeter on the brink of outsmarting me by the hour. 

Thanks for humoring me and encouraging me and inspiring me. Thanks for feeding me and making time for me and offering me a glimpse into a future that I can now be confident in living out. I hope I can extend the same amount of grace and wisdom (even an ounce?) to the non-parent friends I now have (Lord Bless 'em).

In all sincerity,
Emily

Share & Care Contest Winner!

Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who entered the PARDYMAMA Share & Care Contest!  I am amazed at how a fun little contest can bring together SO many people, and I'm excited at reaching out to all of you through this blog!

We have a WINNER!  The ULTIMATE PARDYMAMA CARE PACKAGE goes to:

Congrats, Rebecca!  I have notified you via Facebook message and look forward to shipping the care package off to you soon!  You will enjoy many goodies, such as lotion, coffee, chocolate, a pardymama tumbler, a couple of my favorite books, and a devotional to help encourage you when you run out of that yummy chocolate!  

BUT WAIT....there's MORE!  

This fun contest was SUCH a SUCCESS that I just had to indulge on picking up a couple more items.                                         

There are TWO SURPRISE THANK YOU PACKAGES being awarded today!!!!  

PARDYMAMA had a lot of sharing and caring over the last two weeks, but two people in particular SHARED my blog often, and I want to especially thank them for their support!

Julie and Stephanie, you will each be receiving a pardymama tumbler as well as a leather bound HOPE Journal!  I hope that you feel appreciated and inspired - thank you for your "extra care" these last couple weeks!

HOORAY!  Thanks so much to EVERYONE for helping in the success of the Sharing & Caring Contest!!!

More

Since moving to Nashville just a couple months ago, our time of "settling in" hasn't been the easiest.  We knew it would come with challenges, but we could never have anticipated some of the craziness we've encountered.  While my husband's job search continues (prayers appreciated as always!) we have started to hit a stride of "normalcy" in settling into our new home.  It's a great feeling!

As I was laying in bed a few nights ago, I did what I usually do when I can't fall asleep:  I counted my blessings.  This has become an effective "default" for me to turn to in the wee hours of the morning, always helping me focus on the goodness and faithfulness of God instead of the worries that too often plague my thoughts at such a vulnerable hour.

Just as I was telling God how especially thankful I was for my daughters, that they are both healthy, and sound asleep in their beds, my heart began to swell with gratitude.  Indeed, we do have much.

Then, I began to pray for a job for Josh.  Again.  I mean, I can't tell you how many times I have to surrender this request to God throughout the day. 

 

Please, please, please Lord, please use his talents in work that would bring you honor and please let someone call him soon with an interview, and please let it be the perfect job for him!  Please!  

Right then, right in the middle of my appeal, a voice of doubt interrupted with, "Who are YOU, to be asking for MORE?  How can you list all that you've been given and then ask for MORE?"  

I paused for a moment.  

Then, in what I can only describe as a "Holy Ghost moment" a new thought, armed with the truth of Christ, refuted with authoritative clarity:  How? How can I ask for more?  Because I worship the GOD OF EVERYTHING.

Whoa.

I was stopped in my tracks right then and there.  Peace rushed over me as I continued my prayer to ask God for a job for Josh.  And then, I just laid in bed and pondered the truth that was spoken through me.  

I worship the God of everything.  He isn't just the God of things that go well.  He isn't just the God of healthy babies, sleeping husbands, and safe apartments.  He isn't just the God of my school work and good weather.  He isn't just the God of my gratitude.  HE is the God of MORE.

When you worship the God of everything - it's okay to never run out of requests.  It's not only okay - it's awesome!  He wants you to come to HIM for everything.  

My doubts and frustrations and worries can interrupt my focus so many times.  There's plenty to distract me from the truth that God is in control and hasn't forgotten about our needs.  But, the reminder that I worship the God of everything is, indeed, ALL I need.  It certainly helped me that night as I drifted off to sleep.  Turns out, the armor of God makes for pretty comfortable pajamas.

Ephesians 6:10-18New International Reader's Version (NIRV)God’s Armor10 Finally, let the Lord make you strong. Depend on his mighty power. 11 Put on all of God’s armor. Then you can stand firm against the devil’s evil plans. 12 Our fight is not against human beings. It is against the rulers, the authorities and the powers of this dark world. It is against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly world.
13 So put on all of God’s armor. Evil days will come. But you will be able to stand up to anything. And after you have done everything you can, you will still be standing.
14 So stand firm. Put the belt of truth around your waist. Put the armor of godliness on your chest. 15 Wear on your feet what will prepare you to tell the good news of peace. 16 Also, pick up the shield of faith. With it you can put out all of the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Put on the helmet of salvation. And take the sword of the Holy Spirit. The sword is God’s word.
18 At all times, pray by the power of the Spirit. Pray all kinds of prayers. Be watchful, so that you can pray. Always keep on praying for all of God’s people.

Rx: Humility

Take a dose of humility and call me in the morning

The next two weeks after my klutzy-yet-dramatic fall down the stairs were sheer misery.  Evidently, I had been taking things such as sitting, standing, laying down, walking, and bending down completely for granted.  I had bruised my lower back/hip so deeply that the ugly colors of a usual bruise didn't even surface until about 9 days after my fall.  Crazy!  I didn't even know you could bruise yourself like that?!


It didn't help that I have this weird quirk in my physiological make-up that renders pain killers nearly useless.  I don't know what makes me that way, but my mother is the same way, so there must be something in our gene pool (I'm guessing X-Men related) that makes it so the usual dose has no effect on my pain.  I tried to explain this to multiple ER doctors in between my screams, but (as I've encountered in the past) most physicians think I am just faking it or overly dramatic, or wanting extra drugs.  Whatever, it's real.  Just ask the OB-GYN who nearly started in on my c-section before I objected with an "UM, I CAN FEEL THAT!" yelp to his very surprised "Really?!"expression.  True story.

All that to say, the pain killers helped me sleep, but that's about it.  My nerves were having to relearn how to function in my back muscles, so a constant Charley-horse contraction of muscle spasms kept me shrieking throughout the day and night.  It was so frustrating for me and completely annoying to everyone else, I know.  I understand it's no fun being around someone who is repeatedly wincing and grimacing and needing to have you please get her another blanket or drink or remote or pillow or whatever.  I hated being incapacitated.  Hated.

As brutal as my pain was, though, my husband was suffering as well (my words, not his).  He took on full-time super-Dad duty, as well as waiting on me hand and foot.  He is not a complainer by nature, but I could tell it was all taking its toll on him.  How couldn't it?  We were both beyond frustrated.  Here we were, new home, new city, new everything...and I'm couch-ridden for two weeks (and for how long, we didn't know at the time.)

A cozy companion while I was couch-ridden

The thing with healing a muscle is (as I learned) that you can't heal a muscle by sitting still.  After a few days, the only way the muscle will start to heal is if you use it.  This meant a whole lot of pain and determination on my part, and I was grateful that my stubborn streak could finally be used for good and not evil!  Slowly, slowly, after a couple weeks of wincing at nearly any movement, I started to be able to move without pain.  It was such a weird sensation to feel changes day-to-day in my healing.

It's been almost 4 weeks now, and I'm practically fully recovered.  I still have a bruise and stiffness, and it will be a while before I touch my toes again...but, I can walk and drive and even pick my girls up. Hallelujah!  If you met me today, you'd never know I was completely debilitated a matter of weeks ago.  GOD HEALS.  Also, God made our bodies HEALABLE.  That's crazy.

I'm learning a LOT of things through these challenging first weeks of our move here.  In the wee hours of the morning, when I was weary from the frustrations of the day and propped up by pillows to sleep sitting up (which I did for over two weeks) I would just pray and nag God with my discontent and desires.  These are the moments I'm not trying at all.  I'm not trying to be kind or cool or even myself.  I'm just there, whispering gratitude that's mottled with complaints.  No apprehension or pretense.  Just Emily and Jesus, in the stillness.

I do stupid things ALL THE TIME with no intention or effort behind them at all.  I had no reason for falling down the stairs - it was just one of those freak accidents that suddenly changed the course of our lives for a short while.  My actions have repercussions.  Sometimes I see them and they effect me deeply.  Sometimes they go completely unnoticed.  But, they matter, and I matter, and Jesus sees them and uses them and no matter what - we are healable beings in His eyes, regardless of our stupid actions.

I don't need to DO anything for Him to heal me or use me.  I want to control life so badly - which is ironic, because when I do try and take the reigns, I'm so bad at it!  I'm not in control here.  I can't be. I don't truly even want to be.  And when I'm stopped (albeit, against my will) and literally left helpless in order to regain perspective on who exactly has the reigns in this here life of mine, I can't deny the experience.

Needing help is humbling.  It's uncomfortable for most of us, and that's just ridiculous, because when I pause for a minute and take a step back, I realize that I constantly live in a state of needing help.  How can something be so uncomfortable if I'm in a constant state of it?  Constant.  I'm never going to not need Jesus.  Do you hear that?  Do you feel that?

Pain killers come and go.  Nerves reattach.  Muscles regrow.  Miraculous healing is present in my very being, my actual person, and yet - this world offers my soul no hope for completion.  Only Jesus fills the constant void I have for trying.  Trying anything.  Trying at all.  

Only.  Jesus.

So, if there's a few morals to this story at the end of it all (or is this just the beginning, sometimes I lose track?) I'd say this:  We all have wounds that need healing.  Sometimes these wounds are ugly right away, and sometimes they take a long time to surface.  Sometimes no one even sees them.  But, they can be healed.  We are healable beings, inside and out.

Watch your step, you might be closer to healing than you ever thought possible.

Klutz

I've been known to be sort of accident prone.  It's ironic that my middle name is Grace, because rarely do I live up to the expectation it may precede for me.  Usually this adds up to funny, self-depricating, occasionally embarrassing moments that I can chuckle about and turn into a good story later.  And, while I'm about to tell one of these stories, I'm not quite laughing about it yet.

Ten days after we made our gigantic move across country from Southern California to Nashville, Tennessee, I fell down the stairs.  But, I mean, I really fell down some stairs.  Obviously, I've lived to tell about it, so I'm fine. (Thanks, Jesus!) And usually I wouldn't want to linger on something so depressive...but, this really made an impact on my life (pun intended) so I'd be remiss not to share the experience with you.

It was stupid, really.  I wish I had a glamorous tale to tell of how it all happened, but I don't.  It was about 10pm and I was already in my jammies heading to bed.  Mind you, I'd been reprimanding my daughters ALL WEEK about stair safety and they even had a small topple of their own that led to some stern talkings-to about how we behave going up and down the steps.  (It's okay, you can laugh at that!)

I had heard our cat Zuzu (the painfully shy one) running around upstairs, so I went up to snag her.  No reason.  Just simple, stupid, normal-life stuff.  I went upstairs and picked her up, and turned to go back downstairs.  On the second step, I felt my left foot slip and in one of those awful-slow-motion-moments, I knew I was falling.  It was a perfect slip-on-a-banana-peel sort of klutzy move that perfectly landed me on my back about five steps down from the top, and then I slid a few more steps on my back.  If I was auditioning for a Buster Keaton film, I definitely would have nailed the part.

I gasped to draw breath for a laugh, when instead my face turned to utter anguish as I felt the most debilitating pain I've felt in my whole life.  I'm not kidding.  (And I've gone through natural labor pains for hours and hours.  I've felt pain!)  Josh was at the bottom of the stairs, his facial expression a mixture of disbelief and fear.

"Call 9-1-1.  Something is wrong."  I've never uttered those words in my life, so he knew I meant it.  I couldn't move the right side of my body.  He couldn't move me to the couch.  I was stuck on the stairs, crumpled over on my side, and my lower back and right hip felt like they were on fire.  What in the world did I do???

By the time the paramedics arrived, I was in shock.  I had vomited and nearly blacked out, and they couldn't find a pulse or my blood pressure.  But, I could move my toes and state my name...Thank you God, I thought.

Moving me was excruciating.  I've never heard myself sound the way I did.  I kept involuntarily screaming in pain, tears bursting out of my face.  I was screaming at the top of my lungs and my daughters' bedroom was 15 feet away where they were sound asleep.  And I'm the person who, on a normal night, will mute theme songs and commercials on the TV a whole story away just to ensure they don't wake up from the sound of the television!  It is a miracle in and of itself that the girls slept through the entire ordeal.  Again, thanks be to God.

I'd never ridden in an ambulance before.  I barely remember it because my eyes were shut almost the entire time as I focused all my physical resources towards tolerating the pain.  My brother had rushed over as soon as Josh called him (after calling 911) and so, he stayed there until my sister-in-law and their kids came over to stay at our place to be with the girls in case they woke up.

Josh and my brother followed the ambulance to the medical center just a couple miles away (though, it seemed like one of the longest rides of my life).  Everything was bright and weird and blurry and unsettling.  I just wanted answers.  Answers and massive amounts of pain killers, please.

Two CAT Scans, an IV, a catheter, and about six hours later, I was released with a very boring diagnosis.  A bruise.  Okay, not exactly just a bruise...a to-the-bone-deep severe contusion on the right side of my lower back/hip.  The muscle had basically been ruptured by the blow of the fall, and so I was sent home with four prescriptions of pain killers and muscle relaxants.

I had no idea what was in store for me when it came to recovery.  All I knew was, I'm going to be okay.  And for the moment, that was enough relief for all of us.  The healing process would be a whole other ballgame.

(Stay tuned tomorrow to hear what I learned through my recovery and how I'm doing now.)

Home Sweet Home

Well, as you can imagine, I was just itching to get inside our new home.  Since we'd travelled over 2,000 miles and waited weeks and weeks to see inside our new home, I was at my wits end to get inside this apartment I'd rented for our family sight unseen.

I think I exhaled the deepest sigh of my life upon entering our new abode.  Parquet flooring (real wood! no laminate!) welcomed my eager feet on our first level.  The space was clean and open and smelled of fresh paint (ah, sweet relief!)

The dining area was ample, with a new light fixture hanging in the middle of the room.  And the kitchen was small but adequate.  I quickly noticed it's charm in some of the mismatched cupboard doors and a piece of the counter that was completely different than the rest.  I love those sorts of things - signs that life has happened here, and it welcomed us with all our creativity and flaws.  Character, if not love, makes a home.

Dining area, just to the left when you walk in

The upstairs bathroom. Yay!

Jesus mug, making his home in the new kitchen :)

And this place has plenty of character!  Some quirky tile in the bathrooms (yes! plural! a whole half-bath upgrade from our last place) and non-turning door knobs on the closets in the bedrooms (as in, they are just knobs) soon began to tell me that this was exactly the perfect place for us.  Not perfect, but charming...quite a bit like us.

The bedrooms are both good size, and for once, our massive king-size bed actually has room on both sides for walking around it.  The carpet upstairs was new too, just awaiting the many juice and crayon stains I'm certain my girls will mark their territory with all too soon.

Breaking in our space, one messy meal at a time.

And, above anything else, was the one space that captured my heart:  the laundry room.  Innovatively tucked beneath the stairwell, was a little closet that would hold my soon-to-be new best friends (Mr. Washer, and Mrs. Dryer).  We didn't have a washer and dryer in our last home, and so it genuinely is a game-changer to our lives as we get to wash and dry our clothes in our very own space.  Not only that, but there is a dishwasher in the kitchen!  Yahoo!  No more scrubbing out sippy cups!  So help me, I am determined to never take these appliances for granted.

Dance PARDY in the living room!

All in all, our new home is AWESOME.  We just adore it, and are eagerly and slooowly making it our own.  As we hang pictures and fit all our belongings into their new spaces, we're grounding ourselves into new habits and routines that will soon become "normal".  But, for right now, it's fun exploring all the new crevices of our castle.  We proudly hang our "P" on our door, marking our territory (pun intended) for all to see where we reside.

The closets are filled with clothes.  The cabinets hold our dishes.  And as these early days fly by, we're doing our best to fill the rooms with prayers and laughter.  These walls await many memories we're about to make.  Thank you, Lord, for providing our new home.

Come visit!

Seven Years

On Saturday, some of our dearest friends are throwing us a "Bon Voyage" party at the park near our home.  EVERYONE is invited - so, if you know us well enough to hug us, I hope to see you there!  And, just to entice you to come and get that Pardy hug in before we make our grand departure (we're still here 2 more weeks in case you can't make it, btw) I've put together a little "Cali Short" to capture our time here. (Yes, go grab the tissues before you hit play.  You've been warned.)

I did this for just a few reasons:  first, because I was driving to Target one afternoon a few weeks ago and that catchy Lumineers song came on the radio and all of a sudden I caught a vision of everything that had happened to my life in the last seven years since living in California, and tears started streaming down my face in sheer thanksgiving for all I had experienced.

Also, because there was no way to name each and every person who has known us from the beginning or impacted our lives significantly, or blessed us beyond all measure - the list is just too long.  Because sometimes when you look back on the sum of your blessings it brings renewed hope for the unknown of what is to come.  Because too much has happened not to share.  Because I needed a creative outlet for coping with the emotions of this process.  And finally - because I can't completely capture the last seven years in any kind of tangible way to truly describe to people all it has meant to me - but, heck if I'm not gonna try.

Enjoy. xoxo

Boxes

It's early.  I should still be asleep, but something in me just decided to get up and start the day while it is still quiet.  I just stood in the doorway of our back patio and let the cool breeze of the morning seep through the screen door as I hit the button on our coffee maker and let the aroma clench my senses awake.

I feel like I'm in a Folgers commercial.  The house has yet to stir, but the mother wakes up and stretches, getting a moment of peace to herself.  That's totally me right now, except the lighting's not as good and my skin looks worse/normal than those chipper ladies on TV.  My hair's askew, my breath is terrible, and there are no sunbeams piercing through the window putting a perfect glimmer on my coffee mug.  But, there is peace.  There is quiet.  And that's just as miraculous as any of those other things around here.

And then I turn around.  Whoa.  This is definitely not a commercial set.

Boxes, packing tape, bubble wrap, and a zillion other items that separate normal every day life from the sudden "moving squalor" that has taken over my home.  "Where am I?" I wonder.

The beginning of the end is here.  The first of the last of things has begun.  And as we get minute-by-minute closer to our impending move across country to Nashville, Tennessee, everything about living here is getting more and more special and more and more unsettling.  It's all just so very weird.

The art, books, CDs, and DVDs are packed.  The tops of both our bedroom closets are packed.  Even the covers on our light switches and plug-ins are removed.  And suddenly I feel like I'm living in a Whoville home after the Grinch has come and stolen all but the last can of Who-Hash.  He's left hooks and wires dangling uselessly, making me scratch my head as to what had belonged there before and why it ever mattered.

It's amazing what you can live without for weeks.  As you can imagine, nothing makes you evaluate and re-evaluate your things more than having to remove them from their home and suddenly be stored away in a receptacle that will get them from point A to point B.  I don't know how many times over the last several days I've said "We own this?" or "Where did this come from?" and then gently toss it into the growing Goodwill pile.  It's relieving and bewildering and upsetting all at the same time.

Nothing about moving is pretty.  And we're at that grand point of packing where its all going to get worse before it gets better.  Everything is OUT, yet not quite sorted through or put away.  And, certainly, the mega-question of them all is How in the world will all this fit in a 16-foot truck?  That miracle has yet to be determined!

The final weeks are here.  The packing has begun.  And my heart is caught in the middle of the roller coaster that is dread and excitement, hope and fear, making this experience bittersweet at best.  As I sip my coffee and soak in a moment of this crisp morning silence, I'm simply reminded to stop and stare at the squalor.  I'm reminded to not back down now, not shy away from the messy confrontation of what is happening.

I don't want to miss anything - even the tearful good-bye hugs, or the embarrassing ugly-cry moments, or the chance to tell someone in person what they've meant to me.  Sure, it might look like a nice neat little package on the outside, just like these boxes, but inside is a miscellaneous mess of emotions that some days I can't quite handle.  That's okay too.

So, if you see me in the supermarket with mascara streaming down my face, or you catch me in the In-n-Out drive through stuffing my face with "just one more last In-n-Out burger!", or you get attack-hugged by me and don't know what to say...Just take it.  Just let me.  Just know you are witnessing the beautiful mess of a great big process in an honest life.  Just know that each one of you who reads this, who prays for us, who loves us from near or far - you are all part of this.  You matter to me, and I am packing you up in a neat little box in my heart and taking it with me wherever I go.  It's weird and unsettling, just like life...and just like my crazy home right now.

Now, that I would like to see in a Folgers commercial.  Someone hand me coffee and Kleenex!

Threes

You've probably heard the old adage about how "things come in threes".  I don't know how legitimate that statement is, but sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.  Today, in the midst of a very tiring, very icky, very staying-all-day-in-my-jammies kind of day, I had three surprising and delightful things come my way.  It wasn't much, but it was unexpected and beneficial.  I'm not purposefully trying to be vague, it's just that the specifics of what happened aren't what's important to this story.

To sum it up, it basically amounts to an encouraging email, a phone call of hope, and a potential opportunity.  Okay, I'll admit that's rather vague...but, trust me, I'm sparing you semantics.  The important thing here, is that I woke up to a groggy disaster, and God continually got in my face with a blessing until I was ready to rejoice in the day that He had made.

Two nights ago, I spent a very crowded and sleepless night in bed with both my girls.  Last night, as one of them was reeling from the stomach flu, I took the other to bed with me again, only to be jabbed in the ribs throughout the night (again).  This morning, my three-year-old still had a fever and so we all tried to make the best of it by hunkering down in front of a Disney movie marathon...which really got old by the second round of watching Toy Story.  The girls were cranky, antsy, and I was busy either washing dishes or pillow cases.  You get the picture...not exactly a dream day at home.

But, nearing the end of the day, while I was scrubbing the last sippy cup and putting away the bleach and folding up towels and cracking my knuckles for the millionth time...I got to thinking about those three very intentional moments of the day that God had put in my face to remind me of His presence.  I felt blessed!  I didn't feel the stress of what even a usual day brings me, let alone one where I'm shut up inside the house allllll day and unable to get a breath of fresh air...and yet, here I was, feeling rather refreshed!

It was just what my heart needed - that feeling of fullness that God is in control and I'm not.  That, He knows what I need before I even know I want it.  That, He is working behind the scenes and in my favor for efforts I'm not yet even aware of.  And, it occurred to me, plain as day, that there are three simple lessons for my life that brought me this awareness.  Three sort of "commandments" that, when I keep my sights set on how Jesus would connect with others and strive for what is Holy (and attain, in His case) that I can feel this inner sense of assurance to trust and obey more and more.

Those might sound like some major concepts, but it breaks down into these three, very simple understandings:

1. Build Bridges
2. Burn Idols
3. Don't get the first two mixed up.

Go ahead, read it again.  Let it resonate for a moment.  I've had to let it marinate in my soul all day and I'm still soaking this new revelation in.  

Make and keep connections that are valuable to your life - and don't burn bridges.  Keep Christ first, above all other measurements of love or successes - don't build up false goals to replace The Utmost.  

I needed this today.  In the middle of crazy, disgusting chaos at one end of the spectrum and then, grace, faith, hope, and love all being shoved into my face at the other end of the spectrum, I was forced to sit in the middle and be reminded to lift my head to Jesus, cast my burdens on Him, and stay focused on the truth that He is good.

Maybe it is true that good things come in threes.  But, I'm not going to limit God to any number.  I'm just going to keep trying to build bridges, burn idols, and count my blessings as I set my sights on His faithfulness.

Go!