Faith

"Rebecca, do you want more faith?"

 The minister was talking to me.  I took my eyes off the baby sleeping in my lap and looked up.  Yep.  Definitely talking to me.  I nodded.  Of course I want more faith.  Of course. 

The minister went on, but I got stuck on the faith thing.

More faith sure would come in handy.  I do want more faith. 

I've always struggled with trust issues.  Ok, just go ahead and call me a worrywart.  I totally deserve it. 

Remember Deb's post a while back on Worry? Well, that post jumped off the screen and smacked me right on the forehead.  As in "This is YOU, Rebecca! Listen up!" Especially since I had just had a conversation with a co-worker the week before on the same subject.  My co-worker reminded me that "Worry is a sin.  It's taking your situations out of God's hands and trying to take care of them yourself.  It's the same as saying 'God, you can't handle this as well as I can."  Ouch. 


So, I acknowledge that I have a problem with this.  I worry about EVERYTHING. 


My job security, for instance, is not so secure.  What if I lose my job?  The economy's not so good right now, you know?  What if I don't have enough money for rent? Or food?  What if I have to move back home????  Ouch.  That would be a blow to my pride.  Or, what if I say something stupid sometime?  (not that it's never happened before...:)  Or, what if someone I love gets sick? Or hurt?  Or, (here's a biggie) What if... I NEVER get married?  And I can't support myself?  And I never have children? And everything I've ever wanted never happens?  What if...  well.... there are certainly enough things to worry about.


So, I've had faith on the brain for a while now. 


I keep remembering this song I sang as a child

We need more faith

Every single day

We need to trust in the God of the impossible

We need more faith

Every single day

We need to trust Him every step we take

And after all it makes sense.  God created us.  He created our circumstances just for us.  So, why shouldn't we able to handle it?  Why shouldn't God be able to handle it? He can.  The real question is...can we handle trusting Him?

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God's Power and Might

"He casts forth His ice as fragments; Who can stand before His cold?"
- Psalm 147:17

Photos of the Great New England Ice Storm of 2008 - December 12, 2008. A magnificent and devestating display of God's strength in nature!

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For the most part, I love Christmas. I love the celebrating, the singing, the glowing lights, live nativities and, yes, I love presents. However, there is one part that I dread every year - going to my grandparents.

At this house, I do not fit in anywhere. One Aunt is Queen of the Kitchen, with no space for kitchen maids, so I can't help there. The gift giving is a sort of mad free-for-all scene where you rarely know if anyone likes what they got, and with the exception of one very sweet cousin who is now married and moved away, nobody ever talks to me. Instead, my cousins tell colorful stories among themselves while I sit in a corner, wishing desperately that I was home reading a book or humming to myself so I don't hear the dirty language they are using. I am not exaggerating when I say that most of my family wouldn't go except for the fact that grandma will put you in the dog house if you don't show up.

On the trip down this year I kept thinking it over, the desire NOT to go, and the reasons why I know I should. I would much rather stay home. Seriously. I get so bored - nope, wrong attitude.! Grandma at least will be glad to see me. No one else will though, they say hello then pretend I'm not there. But I need to go. I need to be a light. I could... try talking to them, and not just sit there. Take the bushel off the light, so to speak.

Then I started praying. Lord, give me an opportunity to be a light to - NO! Wait! What if i say something stupid? What if I give them something more to mock Christians about? Never mind Lord, I'll just be a content little mouse in the corner. Okay? Um... no? No. You are right. Might as well glue some feathers on me and listen for the clucking, I'm that much of a chicken. Alright, Lord! (Here I felt very brave indeed) I mean it this time! Give me an opportunity!

I walked into that house half expecting shocking and uncomfortable situations that I would bear nobly, such as being approached by a disreputable guy cousin about why I act so differently, or bravely standing up and defying peer pressure, possibly even witnessing to someone.

What did happen was not very heroic. I spent the evening talking and laughing with two girl cousins I have barely spoken to since we used to play dolls together. Pretty tame, but definitely a step in the right direction for me.

It didn't turn out to be a lesson on how to do brave and heroic things for the Lord. It was a lesson in simply being willingly obedient. I didn't need to impress God with great moral strength. He simply wanted me to follow His lead, no matter what He brings my way.

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IDD Dictionary #3

Dym - Dear Young Man

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May your Merry be Very!

Merry didn't exactly seem to describe the raging typhoon of determined and desperate last minute shoppers I encountered in my quest after work today to find a Starbucks gift card for my brother and his fiance'. Starbucks was out of giftcards, so I walked across two parking lots and entrances to the next grocery store, hoping they might have something.

My mama raised me to be polite, and say excuse me when going around people. To not push my way through. To wait for a courteous opening and then step between. To smile at people in the store and be mannerly.

It was soon obvious that if I was going to survive this influx of gift-buyers, I must resort to a slightly different strategy. I needed to become................................................................A Christmas Eve Shopper!! {insert dramatic music here}

I still said excuse me and all, but I played offense more than defense, and got through the crowds to the gift card display.

Apparently everyone in town had the same idea I did. The Starbucks gift cards were gone. Depleted. Outta here. I was disappointed, but actually really glad I didn't have to go stand in line and watch the faces of stressed-to-the-max people wanting to get home to kith and kin waiting on poor cashiers who probably hated being at the store on Christmas Eve worse than the shoppers. In the midst of it all a thought kept hitting me--where was the Merry?

It was not on the faces of the shoppers.

We say Merry Christmas. We wish others a Merry Christmas. We write Merry Christmas on our gifts.

But what about when it isn't Christmas?

When our Merry isn't very?

The truth is, if any people have reason to be merry year round, we do. Not merely because of the baby born in the manger, but because He grew up. And He paid for our sins on the cross.

I don't always feel joyful. I don't always feel merry. But often I have found that when I choose to praise God anyway, and I choose to rejoice in His goodness and His faithfulness, my heart catches up with my mind, and soon the feelings of joy are there.

How quickly I forget in the midst of this season just what I have to be joyful about year-round.

Christmas is a good reminder of just how much God loves us--but it's not the only one. When we walk outside and see the lovely world He allows us to live in, we should feel loved.When we hold a newborn baby and marvel at the beautiful craftsmanship, we should feel loved. When we wake each morning and can walk out of our room we should feel loved. Because while we may think about God's gifts and His love at Christmastime, God gives them to us every day.

My merry should always be very.

Because I have Him.

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My Christmas

For me Christmas starts in October.  When we drag all of the Christmas decorations out of the basement.  Then we rearrange EVERYTHING to make room for the trees.  (Yes, TREES, plural) I think we had 8 standard sized trees this year, in addition to the little Charlie Brown trees :).  After that we decorate the trees in a variety of color schemes.  Everything from traditional red and white, to gold and white, blue and silver, lime green and fuschia pink...

In November we redecorate the old wreaths and make up new ones.  Also in a variety of color schemes.  We buy and set up over 50 strands of lights.  We make our own ornaments.  We set up our huge collection of Santa figurines. The weekend before Thanksgiving we have an open house and invite everyone in town to come and see our decorations. 

By December we're knee deep in Christmas colored foils and ribbons.  We cut pine boughs by the van load.  We drive two hours north to buy 30 fresh wreaths.  We love the fresh pine smell.  We make dozens and dozens of bows and decorate the fresh wreaths.  Then we get the poinsettias. They come by the truckload in bright beautiful reds and every other color imaginable.

Then we sell them.  :)

Did I mention I work in a flower and gift shop? :)

Christmas for me means days and days of preparation.  It means  many centerpieces designed for people's tables.  It means poinsettias for the churches, and gifts for the collectors.

The last couple of days I've delivered flowers all day all over town in -30 degree wind chills.  In my town my coworkers and I are often called "little elves." :)  Working hard to make Christmas happy for as many people as possible.

It's what I do. :) 

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Miracles

It’s at this time of the year that the questions begin.

“What are your plans for Christmas?”

“Got your Christmas shopping done yet?”

“Excited about Christmas?”

I smile and take a quick breath. “Well, I don’t celebrate Christmas, actually.”

It takes only a brief moment for people to recover, usually. “What do you celebrate then?” they ask.

“My family and I celebrate Hanukkah.”

No, my family and I aren’t Jewish, but we celebrate the Jewish Holy Days. This generally confuses most people; some automatically assume that I am Jewish, others glance at me covertly, as they add another item to the list of strange things about Krista.

I’m used to such wonderings. It is awkward at times, I admit, but I’m getting used to it. Hanukkah, however, is a bit different. I’ve celebrated Passover, Shuvuot and the other Holy Days found in the Torah since I was nine. But Hanukkah, found nowhere in the Torah, is something new for me.

I don’t feel equipped to tell about this eight day festival. I know the general story, I know the basics, but I don’t know everything about it, not as an observant Jew would. And so, when it was decided that during this week of Hanukkah, I ought to share something about Hanukkah with all of you, I found myself with a case of writer’s block, staring at my computer screen as I try to find a place to begin and a place to go with it all.

The story of Hanukkah begins almost 2,200 years ago, during the reign of Antiochus IV. During the reign of Alexander the Great, Israel was captured, but for the most part the Jews were left to live as Jews without fear of punishment. About a century later, Antiochus IV succeeded the throne and the oppression began.

Antiochus IV decreed that practicing the Jewish religion was outlawed, and as a result, many Jews were massacred during his reign. He desecrated the temple, appointing a priest himself and ordering that pigs be sacrificed on the alter. Since pigs are considered unclean (or non-kosher), this was a huge violation of a sacred place, God's house.

It was Mattathias, a faithful priest, who lead the revolt against Antiochus. Later, his son Judah Maccabee took the place of leader after Mattathias’ death. It was under Judah Maccabee’s leadership that the revolt succeeded and the temple was retaken by the Jews. The temple was restored, cleansed and rededicated. It was during the rededication that the miracle occurred.

For the rededication, oil was required to burn in the temple lamps. There was found only enough oil for one day, but miraculously, it burned for eight days. Eight whole days. Hanukkah, the festival of lights, was declared in celebration of this miracle, and Jews have celebrated it ever since.

To me – as I still learn more – this festival means faithfulness and miracles. The Jews who stood firm in their faith in the face of death both daunt and encourage me; I wonder if I would be strong enough to face such persecution and yet find myself encouraged to hold fast to my faith and stand firm. In past years, I have focused on that for the most part, letting the miracle slip a bit to the side. This year, however…it is the miracle that has caught most of my interest and joy.

Miracles.

I don’t know about you, but lately the world has seemed in need of a few miracles. The economy is on the brink of a depression. We all have our troubles and sorrows, pains and fears. Winter is nearly upon us and…

What about miracles?

What about olive oil burning for eight days when it should last only one? What about God’s provision in times of darkness? What about faith, hope and love?

Here’s the thing. We already have so many miracles. It’s a miracle, a blessing, that we live here in the United States of America where you can celebrate Hanukkah or Christmas and nobody will punish you for having a Menorah in the window or a tree in the corner of your living room.

There is the miracle of life, the miracle of love – the Miracle of God, Yeshua, our Savior. The miracle of family…

It is winter. Times are hard. Jobs are hard to come by and everywhere we look, it seems to be gloomy. But…God will provide. It might not be something as big or exciting as oil lasting for eight days when it should only last one.

But there are still miracles.

I know sometimes it's hard to find the strength to turn the page
When all of our tomorrows look like used up yesterdays

Maybe this path we're taking
Could really be the road to breaking free
Are you with me

One little revolution could turn it all around
Back to the Kingdom we once knew
Just a little bit of me, just a little bit of you
One little miracle to get us through

Broken, empty promises are all we knew before
Our father's dreams of better days lay shattered on the floor

It's not too late to start believin'
Take me by the hand I'm reaching out
How about now

One little revolution could turn it all around
Back to the Kingdom we once knew
Just a little bit of me, and a little bit of you
One little miracle to get us through

We can right the wrong
From this moment on

One little revolution could turn it all around
Back to the Kingdom we once knew
Just a little bit of me, and a little bit of you
One little miracle to get us through- Hawk Nelson

Happy Hanukkah from snowy New England. We’re watching for and counting our miracles here.
photographic credit goes to Samantha Skinner

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Unconditional love

Twice a week, the baby comes to stay from 8-1. Twice a week for three months, I dreaded waking up in the morning because I would have to deal with what is known as a colicky baby. He fussed and screamed nearly all his waking hours, and I would chew the inside of my lip, my nerves raw, as I gave him drops and wished God would make the hours go by faster.
"I like him when he's cheerful," I told mom, "Which would be about - ten minutes a day."
"The thing is, you need to learn to love him even when he's not." Mom said.
Um, what? He's not even my child, how do I learn to love him while he's screaming in my ear til I have a splitting headache?
It's called unconditional love. It looks beyond the red face and the writhing little body, to see the distress and pain of a helpless little boy. Kind of like the love of God, and my parents. I expect unconditional love from them, I expect them to see beyond the faults when I know full well I am not being lovely.
This love did not come naturally to me, which shows that love improves with practise. Little by little my fondness grew until I had much more patience and compassion on the poor baby. And you know what? Soon after I learned to love him, the baby outgrew his fussiness. He is now a cheerful, joyful little being who I hope will wake from his nap so I can play with him. Lesson learned!

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Christmas Carols with a twist!

It's hard to believe that Christmas is less than a week away.  This year the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed to just fly.  I thought we could start this week out with a little Christmas humor. The following Christmas songs were rewritten by our very own Deb.  They are only for the purpose of a joke, and not to be used for bashing guys, as an aid in pity parties, or to blame men for our singleness, or encourage lack of trust in the Lord, or hold marriage up as the answer to everything.  They are merely and only a joke and a lot of fun, so laugh away!!

Don't Rest You Merry Gentlemen
(to the tune of God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen)
Don't rest, you merry gentlemen, for we are in dismay,
Remember girls are waiting, been waiting everyday.
Oh save us from the Old-Maid's tower, we beg you, and we say,
"Bring tidings of courtship dear boy,
We employ! Bring tidings of courtship dear boy."

For others walked the aisle, and to the altar came,
My friend's engaged, and I'd love to bring tidings of the same!
Oh show so I can leave Old-Maidhood, and change my last name.
"Bring tidings of courtship dear boy,
We employ! Bring tidings of courtship dear boy."


Single Girls
(to the tune of Jingle Bells)
Single girls, single girls, single everyday.
Waiting oh so anxiously
For some young man to say,
"Marry me, marry me,
Nothing less will do!"
How I wish those single men
Would hurry with their move!

Dashing strong and tall,
With bright and smiling eyes,
My dreams are sure to fall,
If he won't make up his mind.
I guess I'll have to wait,
Until he comes forth bold,
What fun to be a blushing bride
At forty-five years old! Ohhhhh

Single girls, single girls, single everyday.
Waiting oh so anxiously
For some young man to say,
"Marry me, marry me,
Nothing less will do!"
How I wish those single men
Would hurry with their move!

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Heroes and perfection

Yesterday was Jane Austen's birthday. For all those of us out there who identify as Janeites, this is a cause for much rejoicing.

Unfortunately, I think it should also be a cause for some soul-searching.

Rebecca wrote a great piece the other day about our high expectations for men. One of the ways I think we do this is by comparing the young men we see around us to our favorite Romantic* heroes. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard someone say, "If only there were more guys like ______." Jane Austen's heroes are definitely favorites for this kind of wish especially, for some strange reason, Mr. Darcy.

You're probably wondering why I think that's strange. Well, I know he was played by Colin Firth in the miniseries. However, if you read the novel closely, you suddenly realize that for much of the story, he's not all that nice a character. He insults Elizabeth multiple times including while proposing to her, breaks her sister's heart, and is generally fairly proud and somewhat annoying.

Which is to say he's human. Sure, he's not the really rotten character we might think he is at certain points. He's not guilty of cheating Wickham out of his inheritance. On the other hand, he himself admits that he has great faults. Even at the end of the novel Elizabeth notes that "he had yet to learn to be laught at" (Chapter XVI). The strength of Darcy is not that he's a perfect character but precisely that he's not perfect. He, like Elizabeth, has to recognize his own faults and begin to change before their story can reach a happy resolution. We can certainly love Mr. Darcy. But if we love him, we should love him as another human being who struggles along and we should recognize that making him into a pinnacle of perfection does a disservice to ourselves, to the young men around us, and to Austen's story.



*For you literature types out there, yes Romantic is deliberately capitalized.

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The War Between the Sexes

My 14 year old brother kindly offered to help me with something tonight.  I think his exact words were "do you have problems?  I can fix them."  (He was mostly joking)  I took him up on his offer, though, and asked him to write my article for today.  I said: "Can you write an encouraging article for Christian young ladies?"  His response: Baseball stuff.  I'll spare you.  He did make me laugh, though :)

Guys are wired differently than girls.  It's just the facts. 

The exchange between my brother and myself got me thinking about something that has been on my mind for a while. 

I'm just gonna talk about it a little bit.  Feedback would be greatly appreciated if anyone has any thoughts on the subject. 

It's mainly this: Guy-Bashing.  Why do we do it? 

I've heard a lot of girls say things like "Guys don't act like gentleman anymore" (I may have even said this myself)  The guys are quick to return that the girls don't act like ladies.  I think there is some truth in both of these statements.  Not that either of them justifies the other. 

Girls.  Be ladies.  Deserve to be treated like ladies.  Act like ladies whether the guys notice or not. 

We, as girls, tend to have very high expectations from men.  We think they should all be knights in shining armor.  Maybe they should be.  But, regardless of how short they fall of our lofty marks, bashing on them only degrades our own good names. 

Let's put it in the reverse.  All ladies should be queens of decorum and honor.  We should always be gracious and lovely.  Smiles should never leave our faces.  Our voices should be sweet and our words encouraging.  While these goals are something we should aim for every day, in all honesty which of us lives up to them every day?  I certainly don't.  I have rough days.  Sometimes I forget to smile.  Sometimes I say something rude.  I do not treat every man I meet as if he were a gentleman of the highest birth.  How discouraging it would be to me, were I to overhear some men talking about me, saying that I did not deserve to be treated like a lady, based on my behaviour on a rough day.

And yet, I often hear girls saying similar things regarding guys. 

Girls, guys are just guys.  They're not stupid.  They're not mean by nature.  They're just guys.  Just because they don't treat every woman they meet as if she is a priceless jewel doesn't mean they're inept. 

Unfortunately, our society is involved in a war as old as time.  The "War Between the Sexes."  We make enemies of each other, just because we don't understand them. 

God created us male and female on purpose.  Each of us has different strengths and weaknesses that in the grand scheme of things, should all fit together and work in tandem. 

Let's make it a goal for 2009.  To talk nicely about the guys.  To treat them like gentleman, whether they deserve it or not.  To act like ladies, whether we're treated that way or not.  To trust that God's plan is perfect.  To know that God created men just the way they are.  And that God doesn't mean for us to totally understand it.

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Be ye Holy...

Do you not know that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? ... For the temple of God is holy, which temple you are.

1 Corinthians 3:16 & 17b

The scriptures that tell us about the tabernacle or the temple in Jerusalem always have inspired awe in me. A place of worship, sacrifices, the priests teaching. But it is the inner room that captivates me, the Most Holy Place or Holy of Holies, depending on the translations. It must have been a place of drama, glorious and golden, where the Ark of the Covenant stood and God Himself dwelt, hidden in a cloud behind the wings of golden cherubim, until the death of His Son, when the veil was torn in two. It was nearly beyond human reach, only accessible by the high priest once a year, a place of overwhelming reverence.

Those of us raised in Christian homes have been told since childhood that we are the temple of God, and the Holy Spirit lives in our hearts. This concept was never was so vivid and astounding to me as this past Sunday morning when my pastor stood there and told me that since I am the temple of God, the Holy of Holies is in me. That place that for so long was just out of human reach, is in me. The place of reverence and awe, where God in His mercy dwells - in me.

I would not drag a thing of beauty through the mud. Nor would I try to convince a dear friend to go to a questionable place with me. How much less do I want to defile that most Holy Place.

It was a sharp reminder to keep myself pure in mind and heart, take care of what I allow myself to read and watch, and how I want people to see me; a vessel of the Living God, dwelling in the Holy of Holies.

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Dear Lord...

Help me to be diligent in all that I do. 

Help me to joyfully seek Your will and not my own pleasure. 

Keep vanity and pride far from me. 

Grant me a meek and gentle spirit, and let me serve and glorify You all the days of my life. 

Amen

-Raising Maidens of Virtue

Stacy McDonald

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Recipe: Chocolate Storm Dessert

42 Oreos (16oz.)
1 cup melted Butter
2 packages Instant Chocolate Pudding (3.9 oz. pckgs)
8 oz. package softened Cream Cheese
3 cups Milk
1 - 16 oz. package Cool Whip

Finely crush cookies.  Reserve 1 cup for topping.  Mix remaining cookies with butter and press on bottom and 1 inch up the sides of a 9x13 inch pan.

Mix cream cheese and half of the whipped topping.

Spread onto the cookie layer and chill 30 minutes.  Mix chocolate pudding with milk for 2 minutes.

  Chill for 30 minutes.  Spread pudding over cream cheese later.  Chill for 1 hour.  Spread remaining whipped topping on top.  Spring with reserved cookie crumbs and chill over night for best results.

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Verses to ponder on

"I will praise the name of God with a song;
I will magnify him with thanksgiving.
This will please the Lord more than an ox
or a bull with horns and hoofs.
When the humble see it they will be glad;
you who seek God, let your hearts revive."

Psalm 69:30-32

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The "Promise" Ring

Some people call them "Promise rings."
Other people prefer "Purity Ring" or "Chastity Ring."
For me, the idea of saving myself for marriage was nothing new.  And I didn't need a ring to remind myself.  BUT, being a girl :) and being 16 :) :) I was very delighted to open my birthday present to find a pretty gold band with 10 tiny diamonds from Mom and Dad.

A Promise Ring.  And my parents asked me for more than just a promise to remain pure.  I promised this:

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.
-Proverbs 22:6


I've worn my Promise Ring for almost 11 years now.  In fact, I wore out the original ring, and Mom and Dad kindly replaced it for me.  So, the promise remains on my finger.  A daily reminder to follow the path.  To fight the fight.
For me, the fight isn't whether or not to remain pure.
For me, the fight is everyday, in my soul.  Every hour, sometimes.  A fight for righteousness.
A fight to keep my promise.

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Hope

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me

- Emily Dickinson

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Check out our new!

Temporary setup for the Christmas season.

Plus we are working on a way that you can help spread the word about the IDD blog with a button you can put on your blog or website that will link to us! We'll keep you updated!

Happy Holidays!

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How He cares for me.

My dream is to be an author and illustrator of children’s books. Big dreams, right? As they say, shoot for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. So when an opportunity came to enroll in a correspondence art course and, most importantly I thought, I had the money for it coming in every month, I decided that it was possibly my countdown to take off. I enrolled. I had a part time daycare job at home, bringing me $150 a month, which perfectly covered my monthly bills. Add to that the odd jobs I did, babysitting, and occasional sales for my artwork and jewelry, I was rolling along beautifully. God is so good. He’s taking care of me, He’s showing me the way to make my dreams come true. Let’s go Christmas shopping!

That was before The Call. That’s right, I received The Phone Call of Doom. I didn’t lose my job, but I got a rather drastic cut in hours, which is a cut in that precious $150 a month. That means… yeah. I am stuck with monthly bills and no guarantee that I’m going to be able to pay them.

Then I got a notification from the post office; $20 needed immediately to pay for my P.O. box. The DMV sent me a notice saying that I had to renew my license for an astonishing $50. And when I went with family and friends to see Stars on Ice, I realized with a sickening feeling that I hadn’t paid mom for my ticket yet. I have only one pair of contacts left; to order more, or NOT to order more, and revert to wearing my glasses? That is the question. And… Christmas shopping wasn’t done yet. Maybe I just won’t give presents this year. Things are kind of tight you know. Maybe I can put “money” on my Christmas wish-list.

Panic set in and got nice in comfortable. It kicked off its shoes, reclined and started sipping cocoa in the living room of my heart.

I was in the kitchen chopping onions (not a chore much relished by me), the proverbial black storm cloud hanging over my head, when I suddenly remembered my joy of only a few days before. The joy I had in my Lord taking care of me and giving me my dreams. The truth is, He is still taking care of me. I might not be able to make a payment or two – which my parents would never allow anyway, I could borrow from them – but God doesn’t manifest His watch care over me by giving me every little thing I want. He’s caring for me every bit as much today as He was when I had more money. How silly of me to even think for a moment that he didn’t.

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Overcoming Discouragement Part 3

I thought for the final article instead of doing small segments on a few different things I would just list out things that helped me.

Let's start with:

Don't lose the paper with the notes for your article on it.  Yep, I  lost my notes.... so... I'm going to leave you with 2 things I remember off the top of my head. 

1) Don't keep it all to yourself.  If you are struggling, talk to someone about, encouraging yourself is not always the answer.  Don't hold it in!  Talk to someone, it does wonders!

2) Know and remind yourself that people care about you.  This was actually a pre-overcoming one that I realized.  A few days after I really had victory over the discouragement, we went to my grandparents house.  I had posted part 1of Overcoming  Discouragement on my regular blog as well as IDD.  And my grandparents had read it.  My grandpa was of course worried about me.  But then, he started talking to my sisters and I and just encouraging us to keep doing what we are doing, and walking with God, etc.  I tell you what.  I love grandpa so much, he encouraged so much in those 30-some minutes.  When we left, I felt so loved, appreciate, taken care.  I was so... hyped is the best word I can come up with.  Know that someone loves you.  It makes a world of difference in your life.  I love going to my parents house, cause you see, the second I walk in the door at least 2 people say "hi", 2 little children from all corners of the house shout "Katie's here!" and throw themselves at my legs and I get a kiss, hug and an "I love you" from mom.  They care about me, think about me, love me, care what is happening in my life.  And you know what, for what it's worth.  Not only does God love and care about you, but we care you.  My fellow Bloggers and myself care about you.  Each and every single person who reads the blog.  That's why we are here.  If we didn't care, we wouldn't be writing.

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Things I Learned When I Moved Away From Home

• That singing at the top of your lungs in your own kitchen making dinner is fun!  and good for the food, too, I think....
• That Mom is awesome
• To appreciate time with my family when I have it
• To hug my little brothers and sisters when I see them, because I might not see them again today
• That Mom made some things look really easy... and they're not
• That responsibility is something that applies to every aspect of life.  Every aspect.
• That if I don't clean that hard-to-reach spot in the bathroom... no one else will.
• To pay more attention to things like dates on the calendar, because on some of those days you need to pay bills, and if you don't bad things will happen
• That I didn't have as many kitchen utensils as I thought I did.
• That eating is expensive
• That everything to do with surviving is expensive
• That some things aren't as important as they used to be
• That other things are more important
• That I can get a LOT of things done when I'm not being interrupted by little children :)
• That I miss those little children a LOT
• That growing up is bittersweet
• That cleaning my own house is very rewarding
• That weeding my own garden is more fun than weeding Mom's
• That I have to shovel the snow out of my own driveway
• That making a home is wonderful 

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Puddle-Stomping

We turn the corner in the rain, puddles in the cobblestones and my glasses smudged with water. We dodge people with umbrellas, black umbrellas, pink umbrellas, red polka-dotted umbrellas. I'm clutching my camera and yet, when I see my favorite sight yet today, I don't take a single photo.

There he is, yellow rain slicker and rubber wellies and bare head, blonde hair slicked to his forehead...a little boy, so sweet, so wet, so little boy...stomping merrily away in an enormous rain puddle.

You couldn't help but laugh if you saw him, laugh unexpectedly, with just sheer, surprised delight.

We walk past and he stops a moment to look quizzedly at the small crowd of smiling onlookers, but only a moment. I look back quickly before turning the corner and there he is, stomping away as happily as a very wet, wet clam.

If clams wear rain slickers and rubber yellow boots, that is.

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