And just like that, the holidays are gone.
Forgive my pithy trifles for the time being, but I must take a moment before I move on.
I thought this year would be different. I suppose it was, but certainly not in the way that I thought it would. Yes, we all wish for health and happiness in each new year, and there were glimpses of both in 2019, but overall...this year sucked. There was much sickness, a sinus surgery, and the death of a dear aunt. Sure, there were also bonus checks and budding friendships, but this past year, those celebrations were far too often overshadowed by the suck that was 2019. The 45 pounds I had lost came flooding back with a vengeance during my month-long hospital stay. The insomnia and sleep apnea have also taken their toll and necessitated a blood pressure medication, with which I've never struggled until now. These are no small things.
Which brings me to today, and the choices I have for right now.
Yes, dear reader, I have brought you along for a solid, one-paragraph pity party. But I shall choose not to stay there. In 2020, I have decided, I shall keep a good attitude, and good things will be attracted to me. And I to good things.
I had a Scripture promise come to me for new and good things to come: Isaiah 43:19 (one of my favorites) says, "Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
Now, THIS is good news! Not just because of the promise, which is an amazing promise, but also because the Lord HIMSELF has said that HE would do it! That means that I don't have to work harder, try better, perfect anything, or die trying to ___, because God Himself is making a way for ME, even where there was no way!
Yes, I will still make the traditional resolutions, including the eating of more vegetables and less sugar, but more than that, I can stand on the promises of God that are for me in this new year.
2020 is going to be the best one yet!!!
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Thanksgiving is in eight days (Or is it nine? I’m never sure if you’re supposed to count today, or the day it falls on. I need a lesson on that.)
Given that the big Turkey Day is sometime next week, I’ve been a little more reflective than usual. Okay, I’m always reflective. But I have a socially acceptable excuse to be such at Thanksgiving time.
At the end of the year, as the shadows grow long and the plants withdraw into the earth, our hearts, too, return home for a season of rest. Yes, the hustle and bustle still calls (the bird is not going to stuff itself!), but in between gift wrapping marathons and dusting the floorboards (do people still do that?), we get a chance to take a look around us at what really matters.
I need to take a moment and make an admission. In my time of reflection, I have come to the conclusion that I’ve missed the mark. I’ve been chasing after “stuff” and neglecting the “who” I love, far too often. I have a beautiful and tidy apartment filled with expensive matching dinnerware and a walk-in closet bulging with designer handbags.
And I have no one to share them with.
I would rather have the sticky handprints of my nephews all over my high-end stainless steel appliances than hear the echo of my polished heels in an empty hallway. I would rather have $29 bath bombs accidentally flushed down the toilet by my innocent little niece, who just couldn’t help herself, than snuggle into an empty pillow at night.
My husband and I never had biological children. Many years have passed since well-meaning strangers asked in the grocery aisles, “Why don’t you have kids?” The answer is: because we didn’t. Just that simple.
We didn’t.
Now, the ship has sailed, and we’re settling into our mid-40s, child-free, exactly five states away from our closest family and friends. We have built a life here in Texas that we love, and we don’t regret one minute of it. But, sometimes we pause.
Did we miss it?
The Lord is gracious and merciful in restoring all that has been lost, even if we didn’t know it was missing. Whatever “it” is. For us, it’s family and friends close to home. We’ve been blessed to have family come from up north and visit us, and we’ve established some new relationships at our church. We have friends that we call “family” all over the country. The Lord has blessed our empty nest with plenty of people to bless. Struggling teenagers who need a place to stay during a weekend retreat. Neighbors who need a cup of coffee and a chat with a listening ear. Office staff from the building who need a kind word in their stressful week.
We have not been blessed with biological children, but our life is now far from empty. See, we were willing to take the risk and open up our hearts to the needs of those around us. We firmly closed the door on self-pity and decided to love our neighbors as ourselves. And the honor has been all ours.
Come and join us for Thanksgiving dinner. We’d love to have you. We have the matching china.
Given that the big Turkey Day is sometime next week, I’ve been a little more reflective than usual. Okay, I’m always reflective. But I have a socially acceptable excuse to be such at Thanksgiving time.
At the end of the year, as the shadows grow long and the plants withdraw into the earth, our hearts, too, return home for a season of rest. Yes, the hustle and bustle still calls (the bird is not going to stuff itself!), but in between gift wrapping marathons and dusting the floorboards (do people still do that?), we get a chance to take a look around us at what really matters.
I need to take a moment and make an admission. In my time of reflection, I have come to the conclusion that I’ve missed the mark. I’ve been chasing after “stuff” and neglecting the “who” I love, far too often. I have a beautiful and tidy apartment filled with expensive matching dinnerware and a walk-in closet bulging with designer handbags.
And I have no one to share them with.
I would rather have the sticky handprints of my nephews all over my high-end stainless steel appliances than hear the echo of my polished heels in an empty hallway. I would rather have $29 bath bombs accidentally flushed down the toilet by my innocent little niece, who just couldn’t help herself, than snuggle into an empty pillow at night.
My husband and I never had biological children. Many years have passed since well-meaning strangers asked in the grocery aisles, “Why don’t you have kids?” The answer is: because we didn’t. Just that simple.
We didn’t.
Now, the ship has sailed, and we’re settling into our mid-40s, child-free, exactly five states away from our closest family and friends. We have built a life here in Texas that we love, and we don’t regret one minute of it. But, sometimes we pause.
Did we miss it?
The Lord is gracious and merciful in restoring all that has been lost, even if we didn’t know it was missing. Whatever “it” is. For us, it’s family and friends close to home. We’ve been blessed to have family come from up north and visit us, and we’ve established some new relationships at our church. We have friends that we call “family” all over the country. The Lord has blessed our empty nest with plenty of people to bless. Struggling teenagers who need a place to stay during a weekend retreat. Neighbors who need a cup of coffee and a chat with a listening ear. Office staff from the building who need a kind word in their stressful week.
We have not been blessed with biological children, but our life is now far from empty. See, we were willing to take the risk and open up our hearts to the needs of those around us. We firmly closed the door on self-pity and decided to love our neighbors as ourselves. And the honor has been all ours.
Come and join us for Thanksgiving dinner. We’d love to have you. We have the matching china.
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Probably my favorite song of all time was penned under great duress.
Horatio Spafford wrote the lyrics to “It is Well” in 1873 after great personal loss. He had prior lost a young son (and his business with it) in a massive fire in Chicago. Years later, while traveling to Europe with his children, his ship was caught in a storm and sank, his children perishing with it. As he traveled back to his grieving wife, his ship again passed the spot where his daughters were lost to the deep waters:
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life, Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul: It is well; it is well with my soul 🎵
Can you imagine the kind of strength it must take to commit to the belief that God is loving and kind, even while we are faced with such unbearable pain? Yes he was, and he did. And I will, too.
No matter what diagnosis the doctor can throw at me, or how many loved ones succumb to an early death or how dire my financial status may be, I choose to keep my gaze fixed on Christ.
When Spafford crossed the seas and passed the spot where his own children passed away, at that very spot, is where he penned the words that would comfort generations to come. That comfort me in 2019, as this year full of pain and loss wraps up.
No matter what comes my way; come hell or high water, even so, I will choose to say, “It is well with my soul.”
When peace like a river attendeth my way; When sorrow like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know: It is well, it is well, with my soul. 🎶
Horatio Spafford wrote the lyrics to “It is Well” in 1873 after great personal loss. He had prior lost a young son (and his business with it) in a massive fire in Chicago. Years later, while traveling to Europe with his children, his ship was caught in a storm and sank, his children perishing with it. As he traveled back to his grieving wife, his ship again passed the spot where his daughters were lost to the deep waters:
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life, Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul: It is well; it is well with my soul 🎵
Can you imagine the kind of strength it must take to commit to the belief that God is loving and kind, even while we are faced with such unbearable pain? Yes he was, and he did. And I will, too.
No matter what diagnosis the doctor can throw at me, or how many loved ones succumb to an early death or how dire my financial status may be, I choose to keep my gaze fixed on Christ.
When Spafford crossed the seas and passed the spot where his own children passed away, at that very spot, is where he penned the words that would comfort generations to come. That comfort me in 2019, as this year full of pain and loss wraps up.
No matter what comes my way; come hell or high water, even so, I will choose to say, “It is well with my soul.”
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
Sometimes life can feel like hell on earth, I once heard someone say.
Can't say that I disagree.
In the Old Testament, Job (which looks like "job," as in, a means to pay the bills, but is pronounced "jobe," because why not?) knew about hell on earth. In one fell swoop, he lost his job, his family, and his health. His wife and friends were less than supportive, and his life pre-dated any good emotional support groups (mental health wasn't a thing till about 4,000 years later).
So, what do we do, when we get a negative report from the doctor, and the boss is breathing down our necks, and our loved ones are far from home, and everything feels Just. So. Dang. Hard??
This is the part where you probably expect me to say a cute little prayer, and maybe even give you an encouraging Bible verse, and I could certainly do that. There will be time for that. But for now, it's okay to cry.
Science tells us that tears are healing, and can release toxins from our bodies. Which is cool in and of itself, but I doubt any of us are sitting around thinking, "you know, I could use a good detox; I think I'll watch videos about sad homeless puppies and shed a tear or two to help." My point is that one doesn't have to look far in life to find a reason to cry. This world is hard, and it's painful at times.
Just today, my auntie passed away, and I found out while I was at work. I was already going through a bit of a personal crisis this week (more on that later), and I'd just seen my counselor the day before, wherein I made some good progress and had a plan to get through the day.
Then I got the phone call. My Dad's voice sounded strange, and I knew something bad had happened. His baby sister had passed unexpectedly. The sweet girl that used to curl my hair when I lived with her in my pre-K years (who, by the way, burned my ears with that stupid curling iron and emotionally scarred me for life for hot hair tools) was no longer with us.
For a minute, the world stopped. I tried to think of the right thing to say, and the right Scripture to give comfort, and how I should probably get on the internet and find some reasonable airfare to fly home. But all I could do was cry.
There is more than just good scientifically-proven toxins in our tears. Our tears hold our stolen hopes, and too many hard days in a row, and our homesickness for someone we can't hold, and our desire for real connections, and the pain of living in a fallen world.
Tears say, "I'm not okay. Life is not okay right now."
And you know what? I think Jesus is okay with that. I know He is. He cried, too, when His friend Lazarus died. Yes, the best was yet to come (as it is with us), and He would heal broken hearts and raise his friend to life again. But in the moment, it was okay to cry.
Today, just know that the best is still ahead of you. That more good times are coming. That you will see your loved ones again and Jesus will set it all right once and for all.
But for now, it's okay to cry.
Can't say that I disagree.
In the Old Testament, Job (which looks like "job," as in, a means to pay the bills, but is pronounced "jobe," because why not?) knew about hell on earth. In one fell swoop, he lost his job, his family, and his health. His wife and friends were less than supportive, and his life pre-dated any good emotional support groups (mental health wasn't a thing till about 4,000 years later).
So, what do we do, when we get a negative report from the doctor, and the boss is breathing down our necks, and our loved ones are far from home, and everything feels Just. So. Dang. Hard??
This is the part where you probably expect me to say a cute little prayer, and maybe even give you an encouraging Bible verse, and I could certainly do that. There will be time for that. But for now, it's okay to cry.
Science tells us that tears are healing, and can release toxins from our bodies. Which is cool in and of itself, but I doubt any of us are sitting around thinking, "you know, I could use a good detox; I think I'll watch videos about sad homeless puppies and shed a tear or two to help." My point is that one doesn't have to look far in life to find a reason to cry. This world is hard, and it's painful at times.
Just today, my auntie passed away, and I found out while I was at work. I was already going through a bit of a personal crisis this week (more on that later), and I'd just seen my counselor the day before, wherein I made some good progress and had a plan to get through the day.
Then I got the phone call. My Dad's voice sounded strange, and I knew something bad had happened. His baby sister had passed unexpectedly. The sweet girl that used to curl my hair when I lived with her in my pre-K years (who, by the way, burned my ears with that stupid curling iron and emotionally scarred me for life for hot hair tools) was no longer with us.
For a minute, the world stopped. I tried to think of the right thing to say, and the right Scripture to give comfort, and how I should probably get on the internet and find some reasonable airfare to fly home. But all I could do was cry.
There is more than just good scientifically-proven toxins in our tears. Our tears hold our stolen hopes, and too many hard days in a row, and our homesickness for someone we can't hold, and our desire for real connections, and the pain of living in a fallen world.
Tears say, "I'm not okay. Life is not okay right now."
And you know what? I think Jesus is okay with that. I know He is. He cried, too, when His friend Lazarus died. Yes, the best was yet to come (as it is with us), and He would heal broken hearts and raise his friend to life again. But in the moment, it was okay to cry.
Today, just know that the best is still ahead of you. That more good times are coming. That you will see your loved ones again and Jesus will set it all right once and for all.
But for now, it's okay to cry.
Thursday, November 7, 2019
Welcome to fall in Texas. Where the temps are in the 70s with sun on Monday and on Tuesday, it’s sleeting with temps in the 30s.
Kinda like life.
Yesterday was a bad day. It was just one of those dreary days wherein there is a desperate shortage of sunshine, coffee, and eye rolls. Work was stressful, traffic thick, and dinner late. You know the kind.
Then, today, I woke up in my sweet spot. Like, just after the alarm goes off, and you’re nestled snugly in your pillow when your body decides to wake itself up. The coffee was ready, the house was the right temperature to get dressed without getting icicles on my toes, and the first email I read was an encouraging one. I texted my BFF that I was having a great day.
Two hours later, I was right back to the mood of the previous day. Everything sucked. All it took was a snarky comment from an ill-informed coworker to turn my sweet green grapes sour.
Why do I continue to allow myself to get swayed by the ebbs and flows of life? Can’t I just be stable all the time, comfortable in my own skin and confident in my identity as a child of God, loved and accepted just as I am? No, I cannot.
Because I’m human.
This life is hard. It’s beautiful and breathtaking and wonderful and terrible, all at the same time. I have to remember that sometimes, “those days” just happen. And sometimes, all is right with the world at 9:02 a.m., and by 9:16, the whole world has fallen apart. Sometimes it’s not okay. And it’s okay to not be okay.
Sometimes being human is enough.
Kinda like life.
Yesterday was a bad day. It was just one of those dreary days wherein there is a desperate shortage of sunshine, coffee, and eye rolls. Work was stressful, traffic thick, and dinner late. You know the kind.
Then, today, I woke up in my sweet spot. Like, just after the alarm goes off, and you’re nestled snugly in your pillow when your body decides to wake itself up. The coffee was ready, the house was the right temperature to get dressed without getting icicles on my toes, and the first email I read was an encouraging one. I texted my BFF that I was having a great day.
Two hours later, I was right back to the mood of the previous day. Everything sucked. All it took was a snarky comment from an ill-informed coworker to turn my sweet green grapes sour.
Why do I continue to allow myself to get swayed by the ebbs and flows of life? Can’t I just be stable all the time, comfortable in my own skin and confident in my identity as a child of God, loved and accepted just as I am? No, I cannot.
Because I’m human.
This life is hard. It’s beautiful and breathtaking and wonderful and terrible, all at the same time. I have to remember that sometimes, “those days” just happen. And sometimes, all is right with the world at 9:02 a.m., and by 9:16, the whole world has fallen apart. Sometimes it’s not okay. And it’s okay to not be okay.
Sometimes being human is enough.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
Welcome to my blog! I'm super excited about sharing this amazing, crazy, sometimes-difficult, lovely life with you!
Just a bit about me...I'm Mandie. I'm a dreamer. I like big visions and colorful hair (current color is lavender) and warm kittens that pounce all over and make big messes. I like the color purple, and I LOVE Texas, my family, and my church.
Life is hard, and it's messy, and I'm learning to be okay with coloring outside of the lines. Will you come and join me? I'm hoping to get some interesting content up and running soon. I would appreciate a follow! I have lots to share with you, and I hope you'll share with me, too. C'mon in!
Just a bit about me...I'm Mandie. I'm a dreamer. I like big visions and colorful hair (current color is lavender) and warm kittens that pounce all over and make big messes. I like the color purple, and I LOVE Texas, my family, and my church.
Life is hard, and it's messy, and I'm learning to be okay with coloring outside of the lines. Will you come and join me? I'm hoping to get some interesting content up and running soon. I would appreciate a follow! I have lots to share with you, and I hope you'll share with me, too. C'mon in!
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