Day 24: Toilets and Trees and Friends, oh my!

It struck me, while peeing at a friends house this morning {in the toilet, in case you were tempted to wonder} ~ with the door wide open ~ just how different the dynamics of my friendships are.

I know, its an unusual place to ponder these things, but you’d be surprised to discover just how much of my deep thinking happens in that little room of relief and hygiene.  The steam from a hot shower inevitably gets my noggin working, and this morning, while sitting on the loo with the door wide open, continuing a conversation, I got to thinking.

Not one of my friendships is alike.  I’m not talking about my friends being different – that’s a no-brainer – but the actual flavor of the friendship we share.  There are so many wonderful women in my life who share the same marital status, mommy status, the same faith and values, even similar passions and hobbies…and yet even with all we have in common, what I share with one is so different from another.  And it’s glorious!

Our relationships with our husbands are vastly different, despite sharing an unconditional love for them and a desire to grow old beside them. 

Our parenting styles – while they share a common goal {raising quality, compassionate, unique human beings who love the Lord and love on others} – take different roads to get there in our everyday parenting style or discipline techniques.  It’s not wrong, it’s just different.

We all want our homes to be warm, comfortable, beautiful and an expression of ourselves…and they’re all so very different.

What one friend and I may consider a roaring time, another friend and I wouldn’t even consider doing together. 

Not because I’m inconsistent or two-faced, but because my friendships are like the people they are shared with…completely unique, and wildly beautiful.

I simply adore the women in my life, and I’m newly aware, and appreciate, of how different they all are…and how different our friendships are.  They truly add spice to my life.

Back to peeing with the door open.

While I wouldn’t think twice about chatting and leaving the door open while sitting on the loo at many friend’s homes {and they did it at mine before the risk of even more of my family members walking in on them was an issue}, at the homes of other friends {whom I’m still very close to}, it just wouldn’t feel comfortable.

Friends.  All learning.  All growing.  All beautiful.  All precious.

All so very, very different.

Sitting here with the {interesting} Christmas tree before me, it bares a striking resemblance to my life.  Messy.  Beautiful.  Colorful.  Sparkly.  With a hint of Gaudiness.

More striking is the friends the different ornaments bring to mind…

The classy white ball with pearls and just a smidge of glitter…the refined, well-behaved friend who gets more beautiful with time and has a way of reminding me of the importance of purity and simplicity.

The rustic tin and wire ornament we brought back from South Africa…the unpretentious, rough-around-the-edges friend who’s just down-right awesome, loves Jesus is raw, unorthodox ways and challenges me to be more authentic.

The simple glass bulb…the sweet, uncomplicated friend who has taught me the power of transparency, and has this natural ability to multiply the glow from the little light behind it.

The crazy ornate, purple glittery thing…the gorgeous friend who is a stunning example of modest glamour, sassy spunk and a vivacious spirit.

The old, half-eaten, hand made ornament from years ago…the friend I’ve known for my entire time here in the states that just make me smile at the thought of her.

The furry, green Grinch with the flashing red heart…well, you know who you are {just kidding}

The little stitched tea-cup ornament…the friend who, over a cup of tea, is just warm, real and fabulous.

The little red ball that has ridiculous white snowflakes and tinsel glued to it {ummm, Rebecca?}…a friend who without fail makes me laugh and is guaranteed to be delightful company.

The little glass angel…the quieter, tender-hearted gal who always has service projects in the works.

And those are just 10% of the ornaments that adorn this great green tree. 

We won’t talk about the lametta.  We just won’t.  Ugh.

These ravishing women.  These delightful friends.  They are the gorgonzola, red onion, pine-nuts and pecans that turn a boring salad into a delectable one.  One that would make even the most dedicated meat-eater consider going vegetarian. 

These women love me the way I am, they challenge me to be better than I am, they make me laugh, they make me cry, they offer wisdom, and seek counsel. 

It is these women who make up the eclectic, colorful world I get to live in, and I absobloominlutely love it!

“I thank my God every time I remember you…” Philippians 1:3

Day 23: Extravagance, Prophecy & Martinis

God never ceases to amaze me.

The way He prepares us for the road ahead, be it through the circumstances we’ve just come through or by filling our “tanks” with hope, encouragement and wisdom for the trek.

The way He provides for us, via special deals at a store, blessings from close friends or gifts from practical strangers.

The way He graciously corrects, sweetly provides, faithfully encourages and consistently guides.

The week after Aiden was born {about 15 weeks ago}, we visited a church in Lansing for a special evening worship service.  There were a few people there from a local ministry wanting to practice hearing from the Lord for others {also known as personal prophetic ministry}.  Having experienced the wild year we have, and not having a clue what the future holds, I signed us up!

God knocked our socks off.  Everything the trio sensed God telling them for us, and prayed over us, was spot on.

We were totally tanked up!  God spoke to our hearts through these 3 people in such a stunning, and much needed, way.

The following week we found ourselves in some of our darkest days.  Aiden had been admitted to the PICU and we were clinging to the Lord, begging him to heal his little heart.

How sweet of Him to have filled us up and given us words of life for the long road ahead.

So last week, someone I {barely} know {through my sister} on facebook put it out there that she wanted to practice prophetic ministry and was looking for guinea pigs {all via her status update}.  Being the encouragement/wisdom hog that I am…I commented on her status with a resounding “pick me, pick me” message!

And again, God knocked our socks off.

She came back a few days later with prophetic words for me, my hubby {by request}, and for us as a couple. 

Talk about reading my mail {and she doesn’t…not even my blog}!

What she brought back to us, from her time of praying and waiting on the Lord for us, was spot on!  There was encouragement, caution, wisdom and counsel all wrapped up into this life-giving parcel she delivered to my facebook inbox.

A few times since first reading it yesterday specific words have come to mind, in nailing me on superficial thinking, challenging me not to be stingy and in encouraging me that God has great things up His sleeve for me/us. 

How awesome is our God that He gives us EVERYTHING we need to live an ever-growing, purposeful, radical life…including tangible fuel for the trip.  I’m blessed beyond words for these nuggets.

While there is too much for me to go into depth at this point, I know portions of the prophetic word will be a part of this journal in some shape or form for many, many days to come as they come to mind and materialize.

And as a cherry on the top of this encouragement Sundae, we arrived home from church today to find one of the State Troopers from my husband’s post {with his wife and daughter} sitting in the living room with my parents, surrounded by boxes and boxes of groceries…gallons of milks, juice, boxes of cereal, brownie & cookie mix, sausage, crackers, deodorant, toothpaste, soup, a frozen turkey, chocolate, delicious smelling “man soap” {yum}, and a slew of other yummy food substances.

Even Ali and Aiden got Christmas prezzies from them.  Including diapers for our growing boy!

And as though this weren’t extraordinary enough…a gift for us: all the {costly} makings of many delicious glasses of Grand Martinis, a drink we experienced for the first time a few months ago and fell in love with, but couldn’t afford to buy {a bottle of Grand Marnier costs a whopping $40…and that’s only one of the ingredients!}.

Can you believe this incredible extravagance we encounter on a relatively frequent basis…and the willingness of precious people {who don’t necessarily share our faith…I don’t know…I just met her today, and only met him last week for the first time} to bless us out of the overflow of their lives.  It’s beautiful.

I stand amazed.  Humbled.  Blessed beyond words {okay, so maybe that’s not true.  I’m rarely speechless.  Obviously}.

What lavish generosity.  What stellar human beings.

And now.  I get the feeling it’s my turn to spread the love.  And I get even more of a feeling that it ‘someone’ who suddenly {since a few days ago} lives a couple of miles down the road from me. 

Someone I’m still viciously guarding my heart {and my children} from. 

Someone who I’m still learning how to love fully while establishing healthy boundaries with.

Surprise.  My mother-in-law is back in the state and now lives closer than I know what to do with.

Oh, how timely a word from the Lord, and a Christmas present, can be.

Grand Martini, honey…?

Day 22: Does It Really Matter?

Something hit me the other night.

While that may sound like a profound opening…what initially hit me was warm, bath water.

Allow me to explain.

Ali and I were bathing Aiden in his little tub, which was neatly nestled inside the big tub.  While I had him propped up and was washing his hair, his always-eager-to-help big sister was rinsing his toes {and anything else that happened to be within a 5 foot radius of said toes}.

The following 5 minutes went something like this:

Thank you for helping me, sweet girl!  I bet your brother loves it!!
    Mommy, I want soap too.  
Please…? 
    Please.  
Okay, darling, here’s a squirt.
Thank you…?
    Thank you, mommy!

{Aiden’s hair and toes, among other things, being thoroughly washed and rinsed, until…}

Ummm…Ali, please don’t put soap on mommy’s back.   
Mommy isn’t in the bath and doesn’t need soap right now  
because I can’t rinse it off.

{more washing and rinsing…until suddenly the sensation of warm water is felt rushing over my back, in my pants and on the floor}

ALI!  What are you doing?!?  GET OUT! GET OUT!  AAARRGH!  
Now the floor is all wet!  My pants are all wet!  Go, just go!

{As I usher Ali out the door and do a sloppy job of mopping up the floor with a nearby towel, it hits me…my baby is in the bath tub, unattended.  I swung around to find he had wriggled down the mesh back support at an angle and was beginning to drink the bath water}

My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry, and I instantly felt sick to my stomach.

It was entirely possible that our son could have drowned amidst the whirlwind of water and careless words, simply because I had over-reacted to the floor, and my clothes, being washed in an unorthodox fashion.

Did it really matter?  In the scope of things…did it really matter?

No.  Of course not.

And my sweet girl, who in her mind was just fixing the previous problem {soap on mommy’s back, who was not in the bath and so was unable to rinse}, had just been royally scolded for something in a way that could have cost us a life.

What a wake-up call.

As I looked at my little babe, now more appropriately situated in the tub, my heart swelled as my mind wandered to 14 weeks ago when we almost lost him the first time {www.aidens-journey.blogspot.com}.  The thought flickers through my mind…”how many chances will the Lord give us to keep him?”

But I know better.

I’m so thankful I can rest in His sovereignty and His perfect plan for our lives, and the lives of our children.  I may be painfully imperfect…but He is big, and gracious, and patient…and the best safe bather of children this side of the river Jordan.  Ha.

Life is so precious.  And much too short to make mountains out of molehills. 

Why do I make such enormous deals out of such inconsequential little things?  Yes, of course I was startled, but did I really need to respond that drastically?

No.  But that’s why life is all about the journey.  It’s about constantly being willing to learn and mature and grow and stretch…no matter how humbling, scary and tedious the process may be. 

There really are startlingly magical moments in the muck.

Once my heart rate had returned to normal and my head had stopped spinning, I did call Ali back in and apologize to her for the way I responded.  She stroked my arm and said she was sorry…and wanted to know whether I was okay.  What a girl!

I’m learning that it’s not about perfection…in parenting, in marriage, in friendship, in life in general…but rather about seeing every mistake as an opportunity to reevaluate, apologize when necessary, and to get a little better at this game of life. 

Life is just too short to squander on minor irritations over unexpected showers.

There are always little eyes watching the way we handle life – the good, the bad, the ugly, the wet and the unexpected – and how we walk the walk, and talk the talk, will hugely impact the way they do.

Seeing we are all still under construction, we’d better get a handle on this basic principle as soon as possible:

God is obsessed with life. 

He made the ultimate sacrifice in order for us to experience it in abundance.

This usually involves some level of growing pains.

And seeing God is far more concerned with our character than our comfort, we may as well get used to it.

{After all, how much fun is a rollercoaster ride without the ups and the downs?}

Day 21: Oh, The Maturity Oozes Forth!

Or not.

Isn’t it funny how we can hold others to standards that we, on our absolute best days, are lucky to measure up to?

Well, maybe ‘funny’ isn’t the best word to use here.

I find it odd that I have such high expectations for my toddler, who’s only been breathing air for a mere 28 months, and yet can be such a twit myself at times?!?

How does it compute?  This I would love to know. 

For instance.

Today was a great day.  Really.  The kiddos and I spent time with precious friends this morning, had a blast at Meijer {between the fish tanks, pretty wine bottles and the penny horse…how can you go wrong?}, sipped copious amounts of tea, made chocolate-chip-chickpea cookies, played with playdough, cooked dinner for the {whole} family…you get the point. 

Please note: All the while my beloved husband is having a much-needed getaway {freezing his hieney off riding 4-wheelers} with his bestest buddy down in Ohio. 

I was feeling like a pretty good mom.  I was tempted at times to strike a pose and tear open my shirt, hoping to reveal a shiny “S” on my chest…but figured it wouldn’t be a very dignified way of celebrating today’s success at motherhood. 

Aren’t I so appropriate?  See, my filter is functioning much better these days.

So, amidst this fantabulous day, why on earth would a completely and utterly unprovoked rebellious streak decide to rear its ugly head?

I, fully aware, proudly and unabashedly scraped the cookie dough bowl and smiled at my mother as I licked the spoon.

What?  Really?  20 days…and now this?!?

And then…as though that wasn’t failure enough for one day…I sheepishly hid in the pantry and ate half a cookie. 

Yeah…about that dignified thing.

No.  Today.  Was not stellar.  I’m almost completely mortified enough to not publish this.  But not really.  And while that doesn’t make sense…”almost completely”…I didn’t feel like changing it.  So there you have it.

Apparently my rebellious streak has not excused itself quite yet.

Shortly thereafter, lady Alathea brought me a little white string she has been “flossing her teeth” with.  Instead of doing the mature, civilized thing of throwing it in the garbage, I was feeling rather lazy.  And rebellious. 

The moment Ali turned around to walk away… I tossed it, with reckless abandon, over my shoulder in the direct vicinity of the Christmas tree sitting innocently behind me, knowing full well that the little white string would blend in nicely with the {heinous} shiny lametta strings {also known as “icicles”} my sweet mother insists adorn this poor thing every year.  The tree actually looks good until the lametta is broken out. 

And now the tree is minty fresh and no one will know why.  Mwah ha ha.

And this is just today!  Last night…?  Wow, last night I was a piece of work. 

I had a sorry little pity-party for myself {born out of my frustration of having to parent our kids for the entire day by myself…a baby attached to your chest and a toddler attached to your leg is just a wee bit exhausting}, while my husband was away, adjusting his return time over and over again from what was initially established. 

I was pitiful.  And officially done being cordial around 9:30pm.  I fumed while holding my 4 month old who had finally fallen asleep after adjusting from sitting to laying to standing {with assistance} over and over again and attempting to read to and pray with my 2 year old before bed.  I practically threw her in the crib {had to hoist her with my foot and elbow because of having my arms full}.

But get this…this is where I bite my lip with embarrassment. 

My sweet man had spent the entire day helping a friend; working for 16 hours on a stubborn truck, for free, in 12* weather.  Just because he’s that kind of man. 

And me…well, yes, of course I could have put that sleeping baby down…and that bedtime routine didn’t have to last 4 times as long as it usually does…but in all honesty, I was dragging it out in the hopes my husband would return home to find me overwhelmed, with my arms full, and hence feel awful for being so late. 

Isn’t that just awesome? {overwhelming amount of sarcasm inserted here}.

Yeah, it’s a wonder God hasn’t fired me yet.  If I were him, I’m pretty sure my grace-o-meter would have ceased to function about…well, a very, very long time ago.

So, as the song goes…”I get knocked down, but I get up again, ain’t never gonna keep me down…”

Tomorrow is another day.  I’m so thankful for new beginnings.  Needless to say, I especially adore a brand-spanking New Year!

Back up I get.

I suppose when I’m making radical changes in an effort to live a radical life with a radical effect…I’m going to make radical mistakes.

And while inhaling a few chocolate chips and chickpeas laden with butter and sugar don’t quite constitute a radical disaster, the condition of my heart was dangerously close.

Here’s to a new day and a fresh start! 

More chickpeas over here in the “still growing” department, please.  But…hold the chocolate chips.  Thank you.

Day 20: Christmas Truth & Smoothies

The older I get, and more importantly, the older my child{ren} get, the more intentional I become about getting down to the heart of things. 

I’m on a mission to strip bare the froo-froo expectations and down-right selfishness this culture has not-so-subtly hammered into our minds and be free of the chaos. 

Every hallmark holiday comes with the infamous opportunity to get further into debt and instill further into our minds that it’s all about us.

But it’s not.

And nothing has me more fired up than Christmas.  Or, at least, the superficial blur of stress-inducing expectations and greedy wish-lists Christmas has become.  Maybe we should rename it “Me-mas”, seeing Christ seems to have so little to do with what so many people celebrate.

And, while I’m on a role…what’s to celebrate about spending more money than we have on more stuff we don’t need, arguing about who’s house we’re going to eat at and putting our bodies through more stress than a colonoscopy conveniently offers, in the name of some fat dude in a red suit?

Just sayin’.

You see, I grew up in a family that didn’t have much money, so we were forced to get creative.  Creative with ornaments and decorating, creative with meaningful, home-made presents, creative with finding time as a family to soak in what Christmas was really all about.  And it was a delight.  My parents weren’t stressed out trying to meet our self-centered expectations or strapped trying to accommodate our hefty wish-lists.  They just were.  It just was.

It was simple.  It was sweet.  Why, it was Christmas.

And I want that for my family now. 

So…while I still fight the expectations I put on myself to buy presents for everyone I know {ridiculous really…as who needs more stuff?  And who has that kind of money?} and to spend the same amount of money as other family members spend on each-other…I’m learning to release myself from that unimportant stuff and allow myself {and those around me} to bask in the beauty of what Christmas is ultimately about…Christ.

That’s all.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

Yes, in celebrating His goodness and His generosity, I think it’s lovely to give gifts to others – where we can, when we can, in whatever fashion we can – but I’m not willing to miss out on the magic of the season in an effort to keep up with what our culture advertises as important.  It’s just not.

And I’m finding a peace and a joy that I haven’t experienced around this time of year for a very, very long time.

This is what I want my daughter, and eventually my son, to understand about Christmas.  The simplicity of family…hot chocolate around a beautifully lit tree…Christmas carols and the smell of freshly baked {badly assembled} cookies…winter white landscapes through steamy windows…snuggling a little closer in bed because you’re so cold you can’t feel your toes…getting excited about finding the perfect gift for a friend for $2 at a thrift store {rather than spending my time wondering what I might be getting out of the deal}…making a birthday cake for Jesus and reading the story of His birth on Christmas eve…the profound impact of buying a dollar coffee for the man who stands on the corner of the street near our house {despite the frigid temperatures} just to see him smile…serving meals to homeless families at a local church who may only get one warm, home-cooked meal every once in a great while…buying a soccer ball for the young boy who’s family is in upheaval and desperately wants to play, but can’t afford to.  And it’s about making snowmen {or women} with your child no matter how badly you want to stay inside and not brave the cold, just because their excitement is so over-the-top that you can see it oozing off their face.  And just because you can.

This, you see, is what Christmas is all about. 

These are the things I want my family to associate with Christmas trees in stores, carols on the radio, and decorations in malls.  And it all starts with me grasping the truth – the real reason we celebrate – and setting an example through a life that’s exudes peace, joy and a selfless excitement in this special season.

It’s about serving others, it’s about loving others, its about spending lavish time with family and friends and not expecting presents other than the gift of their presence in our lives.  It may sound cheesy, but this truly is the desire of my heart.

Christmas is an opportunity to focus of what life is really all about…a time to thank God for sending His precious son from a place of majesty and royalty to be the helpless child of a lowly, Jewish girl. 

From a throne to a stinky manger. 

Just to get us back.

I think we got the best deal in town.

 

 

{Oh…and regarding the smoothie.  I completely and utterly {accidently} screwed up yesterday.  I ate half of a delicious 4-berry smoothie, knowing full well that it was loaded with ice-cream, simply because I was too embarrassed to say I didn’t want it after I had paid for it and the gal had put it together for me.  But I swear I didn’t know there was ice-cream in it when I ordered it from the menu.  Smoothies are supposed to have YOGHURT in them, not ice-cream, lady!} 

So there.

Day 19: The Carrot, The Egg & The Coffee Beans

I read this story a long time ago and the words of this wise mother continue to hit me right between the eyes.  I think of them often.  Today is one of those times…

“A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her.  She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up.  She was tired of fighting and struggling.  It seemed as if as soon as one problem was solved a new one arose. 

Her mother took her to the kitchen.  The mother filled three pots with water.

In the first, she placed carrots.

In the second she placed eggs.

And the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil without saying a word.  About twenty minutes later, she turned off the burners.

She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she said, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied. (You known the tone of voice.)

She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did, and noted that they felt soft.

She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg inside.

Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee.  The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.  The daughter then asked, "So, what's the point, mother?" (Remember the tone of voice.)

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile.  Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid center. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its insides had become hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however.  After they were in the boiling water...they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter.  "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond?  Are you a carrot , an egg, or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat?

Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?  Does my outer shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean?  The bean actually changes the hot water - the very circumstances that bring the pain.  When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor of the bean. 

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you instead of letting it change you.

When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate to another level?  How do you handle Adversity?”

ARE YOU A CARROT, AN EGG, OR A COFFEE BEAN?

Day 18: What A {Beautiful} Mess!

Today was one of fabulous creations, wide smiles and glorious mess.

Alathea and I made “Ali-bars”…a concoction of oats, honey, peanut butter, raisins, shredded coconut, chopped walnuts…and plenty of colorful sprinkles.  Lavishly ‘measured’ {word used very loosely} by Ali herself as she sat on the counter, she had a blast heaping, scooping, sprinkling, stirring and licking {not necessarily in that order}.

I find that if I’m not careful to fight it, I fall naturally into a very controlling, no-mess, predictable style of parenting…which often leads to an uncontrollable, messy, bored child.  So I’m trying to let my hair down more often and intentionally throw caution to the wind.  Will watching Veggietales twice in a row and eating more ingredients than actually go into a recipe once in a while in fact kill the girl?  Or me, for that matter?

No, most probably not.

I want to be more spontaneous and fun, I really do!  I know I need to be more purposeful in carving out time to have silly, unadulterated, messy fun with my child. 

Life is just too short not to.

And while it’s scary, it is so important…not only for her development and for our relationship, but for me to fully understand what is ultimately most important in life. 

No woman ever said on her death bed, “I wish I had stayed up on the laundry more”.  Or “I wish I had kept the floors cleaner”.  Or “I wish I had decluttered the clutter more”. 

No.  They usually mourn the missed opportunities for late night fort construction or glittery mud-pie creation.

While I crave structure and organization {like most women crave the newest Gucci sunglasses}, I fear my propensity to pursue it has the potential to squelch the insatiable zest for life God has placed in the heart of every child. 

What a tragedy that would be.

So, in my pursuit of the radical {radical, fantasmigorical moments with my sweet girl, in this instance}…along with magically delicious Ali-bars, we made melted-wax-crayon-creations to hang on nana’s Christmas tree.  I think I had more fun than she did {after all…I got to hold the sharp knife and chop the crayons up into tiny, little pieces…and wield the hot iron!}.

And it was while hanging up our particularly large m-w-c-c in nana’s kitchen window that I realized how much like my life that glorious, melted mess was.

Just when I’m tempted to throw in the towel because a specific area of my life is out of my control or not cooperating the way I think it should {like my embarrassing need to discard wax crayons once broken, peeled of their paper wrapper or imperfect in any other [pathetic] little way in my effort to keep her craft supplies looking Martha Stewartesque…everyone say [recovering] “OCD”!}…God takes all the ugly, useless little bits, melts them together with the heat of adversity and before our very eyes, a delightfully colorful creation emerges. 

One that, when held up to the light, allows the SON to shine through, creating a masterpiece that causes even the worst perfectionist among us {ahem} to stop and say, “hmm…not too shabby.  Not too shabby at all!!”.

What a resourceful Creator we have!  He just doesn’t waste a thing!

And thanks to His passion for making beauty out of ashes, my life has become a {beautiful} mess indeed!