Goodness

Tony and I have a conversation that is on repeat every time we decide to watch a movie together. It goes like this:

Tony: “Hey, what movie do you want to fall asleep to?” (Because I NEVER stay awake) 

Me: “Whatever, as long as it is funny.”

Seriously, every.single.time. 

If there is some depth to it, I am normally out. Hurt, pain, death… nope. Not me. I would just as soon throw on an episode of Modern Family I have seen a dozen times and laugh. Who wants to watch people crying on the screen. Blah. I am getting ill thinking about it. 

We were with friends last weekend and it was really comical to talk this out. Me explaining my serious desire to laugh and being so turned off by the thought of watching any kind of drama. 

So much so that I can barely relate to other people with movies because unless it is funny or a kids movie, I probably have not seen it. 

But here is the deal. We live in a world that is soooooo f-ing depressing. You turn the news on (which FYI- I try not to EVER do that) it is all horrible. Radio- depressing. Facebook- OH my Lord. Every single thing that can go wrong, its trending. The other night I couldn’t sleep and in a matter of 5 minutes on Facebook I saw- A man was killed by a bear riding his bike, the Texas and Florida beaches are filled with flesh eating bacteria, and a mom in Texas shot her 2 girls in the front yard and killed them in front of their dad. 

What thaaaaa haaaeelllll… Y’all. It’s just so hard out there. BUT- I think it’s always been this hard. It’s just that all news is reported now and so everything is in our face. And it feels overwhelming. And occasionally, I don’t want to shock anyone, but sometimes things are a bit exaggerated. 

Think about the last month. Kid falls in Gorilla Enclosure and everyone is an expert on gorillas and parenting. A child dies at Disney and everyone is an expert on alligators, proper signage at theme parks, and again- parenting. I read about the man who was killed by a bear and you guessed it- everyone was an expert on bears- and mountain biking. In all of these scenarios, through traditional and social media, everyone just seemed really angry on all sides. And what gives? People lost their lives. Do we not just feel sadness for them? For their families? 

It just seems that we are so inundated with negative information we have become cold to the fact that people matter. Their lives matter. And we have truly lost the fact that there is still so much good in this world. 

Our last month has been a complete shit fest. My father in law became ill after a surgery and after 2 weeks of fighting off multiple infections he ended up passing away. The following week as we prepared for his celebration which would be at our house, my dad called to tell me my grandma was in the hospital and not expected to make it. She passed the following week. 

BUT, here is what else happened over the last month. We had so many calls, cards, text messages and visits from people letting us know they were thinking of us and praying for us. We had friends come and help me clean the house so it would be ready for my father in laws celebration. We had people bring tables, chairs, and shade structures so we could accommodate 50 people at our house with 6 days notice. I had friends take my kids for the day so I could go grocery shopping and to the gym for 1 hour of sanity in all of this. We had people come and serve our guests and clean up after so that we didn’t have to worry about anything. At my grandma’s funeral I got to see all my aunts and uncles pull together to support one another. There were tears but there was lots of laughter. There were great stories told. So many hugs that even I gave in and handed a few out. And so much joy. Joy to be with family. Joy to be connected to others. Joy to stop for a moment and reminisce and laugh. Joy in knowing that life does not end here, but that their stories are just beginning. 

There is much good in the world because there are lots of good people in the world. I have seen it over the last month in my friends and family. I know there are times it can be hard to spot. Sometimes the world does seem all bad. But we have to make a choice in those times to find the goodness. Look at the faces of your children and you will see it. 

So occasionally skip over the drama and action films and pick Anchorman, Old School or Pitch Perfect. Set yourself up for a successful day of laughter and then go tackle the world. It looks like a much better place after you have laughed for 2 hours. And then share all that joy with others. I am still on a naive path of believing that laughter, kindness and joy can change the world- one person at a time. 

The Beauty of Inclusion

“My friends list is full right now so unless someone drops off- I can’t take anyone else on.” - Me

Yes. I just quoted myself. I just quoted myself sounding like a complete douche bag. Seriously. This is a real quote. I used to say this… ALL THE TIME. 

I believed if I had a couple of friends then I was doing good. And I made sure I didn’t really include anybody else in anything I was doing for fear that they would get the idea we could be friends. Really? I am not even that cool. I want to hit myself for even thinking I had that kind of influence. 

All of this to say- I learned the art of excluding women. I could have taught a class in it. I could walk into a room and specifically pick out who I wanted to talk to and make every effort to not talk to anyone else. I am typing this while laughing and rolling my eyes at my old patterns of life. “Oh my gosh. You were such a bitch.” 

Was my fear that I didn’t have time for other people? That I couldn’t keep up with the demands of knowing everyone’s birthday, favorite food, kid’s names?? I wish. That would have maybe been a good reason.

But the truth is, I was scared. I was scared that people would want to get close to me and expose all the areas I am a mess in. I was scared that they may have better gifting or better talents than me and I would not be needed in the circle of friends any longer. I was scared that the more people in your life, the less control you have over your relationships. And we all know that there is no better friend than one that controls you, right?!? 

You see the world has given women this weird view of how we should treat each other in a group setting. We are always on the mission to be “exclusive”. The popular ones. We like to circle up with a few friends and then fight for our life to keep everyone else out. While at the same time letting everyone in the world know through FB, Instagram and every other social media site, that we do everything together! 

I would love to say it was just me that used to do that, but years into women’s ministry I hear it all the time. I hear the struggle and hurt of women who have been the product of being left out. I see it everywhere from the little girls in kindergarten at my daughters school to the moms at the gym. We can be great at excluding people where we want and when we want. 

And I HATE it! I am sad and embarrassed to admit this is how I operated for many many years of my life. But God has been working on me in so many areas and this is just one.

What I now know to be true is that the most beautiful women I know are the most inclusive. If they see someone off to the side they make sure to befriend them. They are inviting. They are loving. They are not selfish in friendships. They are secure in who they are and have no reason to think they would ever be replaced. They know their value. And that they have great worth. They are the face of Jesus to many who feel unloved, unwanted and devalued. And I have realized that if we all gave up the act of trying to be cooler than we think we are, we can find treasure in each woman we meet. 

So friends, let’s shake off the exclusive mentality and embrace a culture of inclusiveness. The world is hard on women, so let’s make sure we are not adding to that pain. We owe that to our middle school selves when fitting in was hard. We owe it to our stage of being a first time mom when we felt judged by others. And we owe it to our daughters who are watching us and taking note. Let’s be as kind to one another as we want others to be to us. 

My Really Bad Botox Phase

I am going through something right now. I wish we were all sitting in a room together and I was playing the song Confessions by Usher in the background while I told you this story. (Side note- I have considered downloading this song and playing it every time someone starts to confess about anything. I think it would be such a fun way to just air out some stuff)
I realize that as I grow in my walk with Jesus I can't just say all the things that pop into my brain. To be more specific I can't respond with sarcasm, rude comments, or just flat out eye rolls when someone says something....well... stupid. And y'all, do you know how often this happens??

"Are you having twins?"
"Why do you not speak Spanish if your last name is Perez?"
"When you want something sweet you should eat a piece of fruit instead of candy."
Or anytime anyone even mentions the term Obamacare. Ever.

The list could go on forever. But that's not the point. The point is, that I have to grow up and I can't just retaliate with some rude comment when things like this come up. And I have such sweet friends that have matured in Jesus and handle these things with such grace. They smile or somehow maneuver the conversation to a healthy and less ridiculous place. And I want to be just like them when it comes to this.

But that's not what is happening. As I slowly start to close my mouth and stop myself from spewing out verbal diarrhea, what has happened is what I am calling my really bad botox phase. (And let's face it, good botox rarely makes headlines.) The only way to explain this to you is by showing you. So when someone makes one of the above comments or the other 4 million I don't like, this is what happens:

I know. Could I look any hotter? It's like- did she just burn herself or possibly have an accident in her pants? And it ages me like 15 years. And makes me look like I have 6 chins. But I can't stop it. My face automatically goes to this place and is frozen there. It is absolutely terrible. And eventually (like after an awkward 5 minutes)  I just start talking about something totally different- like the weather. 

I assume this frozen face will last less time as I grow more. Eventually not happening at all and stepping into such a beautiful graceful place like so many women who I admire and respect. But for now, this is all I got. 

So now you know. I am not perfect. If I make this face, slap me and tell me to grow up and that my opinion is not the only one. And pray for me that one day I will just have the good botox that makes me look 21 and always slightly giddy, in a non creepy kind of way. 

The Journey for Joy

I have tried to make a habit of asking Jesus what my theme is for the year, or sometimes for a season. This practice has really helped me to keep focus on what is really going on in my world and what God may be revealing about himself, or about me in that time. So in May I prayed about this summer and asked God what the theme was. “Joy. Make an adventure of finding Joy.”  Joy! What a great word. Joy felt good. This is going to be a great season. And it was that word in May that started this journey…

We had just come out of a fabulous women’s retreat and Mother’s Day weekend. We put our house on the market and got a full offer the first weekend. We were moving right along with what we believed God’s plan was. I could see joy all around me. This was an “easy” word. 

Then the first week of June the offer fell through. Rats. ok. Set back. Not defeated, but bummed. So I decided for the sake of my sanity I would clean the house, pack everyone up and head to my moms for the weekend so we were not having to run in and out and keep the house spotless while it was showing. We are making the usual drive to Bastrop on the back highway when someone pulls out 10 feet in front of me leaving me no time to stop. We hit him at 65 miles an hour. Every air bag deployed, (did you know some cars have air bags at your feet??! Thank God!) windows shattered, smoke everywhere, car completely smashed in. After the car stopped spinning we stopped just short of a ditch and I flung myself from the car. The kids were screaming so I knew they were alive. The dog was moving so I knew she was alive. There was blood and tears and complete panic as I grabbed my children from the car. We were transported to Dell Children immediately to undergo every test that you can have since we were considered “trauma” at the speed we hit. 

Let me assure you I didn’t feel joy in that moment. Yes, I was thankful we were alive, but I was in complete fear. I was 8 weeks pregnant and just slammed into multiple air bags and a seat belt. My kids were frightened as they were having x-rays and CT scans done. My family was worried as they received the news of the car accident. But I look at that day- 6 weeks later and can see the face of Jesus in so many moments through so many people. The car traveling directly behind us was a Bastrop Country Sheriff. She witnessed the entire thing and had help there within minutes. The accident happened in front of a tire store where the workers were hanging out in front. They were helping us right away and even kept the dog for us so she wasn’t taken to animal control and could get to the emergency vet clinic. We had family at the hospital before we ever even got off the ambulance. A friend went to buy us new car seats while tests were being ran and brought them to the hospital so we could go home when we were released. The workers at Dell treated me there so that I would not have to be separated from the kids. The doctor assigned to me told me his wife was in a car accident one year earlier. Their toddler was in the car and she was 8 weeks pregnant. Talk about someone who could relate. We had meals brought to us and checked up on regularly.  Jesus was there in every moment and every detail. And we were all ok. We all had bumps and bruises but the air bags and seat belts spared us all. My little fighter baby is now 14 weeks along. Even the dog made it out with just a busted eye from an air bag.

But I have struggled to find the joy many times. You see even though I can look back and see the goodness, in the middle of the chaos I found myself asking over and over, “where is the joy in this Jesus?” 

After the accident I never felt like we were supposed to get a new car yet. In fact I really wanted to be disobedient in those feelings and just go get one. I NEED a car. Why would Jesus not want me to have one? See I know there is this whole belief that we should do what we want because Jesus will bless it, and what is in our hearts he put there, and there is grace, and there is some truth in all of that- but let me assure you there are many, many things I WANT to do, that I should not. I would like to drink a case of beer when I am stressed out instead of dealing with it. I would like to tell people off when they make me mad instead of being kind. I would like to beat my kids when they are acting crazy. So for me, I try to ask what Jesus wants for me. Not what I want for me. (Because the answer to that is to be a professional air guitar champion) So no clearance for a car. Ok. 

We ended up getting another offer on the house, and it was moving fast. We are dealing with all the insurance stuff from wreck, borrowing a car from a friend for a bit and moving from our house. Stress. That is what I felt. Not joy, stress. And so my heart moved from asking “where is the joy?” to “why did you let this happen?” I knew God told us to sell the house. And now I am about to have no car, and no home (we are building a house that will not be done for a couple of months). Why in the world would he let this happen?? And I realized in questioning God’s goodness- that my joy comes from the comfort of the world I have created, and the happiness of things going my way. The materialistic items that make me happy. They give me fabricated joy.My life working out as I plan it. That makes me happy. I like the comfort of not having to ask for help. And when you don’t have a car and have to ask for a ride, your comfort zone is gone. We moved to my mom’s for the summer. And although I love it here (because it is literally like a resort) it is not my home. And all the comfort you have with having your own things- they are gone. 

So the false joy that I have from my stuff is all gone right now. And I have found joy in so many, many REAL things. In the stillness of the morning and letting my heart once again connect with Jesus. I have found joy in the beautiful land that has emerged out of the fires in Bastrop. That in devastation and destruction God has raised up beauty once again. I have found joy in sitting with my kids and laughing so hard I cry. I have found joy in the strength of my husband who is constant and always good. I have found joy in being with my mom and aunt and cooking them dinner before they come home from work. I have found joy in friendships that are so raw and real and authentic. I have found joy in watching my dog shake in fear from a 6 lb cat, but run full speed at a huge deer like its a stuffed animal. 

God is after real joy in me. And he is pursing my heart to find it. Through the accident. Through the sell of our house (which closed Wednesday by the way!). Through stripping away my comfort. Through life not working out exactly how I have planned, but how He has planned. The scripture I say over and over is “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” And I want nothing more than to be stronger with each day. 

Women (INSERT EYE ROLL)

Seriously though. Don’t you do that?? Is it just me? Often times in my life when I think about a gathering of women my eyes roll and I think “this is sure to be a nightmare.” Let me give you an example of why. 

Last month I was in body pump (which just an FYI is a class created by people who hate themselves- yet I love it and go twice a week) when a lady came charging in across a class of 50+ people. We are all mid squat track, carrying massively heavy weights (super exaggeration for me. It was like 4 lbs but felt like 1,000) when this lady interrupts the instructor to ask her to turn the music down. Whaaa?!? Yea. For real. She was working out upstairs and didn’t like how loud the music was from the group fitness class. My instructor stopped her class and tried to turn it down a bit. The lady apparently thought she intentionally turned it up and flipped out. I mean screaming at the top of her lungs, hands flying through the air, face red, edge of a stroke flipping out. And because I have done women’s ministry for years now you know what my thought was? “Seems like a regular f%#$ing Tuesday around here.” Come on. It didn’t even phase me. No shock value. Not even a pause. Nothing.

Why do you think that is? Well, amongst women there seems to be an overwhelming drama factor. Women just come with a baggage of emotion. So much crying, hormones, feelings, ups and downs, its sooooo hard to keep up with. Hell, I am a woman and I am scared of my own hormonal swings at times. I look around and think “was that me that just screamed at my kids? What happened?!? 4 seconds ago I was dying laughing.” Scary. 

But the truth is, that is not even the real drama that I avoid. I have actually started to embrace the changing landscape of emotions that comes with being in community with other women. And because Jesus has given me a view of the world that most often times looks comical- I have just started to look at those things and say “I live in the longest episode of SNL of all time.” Ever changing clips of really crazy people, doing really funny things. It’s actually become- dare I say- enjoyable. 

Let me tell you what does make my eyes roll though. The striving to be each other. Which in itself is insane since normally the person we are trying to be like, we don’t even actually like. I know it’s something that women have done forever (comparing yourself to someone else) but this age of false lives , AKA Social Media, has escalated everything. I catch myself doing it all the time.  

<cut to me on computer>

“Oh my gosh, look at those pics of her kids. They are always hugging and getting along. My kids are always fighting. I want to be like her. She is a better mom than me”

“Her and her husband are checked in on another date night!?! Gosh, Tony and I rarely go out on dates. I really need to step it up. He probably thinks I’m really boring”

“Look at how many miles she ran today. I should really put this tub of ice cream down and go run.”

“She built a whole business on her free time today. All I did was change a 3 year olds shitty diaper” (yea, you read that right. 3. Get over it perfect parent)

<end scene>

Seriously, you go there. You start this whole deal up where you beat yourself up comparing your life to someone else and then striving to be them. Its exhausting. And INSANE. 

We have all read the articles about how these online lives are false and we know someone can drive their car to the top of the mountain, take a selfie and say they ran up it. We get it. 

But that false self and need to be better than each other is making its way passed the keyboards of our computers and screens on our phones and becoming who we are in our actual life. 

I hear so many conversations and have experienced them myself when someone says “We are moving to a new house.” And immediately the response from another woman is- “oh really, we are going to be moving too, and we are getting even more for our house.” 

Or “we are going to go out on a date Friday” and the response is “we go out every Friday and this week we are going out Saturday too.”  

Come on ladies. We are not happy for anyone who may be perceived as doing something “better” than us. And all that happens is, we ruin their joy, and our own. Why is it so hard to be happy for each other? 

James 4:1-2 (MSG) “Where do you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from? Do you think they just happen? Think again. They come about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves. You lust for what you don’t have and are willing to kill to get it. You want what isn’t yours and will risk violence to get your hands on it.” 

I know you are not out there trying to physically kill anyone, (if you are, I pray this blog in no way offends  you. I meant it for someone else) but we are killing each others joy. We are killing each others confidence. Trust. Hope. And most of all, we are killing our relationships. Women are really good at tearing each other down in order to build themselves up. We want your dream crushed, if ours is not coming true. 

Well guess what?!? We also have the power to encourage one another. To build each other up. To call out the best in each of us as mothers, wives, friends, and women!

So, let’s take off the false personality and get rid of the strife. I will start with me. 

- I like my house clean, but I have 2 kids and a dog so it is rarely that

• My kids fight
• I yell at them when they fight
• I fell like crap after I yell at them
• I have to apologize on the regular for being a douche bag to people 
• I have ruined friendships for no other reason than the fact that I couldn’t handle my view of how much better their life was than mine

The list can go on forever. I am not perfect. Thank God. So much pressure. Neither are you. AND neither is anyone else you are comparing yourself to. Be encouraged today that you are who you are, (in all your drama, mood swings, changing hormones, joy, life, love, mess) and that is a VERY VERY good thing.

Where are you trying to be something you are not? It is a great thing to want to be better, as long as that is a better you, not a lesser version of someone else. 

Church on the Trail

Two and a half years ago my friend Amy was getting ready for her 40th birthday. She announced that to celebrate the big day she would be running a half marathon. She then shared that she had never run more than a couple miles. Wow. Bold move. Well, always up for a fun running partner, I told her I would do long runs with her to get ready. 

Amy and I had been friends for several years by the time we started running together. We had served in all kinds of roles together at church- MOPS, Kids Ministry, herding camels while I was 5 months pregnant for a live nativity scene. You name it, we had done it. 

But training for a half marathon was very different. There was minimal distractions on long runs. Except for those coyotes we avoid in early morning, foul skunk encounters, rattle snake crossing in the summer, well ok, there are some distractions. But compared to large events, or the rush of children’s ministry on a Sunday morning, really it was just us, on a trail, for hours. 

Something you should know about me is that when I run, I talk the entire time. It is actually how I have learned to breath. When I run alone it is terrible. If I ever have to do it, I put on podcasts and talk to the people on it. Like I might say “oh my gosh Brandon Hatmaker. That is such a great point. I totally agree.” While I am running around Pflugerville Lake…alone. I know, very normal. But I can’t regulate my breathing while I run if I am not talking. 

So when you train with someone to run 13.1 miles, there is a lot to talk about. How to get kids to sleep, funny grocery store mishaps, movie reviews, book reviews, restaurant reviews. You know- super important life stuff. And although we did talk about those things, we started to use our time to talk about slightly deeper things like what God was doing in our life, our families life, and what God was asking of each of us. Our runs became more about Jesus, then it ever did about training or losing my baby weight.  

And here we are, a couple years later, still running together almost every weekend. Sometimes we are training for a race, and sometimes we are not, but still we meet very early each weekend to get in some miles. 

Through all of this, one of the huge changes that happened in my life was that I stopped attending a church regularly. (I know, all of you die hard church people are about to lose your 

$%&# on me right about now. Take a deep breath and get a death grip on your panties so they don’t get in a bunch.) I shared in a previous blog that I had started questioning the organized church setting and seeking Jesus for answers. My goal is always to press into Jesus, to know him more, and to know who he created me to be. I did not find that attending church, or even serving there, was helping me with this. (Note- this is just me personally, I am not saying everyone does or should feel like this. Nobody try to send your hate mail to my inbox)

People would always ask me “so what church do you go to now?” and I always just said awkwardly “uhh…nowhere?!?” (that was in my Best Ron Burgendy voice) They looked very concerned and I think they make a mental note to pray for my salvation, light a candle for me, and vow they will bring holy water with them next time we may see each other. But the truth is, I do have a church. I call it Church on the Trail. What does that look like? Well, I would LOVE to share.

This church does not have a tax exempt status or a building. There is no leader except the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t take up tithes (unless you run with me- then you must bring me gummy bears or jolly ranchers). There is no membership class, but there is a strong allegiance to each other and a commitment to grow together and be discipled by Jesus. Sometimes it is 2 of us, and sometimes there are 15 of us. It is nights of prayer, really fun dinners where peeing your pants is highly likely, bible studies, and cleaning houses for single moms. Sometimes it is my husband and I praying with another couple or teaching our kids about God’s love, or spending time with our family discussing all that God is doing. 

You see, I didn’t know when we started all this running that it was church. (Like I said before, church was always a building I went to) It started as a safe place for us to discuss thoughts about God, our calling, our lives. And we were able to do this without judgement, without pressure, without rules being imposed on what that should look like. Nobody telling us we HAD to do something, but discerning God’s gentle voice, leading us to do something. I learned how to walk with God in a deeper way and because of it, have been able to share that with others. But church on the trail is open to everyone. It doesn’t just happen when we are running for 2 hours together, just as we are not meant to only be Christians the 2 hours we attend church on Sunday. 

We are the church. All the time. Everywhere. How we express that, well that depends on you. Is your church (meaning YOU) welcoming? Is it encouraging others to dig deeper into God, even if that looks different than the exact way you believe? Church for me is a group of people, seeking God and praising him in all they do. Maybe you go to a church building that does just that. YEAAA!!! And maybe you don’t. It seems the more people I meet fall into that category. They have been burned by church, or just burned out. For those people, church in all that God created it to be, still exists. In people who love him. Who seek him. Who want you to find all that he has for you and all the freedom he died to give. If this is you, I pray that you find like hearted people to join together with. Whether that be on Brushy Creek Trail on the weekend (don’t try to stalk me now), a disc golf course, a living room, wherever. We were never meant to walk this life out alone. God will provide. 

If you are serving Jesus in a unique way, what does that look like for you? Would love to hear how God is building his church all over the place.  

Adopted In Love

My son Beck is 2 1/2 years old. Beck never had the chance to meet my step dad Rodger. The very last time I saw Rodger was when I was hugging him to tell him I was in labor and headed to the hospital to have Beck. Sweet Rodg was pretty sick by that point. Each day I would walk in to see him he would look at my stomach and sigh, anxiously awaiting Beck’s arrival. I sent pictures from the hospital when Beck was born and Rodger was able to see him. By morning the next day Rodger had slipped into a sleep that he would never come out of. He sure did hang on to make sure he saw Beck on this side of heaven though. 

And what is so interesting about all of this is that Beck LOVES his Papa. His Papa he has only seen in pictures. He always tells me how much he misses him. He will even wake in the morning and tell me funny things Rodger tells him. I will ask where he saw him and he says “I saw him in Heaven, where he lives.” Maybe his dreams are of him, I don’t know. As my friend Dana says “I can’t begin to understand all of the wonderful mysteries of God.” Me neither.

What I do know is that Beck has a love for the outdoors, an addiction to music, and an obsession with 4-wheelers. Pretty much his Papa in a small, Mexican body. 

Rodger was always my step dad. Meaning, he never adopted me legally. There was no reason for him to. I have a dad who is and always has been very present in my life. He is one of the greatest men I know. So I just got an extra Dad. I know- some people really are just that lucky. 

So I was not Rodger’s daughter “on paper” nor was I his daughter by blood. But in love he adopted me as his own. And because of that I grew to be more like him. I grew a love for the mountains that remains deep in my heart today, just like him. I fell in love with the country and the desire to live off the land like he did. I learned how to be more encouraging, more understanding and more kind, because of him. Some of it I learned by things he said to me. But a lot of it I learned by spending time with him. Lots and lots of time. We would sit in his workshop for hours upon hours talking when I was younger. And it is those moments that I cherish most. It is those moments my heart grew, learned, changed. I never had to do anything. I just had to be there. 

I was thinking about Rodger this morning as we near Christmas and I miss him terribly. I was thinking about how his adopting me in love not only changed me, but changed my kids. Beck has similar desires and characteristics of Rodger who has no blood relation to him what so ever. He never even met him. But love transcends all those lines. And then I realized how blessed I was to experience that twice in my life. 

Jesus adopted me as his daughter. And because of it, my life is forever changed. My kids are forever changed. The more time I spend with him, the more I become like him. The more my kids become like him. His desires become my desires. I see characteristics of him in my son and daughter. The lineage of my family goes straight to Jesus and his love that rescued me. And just like Rodger my heart changes and grows from what he tells me in his word, and from hours and hours together with him. 

Praising Jesus tonight as I look at my life, sometimes filled with tragedy and pain and yet undeniable, breathtaking, healing beauty in the middle of all of it.