The Mart

The world takes all kinds. So does Wal Mart.

I must preface this whole post with the declaration that I am no snob and no elitist. Do I think that I am somehow better than anyone that shops at Wal Mart?  No.  Do I enjoy shopping there?  No. In fact, in the spirit of honesty, let's make that a Hell No (excuse the french).

It is so deeply ingrained in my character to appreciate a good bargain, I will always seek it out. Whether it be out of necessity or simply for the pure joy of knowing that I got a good deal, rest assured,  I will seek out the bargain. So if I know that some particular item is cheapest at The Mart, then to The Mart I will go.

Do I prefer the soft lighting and the hardwood floors in the "lounge" area of our local Fred Meyer? Oh yes! I do. The fact that it even boasts a "lounge" area at all -AND a kiddy play center!-  beckon to every parental fiber of my being. So I do shop there often, but I save it for my fun shopping. For when I need things like special cheeses and butter lettuce and tahini. That is my "happy place" shopping. Wal Mart is for my nitty gritty shopping.

Today I was probably asking for it. It was a busy day filled with swim lessons and running errands and trying to sqeeze in a workout. I had a small window to grocery shop and it lay dangerously close to naptime. But sometimes you just have to brazen it out , yes? So I loaded up the tinies and with a foreboding sense of trepidation we drove to the Mart.  I want to stress that what took place there is no stretch of the truth or exaggeration on my part. I'm keepin it real.

First we encountered a woman who was shopping in her bikini top. (They let people do that?!) Then there was another woman who we crossed paths with in almost every single aisle and every single time she was SHOUTING (I use shouty capitals because she really was shouting) "Bobby Lee! Bobby Lee you are in so much trouble! Bobby Lee you where are you?!  WHERE. ARE. YOU! You stop that right now! Bobby Lee when I find you, you are dead!  BOBBY LEE!!!! (with bass in her voice) when she'd really had enough.  Incidentally, Bobby Lee never seemed to grow tired of exasperating this woman. It was like his powers only became stronger, the more frustrated she got. But hey, no judgements. We've all had our Bobby Lee moments...just hopefully a few decibels quieter....?

There was an unscrupulous fellow who quite awkwardly would not let me walk past him in the aisle and when I finally asked quietly if we could sneak by, he said definitively, "No... But you're a pretty thing." Gah! Radar up! Im not! Im not a pretty thing! Please dont murder me right here in the middle of the cereal aisle! My mental faculties were in order just enough to smile politely, turn, and try not to break out in a full on sprint.

There were arguments with Bigger One over choosing a birthday present for a friend, and a lengthy discussion regarding the benefits of giving more than receiving. There were potty emergencies. Of course there were! My kids, may the good Lord bless them, seem to have to go to the bathroom (ifyaknowwhatImean) every single public place we go. Especially parks. BLURG.

 Long ago we had to establish the worldwide code language for Number 1 and Number 2 so they weren't hollering about having to poop in the middle of whatever fine establishment we happen to be in. Ah, the life of a mother. We try to steer clear of the poop talk, but sometimes it's just inescapable.

 Littler One got cold in the refrigerator section and proceeded to lose it by way of wailing and clinging to my neck while he sat in the front of the cart and I valiantly tried to keep steering and comfort him simultaneously.

When all was said and done, we made it to the checkout line where we waited a very long time, and I entertained with tickling games and letting Bigger One pick out some kind of fruity flavored bottled water. Which turned out to be carbonated. I did not discover this until it was scanned, handed back to me, and I cracked it open at which point it exploded all over the front of me,  the floor, and the little card-slider-machine. (That cant be the technical term for them...?).

 I had to laugh because my only other option at the moment was to curse, and I was still well within earshot of both tiny tenders. Littler One noticed that my shirt was now soaking and clinging to me, at which point he points and giggles and loudly repeats "Boobies! You's boobies Mama!". Mercifully enough, this wasnt until we were on our way out the door.

There was a moment while I was in the parking lot, wringing out my shirt as best I could while still wearing it, and loading up the kids and groceries into the hot, muggy car, - let's say a good 30 seconds there, where I seriously considered taking up smoking. In that moment it seemed like a novel idea.

In the end, I still have nothing against The Mart. But next time I will pack a tranquilizer dart (or 3) in my purse because it's a jungle out there.

Tales from the Trenches: On Cleaning Houses and Cleaning Hearts

I have been rather absent from this blog for the past few months.  So to all five of you kind souls who follow it, "I've missed you!". I have been busy keeping afloat with life, which has left little time to write about life. And when I have had a snippet of free time, I confess I have had my nose so far into a juicy novel I just couldnt tear my eyeballs away until it was done.

In fact, Im realizing that I have been SO absent from this blog that I never even followed up with my other two words for the year. Which, incidentally, are "Gracious" and "Hospitable". But that is another post for another day, my five compadres!

So let's do the fast version catch-up, shall we?

First things first: Italy was amazing. Really, truly amazing and beautiful and romantic. It was all the things I hoped it would be. My personal highlights included a ferry ride over Lake Como, a fancy 6 course dinner in a 200 year old restaurant, and Florence. All of Florence.

In other news, Bigger One has just graduated from preschool. This left me a sniveling, mewling, tear soaked mess in the back row of the audiorium. What can I say, I have a sentimental heart. I must quietly mourn the transition of my first baby from Littleness to Bigness. Is it possible for you heart to swell and contract at the same time? Because that is exactly how I felt, sitting there in that auditorium.

Littler One is now 2.5 and full of the dickens. He is my sweet spirited, mild-mannered boy, but he is also rowdier than rowdy and so far the only thing in the world that brings him real joy is to throw whatever happens to be in his hands at the moment. Obviously, there are only few settings in life where this is conducive. We're working on it...

Husband has been the busiest of all, because after much deliberation and preparation, we have decided to leave the wonderful firm he has worked for and go independant. A very difficult decision to make, but we feel it was the right one. So far it has gone brilliantly, but it's still all quite new. Starting your own business is not for the faint of heart! It has been equal parts exciting and frightening. It's tough to break out of what feels familiar and comfortable, but sometimes you have to climb out onto the longest, scariest branch to get the best fruit.

Other than all of that, it's pretty much been business as usual around here. And by "business as usual" I mean, the children have lost their minds. Literally, they have lost their minds. Its as if school got out, and the very next day my kids learned how to fight with each other. Up til now, for the most part, they have gotten along fairly well. Bigger One mothers Littler One and he is usually fine with that. She would boss him around and he would be happy to oblige. But some deep, fundamental, subterranean shift has happened recently. They fight. Oh, do they fight! Finally this morning, I couldnt take it anymore. I stood at my kitchen counter listening to their ridiculous accusations of  "He wont stop touching me!" and "Bella shoosh! Bella boss me!" and I had to choke down the panic that was rising like bile in the back of my throat. What happened here? When did it happen?! At what point did the train derail?
The past week their attitudes have slowly, inexorably, gone downhill. There has been too much arguing, whining, complaining, and antagonzing, and not enough grace, or forgiveness, or thankfulness. This morning I had one of those "Aha" moments where I realized with a sinking heart that indeed, we have gotten far off track. Amazing how fast that happens, isnt it?

So today, we have been cleaning house and cleaning hearts. I decided to try to get the kids focus off of themselves by having them do nice things for each other. Make each other's beds, get each other snacks, help me clean and organize the house, etc. But getting them to actually do these things is only half the battle. Because, does it really even count if they do it with a rotten attitude? Hardly. It always boils down to the attitude of the heart, yes? I might accomplish a clean house with their help, but if they are grumbling the whole time, then ultimately all I'm accomplishing is a clean room that will be dirty again in 15 minutes anyways.

I am working hard on instilling a sense of teamwork in them. A sense of "you belong to this family and we are all on the same team. So lets help each other out!" (I am literally chuckling as I type this. Doesn't that just sound like a nice little antecdote? It sounds so cheesy but I think that surely there's a valuable truth under there somwhere? Obviously not an easy one though, or I wouldn't be sitting here blogging about it.)

Amazingly enough, after about an hour of pitching in and thinking of each other, their attitudes changed. Like some kind of magic voodoo. Okay, not voodoo. Maybe they were getting high on all the pinesol and comet fumes coming from the kitchen. Either way, I'll take it.
Today, success! Tomorrow? Well success or no, at least its a new day.

2012: My Four Words

It's only 11 days into the new year, but I've had a lot on my mind already in regards to forward motion and what that looks like for me, personally in 2012. I suppose a new year is as good of a time as any to take stock, if it were. This year for me that means looking inward more than outward. It's more of an honest glimpse into my heart,  than a look at my outward, tangible life.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs, SheLovesMagazine, which is made of up many different contributors, and each person shared one word as their personal goal for 2012. One word. Keeping things simple- I like that! Words like Repair, Delve, Rest, Fulfillment, etc. Maybe it's cheesy, but it resonated with me. It's deeply personal and honest to just sum things up in one word. That one word can become a balance, a measure, a filter, a springboard for the year. So I've been thinking a lot and praying a little too, and choosing MY one word.

...Then again, consider the source. I couldnt pick JUST ONE word! I mean, come on, let's all be real here. :) I never claimed that I wasn't wordy! I picked 4 words. Deal with it.

(1)

-CONTENT-

1 Timothy 6:6 "But godliness with contentment is great gain."

This year I am making a conscious decision to be content. Because I do think that it often is simply a choice.

I am going to be content with my age and my body.

Sure, I'd like to lose ten pounds, and sure, I wish I had thick gorgeous flowing hair. Being content doesn't mean I must be stagnant. I will work on those ten pounds. But I will not obsess over my physical appearance. It is part of me. But it is not the most important thing.

I will be content with my finances.

 I will not try to keep up with the Jones'. I will not constantly wish for more. I will be thrilled to wake up in my new home and make coffee in my new kitchen every day. I will be happy to drive my car. I will be thankful for how much or how little each month affords us. I will not live beyond our means. I will be stoked for a free vacation to Italy in the spring!!!

I will  be content with my time.

 We all get the same 24 hour allotment. 

I will be content with my children and my husband

. After all, they are my whole heart divided into 3 people. I will appreciate them for who they are.

I will be content with my talents. 

I will be content with my responsibilities.

 They are mine for a reason. Which brings me to my second word:

(2)

-INVESTED-

Many of my responsibilites are close to home. In fact, they have become my home. This does not mean that I lead a small, inconsequential life.  Actually on some days, the gravity of my responsibility scares the doo-doo out of me! Together with my husband, I am raising my two children. No big deal, right? Just ya know, gotta make sure they grow up to be decent humans with good hearts! Yikes.

 I am making the home we live in a safe and happy and nurturing place to be.  I love what I do. I feel that I can say that honestly. Not every moment of every day, but generally speaking I love what I do.

 Although- I think loving what I do is not the only important component. I also have a respect for what I do. Which I'd venture to say is not a popular opinion anymore. Often people view wives and mothers who don't work outside of the home as somehow inferior. As if it must mean they lack the ambition or the skill to do other things. At the risk of sounding grand, lofty, or obnoxious, I will say that at this time in my life, I view motherhood and homemaking as a calling. Does this make me special or more "called" that someone else? No, of course not. Does it mean that I think all women are called to stay home? No, I do not think that at all.  Does this mean that I do nothing but wipe noses and bums, cook meals, clean floors, etc etc etc? GAH!  NO! My life is full of other things and other people. But it does mean that I value my role.

 The less you love something, the more unlovely it becomes. So I am choosing to be INVESTED in my home, my children, and my husband. I will not view the sibling disagreements, the dramatic 4 year old teary displays of emotion, the conversation interruptions, etc. as an obstacle in MY day. Something to move past. I will view it as a chance to give of myself freely. To cheerfully meet the need that is in front of me. Because the more I give of myself, the more I get back. Especially with my tiny tenders! The more I pour into their little hearts, the more they fill mine right back up. And on that note, I think the same theory applies to marriage. The more I give of myself, the more I get back...But that is another thought for another day.

In the end, however low it might rank in other people's opinion of importance, it ranks high in mine. It is important to me. So I will be INVESTED in my home and my family. 

There are two more words I've pondered and chosen as my theme for 2012 but Im going to share them  next time. If you had to choose ONE word, (or four!) what would it be?

Holly Jolly Chaos

Im doing it again... Just like I did last year.  BLURG.  Im sitting in the same hideous recliner that I did a year ago (incidentally I still refuse to part with it, however much I despise it's lack of aesthetic beauty.) So I'm sitting in my chair, shirking my duties, surrounded by throw pillows, farm animal toys, boxes, books, cold medicines, important documents....all the stuff I keep moving and shuffling and keeping within arms reach for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days until we finally, officially move.

The thing is, I honestly just don't do well with this kind of chaos. I hate it. Haaaaaaaate it. There, I said it!  My home is my space. Its my sanctuary. Its my turf. I like things clean. I like things organized. I like things put away. I like surfaces to shine. I like to cook in my kitchen. I like to put up holly jolly decorations at the proper time in the month of December. All of this has been seriously messed with. Which is seriously messing with ME.

I keep zoning out. Just completely malfunctioning at inopportune moments! I was just rocking little brother to sleep for his nap (something I refuse to give up just yet, as he is my last baby, and Im entirely unprepared to give up those 10 minutes of quiet snuggling). I accidentally sat there for 30 minutes, wasting precious time. Thinking about how I need to organize the junk drawer which morphed into the junk cupboard. (I really don't want to do that one.) I also need to wash all the rugs and blankets before I pack them up. I need to organize the kids' sock drawers because Im sure half of them dont fit, or dont have a match, and why take 23  useless, HALF pairs of socks to the new house? Come to think of it, I need to organize our sock drawers too. And on that note, why dont I just dedicate a shoebox to live on top of the dryer as a little sock coffin for all the socks that meet their demise in the dryer. I mean really, where to they GO?!

I need to dig up the purple flowering plant in the backyard. The ONE plant that I have managed to keep alive for my daughter who loves to garden. Who tragically has a mother that cannot garden. Who CAN NOT keep anything alive. No, we definitely can't leave behind her beloved (and alive!) purple plant. I need to take the goodwill things to the goodwill because they keep tumbling all over the way back of my car. Luckily I have a "way back", so its out of sight, out of mind. That one I can save for later. Oh, I really need to go buy some special cleaner for my shower because there is wierd rust in our water that tints the shower pan orange in the cracks, and I just can't leave that there. I should pack up more of my kitchen, although that feels risky because after all, we do still need to eat for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days. I need to purge the hallway cabinets that store everything from humidifiers to movies, to placemats, to easter baskets, to framed pictures that I never put up at this house because I knew we'd be moving in a year.

A year. Did an entire year really pass by already? Can I somehow slow life down? Press a pause button? No, I suppose I can't. So I may as well learn to stop and smell the roses, even amid the holly jolly chaos that Im currently in.

This makes me sound grouchy, but I don't think I am? I think Im just floundering a little. Just a bit "out of sorts" this holiday season. I definitely am not complaining. I am beyond thrilled to be moving into a brand new home. OUR home! I am even more thrilled that soon I will have my husband back. That soon evenings and weekends will be leisurely again. So what if there's still roughly 47 projects that will still need finishing at the new place. So what if we slap up a charlie brown, helter skelter tree only a few days before christmas! So what.  There is much to be thankful for. I think I just need to get over the chaos. And quit zoning out. And get back to work.

Did I shave my legs for all this? No. Because I honestly dont have a clue where my razor is.

Tales From the Trenches: On Staying Home and Staying Positive

Im not going to lie. Im going a little bit crazy. Not to mention stir crazy. Winter has set in, the days are shorter and darker, and Husband has recently been otherwise occupied by the teeny tiny project of a new home, which has often left the kids and I filling our time at home. The weather has turned cold and wet which rules out most outside play. Park days have dwindled, and confession: so have playing-in-the-backyard-days because of Buster's land mines that Husband normally picks up, but now have become my area of responsibility. Along with taking out the trash and raking leaves and other silently agreed upon "man jobs" in our house. And while I officially can (and do!- points there) get these tasks done, lets all be real here. Where Husband would do them bi-weekly, I've done them bi-monthly. Atrocious, I know.

So we've spent many a day indoors. Trying to keep two kids busy and happy and out of trouble. This takes an exorbitant amount of effort some days! Puzzles are ruined by little brother. So are all endeavors to draw, paint, color, or cut/glue. And since Im making a genuine effort to minimize screen time (sidenote: this is a real effort at improvement on my part, because both my kids will happily sit in front of the tv and watch movies together in blissful quiet harmony. While there is nothing wrong with this, and we do it often, I am trying to engage them more.) Be present, right?! Do the work! Make deposits in their little hearts! All the stuff that they dont tell you is the actual hard part of parenting.

SO. Its been interesting. In fact, this very minute, my two pajama clad tinies have gotten into the art cupboard and there are markers, paint brushes, color books, and the like all over my kitchen counter. There have been no altercations, no tears, and no damage to clothing, person, or surface, so Im allowing it to go on unsupervised. For now. I think this has actually been good for me in terms of loosening up. As a person who is perpetually tidying and cleaning I have gotten better at living life and allowing messes. (Kids will do that to you.) Sure! Get out the playhouse! And the barbies and the play food, and the hot wheels, and the baby dolls, and the airplanes, and the books. And ok fine, the toy microphone. And sure! We can play with it all at once! Mix it all up together! Go for it.

 Its good for me and its good for them. The 2 year old is learning to play and use his imagination and share and get along. The 4 year old is learning that if you're big enough to get it out, you're big enough to clean it all up. She's also learning patience with the 2 year old because he reeks havoc on all of her best laid plans. She's learning to lead by example and do the right thing even when its not always "fair". 

 I'M learning that I have a lot to learn. Some days I finish with a sense of pride and joy and fullness.  For the quality time spent reading books and snuggling. For getting down on the floor with them and pretending. For diffusing arguments and drawing the right responses out of them.  For being Fun Mommy! Which, if Im being totally honest, is usually Daddy's area of expertise. (I say this fondly and begrudgingly at the same time.) I love that Husband comes home, changes out of his work clothes and then wrestles on the floor with the kids while I cook dinner. I love that they squeal with delight when they hear the garage door open. It only makes me a little bit sad that Im not the first one they run to, to be silly with. But really, that's my own doing. Some days Im pleased with myself for turning off the tv, and turning on the music and dancing around the living room with the kids- AND managing to be productive at the same time. In the way that it really counts, and in the practical, getting-the-floors-mopped kind of way.

 And then some days I feel utterly defeated. Some days I forget to play and have fun because Im too busy taking care of life. Some days the kids have fought, the house is a mess, and I have lost my patience (after the 17th time little brother has climbed on the counter and emptied the entire contents of my purse, then ruined his sister's art project and thrown every single crayon in every single direction.) Some days big sister has been excessively whiny and contrary. Some days I have a hard time controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE! Its true. Go ahead and judge. Some days I let them watch too much tv. (Cringe) Eeek. I know.

But we are living life. Life is messy and complicated and full of mistakes. But God is faithful. Lessons have been learned. Important lessons. Like, positive reinforcement and encouragement and praise are every bit as important as discipline. Like, if I want my kids to practice  kindness, gentleness, patience, self control, etc.- then I ought to be practicing them myself. Like, thankfulness for simplicity. Sometimes when raising small children, its easy to get swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. But the day is made up of hundreds of moments. Busy, loud, hectic,  moments of rushing our the door or getting dinner on the table. Quiet, still, midnight moments spent rocking, feeding, and comforting. Precious bedtime prayer moments where you are touched and surprised by the peek into your 4 year old's heart and concerns. Moments of mundane, vitally important opportunities to teach and mold and love and grow. And those moments are SIMPLE. They are easy to miss.  It's taken me two babies to learn to appreciate THOSE moments. They're what I end up remembering. They're what I end up cherishing. A tiny sweaty head with cherub cheeks and curly lashes, nestled on my chest in the rocking chair when I can hardly keep my eyes open and I feel like the only person in the dark universe who is awake. Giggles and squeals in the bathtub. Hurdles of pride and tears followed by hugs and forgiviness. It can be a lot of work but it's still SIMPLE. And it fills my heart with a simple kind of joy. Kids are funny like that. Like I always say, they completely fill you up and completely empty you at the same time.

So, I am putting this on an index card -

 Galations 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things, there is no law."

Then Im going to put it on the fridge as a reminder to my tiny tenders... And I'll put it on my bathroom mirror as a reminder to myself.  And then Im going to pray a lot. :)

Dont Fight the Funk... Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On

A year ago when I turned 29 I started contemplating the inexorable shift from my 20's into my 30's. I had only one year left to enjoy my twenties and I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties, take a good honest look at myself, and make peace with the whole package. I even made an actual list of things I'd never be great at (Don't Fight the Funk post.) I do love my lists! Even if they are self deprecating and slightly neurotic. I admitted that I'll probably never be great at doing my own hair and makeup, relaxing in an unkempt house or making snap decisions.  I even owned up to being a blurter and an open book. But I left out how I can't dance and how impatient I am and well...lots and lots of other things. It was more of a rough draft, really, than an all inclusive list.

So now a whole year has passed since these musings and that inexorable shift has happened. Its here. I've been 30 for four entire days now. Which basically makes me an expert. (Sarcasm here should be implicit. And if it's not, y'all are reading the wrong blog)

So I've had a whole year to get on board with this turning 30 business, and I've done an acceptable job of it I guess. I understand it's the end of an era. I can appreciate that. On the whole, Im content with my twenties. I entered them with a better figure and fewer wrinkles but I left them with a husband and two tiny tenders that have captured my heart and run away with it. It may have taken the better part of a decade, but I've gained a truer knowledge of who I am,  a clearer understanding of what Im about, and a closer relationship with my God. I'm more comfortable in my own skin. I care less what other people think. I listen more to my gut and my conscience. I appreciate more.

Ok. Not too shabby.

Except...

There's this whole gaggle of things I still desperately want to change! I want to have more gumption. I want to be more fearless. I want to be more positive. I want to speak less and listen more. I want to show more grace, even when it goes against the grain. Good Lord, I want to worry less! I want to get this uncooperative 30 year old body right and tight again. I want to have more fun with my kids. I want to loosen up. And good grief,  I want to learn how to do my hair and makeup already!

So Im thinking maybe there's some holy grail of a middle ground here? Not striving or fussing over the things that you can never change, while making a genuine effort to work on the things you can?
I guess I have the next decade to find out. Then at 40 I can re-evaluate and go ahead and have a mid-life crisis if I need to.

In the meantime, I HAVE branched out a little bit. I bought a curling iron and some eyeshadow, locked myself in the bathroom, and decided I wasnt coming out until I learned a thing or two. I emerged 3 hours later with a kink in my neck, a few burn marks, and slightly sweaty and highly irritable-  but all in all I'd say it was a success. I've learned how to do a smokey eye and sufficiently wield a curling wand...and on some days its even kind to me.

Husband and I even went dancing! I curled my hair, fumbled with some makeup, and even put on a little black dress. We were going out on the town! I used to be able to dance. Years ago. But somewhere along the line I became convinced I'd lost my mojo. But ya know what? I had so much fun! Mojo shmojo. See? Dont we look like we're having fun?

So after turning 30 and taking stock I'm sticking with "Be Who You Are and Own It!" And Im landing somewhere between "Dont Fight The Funk", and "Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On."
 Oh yes, its a real place.

The Thing About Striving...

The thing about striving... is that its often a mistake.

Its been a while since I've sat down to write. Not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. For lack of some positive nugget of substantial worth to share. And Im not in the mood to write about trips and circumstance and...fluff.

 I've sort of been living life in a head-above-water state of mind for the past couple of months. I've been heavy-laden in my heart and in my mind. I've been stressed out. Extremely stressed out. I've been sort of trudging along pushing this load of worry and anxiety and responsibility up this giant hill, straining harder and growing wearier by the day before realizing, something's gotta give. Ever feel like you're a hamster in a wheel? Spinning and spinning and trying so hard, and bless your heart, just not getting to any real destination?

I opened my favorite daily devotional two days ago and was hit by the force of the first few sentences. A truth I could cling to like a life saving anchor when drifting afloat on the waves of my own concerns. It read,

2 Timothy 2:24 "The servant of the Lord must not strive."

"Be careful that you are following Me, and I will care for all else. Striving is for those who have not yet learned to trust Me. Anxiety is the affliction of the self-possessed."

So often as believers, we strive where we ought not.  And in the striving, we become obsessed with our own problems. We worry and fret. Will it work out? Will it get easier? Will I get what I want? We pray, even. We ask and ask for what we think we should have. When really, we should trust. We should rest. We should have the faith to know that our times are in His hands. That if His eye is on the sparrow, then surely it watches over me?

I am not talking about walking around in some kind of ooky-spooky spiritual misty fog. Lord knows each day is filled with its own tasks and realities that require action and courage and forward motion. But is all of the striving really necessary? I think maybe its not. Not always anyway.

Maybe if I excersize a little more faith and a little less concern for my own comforts, I'll live a life of a little more substance. And every little bit counts.