The Most Wonderfull (Awful) Time of the Year

Finally sent all my packages off with the husband to ship, and I'm taking a few minutes for a quick vent session blog post. Because I cannot afford therapy.

Up until this week, I really was enJOYing the season. However, this week was a blur. Did I shower? Not sure, and I certainly didn't sleep or eat much. I had originally planned to ship my gifts off on Wednesday. Problem was, I hadn't bought all the gifts that I needed to send at that point.

Thursday rolls around, and I buy what I need and plan to wrap it ALL that night. But it's pretty hard to wrap gifts with NO tape. I have no tape because I have scissor-stealing minions, who don't bother to TELL me when they use THE LAST OF THE TAPE!!!

Friday, I get ready to take the kids to school. My son is still wearing pajama pants at 8:00 in the morning. Why isn't he dressed for school? Because his jeans were in the washing machine, despite the fact that I had asked him if his pants were put in the dryer at like 7:00. My almost 11-year-old daughter, who is usually very resourceful and will put the clothes in the dryer if she needs pants, is wearing the DIRTY pants she had on the day before. Seriously? What did I do to deserve this?

So after loosing all my Christmas joy, yelling at my kids, making them both cry, and dropping them off at school an hour late (yes, I felt like the worst mom in the whole entire world), I go to Walgreens to buy tape....and a few more gifts. Get home and sit down to start wrapping and my alarm goes off. It's time to get the children from school. Yes. I have an alarm for that.

I spent the afternoon and late into the evening wrapping gifts and packing (cramming) them into the Priority Mail boxes I had previously picked up from the post office. (I felt really good about that proactive move too.) Went to bed when I just couldn't hold my head up any longer. But. I only had 3 of 7 boxes ready to go.

Saturday, this morning, I spent another 5 hours getting gifts - the thoughtful ones that I started working on a month ago but never finished - ready to go in the mail. I begged my husband to take the packages to the Post Office for me, because I still have brushed my teeth and am in my pajamas. He agreed. Hallelujah! The packages are all ready and the Christmas joy is starting to return, even though my living room looks like this:

But then. He starts YELLING AT ME! Actually, he may have just been talking, and it might have been me who started yelling. But he was saying the boxes needed to be put in bags so he could carry them, and that he won't make it to the PO in time, because I WAITED TO THE LAST MINUTE.

I'm sorry. WHAT?! Ummm...DO NOT EVEN! I think I have been baking and making gifts, and decorating, and shopping online and in ACTUAL STORES, and recording every purchase on a SPREADSHEET so I don't go over budget, for the past 3 WEEKS. I picked out all the gifts. I wrapped all the gifts. Including HIS own sister's presents. I have not gone to bed before midnight all week long. Wait. I lied a bit. He bought 2 of the gifts. Online. And it was MY gift idea for our children. Easy.

But before you think I am calling my husband lazy or something, let me say he is wonderful and helpful. He went grocery shopping after working a long day last night and didn't get home until 8:00 pm. He did the dishes when I asked him to this morning, since we had no clean ones. He made me breakfast and coffee - without me asking. He is Sweet and Helpful. He will be making Christmas dinner. Love him for those things and so much more.

However, when it comes to Christmas presents, it's all on me. Every year. I wrap every gift by myself and usually late into the night. I go to the stores and stand in the lines at the PO to ship several boxes, which no one put into bags so that I could carry them easily. So, when my husband dared to say one package might not make it, because I could not fit it into a bag, I kind of lost it. I YELLED, "It better make it!!!" loud enough for all the neighbors to hear and slammed the door. Then mumbled a few curse words under my breath. Hey, I never said I was perfect.

Shipping packages is the most awful part of this wonderful time of the year for me. I love to give. I really, really do. I enjoy making or picking out gifts for my family and friends. I even enjoy wrapping them up into pretty presents. BUT. The whole gifting thing isn't really what Christmas is about, and when it takes up so much of our attention and time and stresses us out, it makes me wonder, is it all really worth it? Right now I just want to get back to focusing on baby Jesus. Back to singing "Holy Night" and "Come Let Us Adore Him" in a darkened sanctuary, illuminated with candles, where I can sense Jesus. For me, Christmas is feeling the presence of God, alive, among us, and the whole shipping presents thing typically steals any such feeling from me. Glad it's done. Hopefully. Not sure, since my husband hasn't come back yet. Maybe he is returning my presents.

Wishing you and your family Christmas Joy and Presence.

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas,

Ashley

On Being Superior

I usually blog about what's weighing on my heart.  But I have been silent about a certain issue until now. Not because it hasn't been on my heart. It has. I care. I really do. I just wasn't sure I should say anything. I've stated it before, sometimes Silence is Golden.

I told myself I'm not qualified to voice an opinion on this particular issue. So, I have been quiet. I have been listening and reading and trying to understand. And I mostly agree with myself about being quiet. But, I also know that maybe I was partly avoiding the issue because it is hard. It is sticky and sensitive, and it makes me feel guilty. And it makes people say and do hurtful, angry things.

But. Ferguson. Protests. White cops. Black men. Racial tension.

I didn't feel qualified to speak about what's happening in Ferguson or about any of the other recent news stories of black men killed by white police officers - for several reasons. Most importantly, because I am not a young black man nor am I a police officer. I have never walked in their shoes or even walked beside them. I've never been in a situation where I had to choose to protect my own life by taking another's. And I have never been judged as a threat or criminal based on the darkness of my skin color. And, I wasn't THERE. I don't know the truth about what happened. I haven't personally read the case files, and I haven't seen or heard all the evidence. But, I know this to be the truth: in EVERY situation or fight or argument, there are two different accounts of what occurred, and then, there is the TRUTH. Everyone sees a situation through their own past experiences. This is just how we humans are wired. ALL of us. Red, Yellow, Purple, Pink, Brown, Black, or White. We react and make decisions based on our experiences, depending on how we have been treated as white, black, brown, mixed, or multi-colored people.

As a white female, I don't know the truth of what it is to experience life as black or as a male. I realized yesterday that - besides my handsome Jamaican brother-in-law - I don't even have any black friends. Not because I don't want to have any, but I just don't. I currently live and have pretty much always lived in a predominantly white community. We don't have any black neighbors, and I rarely see anyone of color out shopping at the local market. Based on a report from 2000, the black or African American population in Gloucester is .6% and goes up to .9% for those who are biracial. I've discovered that here "minority" refers to anyone who is not Italian. So, my opportunity to have an open conversation about racial tensions with someone of a different race in my town is slim.

To be perfectly honest, race isn't usually something I think a lot about. I guess you could say that's my "white privilege" showing. Probably. I would like to think it's because I don't care. Not that I don't care about inequality among races, but because the color of someone's skin or a person's racial heritage makes no difference in how I would want to treat them.

However, racism is not something I've never dealt with personally. Because unlike Santa Clause, it most certainly DOES exist in the 21st century. Unfortunately, the ugliness and ignorance of racism has caused friction and anger within my own extended family. When my younger sister married a black man, a few of my Southern-bred relatives had unkind things to say about interracial relationships. Personally, I cannot understand their unfounded bias, especially since our clan has stirred in many (way too many to list) nationalities into our own hereditary pot. My own husband, who is a hybrid Mexican, Spanish, Italian, was accepted despite his Latino roots. So, it just makes no sense to me. What is the basis of their prejudice - skin pigment? Really? How completely insane.

I can only attribute their feelings to long threads of lies, which have wrapped around inadequate people, desperate to feel superior. The Desire for Superiority. Such an incredibly degenerating human quest. Feeling we are better than others based on the color of our skin or on our cultural heritage or religious background or the quality of our clothes or the size of our house or the cost of our cars. Ridiculousness. Wreckage. This hole in our human souls where the desire for superiority and importance exists is the birthplace of violence and racism and hatred.

Racism, sexism, ageism. They all emerge from our desire to be better, more powerful, more in control. And we will not rid our country of them until we fully submit to the truth of equality. The TRUTH OF EQUALITY - we are all created equal with the right to Life. The white cop and the black man and the white mother and the black mother all cry tears of sorrow and feel the devastation when a child is taken as a result of any kind of violence. So why can't we end it? Why are there riots and protests going on all over our country in 2014, 150 years after slavery was abolished and 50 years after desegregation?

Because racism keeps being taught. Racism does not exist among children unless they are taught by society to shun or disapprove of people who look different. My daughter's first school friend to come sleep over was a little black girl, who Ali still remembers as the girl with brown skin, because for some reason we cannot remember her name, and the term "black" used in reference to a person of color just isn't part of her vocabulary. Two of her best friends are from very different cultural backgrounds than her own, but she never even considered not being friends with them. And, my children never once questioned the fact that their uncle has darker skin than their own. They just know he is fun, because he plays with them and likes football and fishing and has a cool house. The fact that my nephew has curly black hair and beautiful caramel-colored skin, which is so different from their own, means absolutely nothing to them. And it shouldn't.

And that's why I decided that I had been quiet long enough. Because no matter what the circumstances that led to the death of Michael Brown that summer night in Ferguson, the problems and sickness of racism in our country exist, and we need to keep having honest, loving conversations until we have completely eradicated this disease. We all need to give up on anger and resentment and denial and strive for compassion and understanding and acceptance.

As for this privileged white girl, I know that I will never be able to fully comprehend or understand the feelings of outrage and frustration and injustice that black people in this country feel when they hear that an "unarmed black man" was shot and killed by the police. But I do know that I feel shame and guilt for the reasons behind those feelings of outrage. And I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. And I care about this kind of pain. And I promise to teach my children differently. I promise to try my damnedest to look beyond skin color or cultural background to see the heart of a person first.

To all the police officers who are feeling hurt and taken for granted: thank you. Thank you for your service and for being brave enough to step out into hard situations - dangerous situations which might mean the end of your own life or the life of another. I can't imagine wearing the weight of that responsibility.

This is what I have learned: The only superior attribute ANY human can actually posses is the ability to EMPATHIZE with others. A person's ability to consider another with concern and kindness without regard for status or color or title makes them worthy of the label SUPERIOR.  

So, let's be that kind of SUPERIOR. Always.

Love,

Ashley

Life Isn't Fair, But We Can Be

It's what we all really want, and the elusive thing we seek, when we fight for justice. FAIRNESS. We think: work hard and it should pay off; do good, get goodness; follow the rules and laws, and live free.

But TRUTH is? Life isn't always fair. For millions and millions of people, life has never been fair. They were born into UNFAIRNESS. I'm learning just how truly unfair it is for people born outside the USA. Recently, I joined a women's Bible study group, and we began reading Jen Hatmaker's book, Interrupted: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity. Have you read this book? It will WRECK YOU. At least, it has wrecked me. It has turned my perspectacles upside down and backwards, and it has confirmed a direction my heart had forgotten but is excitedly remembering. It has added fuel to a fire in me that was dormant for many years.

When I was younger, I had missionary dreams, and I had dreams of building housing for the homeless. Simply, I had dreams of helping others, which were inspired by serving God. But as I grew into an adult, the pursuit of my version of the American dream - college degree, husband, kids, house, meaningful career, etc. - clouded out all those altruistic goals; life became about the pursuit of my own happiness. College degree, check. Husband, check. Babies, check. House, check. But happiness? Hmmm. . . nope. As I acquired all of the ingredients of my dream, the weight and pursuit of possessions drug me into some dark places. My ego became bigger and my altruism became dependent on if my "needs" were met first. My "Needs." Ha!

I have always had everything I ever needed and most of what I wanted, but I wasn't happy because I wanted more. I wanted to be important. I wanted to be SEEN and APPRECIATED. I wanted nicer things, a magazine-worthy home, better clothes...that STUFF that our privileged American culture sells us as necessary to happiness. And the more I focused on the goal of making myself happy, the less happy I became. 

This idea that we need nice stuff to make us happy - that we need to achieve "success" to make us fulfilled -it's a lie. It's a slick commercial. It's false advertising. It's idolatry. And worshiping things and status instead of God, is the fastest road to despair we can travel.

"Jesus replied, 'You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally as important: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Matthew 22: 37-39). Look as hard as you want, but there is NO commandment that says love yourself first. Love your home. Love your clothes. Love your car. Love your job. Nopity nope nope. In fact, Jesus says not to worry about all that stuff. Not sayin' we shouldn't have it, just that we shouldn't WORRY about it. 

"In the end, only kindness matters." These words from this song, Hands, by Jewel started playing over and over in my head several months ago. And I realized there is TRUTH in those words. They are like scripture. They are almost HOLY. 

I think He has been preparing me to face the truths I was slapped with when I started reading Interrupted. My heart and soul were almost there. And. Then. I started reading the wrecking-ball of a book. In it Jen Hatmaker lists some incredible statistics about how the rest of the world lives. These stats brought me to tears and tore several selfish desires right out of my head. I think you must read them for yourself (page 22 & 23 of the Bible Study version of Interrupted) in order to understand. But I am there. I am at the place where I no longer care about acquiring more for myself; I am focused on how can I give more to others. How can I even the playing field? Because in America, we have the home team advantage at every single game. Our poor are the richest in the world. They have access to help: food stamps, food pantries, homeless shelters, and thousands of charitable organizations and humanitarians. Our $50,000 (an approximate number throwing out highest paid) average household income puts us in the top 1% in the world.

While we in the middle class feel like we struggle to pay for health care and car payments, IPhones, and $1500 mortgages, there are MILLIONS in the world who still struggle to find clean drinking water, die from starvation and disease, and are sold into SLAVERY. Did you know that there are more people enslaved today than EVER BEFORE?

So my car is 10 years old. Whatever. It runs and gets me from place to place. So I haven't bought new clothes for myself in about a year. Whatever. I have a closet full. My kitchen is nobody's dream. Whatever. I have a fridge, a stove, and a sink with running water. And I am extremely grateful that I don't have to cart water from a dirty river to do my laundry or dishes.

So, how can we make life more fair?

At one of our Bible study meetings, one of the women voiced her concern about where the goods she buys - shoes, clothes, etc. - come from. She wondered if when she bought items from the common retailers, is she contributing to children working in sweatshops? Are the people making the products we buy earning a fair wage? 

And I wondered, am I contributing to human trafficking by buying from certain companies? Do the women in India, who make the clothes I purchase from Old Navy, have clean drinking water to give their children?

These questions sparked a fire in me, and I began researching. It may seem small to you. Or it may seem big to you. But here is one way we can all make a difference: we can put our money where our heart is. We can make an effort to buy fair-trade or American-made products. Yes, they can be more expensive. Yes, there aren't as many choices. But, the more we buy, the more there will be more.

I have barely scratched the surface on the topic, but I want to share what I have found BEFORE we all complete our Christmas shopping. So, here are some links and other tidbits I've learned so far: 

• If you go to fairtradeusa.org, you can find a list of companies selling fair trade certified products. Everything from sugar to coffee to clothing is available. 
• BJs sells some baked goods made with fair trade certified sugar. 
• Flint and Tinder is a company that sells products (mainly underwear) which are 100% made in America. And they sell a 10-year Hoodie which looks super comfy and are guaranteed to last.
• Room and Board is a furniture company that actually sells attractive furniture that is American-made and at reasonable (but not inexpensive) prices.
• HAE Now sells organic, fair trade tees at a fair price, and if you want to sell your OWN line of shirts, they sell wholesale and will label your shirts for you. They sell baby and toddler onsies too.
• When shopping for gifts, we can look at the Greater Good website, which was "Created to help women worldwide gain economic security for themselves and their families by earning fair wages for their handiwork, Global Girlfriend sources women-made, fair-trade imported, eco-friendly products. By supporting long-term partnerships with the artisans, it fosters equal employment opportunities, healthy and safe working conditions, technical assistance, and development strategies to help reduce poverty, one community at a time. Become a "Global Girlfriend" and help build a brighter future for girlfriends around the globe!"

If buying fair trade isn't your style, here are some other ideas: Buy food to donate to a local food pantry. Sponsor a child. Or adopt a child! Buy a family a goat. . . The possibilities to make the world more of a fair place are truly endless.  

May you have a very Happy Thanksgiving. We truly have so much to be thankful for!

Love,

Ashley

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison and you visited me." -  Matthew 25:34-36

Why You Don't HAVE to Go to Church

But. There are 4 reasons why I DO.

I have had this post on my heart for a few weeks now but have been reluctant to actually write it down and share it. I don't want to sound like THAT person. You know, that self-righteous-know-it-all who you just want to punch? I have been that person. Sometimes I look way back in the past to like, yesterday, and want to punch myself.

So let me be completely honest here. Going to church on a regular basis is a renewed practice for me, and I haven't quite gotten it solidly locked into my weekly rhythm again. Since finding a church home about 6 months ago, I haven't made it 4 times in a month yet. Each Saturday night I go to bed with every intention of getting up the next morning and getting ready for church. Such good intentions...

Truth is I am a horrible morning person. It takes a strong reason - like having to go work or get my children to school on time - for me to be persuaded to actually GET OUT OF BED. I need to feel like I HAVE to. I just love my bed way too much; I love being snuggled up under the covers. And that terribly wonderful invention called a smart phone has completely ENABLED me. Really, it is all my Samsung's fault! I can check my email and scroll on FB and check the weather and text and all sorts of interactive things, right from my cozy place, without ever stepping foot on the cold hardwood floor. It's an introvert's dream machine.

I hold my weekends sacred. I consider it a great weekend if my car never leaves the driveway. I have actually avoided signing my children up for activities because they were held on Saturday mornings. I mean, who in their right mind would get up early on a Saturday morning? Not me. Not since my children became potty trained and learned to make their own breakfast. Thank. The. Lord. For. Cereal.

So Sundays. Aren't they just another Saturday? Look around and you'll see that to most of the world they are. Stores and restaurants are open. Even some banks are now open on Sundays. Little teams of footballers and cheerleaders and hockey players have practices on Sunday mornings. Gone are the days when the general population observed the Sabbath. And if Sunday is just a second Saturday, we have the choice to do what we want with it. Why sacrifice sleeping in or shopping or getting a DIY project done just to go to church?

For a long  time, my choice was to stay in bed on Sunday mornings. No one was making me get up. My husband has never really been a church-goer, so he's no help. My children realized, if we don't wake mom, she won't make us DO stuff (like get ready to go to church).

So, despite growing up in great churches and being involved in the Christian community, I stopped getting up on Sundays, when it became an easy choice not to. The church where I was part of the youth group and then got married in and taught and was a cell group leader kind of fell apart. Then we moved to New England, where the type of church that I was accustomed to seemed not to exist. And my long non-church-going gap occurred.

But this is why I finally started going again: I missed it. I really, really missed it. Why?

1. Because I LOVE it.  Praise and Worship. Love.  Sermons. Love.  The smiling, friendly people, who care about one another. Love. Maybe it's because I did grow up from infancy in church, but church feels like home to me. Those pews are comfort.

Maybe it's because I can FEEL God there. Of course, you can feel God elsewhere - at home holding your child, out in splendid nature, spending time in prayer, or any other place where you are spiritually aware. But I tend to get caught up in the every day living - the practical - and am not able to focus in on His presence the way I can in church, where that is my purpose.

Maybe it's because we were actually created to commune with God, and when at church, that's what I am doing. My focus is on Him, and so my soul is at rest. It is not fighting the battle of what should I be doing? Or am I doing the right thing? When I am worshiping in church, I transcend the concrete world and all it's myriad problems and enter into a realm of true peace. It is Sanctuary - a place of refuge from the storm. For that one hour and a half, all is well with my soul. That time of blissful peace is incredibly liberating, and it carries me farther than any other comfort I seek.

2. Because I NEED it. Of course, you can be a good person who doesn't go to church. There are tons of great people who don't. Many followers and believers of Christ don't subscribe to any kind of organized religion. Going to church doesn't automatically make you good or make you a Christian. But I need it. This particular terribly flawed human needs to go to church in order to remain focused. Blame it on my ADD. I need that weekly reminder of all that I have learned about living like Christ in order to continue living like Him.

I have known both selves. The church-goer and the non-church goer. And I like the church-goer better. She is nicer and more loving and more patient and kind. She is far from perfect but feels so much better. During the years that I wasn't attending, I was more selfish, cynical, bitter, unhappy, and less faith-filled. I wasn't able to be the person that I think God wants me to be, and I wasn't focusing on living out His will for my life. Selfish desires and worries and stresses took over, and I forgot to trust in Him. I was lost. And now, I feel found once again. Plus, when I am in church, I am honoring both the first and fourth commandments (Exodus 20: 3-11), which is always a good thing.

3. Because We Belong To Each Other. We were not meant to live out our paths in isolation. As much as it is my natural tendency to draw into myself and shut the world out, I know that I can't give into that selfish temptation. I do not exist for myself. If I did, it would be a terrible waste of a life. Over and over in the scriptures, we encounter the importance of working together: of lifting one another up, helping one another, loving one another. In I Corinthians 12:7, Paul says, "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other." Not so that we can help ourselves but so we can help each other. Hebrews 10:23-25 says, "Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near."

Some of my best friends and best life experiences came from being involved in a church community. But let me be very clear. In church you will not find sinless people. You will not find perfect people. You will find people who are struggling and who are flawed. They have opinions and symptoms just like the rest of us. And, you will not find a perfect church. Not every church is good. In fact, you won't find God in all of them. Keep looking. Because the church needs us. It needs me. It needs you. It needs you to help in the nursery or to organize a pot-luck dinner. It needs you to teach our children. It needs our tithes and our offerings. Those lights don't illuminate the sanctuary without cost. The bathroom doesn't clean itself. The pastor's car needs gas too.

4. Because I CAN. I have been given that right and freedom by those who suffered for my ability to walk into any church I like and worship the way I please. Because if I do not continue to exercise that right and take advantage of that freedom, it may all be taken away from all of us. Because others cannot. Because a sacrifice was made for me. A sacrifice of blood and life. Because, if for no other reason, He is worth the sacrifice of a few hours of my time per week. So, because I can, I will. I will get out of bed on Sunday mornings. I will volunteer my time to help put on a Harvest Fest. I will use my spiritual gift and encourage other women. I will ramble on and on in a blog post that few will read, to say: I believe in Jesus, and I believe in living according to his teaching, and I believe in going to church. I will give my God, who sacrificed His child for me, a small sacrifice of praise and worship and time.

I don't HAVE to go to church. But I will. Sundays (most of them) you will find me Here. Probably at the 11:00 service. You are so very welcome to join me.

Love,

Ashley







.

On Criticism and Love

Forgive me for trying to tell you what to do. But please, please STOP IT!

Please, for the LOVE of God and all that is holy and/or human. Stop spewing hateful criticism under any disguise of being righteous or informed or "helpful."

Lately, I have wondered, mouth-wide-open, at the audacity of comments people make when they disagree with a point of view, a parenting style, politics, a method of faith-following, etc.

Don't get me wrong, I criticize. I am a HUGE commercial critic. Seriously, companies should hire me before letting any ad go on air. I could save them millions in bad ad campaigns. I can spot the good ones from the terrible in about 5.2 seconds. Just ask my husband - he gets to hear all my constructive criticism. And fashion. PLEASE. Don't get me started on the trends that should never have been. I mean, really, this T-shirt and jeans wearing SAHM has got the runway beat. I'm collecting pieces for my Shabby Chick line right now. Cause ain't nobody got money fo dat $170 blouse. Pilled-up 5-year-old sweatshirts like I am wearing right now are so much more GREEN anyhow.

Truthfully, I have been known to spread Toxic Tongue Disease from time to time. And I am completely preaching to the choir here. But I am really trying hard to watch my words and throw harsh criticism where it belongs. Because whoever came up with the phrase "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" was full of it. I'm calling BS. The truth is, wounds from sticks and stones usually heal up pretty quickly. But words can slice a path through the your heart so deep that the scar will last forever.

So please. STOP DESTRUCTIVELY CRITICIZING OTHERS. I have this sign hanging on my refrigerator to remind my children and myself to consider our words carefully.

If what we have to say doesn't fall into one of those categories, it probably isn't worth saying. And sometimes, it just isn't the right time or place for what we have to say, even if we are trying to be helpful. Before giving what you believe to be constructive advice, consider the following: your intention, your audience, your tone, and the mood of the person receiving the advice. Sometimes SILENCE IS GOLDEN. 

If you aren't sure what to say: SILENCE IS GOLDEN

If you can't say it nicely: SILENCE IS GOLDEN

If it's none of your business: SILENCE IS GOLDEN

Intention is everything. And love should guide our intentions. And LOVE IS "patient and KIND. Love is NOT jealous or boastful or proud or RUDE. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out." (I Corinthians 13:4-6)

One more thing. I've learned through teaching and parenting that encouragement is key. We respond to encouragement 10000% better than we respond to criticism. (That's a very unscientific fact). I have failed to realize this in the past. Criticism makes us defensive, guarded, and cranky. And the critics are everywhere. But, encouragement makes us want to try even harder. It puts a positive spark in our hearts. It gives us the courage and motivation to do hard things. 

Personally, I want to be remembered as an encourager. If I don't accomplish anything else in life than giving encouragement to those who need it, I will be OK with that. 

In Love,

Ashley

In the Middle of one of THOSE days

Ya know those days when you have all these great ideas of the awesome things you will accomplish? You wake up ready to take on the world, to create, to organize, to just DO IT. And then...you get up.

Today started like this: I didn't get a chance to wash my face because the child who is always ready for school 30 min early hadn't finished making her lunch but has a field trip so she can't just buy school lunch. And I look down and she isn't even wearing shoes. So I make a sandwich and she gets her shoes. Then we get in the car, and she remembered to bring the dog but not her book bag, but the door is locked, so I have to turn the car off and get out and get the darn bag and re-lock the door and re-start the car. AND it's only 40 degrees in September but yesterday it was 70!

After dropping the kids safely at school, I tackled all the paperwork received from meet the teacher night and realize the ONE form that needed to be sent in today to meet the deadline is still sitting by the computer.

Then I try to print something from the dinosaur of a computer, but the printer won't work for WHATEVER reason. But I need to print in order to accomplish one of my goals today. Sucked that up and move on to another goal: FIND A JOB. Preferably a teaching job. And I discover a great school in a nearby community is looking for an English teacher. YAY! But then I read that they want someone with their master's degree, and I don't have that, because I decided to get a certificate in interior design instead. Because after teaching for 2 years, while carrying 2 different children, and taking certification classes 8 months pregnant in order to get a PROFESSIONAL teaching license in Florida - we FREAKING moved to Massachusetts. And in MA I taught for a year in HELL with a TEMPORARY license only to be terminated at the end of that year because I didn't get my PRELIMINARY license. And then I did. 3 days later! So, I decided that I was just done with teaching. It was all too hard and complicated, and I had a 2 and 3-year-old and a husband who was working full-time and getting his master's degree, and there was just no more patience for hard and complicated. Interior design was fun and uncomplicated and not at all hard. 

Then, somewhere in the middle of trying to create an interior design business, I realized that I am ready. Ready to do hard and complicated again. Ready to teach, because it is what I feel called to do. BUT after applying to school after school, I realize I need my master's degree in education in order to get another job here and to get my PROFESSIONAL license. And I start reading the hoops I need to jump through in order to make that happen, and I just want to move back to Florida where I had already accomplished that goal. I want to go crawl in bed or go cry to my mommy and daddy! Because even though I am ready and willing to do the hard and complicated job of teaching high school students to read and write and analyze and synthesize, I cannot really afford to go to back to school again BEFORE getting a job!

So, I am in the middle of one of THOSE days. And it feels like nothing I do will work out. But I open my Bible, and I am reminded of this:

"The Lord says, 'I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.'" - Psalms 91: 14-16

And one more time, I listen to this song by Jenny & Tyler, whose music I am a bit obsessed with these days.

the LORD is my refuge and strength

therefore i will not be afraid

though the mountains give way

and fall into the sea

He will come and rescue me

the LORD comes to me at break of day

He reaches down to guide me in His ways

though the oceans roar

in this dark and stormy sea

He will come and rescue me

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, we cannot be moved

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, i rest secure

be still and know that He is God

He will be exalted over all

come and behold His strength and majesty

yet He will come and rescue me

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, we cannot be moved

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, i rest secure

So, in the middle of this day, I rest secure. He will come and rescue me. After all, it IS Friday.


Shalom,

Ashley

On the Kindness of Strangers

With all the crazy going on in the world, it's easy to see the darkness and evil looming. But when you look a little closer, there is an amazing thing happening in our communities.

I think I might call it a Culture of Kindness. There is this reach for being better humans. A brainwashing of niceness you might say. You can find it in the anti-bullying ads and in the rules at elementary schools. You can find it in television ads of the big box stores, advertising how they are giving back to schools. Even our favorite musicians are getting in on the act. Like we needed another reason to love Tim McGraw? I mean really. Giving away homes to military vets in those tight T-shirts he wears. . .HOW KIND!

This kindness phenomenon struck me the other day when I took my daughter to the doctor for her annual physical. We sleepily waited for about half an hour to see the doctor on a Saturday morning. Who schedules Dr. appointments at 8:30 am on a Saturday anyway?

This mother sucker, that's who. 

And if you know me at all, you know I hate getting up early for anything on the weekends. BUT, in order to see this particular doctor, I would drive an hour or more at any time of the day. Here's why:

Dr. Deluca enters and in her typical way greets my daughter with energetic cheerfulness. (She is a morning person by nature and a mother of 3, and kind of my hero). She proceeds to exclaim that Ali is just ADORABLE. Then she examines and asks my 10-year-old the typical physical questions. How do you sleep, eat, poop? Do you wear your seat-belt and bicycle helmet, etc. . . But then she asks about her friends at school and if she is mostly happy or mostly sad. And when Alexandra answers with 100,000 words and says she has really good friends but describes this one "friend" who drives her crazy, the good doctor LISTENS. And she responds, "Well, we don't have to like everyone, but you do always have to be kind to them, right?"

Then. This doctor, who has only seen my daughter a handful of times, anoints my child - not literally with oil or anything, but she speaks words into her life. She tells her that she sees her being a leader, a role-model. At which Ali looks at her quite dubiously. Can you hear the brainwashing? This woman, basically little more than a stranger to my child, has in a small amount of time, made a little girl feel good about herself, reaffirmed the ideals I teach my children about kindness, and encouraged her be a role model.

I see this Culture of Kindness more and more in this messed up sinful world, and it makes me so happy. When we are kind to strangers, we are doing God's work. Plain and simple. You want to know how to be happy? Be kind to strangers. Want to know how to be a "good" Christian? Be kind to strangers. Wanna go to heaven? BE KIND TO STRANGERS.

This morning I read in Matthew that exact admonition from Christ himself.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison and you visited me." -  Matthew 25:34-36

Summer in Summary

Hammond Castle, Gloucester, MA

Summer has been an emotional, lazy, and beautiful monster. And I am READY for fall. Please Dear God, let fall be Refreshing. Not vacation refreshing but goodness refreshing. I need to see and hear goodness in the world.

For me, this summer has been mostly SAD with a few sugar sprinkles thrown in here and there. Too much yucky and devastating and brutal. My globe wears a shawl of mourning, and I hope and pray that the coming Fall months drop this cloth of despair and bring something positive, or even, dare I hope, HAPPY.

When you have prayed and had faith and waited with hope, but what you seek just doesn't come, it's just so FREAKING YUCKY. But then, when you put your desires into perspective. . .life, for YOU (I mean me), is still good.

YOU (I) have an awesome husband and healthy children and a safe home and Glennon's posts to remind you that you have a refrigerator and clean water and it's all a matter of "perspectacles." (Click the link and read her post. It's awesome.)

You (I) have a smart phone and Facebook to stay connected to your family and friends, even though you are thousands of miles away. But, part of the downside (or maybe it's an upside - I'm not sure) to social media is that you can hear and SEE everything. All that connectivity is emotionally draining. When you see footage of person after person being executed and your heart and mind are SCREAMING STOP! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP! but your hands can only bang on the keyboard of your laptop and your voice dies right into the cookbook perched above you, the reality of that inability to DO SOMETHING about the things you are seeing is achingly devastating.

When rockets are launched and bombs burst despite a pledge of cease fire in the Holy Land. The Holy Land. The Land of baby Jesus and Mary and Joseph and the resurrection. The Land that God set aside and chose for His people, who are blamed for defending themselves against terrorists. Summer is burning rotten brutal.

And when, someone who brought so much laughter and joy to the world, stills his own life. And a town in MO goes crazy over the death of a young black man. And you blindly thought the world would never let religious persecution lead to genocide again. AGAIN. Over and over in country after country. Summer breaks your (my) ever-loving, justice-driven, idealistic, stupid, huge heart.

All this emotion led me to blurt out this poem on my FB page one night:

Pray
It feels the world is falling into despair
Tonight. Between Gaza and Israel and ISIS and Suicide of a beloved comic
Personal pains of loved ones.
The heart feels so filled of sadness, 
Squeezed to overflowing of blood and tears
Rivers into seas across oceans.
Pray.
Walk toward Him. Fall. 
Shut out the sounds.
Pray for Peace.
It's what we can do when we cannot reach
To Touch and lift to help.
We hold no weapon.
Tears are our ammunition.
Pray.
The whisper gets louder:
Relief comes after.
Pray.

But. Wait. There was lazy and beautiful too. The ability to be lazy for like minutes or even hours is something I will cherish about this summer. Reading books. Glorious. Our pace has been v e r y s l o w. No camps, no sports, no big trips. Nada. Just days and days spent in Gloucester, where the weather has been GORGEOUS. We've gone to church - thank God in Heaven that we can still go to church! And that's where we went to a great concert and heard the very talented Jenny & Tyler for the first time. (Side note: They are FANTABULOUS musicians and justice-seekers, and I completely love them. You must click on their names and listen to a bit of their music on the website. You will thank me.) 

I think we may have seen one movie at the theater. Oh, and we went to Maine! Lovely, quiet camping in Maine via Mom & Dad. And, of course, we spent days at Good Harbor beach. Sun and sand and slushies. Good stuff.

And those were pretty much the sugar sprinkles. Other than that, I played a few million too many games or lives or whatever of Candy Crush and ate a few too many pounds of chocolate.

Oh. But. The Beauty. If it weren't for 3 beautiful women writers who blog and post their hearts out, I may have gone insane this summer. So, many many thanks to you, Jen Hatmaker, Glennon Doyle Melton, and Sarah Bessey. For saying so often what I am thinking. For doing hard things. For being Jesus Feminists. For carrying on, warriors. The lives you touch. God Bless.

Please join me in praying for peace in the fall,

Ashley

These photos show some of the beautiful in our summer.

That boy right there. The one who makes goofy faces in all the pics. His beauty takes my breath away. 

And this is beautiful. It just happened when I just had to get out of the house one random summer afternoon and drove to one of my favorite spots in Gloucester.

And her. My Keesha. AKA The black monster.

Truly. This fresh face. Her beauty shines and laughs out loud.

This might be the most beautiful of all. Because they had to COOPERATE to create this pose! See that beauty in the middle? She isn't mine, but she is light and humor and such imagination! And she can get my two children to do this!

Jesus was NOT a Republican

He wasn't. And he wasn't a democrat either. How do I know this? Because Jesus wasn't an American. Why am I pointing out this VERY obvious fact? Because it seems that Christians often forget that Jesus was apolitical. In fact, he didn't care who was running the government. He didn't concern himself with borders or tax laws or who had the majority in Congress. He didn't care who was in charge of the country, because He was too busy campaigning for the One who created the world. He wasn't too concerned with who sat on the throne or in the oval office.

Truth: Political affiliation does not guarantee or deny entrance into heaven.

This is a time in America when our political parties have become increasingly polarized and prejudiced. The attitude of our political system is like that of a spoiled teenager: embarrassing and childish. I even find myself increasingly embarrassed by Christians. Yes. Christians - those who add to the tension and division by trying to link and legitimize their politics with their religion. Christians who assume that anyone who sits on the left can't possibly be a true Christian. I CANNOT stand hearing "the radical Evangelicals on the far right." I guess I would be considered an evangelical Christian; I mean really, all Christians should be evangelical, right? Based on Mark 16:15, which quotes Jesus as saying, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone." However, maybe you are not evangelical if your Bible has the "short ending" of Mark? I don't know the historical facts on why some manuscripts of the Bible include the short version and some include the longer ending. . . But I digress. My point is that Christian does not equal Republican nor does it equal crazy, radical extremist. I am a Bible thumping Christian, but politically, I am not radical, nor do I sit on the far right of many issues. And, Democrat does not equal demon. All democratic policies are not evil nor are the people who hold them.

Jesus did not sit on the right or the left. He hung in the middle.

But, for a moment, let's pretend that Jesus was American, and he was headed down to the local school or Veteran's Lodge to vote. How would HE vote on certain issues? WWJD? Let's not guess at this. Let's not assume that what we (politically) believe is what Christ actually taught. Let's use scriptural evidence to draw our conclusions by looking at he top political issues right now. 

Immigration. God addresses the plight of immigrants in the Bible as early as Exodus 22:21 "You must not mistreat or oppress foreigners in any way. Remember, you yourselves were once foreigners in the land of Egypt."

In response to the question, "Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?" (Matthew 22:36), "Jesus replied, "'You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments." (Matthew 37-40)

Love your neighbor as yourself. 

But where should we draw the neighborly line? 

As a child, I often wondered why I am ME. I mean why was I born in Jacksonville, FL to Bob and Diane Boyer and not to people in a different country? Am I the only one who has crazy thoughts like this?

I headed into the world in a military hospital as an American citizen - a white child in a Christian, middle class family, who never had a need that wasn't met. I had a father and a mother. I never went hungry. When I was sick, my mother took me to the doctor. I had more than enough dolls to play with, a swimming pool, and a big backyard. I received a decent, public education. I was given a scholarship to a private university. But why? Why me? Was I more deserving of a privileged American life than any other child?

Why wasn't I born a beautiful Ethiopian with HIV?

Photo credit: DAI

Or to a migrant worker, struggling to carry me along with all her possessions? 

Photo via Express.co.uk

Or as this daughter, who was shot for her determination to get an education?

Who is my neighbor? Where exactly do you draw the border on caring for another human being? Why is it so easy for Christian Republicans to support missionaries, organize fundraisers to send their kids to Haiti, or donate funds to Help the Children; yet so hard for them to accept immigration policies to help the children of immigrants in our country. Why do we have an US / THEM mentality? Did Christ not heal the Gentile as well as the Jew? "Jesus asked, 'Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?'. . ."Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother!'" (Matthew 12:48-50).

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not suggesting that we open our borders for all to enter. We DO need to be selective of who it is we welcome into our country. Immigrants should be coming to the USA for the right reasons and through the correct channels. They should abide by our laws and pay taxes. However, the channels should be welcoming, kind, and NOT corrupt. And the spoiled citizens of America should not want to shut out our neighbors because they might take "our" jobs. Because THEY are our brothers and sisters and neighbors. They are fellow HUMANS, and Christ died for them too.

To Be Continued. . .

P.S. Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey, not an elephant. Just stating facts.

Love,

Ashley in the Middle

Joshua 1:7 "Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the instructions Moses gave you. Do not deviate from them, turning either to the right or the left. Then you will be successful in everything you do." Come join me in the middle. Let's do the work and spread the word of Christ. Leave the corrupt political parties to themselves and think with the mind of Christ, not the mind of a Democrat or a Republican or a Tea Partier. Do your own research on the issues that you care about; don't blindly follow and share the view of political or even Christian organizations.

In the Middle

IN.THE. MIDDLE. Since birth, that's been my territory. Because, when you are 4 years younger than your older sister, and 4 years older than your younger sister, you are EXACTLY in the middle. Just like the Green Kangaroo.


From left: Our mom, Shayna (my younger sister), Me (in the middle), Kelsey (my niece by my eldest sister - not pictured), and Andrea (my older sister.) 

There is a lot of talk out there about middle children, apparently, we have a SYNDROME. Katrin Schumann, author of "The Secret Power of Middle Children," wrote:

"They are considered to be neglected, resentful, have no drive, have a negative outlook, feel like they don’t belong—in other words, they suffer from “Middle Child Syndrome.” A Stanford University study showed that middles are considered the most envious, least bold and least talkative of all the birth orders."

Umm...OK, but...I don't feel neglected or resentful! And, I usually have an unrealistically optimistic outlook - which has it's own issues. But, it is probably true that I have more dream than drive in me. I have definitely felt like I don't belong - especially since moving away from my family. "Least bold and least talkative," maybe. But, in my Italian-hybrid family, that's not saying I'm quiet (my husband says I am loud - but is he a reliable source?).

But guess what? Schumann goes on to debunk many of the stereotypes about middles. In fact, she points out that America has had a lot of incredible middle children (including 52% of our U.S. Presidents!) who have profound drive and determination.

"For, as we discovered during our research, the stereotype does not correspond to reality. Far from being doomed to failure and loneliness, middle children are more likely than their siblings to be successful and enjoy strong social lives and flourishing careers. . .The apparent disadvantages they endure in childhood turn out to be beneficial, in many cases giving them the attributes of empathy, independence, articulacy and creativity. Many of our biggest celebrities, such as the film star Julia Roberts, are ‘middles’." - from http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2079636/Middle-children-MORE-successful-So-true-family.html

Ha! I always thought Julia and I had a connection!

So here's the truth about my life in the middle: As a kid, I was the cliche - the wallflower and bookworm, the "quiet-er" one. I also tried to be the peacemaker, often finding myself in the middle of some sort of argument, which didn't usually begin with me. Sometimes I did feel invisible though, like if I disappeared, no one would notice. But truth is, they usually did. They would fish me out of my bedroom or from behind whatever book into which I had disappeared and get me to join in the family fun (or feud, depending on the day). 

My sisters were literally the ones in the spotlight - they were performers - they cheer-led and acted and sang and danced in show choir; while I drew or read in my bedroom.

From left, Shayna, Andrea, and I in 2013 - Even my hair color and skin tone are in the middle!

Andrea and I in Ybor City 2012?

But the thing is, I am exactly where I want to be. I actually LOVE my special spot in the middle. Because that place, where God decided to drop me, between the two of my WARRIOR sisters, has made me, ME - with all my flaws and scratches and dents and syndromes.  

On one side is my older sister: She is beautiful and crazy talented and sometimes just plain crazy, and I have had the advantage of watching this incredibly brave and head-strong sister be the pioneer. I watched as she FEARLESSLY got married, bought houses, had babies, and started businesses. Through the years, I really watched her, and I LEARNED from her experiences. From the mistakes she made and the things she did incredibly well. I learned from her about make-up and style and parenting and homemaking and being a good friend and serving your community and getting your heart broken and your dreams dashed and CARRYING ON and honoring your commitments anyway. She has fought battles that would make grown men cry. She has struggled and clawed her way through messy and painful and hard, and has stood tall, with swollen eyes and split lip, to see the sunrise. 

And THEN. There is my younger sister. The baby of four girls - our beautiful little princess of the land of Brat. By the time she got to adolescence, my parents were so tired, they took on the parenting style known as been there, done that, and don't care. They had been the SUPER strict parents, the fight-it-out-HUNT-YOU-DOWN-and-lock-you-in-your-room parents, the OVER protective parents, and they were ready to be we-will-leave-it-in-God's-hands parents.

Since birth, this girl has been CRAZY strong. An independent, strong-will mixed with brute strength. Strong enough to knock my mom's jaw out of place when she was 2, strong enough to make boys afraid of her catlike-fighting skills (seriously, claw marks covered the youth group). Strong enough to overcome the meanness of her two older sisters - like me calling her a brat. Strong enough to work through illness and pain. And, strong enough to overcome acute personal tragedy OVER and OVER and be brave enough to TAKE THE RISK AGAIN. Watching her grow up, I have been in awe many times by her independence, strength, beauty, and talents. She is fiercely loyal, generous, and an incredible friend. Now, she is a mom too, and I get to watch her navigate the amazing and difficult twists and turns of motherhood with that same beauty and strength.

These are my WARRIOR sisters, and I am happy to be stuck right IN THE MIDDLE of the them for the rest of my life. Because I know, that no matter what battle I may face, they will be there right beside me, fighting it out.

Being the middle child is not about sad and lonely. Being in the middle is a beautiful, rewarding, safe, and sure place to be. For me, being IN THE MIDDLE is not just a birth order thing, it's kind of become a life philosophy thing. But that's another blog post. . .

To read more about middle children, click here.

Love,

Me, Happy in the Middle

The GOD Part and That MOM

Here it is. Somewhere in the middle of life, I let go of some really BIG, important parts of me. And other moms say, yes! me too: my hair, my wardrobe, my fitness, my sex life. . .Yeah, I hear you! But, I am not talking about the ME parts of me. I'm talking about the GOD part of me. Not that I turned my back on being a Christian or stopped believing in Him or started stealing and murdering, but I was breaking one of the 10 Commandments. Repeatedly.

"Remember to observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. You have six days each week for your ordinary work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath day of rest dedicated to the Lord your God. . ." - Exodus 20:8-10

Boom. My. Big. Christian. Fail.

Gone were the days when I trusted in God, spent time with God, went to church to worship Him, or spent time in the company of other Christians. I gave excuses to myself like there are just no good churches where I live. I am too busy - I work and have two little kids! Truth? They were really lame excuses. The truth was that I was being lazy and very selfish. And, for the last 2 years, I haven't had a job. And my kids aren't little anymore. And if I would have searched harder, I would have found a good church where I live. Because I did. Two Sundays ago. I found a church that is really "me." Truth is that I have ROBBED my children of great experiences and knowledge and friends. I have robbed them of time with God. That is a devastating realization.

As a child, I spent every Sunday morning and many Sunday evenings in church.  I learned all the books of the Bible and all the important stories of Job and Moses and Daniel and Jesus. I went to Sunday School and VBS and youth group and grew up to be a Sunday School teacher and Life Group Leader. My parents did it right: they gave me a deep, strong foundation of faith. They showed me sacrifice and generosity and hospitality through their own involvement in church. And I have failed to do that for my kids. How sad!

Recently, I found myself stuck in the middle muck of life, feeling DESPERATE, alone, and sad. I had no idea what to do with myself.  I am 36, my two children are both school-aged. I have a BA in literature, 3 years of high school teaching experience, many years of administrative office experience, and have started an interior design business....which has proven so far to be a non-profit business. But we need a profit. We really, REALLY need some profit. And, after searching for months, I haven't been able to find a job that fit our family or our financial needs. So, there I was at home, alone for hours a day, searching for a job, and not getting any responses. Feeling like a FAILURE.

Then, I got a phone call from my MOM. The one who drug me to church every Sunday. And didn't let me watch Bewitched or let me listen to "secular" music. The one who drives me crazy with her Facebook posts because she clogs up my news feed with shared links about anything Christian or right-winged but uses auto-correct and doesn't proof-read her posts, and often sounds like a drunk republican Jesus-freak. That MOM, who is still very involved in her church and keeps so busy that calling me is actually kind of a rare event. So, that MOM called and listened to me blubber, and then she offered to pray with me, which I still, for some reason, find really awkward. But I agreed. And she prayed for me. And the next Sunday, I got up and went to church for the first time in a looooooooooooong time. And for the first time in a long time I felt better. I felt HOPEFUL.

Ever since, I have been setting aside time everyday for the GOD part of me. To get started, I picked up a devotional that MOM gave me, turned to the correct day, and read the related scripture verses. And kept reading. And the more I read, the more I realize how much I have missed the GOD part of me. The more I read, I realize that what happened to me, somewhere in the middle of life, was that I stopped trusting in God. And without that trust, I was lost.

Here's the thing. In the last 2 weeks, nothing about my circumstance has changed. We didn't win the lottery. I still have no paying clients, and I don't have a job, despite many applications. But I have FAITH and HOPE, and I am trying to BE and SHOW LOVE to my children and to anyone else I have contact with. And sometimes I fail, but that's OK because I am trusting God to show me the way. Right now I am just enjoying the time I have for the GOD part of me. And in a couple of weeks, I get to go see THAT MOM.

God Bless,

The One in the Middle