Who would have thought I’d be sitting here, staring at a screen trying to figure out what to even say…
I probably just need to ramble on a bit so I can get some of these swirling thoughts to align themselves into something productive. Ha!
This has been a very busy year for my family.
A year of many changes, and many firsts.
The first house I bought, on my own!
I also bought my first truck on my own!
One of my children has joined the military and is currently in basic training.
My daughter was in a Miss Metropolis pageant last November, and she is going again this year, because her crown was broken and she NEEDS a new one (so she says).
I’ve taken a new liking to Football. That began last year when Levi was a senior and in the band. We went to all the home games, and it was FUN! I actually got out and mingled with people! I had forgotten how that felt.
Then, I started watching pro football.
And… I met someone.
And after a while, he gave me a ring.
And while I have gone on and on about all these other things, this man is the best change I have experienced in this past year!
Many years ago, my godmother Debbie had me write a list. This list would include all the things I wanted in a man. She put it in her Bible and prayed for my “husband” every day until the day she died.
One thing on that list, the very first thing actually, was that he would “love me like Jesus.”
Now, my 16-year-old-self had no clue what depth of a man I was generating with my list. I went on to write looks, height, gifts and talents, but the top remained the same. It was what meant the most to me.
Who would have thought that would be EXACTLY what I needed almost thirty years later!
Let’s think about it for a second, though.
How does Jesus love us?
He loves us in ways that we cannot fully comprehend.
He carries us when we fall. He forgives us EVERY time we fail Him.
He gives us choices, options, suggestions, ideas, inspiration, and more options and choices. And He lets us make our choices.
If those choices align with His guidance, awesome!
If we falter or fail, make mistakes, or even screw something up on purpose, He simply waits for us to put our head back on straight and picks right back up with us again. His forgiveness is eternal.
He walked on this earth and endured many hardships, for us. He took beatings for us. He DIED for us. He went to Hell and back for us!
No matter what we have done, where we have gone, how hard we have fallen, His Grace is unending, and His Mercy and Healing always present.
This man, this amazing man who has entered my world has carefully peeled back the layers and layers of shields and walls I spent decades building around my heart, my mind, and my person.
He walked with me deep into old wounds, where the exposure had been excruciating, but for months I did not see that healing was also taking place. I was too busy in my own head, struggling with my defenses and holding back.
In the process, trying to keep my walls intact, I also missed that I was also hurting him.
And every time, he would remind me that he is not going anywhere.
Who would have thought…
Almost two years ago I started a new journal. In that journal I decided to begin it with writing several things that I liked about myself.
However, over the course of this past year, specifically March to now, I couldn’t conjure a single thing that I liked about myself.
I unknowingly succumbed to the monster that is depression that tried to suck me under a decade ago. Its claws were deep in each revealed scar from my past, holding them open despite the loving touch of the man who’s only sin against me was wanting to love EVERY part of me. The good. The bad. The hidden.
And for the first time in my life, in any relationship, in any part of my existence, the hidden parts are seen, and I am not judged. I am loved. All of me.
My walls were telling me that I was being exposed, hurt, humiliated, and broken.
What was actually happening was a process of healing. You can’t heal what you don’t know is there. With each wound, each scar, each hurt revealed, as far back as my teen years, I have begun to change.
Steady loving hands have held me when I cried, steadied me when I faltered, and supported me when the realization hit me that weights are lifted.
And then, who but the man himself that God dropped in my space would have the absolute nerve to remind me that God is the healer of our pains.
He read scriptures. Talks about “God first”. Prays over me and for me.
Nobody said love is easy, painless, or always pretty.
And nobody would ever say that loving someone like Jesus loves us is even just a little hard.
And yet, such a love has found me, embraced me, and given me more than I knew I ever needed.
To the teenager who wrote her little list that was tucked into a Bible and prayed over for many years, I would say Thank You. Because God inspired a girl who would never understand His love in its entirety for at least 25 years to ask for it to come in the form of a man.
Who would have known, and none of us never do until it hits, that Mercy and Love are always there. It never went anywhere. And no matter how far you think you may have walked away from it, no matter how far you think you may have fallen from it, that love is PRESENT. Because God is always present, and with His presence is that love. The unexplainable, unimaginable love that I hope each of you get to experience and share.
It also flies when you have no idea what you are doing, or when you have no clue “what just happened here?!”
All the above have been the nutshell of my entire 2024 thus far.
It’s been such a whirlwind that I have no idea where to start!
I know, I know! “Start at the beginning!”
I’ll likely have to do this in parts, due to the amount of writing that will be going into this post. I have a lot of emotions, events, and more that I need to get off my chest, so to speak… so bear with me.
I am going to preface this by saying there will be talk of female issues, medical issues, hospital stays, and a little trauma.
You have now been warned…
Instead of the beginning I shall start at the end… of 2023 that is.
After Christmas, I saw my doctor to talk about options for helping with my HORRIBLE periods, because I was about to do my office rotation for work and my monthly was going to fall on the day I started said rotation. Not good.
After considering my options, I made an informed decision to begin a birth control to help with the situation. I was happy about my choice, and excited to see if this was finally the answer I had been searching for with my situation!
And thus, the journey began…
Things were going well. January came and my rotation began on January 16.
I started to feel sluggish, low on energy, and had minor difficulty with breathing now and then. Everyone else was catching the Flu, Covid, and adults were struggling with RSV as well in my area. I figured I was catching something and didn’t think about it.
Well, I never ran a fever, and I never had any of the other symptoms everyone else was having. It was fatigue and chest tightness for me.
After a week of it getting progressively worse, I made an appointment with my Dr to get it figured out.
After being told I have aggressive allergies, based on my symptoms I agreed, I was given prescription and sent on my way.
My symptoms continued to get worse. To the point that getting off my bed set my heart rate into the 130’s and my ability to breathe without pain was much, much less.
Two days later, I was in the ER. I was worse. In the defense of the doctors, I had only been on my meds for 36 hours and we all know that’s not long enough for basic medication.
The ER agreed with the first diagnosis, again understandable because of the symptoms, and I was given a steroid shot and some steroids to take along with the other medications. That was Wednesday night.
Thursday morning, January 25, I could not get up without my heart rate hitting the 140’s, and all I did was get off my bed to use the bathroom. Sitting up in a chair had my heartrate in the 120’s, and it would not go down! I was getting nervous at this point, and I called off work that morning.
By that afternoon, I knew something was off. Way off!
That evening, Levi drove me to the hospital again, 20 hours after I was there the first time.
The same ER staff was there who was there the night before, and we all shared a giggle at seeing each other again so soon.
After listening to my new and worsening symptoms, they decided to do some extra testing. This is when they found several blood clots in my lungs. But we are getting ahead of ourselves here. This is where the emotions and mental strain comes in…
Levi sat with me all night long. He never fell asleep. He sat up and played on his phone, played on my phone, we talked and had some good chuckles and whatnot.
Around 8am my dad picked him up from the hospital and I told him to just go home and sleep instead of going to school. The poor kid was a zombie! And he was so diligent keeping an eye on his mama.
My sister drops in to see me after her shift working midnights, and it was just after Levi walked out and she walked in that the ER Dr came in to tell me, “I have bad news…”
Now, everyone agrees that it was definitely divine intervention that took Levi home and my sister came to the room minutes before that Dr came in, because she was a ROCK! My sister is superwoman!
As the Dr began to explain what was found and what the treatment would be, I spaced out entirely. I went numb. Shock, maybe? I don’t know. But she saw it, and she kept her eyes on me while listening to this man speak. When I came back to reality JUST enough, she caught my eye and held her hand up toward me and said, “You’re going to be okay. You’re okay.” And at that point the Dr, who (bless his heart) was just rambling on stopped and looked at my stunned self and repeated her words. He reassured me that they were going to do some medications to help with the clots instantly, admit me for a day or two to keep me monitored, and then send me home with blood thinners.
It was at this point he started talking about what can cause blood clots. Anything from a blood disorder to some other stuff, and then he said “extra hormones” and both me and my sister straightened up, looking at each other with that “Ah Yes!” expression. The Dr noticed and asked, and I told him about the BC I am on. “Ok, get that out now! I’ll give you privacy and get your admit paperwork started.” He said as he jumped quickly from his chair. Honestly, I giggled because he acted like he was being chased from the room by the very mention of the Nuva Ring. Haha!
My mom arrived shortly after, once she saw all the kiddos to their school locations, and my sister said she would meet her in the waiting room to give her the update. I’m glad she did. Again, my sister was the hero of the morning when she told Mom what was going on and kept everyone nice and calm about the situation.
I was admitted to that hospital for observation, heart monitors and wires all attached to me. I went along with everything everyone was doing. Mom sat with me in the hospital room as I was being admitted, endured all the questions and answers, and watched as they gave me my first shots and vital checks after admit into the room.
Y’all… I slept better there than I had in WEEKS!!
Probably because I was sick and getting worse, and the medications stopped that from happening, plus it was VERY quiet where I was all day and all night, and at home it is always the absolute opposite of quiet.
When I was released back home I was on Blood Thinners and instructions to follow up with doctors after release.
I did see my primary after all of this and we talked about what had happened, what was expected, and what we would be doing during that time in between.
And then I went home feeling like I was going to be okay, but still a little worried about the upcoming menstrual cycle that would be happening not long after…
And four days later, it did.
And this is where I leave you for this first chapter. Don’t hate the messenger. I’m just typing when I get time! LOL!
We will continue with the next post, as it will be as long, or longer, than this one!!
I miss activities, adventures, groups, friends, connections, etc.
Last night there was a football game at our high school. I have two boys who attend that school.
We did not go…
Last year, one of my sons expressed great interest in joining the football team, even took some steps to get there…
All the forward movement was halted when he had a sports physical that resulted in questions about his progress in puberty. He is less than three months from his fifteenth birthday.
There is no puberty.
Never was.
No signs of it even starting.
Instead, there is a nonactive tumor squishing his pituitary gland.
This is not about that, though. That is an entirely different story in itself.
This is about missing out… and trying to figure out why, how, and if we can fix this problem.
Yes, I’m being transparent here.
There’s a lot to say. There’s a lot to be transparent about.
Why? Because I know I’m NOT the only one who struggles with this, exact issue regarding “missing out.”
Let’s go back a few years (Okay maybe a decade or more…) when I was an active member of society.
I had high hopes and dreams for a future with kids in sports, clubs, doing all the things I was able to do as a child and even more! Cub Scouts, Sunday School, youth groups, school sports, little league sports, all the things.
Life threw a curve ball here and there… well, it threw a LOT of them.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone gets curve balls thrown at them! Again, major reason we are being transparent here…
I’m not special. My struggles are not “bigger than yours” but everyone handles every level of stress, negative life events, loss, and betrayals differently.
Me? Yeah… I hid from the world.
Long story short, a decade of less-than-healthy choices (both external and internal choices) lead me to isolating myself.
I was sad when those close to me didn’t get involved with the things I was so excited about for my kids. I was overworked being the only one who took them to events, helped with homework, projects, socializing them, etc. I was already struggling with my own depression and to add burn-out to the pile just shut me down.
And shut down I remained… for a solid three years. Minimum.
I hid myself and my family from the world.
I was tired of hearing falsehoods about myself and my family from people who didn’t even know me.
I was tired of being seen at the grocery store and then hearing a whole, new rumor about myself a week later from “concerned friends.”
I was tired of carrying a label. I was “the bad guy” in a lot of things. Everywhere I turned I didn’t see “friends” anymore. I saw spies. I saw liars. I saw betrayal at every turn.
Eventually, I stopped seeing anything good.
My vision was murky with pain, heartache, anxiety, depression, loss, and eventually… full-blown bitterness.
Bitter Becca. That’s what I dubbed myself.
Yep. I did. I wore my own title like a badge and shield.
It has taken me years to grow from the little, broken roots that I was cut down into.
Four years, to be exact.
I would take a step forward and then two steps back over the course of the past four years. Sometimes I would break even, and I would get so excited! Then another step back.
Of my 5 children, two are in special education classes. I have often wondered if I could have done something to prevent this from happening for them. Was it me? Did I not work hard enough to get them through to a higher level?
They don’t have many friends, limited to the ones secluded in these classrooms with them for their entire academic life.
My one, school-aged child who is not in such classes struggles with depression (possibly related to the puberty issue? We don’t really know), also very few friends, and the inability to follow through with many things. Again, I sit and wonder if I have ‘less-than-succeeded’ with him as well.
I lived years without taking my kids into society. School was it. They never asked to go to games, events, trips, etc.
My oldest did go to a couple of dances during Junior High, before Covid stole that from us. To see his face light up the way it did when he got home, telling stories about how fun the music was, learning some cool moves, the snacks and drinks they got to enjoy made my heart so glad.
Sometimes I wonder how that could be 4 years ago…
I sit in my bed, unable to sleep many nights, and reflect on things. I write in my journal, make lists in my notebooks, read books and my Bible, scroll FB and watch a world around me be social and active, and I have cried.
Not tears of depression.
Tears of fear. Actual Fear.
Because I want to go. I want to get out there.
But I have come so far mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually in my little isolated space that the thought of stepping out and ending up with another “step back” wrenches my gut!
My family, and my few, close friends can tell stories of me being excited about a thing and then talking myself out of it within minutes.
I want to be involved. I want my kids to be involved.
I’m just trying to figure out how to push past my fear. Fear that developed a lack of interest, motivation, and increased avoidance of public places and events.
My fears used to be focused solely on people talking. Over time it just became a fear of people, period.
I will say that I am happy Child #3 expressed interest in participating in the Labor Day Parade last week with his aunt. And he obviously had a blast!
My oldest expressed a renewed interest in music last night. Band, specifically.
In elementary school he wanted to be in the band. He struggled with the multi-step instructions and music reading, resulting in his not being given that desired opportunity.
He mentioned it again last night as we watched the band prepare for the football game.
My boys attend an e-sports group after school on some days, and yesterday happened to be one. As I was picking them up, people were arriving to the school to prepare for the game.
I mean… is it too late? Is he too old? Did I cause him to lose out on opportunities in life? These are questions I ask myself at night when I am alone in my room.
Can I turn some things around, upside right, and build us up from where we stand today?
I think I can one minute and then I question myself the next.
So, here in my transparent moment, I want to step up and step out.
Maybe the next football game, I won’t talk myself out of going.
Take a step. And then take another.
Someone recently told me that first steps are hard, and she is right. But they are necessary to keep going forward.
And like a baby learning to walk, I took my first ones a little shaky.
If there is anyone out there who is struggling, whether it be anxiety like me, addiction, depression, fear, or anything…
Just know I’m taking some first steps too.
We can start together.
And… we can make it to the top together.
I almost feel super pumped right now. Haha!
I just want to raise my fist in the air today and say “by golly I’m going to socialize! In person!”
And when I finally do… I’ll let you know how it goes. 😊
Thank you for enduring my transparent moment for the day.
Lately I have had a “few” bad days, but a LOT of bad moments.
How do I differentiate between the two? I’m so glad you asked!
Just this weekend I had a fibro flare up out of nowhere, and it lasted a total of 48 hours. THAT was a bad day. Two of them to be hourly specific.
In fact, three… because it started in mid-afternoon on Sunday and finally let up Tuesday evening.
The pain was debilitating, and nearly impossible to describe to anyone who has never experienced it before.
In August, when my entire family got Covid at the same time (minus me apparently… every test I took came back negative).
Those were some rough days.
Two weeks of them.
Kids having issues coughing, breathing, being sick, fevers, not eating or drinking anything, scaring me to death, and the slow recovery from the worst of it…
Bad. Days.
Now, perspective is everything when you take a situation and just call it a bad moment instead of a bad day.
I have a couple examples…
When the window on my car stopped rolling up, stuck at the bottom of the track, deep inside the door panel, and the window had to be covered with plastic for a while.
Sure, the plastic was there for a few weeks, but the only “bad” moments occurred when the window wouldn’t come up, and when my dad informed me that plastic was the only solution until a new motor device could be bought.
Two moments in a single day.
But the window was covered, and while we had plastic over it the window provided entertainment for the twins as we drove down the road.
With all it’s flapping and rustling sounds as the wind hit it at different rates of speed.
The day the tailpipe dropped out from under my car.
I was sitting with a friend, and we were cracking jokes about my license plate while looking at my car parked across the street.
I squinted and looked under my car, looked at her and said, “What is that? Do you see it?!”
She looked. “I have no idea. I didn’t notice it until you said something.”
I took a picture of it and sent it to my dad, who was in town THANKFULLY, and met me to look.
Yep. Tailpipe.
Literally hanging by a single, little bolt!!
Bad moment!
For weeks, until I could afford to fix it, I drove around with my tailpipe in the back of my car.
Oh, the looks we got when I opened the back hatch around other people!
“Oh, yeah that’s just the tailpipe…” would be my normal explanation.
But the car was still running. (Minus the days it decided not to start, but I digress…)
We could still get to school, daycare, and work every day.
I was frustrated, but I was thankful.
These were bad moments.
I could have easily taken these moments and turned them into bad days, but I did not.
Bad days exist! They really do. And they range anywhere from physical health, mental health, loss of loved ones, loss of homes, cars, many things. Bad. Days.
But, when something happens in a moment, something that may even last a while (plastic on the windows and tailpipes in the trunk), but you still have your home, job, health, family, friends, and that car still works decently well… it really is just a bad moment.
We cracked jokes about how much louder my car was without the tailpipe (It was already super loud WITH the thing).
We had fun with the plastic covering over the open window. Even with all the stink bugs that would get stuck in the crack of it!
Yes, I was frustrated multiple times and days over the same, little things. But I didn’t let it last. I couldn’t.
It truly was just a bad moment.
My Pastor’s Wife told me that my new name was Murphy at one point this year. Every time I texted her, it was to tell her about something ELSE that happened, broke, stopped working, etc…
She said, “I love you, but if you didn’t have bad luck… you wouldn’t have any luck at all!”
And you know what? We Laughed! Because it was humor in the moment AFTER the bad moment happened.
And laughter is the best medicine in a bad moment.
A boss of mine told me I’m too cheerful, to the point it’s scary.
Another one told me my positive outlook was inspiring.
Both of them have seen me at highs and lows. They know about a lot of my bad moments, and all my bad days (at least in the past 12 months anyway). And both of them have commended me on my ability to handle stressful situations in my life.
Is my ego inflated?
NOPE!
Because I didn’t get here by being perfect.
I got here by going through some serious yuck.
I had to learn how to let go of the bad moments and let them be “moments” instead of turning them into bad “days”.
Yes, these are labels… with NO cans
I could spend plenty of time describing all the bad moments and days of the past year alone, and it would bring none of us to any good by the end.
Instead, I would rather tell you that, in the bad moments you can find good.
You can reach through that ugly place that tries to crush you in the moment, and turn it into a bad day, and rise above it.
If you can’t reach through the first time, that’s okay!
I didn’t!
I probably didn’t on the 100th time either!
But I got there. And so can you.
I can say with absolute certainty that my victories and my ability to rise above has come directly from the Peace that my God has given me.
It surpasses all comprehension.
It calms my soul, my mind, and my heart.
It gets me through my bad moments, and my bad days.
And that peace comes from giving the bad moments and days up, and letting the hand of God hold you and carry you through.
And that, my friends, is what the next blog post will be about.
As far as I know thus far, two have tested positive in my household for Covid.
Now, as everyone knows, I have been trying to put together some other blog posts, which I will complete as I can and post accordingly, but I want to also share with you our Covid Journey.
Because everyone’s journey is different. Even if they are all in the same household!
So…
We do not know FOR SURE where we were exposed, and I will NOT say one place or another. We were simply exposed over the weekend last week. That is all.
Tuesday Levi complained of not feeling well at school (which is his norm anyway… school + Levi = sickness) *insert rolled eyes*.
Wednesday Micah was sent home from school with swollen tonsils.
Thursday neither of them were feeling well and were tested.
Friday: The results came in. Positive for Covid.
Saturday: the rest of the family was tested.
As far as symptoms…
Levi is the worst.
He has a nasty cough, no energy, low grade fever, can’t taste anything, can’t breathe all that great, and sleeps off and on all day and night.
Micah is already starting to feel better. But I am keeping an eye on him.
I feel… well… How can I even describe how I feel???
It’s a typical day for me with a little extra rough and yuck.
I have Fibromyalgia so I feel like I am having a flare up week with a little extra gross in between.
Yesterday (Saturday) Asher started acting like he might not be feeling well. Today he is about the same. No major changes thus far.
Rayne is great. She’s a beast! So is her carbon copy older brother Titus. Nothing there either.
In fact… let me share with you what Titus did last night!
So… we ALL know my kids are prone to the “interesting and odd” behaviors, and Titus is the firstborn, so he’s expected to lead in such things. Last night he did NOT disappoint!
He walked into the kitchen with a can of Lysol in his hand and said, “Hey mom. Wanna see how I protect myself from the rona?”
I turn from my dishes I was angrily washing at the time and said, “Uhm, Ok? What do you do?”
He proceeds to pop the cap off the Lysol, take a deep breath, close his eyes, and SPRAY IT ALL OVER HIMSELF from head to toe without missing a beat!!!
I stood in total shock, speechless, for a few seconds before shouting, “Titus! What are you doing?!?”
To which he cheerfully responded, “What? I’m making sure I don’t get it! Better safe than sorry!” Put the bottle on top of the fridge, turned on his heel, and skipped off through the house whistling a happy tune!
This is the point where I feel I must add that I AM NOT AN EXPERT PARENT! Hahaha!
So, other than Titus and his odd antics, the rest of us are doing decent thus far.
No fevers, no chills, and none of the “severe” Covid symptoms so far. Mostly the gross flu-like symptoms for everyone. And I hope that is the worst it gets.
We are treating our symptoms. Cough medicines, Motrin, Tylenol, all the vitamins and mineral supplements, LOTS OF WATER, some body armor drinks, Gatorade, orange juice, and so on. I’ve also made sure everyone spends some time in the sunlight outside as well. My hope is that we kick it together like the strong little tribe we have become over the past few years.
I must also add, before I end this post, that I am PROUD of my kids! They are troopers! They are strong! They have battled through so much in their young lives, and have come out on the other side as little warriors! And this Momma is super thrilled at the amazing abilities they have shown in the times of adversity and yuck. Every night when I lay in my bed I am beyond thankful for the blessings that are my kiddos! Gosh… I’m so blessed!
And with that, I will keep you all posted as we trudge through this, another of many tunnels we have endured, and how we fare through the yuck and gunk, and how we come out on the other side!
Something I have let slip by me in recent months has been my devotion times. Those moments, whether they be in the morning, afternoon, or late at night, when I can open my Bible or another book that is inspirational to me and bask in some positive thoughts and prayers.
I am happy to say that I have picked up the habit again, and it has been a glorious thing!
One, small scripture has been in my mind for weeks now and I just felt I needed to share with you all my thoughts on this one.
Whether you are a Christian or not… this is for you!
Philippians 4:8
“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
In the past several months, I have seen and experienced many changes in life.
Ups and downs.
There were moments of great joys and moments of worry and stress. And sometimes, like many people do, I would lose myself in the lesser moments. The moments of worry, stress, pondering things of the past that are no longer relevant to my life or my family, and I would forget the things I SHOULD be thinking about.
And I have learned and known from experience, those things that we THINK about eventually become the things we SPEAK. Right?!
Which is why this verse is sooooo important!
I can vividly remember a time when my family was going through a struggle, when I was a teenager, and my mom would quote this verse at random, just walking around the house or even driving in the car. I didn’t memorize this verse for Bible drills as a child, or as a memory verse in Sunday School. No, I memorized this verse by hearing my mother quote it for a very, very long time. Almost daily.
When I had moments of frustration my mom would ask me if my thoughts were true, honest, pure, lovely, just, of good report, virtuous or praise-worthy, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I rolled my eyes so far, I’m shocked they never got stuck!
Fast forward to this past year…
I cannot tell you how many times I have caught myself, in moments of frustration with people, circumstances, and other things, thinking, “is this something that is TRUE? Is this HONEST? Is it PURE? Is this VIRTUOUS?… and if not, WHY am I letting it invade my thoughts rent-free?!”
Now let’s talk about my experiences with thought to word…
I went through some dark days several years ago, and they lasted quite some time. My thoughts were not positive. They were not happy. I was angry, bitter, hurt, lonely, and pretty much broken. I let the negative seep into my mind, and it eventually became how I spoke.
My words were not positive. My outlook on life was not positive. And with every negative thought that became words, it came full circle and made me even more miserable.
And then I found PEACE…
I cannot tell you when or where. I just know it happened. And it was a glorious thing!
With peace came the memories I had let myself forget. The times when I would hear my mother speak words of wisdom, peace, joy, love, kindness, and all things encouraging in times of struggle in her own life. How she was able to stand up and stay silent during times when crumbling and giving up during the battle was so tempting! I thought she was just being too nice, but she was building her heart and mind into something amazing!
And she was building it in me as well…
And so, here we are…
We have endured a Pandemic, lock-down, remote learning, remote working, NO working, wearing masks everywhere, not being able to gather as families and groups, and so much more!
People got sick.
People died.
People we know.
I have seen families fall apart.
I have seen people endure mental struggles they would have never otherwise experienced.
I have had to explain to my children why we couldn’t “go and do.”
We have endured struggles because of things beyond our control.
We have endured hardships.
I could go on and on about the things we have “suffered.”
But why???
Because it is so easy to fall victim of the one thing that captures our thoughts and words… the negative.
There’s another verse in the Bible that talks about our words. In Proverbs… “Death and life are in the power of the tongue…”
So, when we THINK the negative, we SPEAK the negative. And the negative kills.
I’m not talking about killing a person. I am talking about killing other things.
Negative kills joy.
It kills laughter.
It kills kindness.
It kills peace.
It kills love.
It kills our praise.
And it kills the spirit…
So let’s put a flip on it for a moment and see how it changes the outlook.
(We had a pandemic, and lock-down.)
I got to spend an entire year with my babies and experience every milestone!
(People got sick with Covid.)
Nobody in my family got ANY other virus all year!
(I didn’t have a job for a while.)
I got to spend all spring and summer in the garden with my grandmother who is 80 years old. We snapped beans, canned pickles, talked about tomatoes, peppers, flowers, and more!
(My children struggled with remote learning.)
My kids got to learn to drive tractors, hike, ride bikes and golf carts, fix broken things, install flooring, appliances, and bathroom things, and learned many family skills!
I got back to my roots!
I picked up books, my Bible, my journal, my notebooks, and my computer and I filled my heart and mind with the things that make me happy, stronger, more peaceful, and my spirit is happy.
Yes, I still have days and nights where I sit and wonder how I am going to do things on my own. I wonder when I will get enough sleep. I wonder how I will manage to spread myself a little thinner for all the things a single mother of five must do on the daily…
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