To the Weary Mama

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“Give me your heart, give me your song, sing it will all your might
Come to the Fountain and you can be satisfied.
There is a peace. There is a love you can get lost inside.
Come to the Fountain and let me hear you testify.”
                       ~NEEDTOBREATH “TESTIFY”

 

Motherhood is a gift that easily gets tainted. I know I am my own worst enemy most times. So much anxiety and thoughts race through our minds.

Am I doing this right?

Am I doing enough?

Do they know I love them?

Do they feel loved enough?

To the weary Mama, I see you. I see you trying to hold it all together on the straight and narrow path of deception. A path so wide and straight that many find their way so easily to an unfulfilled thirst for acceptance. We want to know that we’re doing enough. We want to believe that the daily decisions we make will guide our children to a better path as they grow.

I see the worry. I see the masked concern when you drop a little bit of your motherhood that you have clung on to for so long, when one of the plates fall.  It’s a constant nagging when Inadequacy drowns out all the love noise of the One who is calling you to His well.

We want to be confident in who we are, but the world constantly battles for our attention and tries to fill all those voids. The world offers us a drink and we leave still feeling thirsty. When I take that cup from the world, I leave with a false sense of knowing where I am. I leave with a parched mouth.

I know that all consuming thirst all too well. It’s that thirst that can only be filled when I drop all that I am trying to carry and come to His well where His Word fills my soul.

I want to be lost. Lost in His love that I can’t see a way out. I want to wander in the deep cave of His mystery. My feet kick the rocks on the ground in His canyon of peace.

He takes my hand and shows me His Word that’s written on my heart. I gently hand Him my heart that has it all figured it out and in exchange I receive His truth.

There are times when I trip and fall as I walk through the vast valleys of victory in Him, and it’s then I am grateful for my weakness because it’s in these moments when I know really how strong I truly am in Him.

If I am always looking back, questioning my worth as a mom, then I trip and fall. When I look side to side, I lose direction. But when I look forward, towards Him, I am lost to all that is around me. I’ll never look back again.

Wont you be lost with me?

I let go. I let go of the expectations I put on myself. I let go of comparison. I let go of my anger. I let go of myself.

I sing my song of redemption. I sing it at the top of my lungs.

Let go and sing with me.

I find His well of wild love and drink deep. I am satisfied in the lostness of knowing Him.

Peace Mamas,
Glo

Do you feel overwhelmed and exhausted? Does your faith feel empty? I know the feeling because I have been there too.

When I Can’t See His Truth

Coffee is gurgling from the corner of my kitchen. I need this cup this morning. Time has slipped through my grasp and I need to stop and breathe today. An overwhelming sigh escapes me. Coffee, Bible and journal in hand, I sit at my kitchen table that has seen many of my tears and fears on numerous ragged, dark early mornings.

As I open my journal, I am guilted by the gap in the dates marked on the top of the pages. Almost two months since the last time I made an effort to seek out God for his guidance. Guidance on my journey as a new mother, a new friend, a loving wife and writer.

I found something I was drawn to, led by the Spirit and began a spiraled crawl down my own path. Why is it when God gives me an opportunity to serve him, I find the need to take the opportunity and make it my own? I grab it, dress it up in an outfit I picked out, show it off on the runway of my life and call it my own work? My own doing. By the time I’ve come to the end of myself, I am enveloped by a sickness. God shows me the way to a bountiful path and I stuff my face.

It’s the sickness that usually brings us back.

I fumble with an overwhelming sense of insecurity. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I’m not supposed to be doing this with my life? As I search down the wrong turn I’ve taken, I see others in the distance who appear to be on the same journey as me. They look like they’ve made some similar decisions as me. All I see are their successes.

I start falling. Falling into jealousy. Anger. Fear. A dark pit I can’t see out of. I feel like I’ve reached the bottom and I can’t find my way out. I get kicked around by my emotions. They slither around me, rearing their fangs, ready to bite at my weakest moments.

These are the moments when we’ve come to the end of ourselves that we feel God’s hand holding us. We realize we aren’t in the bottom of a self-destructive pit. We are being held. Held by the One who never let go. God’s love is unconditional and will always be cupping us when we fall. It’s our pride that masks the floor from us.

We put ourselves in our own dark places only to find God re-lighting the path for us every time we take a detour. His Word says in Isaiah 41:13 that He is the the Lord our God who takes hold of our hand and says “Do not fear; I will help you.”

I think of the verses we’re taught as children. Verses that become cliches. They get tossed around as platitudes, losing their power in our lives. Until we need His power to rejuvenate us. Until we hear Him whisper the truth to open our eyes and see that He is with us.

I hear him whisper His truth in my dark kitchen that morning.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord our God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

I don’t sit at my kitchen table to feel like I’ve earned points with the man upstairs. I don’t journal about my journey to feel good about myself. I sit down for coffee with the Creator of the universe. I write to clear away the weeds I’ve sown so I can see the beauty He has always had for me. The beauty of His Word. The beauty of seeing others with His eyes. The beauty of seeing myself with His eyes.

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

Struggling in your faith? Comparing yourself to others? Read more to find encouragement in your walk with Christ.

To Those Grieving This Holiday

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This morning I woke at about  3:30 and just couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t wake thinking about food getting cooked, family gathering and laughing. I didn’t think about Black Friday shopping or the crazy chaos of the day.

I didn’t think about anything other than my mother.

My heart was so heavy I could hardly contain myself. I realized that I was starting to dread the start of the day. When Grief starts knocking, I find myself with one of two choices. Fling open the door and have some kind of party (which could be an ugly party, let me tell yah) or lean against that door with all my might, grunting and sweating, keeping my visitor out.

I have learned that Grief likes to especially whisper lies. Lies that I am learning come from the Father of Lies. He likes to whisper that you’re alone in what you’re feeling. He likes to make you think you’re the only who has felt this way. He tells you over and over that this holiday season without your mama will suck.

Honestly, I find myself believing these lies. I find myself wandering back to that empty grief where I push God out and fill up on nothing.

BUT today I just couldn’t. I couldn’t lay there in bed grieving over my family’s first round of holidays without our mom. My heart wasn’t just heavy for my loss.

My heart was heavy for the so many out there who have to go through this time of year without someone they love.

My heart IS heavy for all of us.

The biggest challenge I find for myself when I am wrestling with grief is the memories. Sometimes I want to walk through memory lane, stop and look at the intricacies of the whens and wheres I laughed with mom, cried with mom, and argued with mom. Sometimes I want to just stuff it all down and not deal with it on that particular day. It’s a constant pendulum that swings with my emotions and I just ride it whichever way it sways.

But through the swaying of emotions I have learned that I cannot allow myself to think God is void in these specific emotions.

And I cannot allow myself to think that I am alone in these emotions.

I just want to remind those of you today who have lost someone that you’re not alone today.

As your family gathers around their table and you get that pinch in your heart because there’s one less seat, know you are not alone.

As you load your children up in the car and think you should have one more car seat this year as the heart wrenching miscarriage you had a couple of years ago replays in your mind, know you are not alone.

If your heart is feeling heavy with grief, let me muster hope for you today. 

I don’t pretend to walk high on some mountain of faith. I’m not here to make you feel like your faith is slipped beyond reach.

I just want to come alongside you today and hold your hand with this gentle reminder:

God is with you in your grief. You are not alone today. You are not ever alone.

This morning at 3:30 when I couldn’t go back to sleep, I heard that Voice that rattles me awake. I heard the One who reminded we are not alone as we go through the times of such bittersweet emotions as we celebrate a joyous time of year with the holidays, yet feel the burden of our lost loved ones.

I kept hearing the word brokenhearted. I felt brokenhearted. I started mourning not just my mom, but the moms of many I know who are gone this year.

But then He came close and gently tugged on my heart reminding me that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). He sang a love song to me of the healing He brings to the brokenhearted and the binding up of their wounds (Psalm 147:3).

He picked up my broken heart this morning and we wrestled with the pieces for a bit. I thrashed in my bed not ready to receive my broken pieces, but He is faithful. He stayed with me. He told me it was OK. I didn’t have to take them yet if I wasn’t ready.

And you know, that act alone of reminding me of the choice I have opened the flood gates. I ran to Him with the most open heart, nodding my head with tears streaming down my face, ready for the pieces to come back together.

I saw the pieces of my ratted heart, the pieces of tape and glue from the times I tried putting it back. I saw the pieces in his hands, fully mended, with no traces of my shoddy handiwork.

I saw a heart that was whole in His hands. I saw a broken heart that was healed.

Not only did I see my heart being healed, I saw many grief-stricken hearts that have been healed. I saw the promise of healing to come for many hearts. I saw hearts still not ready, but needing more time.

I saw the hope of healing.

And that my friends is what I want you to remember this holiday season.

The Hope that comes.

The real, in your gut, deep in our hearts Hope.

Peace to you,
Glo

Are you grieving this holiday? You are not alone. Read about my experience with grief and losing my mother and getting through the holidays.

 

 

 

 

 

What Should I Tell My Children about Trump Being President?

This morning I woke up and dreaded looking at my phone. I knew no matter the winner, I was going to have to reconcile my feelings with the new President of the United States and God. If you would have asked me when I first started writing that I would be writing someday about “Donald Trump as President,” then I would have looked at you and laughed. But here we are. A day full of so many mixed emotions and so many questions. I just keep asking myself, what now?

Of course the instant I turned to my phone and began reading everyone’s comments and status updates about how they felt, I couldn’t help but have a heavy heart. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed for the people who are tormented about our new President. I couldn’t help but feel my heart break when I read posts of victims of rape who couldn’t understand why a country like ours “choose hate over love.” The many women who feel personally affected by the nomination of a man, who quite frankly, is a sinner like the rest of us.

On the flip side, my head shook when I saw those in favor of Trump, gallivanting their statuses as if they think Trump will be the change our country needs. The ignorance of a misplaced trust in a new President.

The reality is, no matter who are next President was going to be, the truth still remains. A truth that squeezed my heart of all the heavy and replaced it with hope. A truth that says this:

God is bigger than a Presidential election.

I certainly don’t write this to say that we shouldn’t have hope in our government. Having hope in one another and the people who help make our country what it is, need our hope. But more importantly, they need our prayers.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to pray for those in leadership positions. We are called to respect our government. That is a TOUGH pill to swallow when you feel like you are in a situation that seems like a lose-lose.

But that’s the real hope we can have with our prayers. A real hope that remembers God is bigger than Donald Trump. God is bigger than our government.

We make a mistake when we put our trust in man to bring a change.

Donald Trump is not going to be there in the night when a woman who was assaulted by a man can still feel his hands on her body. Trump is not going to be there when a mother and father hear their son refer to a girl in their class in a sexually degrading way.

But God is there. He is here. Now.

God is there to wrap his arms around that woman who can’t shake her attacker’s face. God is there to guide those parents as they talk with their son about what it means to cherish a woman and how God created her.

I keep thinking about how I would talk to my children today if they were old enough to understand the confusion and anger that fueled this election. What would I say to my son? To my daughter?

I would tell them that sin is real and Satan is out to steal, kill and destroy. That our new President is a sinner like us and he is a fallen man whom we can’t put all our trust in. I would remind them that Satan will use this President to continue to drive our country apart and that as Christians, we need to put on our armour of love, now more than ever.

I would tell them that God’s love is real and He is out to shower us with His mercy and grace if we would open our hearts to Him. That no matter what Trump or anyone else for that matter has done, that God still loves each one of us unconditionally. God is love. And He uses his love to draw us closer to him.

It’s times like these when we need to hold fast to the truth that is His word.

Not platitudes or false teachings that make us think Man is our rock. There is only one Rock and His name is Jesus.

If there were ever an election to teach our children about Christ and the struggles that come with learning to trust and seek His truth, then this one would be it. Think about that for a minute. I can honestly say that the few times I have voted for a President so far, this was the first one when I was on my knees almost nightly, seeking God for guidance on how to vote this year. And I would be sure my children knew the struggle I went through and the basis for my decision came from His word.

It won’t be long and the buzz will die down around Trump–that is until something new comes up and we can start pointing the finger again. And that’s when the lessons will begin again.

How will our children respond and what will they learn from us if we show an utter disrespect to our President and our government because we disagree with our nation’s decision? What will we be teaching them if we continue to bash those in leadership, when the Bible clearly calls us to respect them? 

If I show respect for one I like and think is morally better but show disregard for one that I think is the wrong choice, then I am showing my children that different sins have different value which in turn clouds the truth of God’s unconditional love.

I want to teach my children the value of respecting our governmental authority, while learning to exercise their rights as citizens to vote and protest. I want them to learn that disagreement doesn’t come in the form of bashing those we disagree with or breaking the rules. Disagreement comes with prayer. Prayer for those we disagree with and their hearts and prayer for our own hearts to stay open to the Holy Spirit and how He would lead us to respond.

God has given us boundaries in His Word and when we choose to live outside those boundaries, the result is sin. It’s not my place to put others in their place. I hope my children will see that when we see sin in others, it’s our place to pray for them and love on them ever more. We don’t have to accept their sin, but we can leave the judging to God and keep our eyes on Him and His truth.

I want my children to remember that God is bigger than we can imagine and it’s His love that pursues us every minute of every day.

I want them to know that God is bigger than a Presidential election.

What about you? What will you or would you tell your children?

Peace,
Glo

How to respond to the 2016 Election with your Faith. What to tell your children about Trump being president.

 

When Your Spouse Starts to Feel Like a Roommate

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Exhaling loudly, I let myself fall onto our couch. I scan the room for the monitor to check if Mike is still praying with our toddler upstairs. I glance in the kitchen and see the dishes that have yet piled high again. The dogs are whining, needing to be let outside. I roll my eyes, annoyed that no one thought to let them out before dinner. It’s the end of the day and my patience has practically vanished. My energy left somewhere around the time I had to start prepping for dinner.

It’s days like these that I seriously don’t have the mental or physical energy to bother even connecting with my husband.

I hear him coming down the stairs as I start to unload the dishwasher. He slowly steps into the kitchen, looks around, and decides to feed the dogs. After unloading the dishwasher, I float to the laundry room to start working on that load that’s been sitting in there for a couple of days. Mike rhythmically moves to load the empty dishwasher. Even though we’re both exhausted, our absent-minded bodies move robotically to do our chores.

No eye contact is needed. No connection is needed. We move, doing what needs to be done, not realizing the slow beat of our tiredness is slowly eating away our heart-to-heart connection.

I used to think it was nice being able to do these things without having to talk about it much. I used to think it was the result of a strong marriage being able to ebb and flow around the home without communicating much. A little lie I tell myself.

A lie that builds a foundation on shifting sand.

It’s that deafening, quiet sound of methodical chores, questionless requests and rhythmical bedtime routines that I let turn my husband into a roommate.

It starts when we each settle into our routines in the evening, after a long day of working and parenting, that we slowly start the change. I grab my phone. He grabs his. We think we’re watching TV together as the sound of the commercials fall on deaf ears.

It’s when Mike comes through the door and I practically throw my son at him without so much of a greeting, while I rush back to the stove as the timer blares at me so my meatloaf doesn’t burn.

I see it as we start to go to bed at different times on a what seems to have become a regular basis. I see it as I start my morning chores while he eats his breakfast before heading off to work.

I then have to ask myself, how did we get here? How did we become the model marriage of robotic intimacy?

Flashes of a dinner spent asking about each other’s day gets replaced with managing kids at the dinner table. I see a fog around our evenings of actually watching our favorite show together and engaging about the plot and characters. Quiet time together in the dark mornings over a cup of coffee seem like forever ago. Intimacy that spread from the kitchen to the bedroom seems like a distant memory.

I suddenly feel this urgency to reconnect with my husband. My breath starts to quicken as I become angry, realizing that the man who knows my heart better than anyone, the man whom I am building a family with, has started to feel like a roommate.

I’m angry because I let it happen.

Sure, it takes two tango, but someone has to take the first step to get the dance moving.

I am learning more and more to appreciate these seasons in my marriage. When I feel my connection with my husband thinning, I realize God is pricking my heart as his daughter, letting me see that having a husband as a roommate is not what He wants for me or for my husband. That when we go through these seasons which seem harmless, are really precursors to a desert. Getting angry that I let my marriage cycle to this point is God’s red flag to me, gently waving in the distant, calling me back to Him.

It’s a weird dynamic to be angry about becoming distant with my husband yet grateful that I feel a closeness to my heavenly Father, whose voice I hear, whispering in his familiar voice.

The reality is this: when I feel this way with my husband, I more often than not am with this way in my relationship with God.

Morning quiet time with the Creator becomes a routine. Prayer seems formulaic. Talking with the Lord seems exhausting after everything I had to do that day.

And His beckoning to refocus on Him and His truth draw my up into his arms and open my heart to my husband again. I decide to make eye contact with my husband when we do the dishes. I decide to take back my empty chores and take my cell-phone glazed eyes and direct them to my husband, not a roommate.

I decide to take the first step. I decide to take back my marriage.

Before our strong foundation turns to sand.

Peace,
Glo

Marriage Struggles: When your spouse starts to feel like a roommate.

What It’s Like to Grieve Without God

It took about fifteen minutes.

From seeing the sun just barely above the horizon, to it dipping down below the fields, signaling dusk, we buried my mother in fifteen minutes on an unusually cool summer evening in Kansas.

No service. No big memorial. Just her children and some grandchildren in a place special to my mother. Just how she wanted it.

It took about fifteen minutes.

Mom had been on hospice for barely a week before she left this earth. The night of her death, I remember it was about fifteen minutes after the last of her six children said his goodbyes when she took her last breath.

It took about five days.

Mom passed on Sunday night and we had her apartment cleaned out by Friday. Grief hadn’t actually hit me yet. I was too busy still taking care of her even after she was gone. Years ago I moved us into that apartment and I was going to move her out. It took us five days to clear everything out, like she was never there.

It took about two weeks.

I had been busy getting all of mom’s accounts in line and organizing everything, that grieving for my mother had taken a back seat. I was avoiding my grief, keeping it at bay. Afraid of the torrential waves that might not stop. About fourteen days after my mother left this world, I realized for the first time that my world was a lot more empty without her. As I reached for my phone to call her during our morning ritual, the truth sank in. Truth that said I hadn’t fully grieved the loss of Mama.

I had had my moments of tears and bursts of anguish. I would see a picture of her and quickly lose my breath. As my son would toddle into the room, my heart would ache, wishing my mother was here to see him. Then it really hit me.

All this time I had been grieving, I had been telling myself it will get better. I reminded myself that God would give me peace and comfort. I remembered the kind words of others to help ease my pain. I worried about the rest of my family and their grieving process, praying for all of us nonstop. Yet. I realized my prayers were empty. My words were powerless. My belief was robotic and formulaic.

Ecclesiastes 3 says that there is a time for everything under the heavens. There is a time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance (NIV). And in the New Testament we are constantly reminded that God will never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5, NIV). When I remembered these verses I saw my emptiness for what it really was.

was allowing myself to grieve without God.

I was expecting Him to fix me. I was waiting on Him to fix my heart. All the while I was blind to the truth that God was actually grieving with me. The Creator of the universe had a broken heart for the loss of my mom and He wanted to grieve with me.

While I truly believe my mother is in heaven, the hole that gets left behind when you lose someone seems unfillable. So wide does that hole seem that I pushed away the only One who could fill it. My Father of the fatherless who has always held me in his hand, even when I was blind to His grasp was pushed to the backseat as an afterthought.

I had placed Him so high on this pedestal as the “fixer” that I forgot the reality of His love.

The moment I decided to actually feel His presence and to recognize His tears for my loss, that was the moment the Prince of peace filled my heart. I had placed Him so high on this pedestal as the “fixer” that I forgot the reality of His love. The love that says I will never leave you nor forsake you. The love that is truly sad when we are sad.

A love that gets angry with us.

A  love that will stand up for truth with us.

A love that pierces through all the darkness that can so easily shroud around us during grief.

When you are grieving the loss of someone that you believe is in heaven, sometimes the saying “well, at least they’re in heaven” gets thrown around as a platitude because, as humans, we don’t always know how to respond to grief. Let me remind you of the great power and real peace that can come from the deep down gut belief that you’re loved one is in heaven. You’re loved one is with the Spirit who holds the world. She is with the One that was with Jesus on the cross when he came to save us just so she could one day join Him. She is dancing with the One who placed the stars in the sky and created a world so full of life and diversity that we may never know the full extent of it.

She’s free and whole for the first time.

It took me countless moments of unsatisfying tears to realize that grieving without God is an endless road, empty with no restoration in sight.

It took me losing my mother to understand what it really means to believe in heaven. And that is something I will never lose hold of again.

(This post also appears on gloryannaboge.com.)

meandmama

Have you lost someone and felt overwhelmed in grief? Have you felt like God was missing in your grief? So have I.

Keep My Eyes to Serve, My Hands to Learn

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Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn”
                –Mumford and Sons “Below My Feet”

Rolling over in bed, my eyes squinting open, I can see it’s still dark out. I inhale my husband’s soapy, snuggly morning scent, leftover from his shower the night before. I lightly kiss his shoulder and lean to turn off his alarm. I slide out of bed and a new smell dances along my upper lip as my coffee brewing downstairs beckons me. I’m careful not to step on any toys my carefree toddler has left strewn about our house. A chill runs down my spine as I mindlessly turn our air back up. Without a second thought, I search our fridge, bursting with food, and grab the eggs, juice, butter, and fresh fruit to make an easy, bountiful breakfast.

While pouring my cup of coffee, I can’t help but think of the events from the night before. It was after 10:00 at night and I could hear the little girl crying. The frustrated mother trying to console her as not to wake her teenage son who needed to go to school the next day. Five other families were trying to sleep that night as well.  I slept on a cot that night. A cot I was quick to curse for being incredibly uncomfortable. Oblivious to what was surely running through the minds of the conjoining families. I imagine they had thoughts I have never had to think about in my life. Worries about keeping their job to feed their family. Wondering if their youngest was starting to get sick, causing a trip to the doctor’s office that they couldn’t afford. I was cursing my bed that night while they were finding comfort in sleeping in a safe place. That frustrated mother of her two year old had never been more thankful to be rocking her little to sleep in a room with air conditioning. Knowing that she would be able to have a cup of coffee the next day and a guaranteed way to get her kids to school the next morning. That night waned on in a slow trudge for me, while going too fast for those families. I could hear the little girl’s cries carry down the hall.

And I kept hearing that little girl cry. I could hear her this morning as I am back in my home, carelessly pouring my cup of coffee, with more than enough food, not worried at all about doctor’s visits. Passing the day, without a worry about the general stability of a life filled with a husband and a blessed job, a healthy toddler, electricity, food, water, and a home I call my own.

You see a couple of weeks ago I signed up to be an overnight host at my church for our local Family Promise (FP). A few days ago, I had the privilege of just existing for these people. They didn’t need anything from me really. Just my presence so they could all stay in our church for a night of safety.

If you don’t know anything about FP, then I highly encourage you to check out your community to see if they have facilities there so you can get involved. These families that were staying at my church for the week are homeless, struggling to hold a job, struggling to feed their families, struggling to live a life I have lived so carelessly. Even now as I type this, I can’t help but heave a heavy heart for the people who need help in this life. People right in my own town. People I surely pass on the street while I’m yelling at my iPod in my car as they are walking down the street with their kids, hoping to catch the bus on time to make it to their temporary home for the week they have found through Family Promise.

I keep hearing that little girl cry as she calls to me. I see the young man’s smile again, grateful for a hot cup of coffee to start his day. I keep replaying the teenage boy’s story about how his mom and sister are never back before 10:00 at night because his mom finally found a job. All their fears behind their eyes, reaching out to me, calling for help.

And as I take my coffee in my own cozy home the next day, their eyes remind me of what I am grateful for. I am grateful for my home. I am grateful for a husband who warms my bed at night. I am grateful that I have a car to take my son to his doctor’s appointment. I am grateful for a fridge full of food.

I am grateful for these daily necessities that I so easily take for granted.

I am grateful for these daily necessities that I so easily take for granted.

I am grateful for these daily necessities that I so easily take for granted.

Everyone has a story. Things are not always what they seem. We have so many trials and tests in this life that bring to the surface who we really are deep down. But who am I when I am walking at the top of the trial? Who am I when I am walking through life on a high? Who am I when I can go to bed at night generally content?

I want to be grateful. I want to be grateful during the times I so easily forget to be.

I want to remember that God is a God of a woman with a roof over her head and the God of a woman who needs a roof for her family.

I need to remember that God sees that little girl crying in the night and God is holding her alongside her mother because of His incomprehensible love. God is holding her because a girl down the hallway volunteered to spend the night in a building, just to be present, so this family could have a night of safety.

What about you? What are you grateful for?

(This post also appears on gloryannaboge.com.)

 

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Is it OK to love on my husband when I don’t feel like it?

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Spices are in the air. The heat from the oven overwhelms me as I take out the rolls for dinner. Clanking from the corner as Asher decides a spoon is the best for banging against his plate. Dogs are licking up flying food. Steam from the stove top as my potatoes bubble, telling me they’re done. It’s just occurred to me that I haven’t pee’d since this morning. Now we’re crying from the corner because apparently we didn’t want the dog to lick the food off of his actual plate. Fan is running high trying to keep things cool in the house while it’s 100 degrees outside. If only I had just used the grill this time. The buzzer goes off on the dryer reminding me my huband’s work clothes are done. My husband who will be late for dinner tonight.

I step in some food the dogs missed. I am going to have to mop tonight after Asher goes to bed. Might as well finish cleaning the kitchen while I’m at it. What little time to myself I thought I might have this evening has gone out the window. All the while my husband probably wont be home for another hour or so and his dinner plate will be waiting for him in the microwave. Anger flares. I feel like I do it all and he seems to miss this somehow. I don’t even bother to think what kind of day he has had that has caused him to come home late.

The nights Mike doesn’t have to work late are the best. You know those images of moms handing off their littles to the hubs as he walks in the door? We basically have that down pat in our house. Sometimes I can’t imagine doing this with more than one kid. I fall down at your feet mamas who are reading this with more than one! And working mamas? Holy cow. Let me just pause and say you are freaking awesome.

Digression aside, when the days are long and the evenings are short, I tend to operate out of my emotions easily. So I want to eat that ice cream? OK. I’m gonna do that. So I just want to read for an hour and fall asleep while I’m at, forgetting to brush my teeth? Yep, I’ll do that on occasion.

The problem is that when I get into these funks, my marriage suffers. My relationship with Christ tends to suffer too. I spend less time praying or reading and more time focusing on everything I “need” to do or choose my “selfish” time instead. And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty good at talking myself out of things I don’t feel like doing. Especially, for my husband.  I mean, it would be hypocritical of me to show him love by massaging his feet when I absolutely don’t FEEL like doing that. I don’t feel like loving on my husband. I don’t remember him loving on me anytime recently. Why should I do him a favor? LOOK at my day people. My everyday. Who has time for marriage when you are starting a family?

What a silly question. My marriage IS the bedrock of our family. What we do for each other day in and day out in turn serves our family. I think of how easily I get snippy with Mike in front of our son and he can’t repeat what I say yet thank goodness! I think of the moments I throw respect out the window. I think of how easily I let satan envelope me with my selfishness which is the opposite of God’s love. The supernatural love I have flowing through me to minister to others. The love I choose daily. Well, try to anyways. But sometimes, OK lots of times, I suck majorly at this.

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I am reminded of Glennon’s words from Carry On, Warrior who says love isn’t something we feel. It’s something we do. 

All those times when I don’t feel like loving on my husband, well, those are the times I should anyways. The feelings will come eventually. Those are the times my marriage needs me to act on love the most. Because if I don’t, then all those shouldas wouldas will become dust, and my marriage will waiver with the wind.


Our foundation will settle and our home will start to suffer.


I think I forget that we’re a team. That’s it’s me and my husband against the wiles of the devil. I get so me-focused that I forget we’re together on this. I take care of him. He takes care of me. And when my selfish self feels like he isn’t holding up his “end of the deal” then those are the moments to love on him the most. Not for his sake. For mine. I need to love on him when I feel my love bank going empty because that is when God works in my heart the most. That is when I can hear His voice the best. When I am utterly leaning in to Him, trusting Him with my marriage.

I need to love on my husband even when I don’t feel like it because God’s Word calls me to. I am to love even when I don’t feel like because God loves me. He first loved me so I could love others (1 John 4:19). Feelings have nothing to do with it.

Thinking about myself all the time brings deafness to my ears.

So the next time my potatoes are about to boil over and I realize that my evening is shot and my husband better not even ask for help with anything or to be loved on, well, those are the moments when I will cry out to my Father to give me ears to hear and eyes to see. To see my husband as He does.

Do you hear me friends? What about you? Do you let your feelings get in the way of truth?
Peace,
Glo

Struggling in your marriage? What about when you dont FEEL like loving your spouse? Is it OK to love my husbandPIN