Being an adult is hard, am I right? We’re asked to make decisions that don’t make sense half the time, to think about our future, and to step out in faith. It’s scary, it’s stressful, and sometimes we royally screw it up. There’s no formula to follow to make a right decision, but I’ve begun to believe this mantra: “If you don’t love it, don’t do it.”
Now of course this doesn’t apply in every single decision. I don’t LOVE scrubbing the bathtub, but it has to happen or mold will take over. I don’t LOVE going to the dentist, but I should go if I would like to keep my teeth. I don’t LOVE paying my car registration, but I do love not going to prison, so I (get my husband to) take care of that. Some decisions are a given because they’re necessary. But sometimes, we have a choice.
We live in a world where girls are usually taught ones of two things: they’re “just” pretty, or they’re absolutely equal to men and should do the exact same things. The first was an unfortunate development of self-esteem movements, and the second is the ugly mission of feminism. I don’t agree with either.
Girls should be taught that they are beautiful. It’s important. God has created them to be beautiful and He finds joy in their recognition of His work. But let’s face this logically. Girls aren’t equal to men. We aren’t as strong, we aren’t built to do hard labor, and many of us find little, if any, joy in the work of a man. We’re made differently. Wonderfully, but differently.
But where does this leave us when it comes to bravery? Many girls are taught to be the damsel in distress, waiting for the man of their dreams to save them from the dragon. I don’t buy that. I’m not that kind of person. I also don’t buy into the fact that the girl needs to slay the dragon. There must be an in-between.
There is. God calls girls to His beauty, and also to His bravery. He calls them to be intercessors, prophets, healers, worship leaders, teachers of the Word, the list goes on. And His gifts are best manifested in us when we step into those callings in bravery.
Y’all, I’m white. And I’m not talking ethnicity. I mean, that’s true too. But down to my core, I’m white. As white as the day is long. I still say things like “fo rizzle” and “crack-a-lackin.” Nothing about me is on point, on fleek, or on anything else. I love Friends, I can’t jump, and I’ve competed in an ultimate frisbee competition. I am white.
So when I say things like, “Yeah, we had tacos for dinner last night. I made tortillas and…blah blah blah,” the response is always the same:
“YOU MAKE TORTILLAS?!?!”
Yes. I’m white. Yes. I make tortillas. Yes. They’re delicious.
“What is she talking about? Essential oils? Oh geez, she must be one of THOSE. I’m outta here.” I hear you, friend. That was me a few months ago. I had several friends who used essential oils for everything under the sun, and I thought, “Sure, that works for them, but I’m not that crazy.” Well, I am officially that crazy now. 😉 Essential oils are a wonderful alternative to traditional medicine. They provide natural relief for a countless number of sicknesses and ailments, and they have made a huge difference in my health and the health of my family. Let me share with you 3 reasons I LOVE essential oils!
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As of the beginning of this writing, it is 10:30 AM on Monday morning and the laundry is completely finished. I am unstoppable. BRING IT ON, MONDAY!
Mondays are hard, aren’t they? Just waking up; it’s almost painful. It was for us this morning. Especially after I had a dream that my husband moved to Florida without me (RUDE). But my 24-year Monday survival rate is 100% so far, so I think I’m doing pretty good.
Let me tell you about our weekend. Friday night, we ate dinner, waited a couple of hours, then ran. (The Texas death heat forces us to run late in the evening, much to my dismay.) It was one of those runs where you literally want to die. We got home and decided to watch a movie (Bourne Legacy, so good!). All that to say, we ended up going to bed really late (we’re old souls that are in bed before 9:30 every night). So we’re laying there, and my husband had already fallen asleep. I was drifting off to sleep, when suddenly …
BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!
Y’all, I’m good at a lot of things: cooking, photography, eating tacos. I mean, I rock them. (Humility, maybe not so much.) One thing I’m not good at: SEWING.
My grandma, who is still an incredible seamstress, taught me a basic hand stitch when I was probably about seven years old. I thought I was going to revolutionize the world of sewing (I was a big dreamer). I don’t ever recall actually sewing anything, other than a few stitches here or there, but I thought I was awesome.
Fast forward 17 years, and here I am. Married. Wifing (it’s a thing). My husband was working with a friend of ours last week and came home with a nice rip in his jeans. Not a big hole, just an L-shaped rip on the front of the thigh. But these are his work jeans, and he likes them, so …
“Honey, can you fix my jeans?”
We live in an ugly world. It is full of pain, hurt, and tragedy. So let’s take a few minutes and just be honest. We’re not going to blame-shift. We’re not going to try to come up with solutions. We’re just going to discuss the real issue here.
The enemy. The devil. Satan. Stupidhead. Whatever you want to call him.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.”-John 10:10
Saturday night, 50 people were killed in a mass shooting at a nightclub in Orlando. That is 50 families, 50 groups of friends, and 50 sets of coworkers who are hurting deeply for their loved ones. It’s unthinkable, unimaginable, unbelievable. My mind can’t grasp a hold of 50 people laying there, dead. It’s insane.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the actual news surrounding this tragedy, so let’s bypass that and get to the question that everyone wants an answer to:
As a child, I dreamed. As a teen, I planned. And as a young adult, I completed years of college, all to achieve my dream job. I became a teacher. I earned my Bachelor’s degree in elementary education, and then I went a step farther and earned my Master’s in Instructional Technology. It was exactly what I had always dreamed of, but after 2 years in the profession, I quit to become a homemaker. As crazy as it seems, it was the perfect decision. Let me explain to you why I chose homemaking over my dream job.