I will go

I moved fourteen times in ten years.  Yikes.  It started when I was married the first time, at twenty-two.  We were so naive.  I cannot believe we didn’t have a plan.  Oh, yes, we did, but it got changed.  As a new bride, I found myself moving out of my parent’s house and into my groom’s best friend’s house for the first month or so of our marriage.  Our first place was because we were house sitting.  I can vaguely recall nights of tears upon tears.  I can remember not wanting to leave my parents’ home in the evenings (they lived just minutes from where we were).  A new job, new husband, and new place to live was probably too much for me to handle.  I mean, I knew during our ceremony that I was marrying the wrong man.  I wondered if I could be faithful to him in our vows.  Ummm…. RED FLAG.

So the moves began…  To places all around Arizona and Colorado then Texas.  In my younger years, I had declared, “I will never live in a small town…  I will never live so far from a big city…  I will never live where it is cold and snows…  I will never move away from family.”  Done at 23, by 25, and the last two at 27.  I joked that G-d listened to every “I’ll never” and jotted it down so He and the angels could laugh later.  In my twenties, I tried the ol’ switcheroo and professed: I will never marry Derek Jeter!  That one didn’t happen- the Lord knew better!

When I was twenty-seven, I remember feeling the Lord wanted to move me again.  I was between move five and six.  My parents were helping me sell my home a year after my divorce, and we had talked about buying me a little condo closer to the city.  It was a great deal and in a great area, but I hesitated.  I told them earnestly that I didn’t think it was wise and that G-d wanted to move me again.  I didn’t know where He wanted me to go or when, but I needed to be able to uproot at any minute.  By late June, I knew the move would be to Colorado.  By late July, I was there.  And, more moving began.  I desperately wanted to put down roots and unpack all my stuff, but I couldn’t.

I met my dear husband when I was twenty-nine.  This was the man I was suppose to marry.  This is the man my heart loves, who I adore and respect, and the man I want to grow old with.  I wanted to put roots down with him.  We lived in a great rental townhouse for almost the first year of marriage.  We were so happy there.  However, they raised the prices, and we were trying to pay off debt.  We moved.  We found a simple one bedroom apartment outside the city and moved in.  The quarters were close, but rent was cheap.  (We still laugh that I could hear my husband urinating in the bathroom from the bedroom down hall that first morning.  Not an enjoyable way to wake up!  lol)  We wondered what we had gotten ourselves into, but it’s the home we remember most fondly.  But yet another year later, we were transferred to Houston.  We moved in a horrible little apartment (well, the apartment was nice- hearing intimate conversations amongst neighbors and smelling their cooking dinners through our walls was not) for six months and bought a house.

Joy of all joys!  We bought a house!  It’s been just over two years, and I’m elated.  However, I’m still not settled.  I have my good china still boxed up, and I am reluctant to remove it from the box.  It’s a pain to pack, and I wonder: when will we move again?  I still keep a sampling of empty boxes as insurance should we get the call to move again.  I am not a box hoarder, but I want to be prepared.  Are we moving again?  The official call hasn’t come, but there’s been chatter.  I don’t want to move again.  I married a great man, though.  My hard working husband’s skill set would be great in some of the other locations of the company.  Sell our beloved home?  Move away from new friends?  Pack up and go to another unknown for an unknown time?  My husband sees my reluctance as a hesitation to him.  It’s not.  I want roots.  I want security.  I want to desperately cling to our couch and not be moved… AGAIN.  But, I know: some of the greatest G-d moments I have had came with a lack of it roots.  Yes, I am tired of moving.  Yes, I am definitely tired of packing- and unpacking.  It was like moving every nine months, but a few of those were after only three months.  But, I have to stop the hesitation.  I need to remember: G-d’s got it, and we’ll be okay.

I keep thinking of my vows.  We didn’t do for richer or poorer or even in sickness and in health; although, I would.  Instead, I vowed, “I will go where you go.  I will live where you live.  Your family will be my family, and your G-d my G-d.”  It’s from the book of Ruth, and they were the truest vows I could speak to Joseph.  Sure, the “your family will be my family” has had some major bumps, but not for my lack of trying.  (The Bible says, so it should have been: “your people will be my people”… but what’s done is done…)  So, I tell my husband, I support him, and I believe in him.  If his job takes him overseas, I will go.  If it takes him to another city or state, I will find the joy in that move.  I will submit to him.  It’s not a bad thing.  I trust him.  I love him.  I believe that he’ll make the best decision for our family.  And, as always, G-d’s got it.

I pause in review of my moving story and realize that beyond submitting to my husband, I have been submitting to G-d through all of it.  When He’s sad go, I’ve gone.  When He’s said move, I’ve moved.  I realize the trials and triumphs reflect on how He’s brought me through and exclaim what he’s done.  To transform from a foolish twenty-two year old to a thirty-something growing in wisdom has been by the grace of G-d.  He has allowed pain and hurt and anguish to make way for beauty and depth and rejoicing.  I gave my vows to my husband but said them before the Lord.  He will test me on them, He will allow me to keep them, and He will help me in honoring them every day of my marriage.  So, this post is not just for my husband or me, but for G-d.  Should we stay another twenty years in Texas, I will praise His name.  Should we grow old in our current home, I will rejoice.  But, yes, should we move again, I will still rejoice.  Because His ways are not mine, His are better.

And Derek Jeter?  Nah.  I’d pick Joseph Bauer any day of the week- he’s the man!  I am thankful to be his wife and will go where he goes as long as G-d asks.

Happy Wednesday, Laura

all men need adventure

One of the best lessons I ever learned: men need adventure.  It makes sense.  That’s why most men love action movies, can quote Braveheart at length, and can spend days watching TV of gold digging or extreme survival off the land.  They want that spark that excitement.  They want to believe that they could do that, go there, and succeed.  They crave a sense of self-worth and a thrill to excite their lives.

Not all adventure is jumping out of planes though.  Or speed racing.  Or bungee jumping.  Maybe camping, fishing, or bowling.  Adventure means different things to different men.  My brother, for example, is into all kinds of cop stuff.  He enjoys ride-alongs with his buddies, checking out the new sirens or equipment in catalogs, or going shooting with his wife.  My dad loves playing bass in his spare time, jamming with the church band, or getting together and rocking with his old band mates.  My brother in law loves hockey and soccer video games.  And, my husband loves HALO and travel.

There’s no problem with adventure until we women get involved.  I have had friends squelch any fun their husbands have had and sense of adventure, which has led to other problems in their marriages.  The husband may withdraw emotionally and resent his spouse.  I have seen men bad-mouth their wives, spending extended (unnecessary) hours at the office, start drinking, or have affairs.  Others don’t have affairs, but their relationship deteriorates so much that it eventually all fails apart.  It’s not extreme in every case, of course, but the relationship shifts to no longer best friends and lovers and thrill-seekers but to roommates and acquaintances.  The marriage becomes more child-parent than husband and wife as equals.

I blog about this today because it’s a reminder for myself.  The video games are wearing on my husband, and he wants to get away.  You know, I do to.  We use to travel all the time when we were first together.  It wasn’t just his adventure; it was mine.  Kids haven’t gotten in the way of that, like it has for so many others.  Instead, it’s our mortgage and property taxes.  We’re distracted by his MBA schedule and my new business.  Life wants to push us into roles of mediocrity and consistency of punching the clock and taking stock.  It seems to smother fun so that we cannot find it.

So, I remind myself that he needs adventure.  I want to always be his beloved, his confidante, best friend, and lover.  I want to be the girl he adores and dreams with.  I want to be the one to fulfill his deepest desire for adventure.  It doesn’t need to be to Africa or Australia.  It doesn’t need to be a week long getaway to the Bahamas or Europe.  We can travel a city over and spend the night.  We can take a day trip from Houston to Galveston or The Woodlands.  We can just drive for a day and see where it takes us.  A thirty dollar gallon of gas date can strengthen our marriage and give him the adventure he wants?  I am in!  (WAY better than bungee jumping for me!)

I encourage you, dear wives, to think of your husbands.  Encourage his healthy adventure, or find ways to work it into your budget and relationship.  If your marriage is healthy and thriving: make every effort to keep it that way!  Is it strained?  Remember what he first loved, and try to renew that spark.  Or, maybe, he can find a new adventure.  Support him and cheer for his interests that he may be cheerful that you are on his team today and forever.

Happy Monday,


Blessings to those who have served our great country.  We are grateful for your service.

“The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you.  The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”  (Numbers 6:24-26)

losing sleep

It’s one-thirty in the morning.  Okay, two minutes ’til.  Yeah, I am not a fan of lying.  *chuckle*  I cannot sleep, but I am getting tired.  I pray after this post I can go to bed.

I am strong most days.  I am able to ignore the desperate fact that I dearly want to be a mom.  I can be patient and thoughtful and know: G-d has a plan.  I can trust that He has me right where He wants me right now.  I am free from heartache and longing.  I am free from wanting kids and trust His plan.  I am truly content.  Most days.

Yesterday was not one of those days.  I was hysterical for half of it.  I was so emotional.  I mean, emotional beyond reason.  That, even only twelve hours later I can question: was I possessed?  Hmmm.  I think I was!  ha

The long and short of it comes with a diagnosis two years ago from my OB-GYN who suggested my husband and I seek non-traditional ways to have a family, if it were him.  I didn’t like his suggestion.  So, I got a second opinion.  And, a third.  And, a fourth.  It was like flipping coins.  They all seemed split.  It’s because of a heart condition I have, which is weird because I really am healthy.  My tests were great and blood pressure healthy.  I rocked my results… but pregnancy is a crazy thing.  You never know how your body will react.  My husband and I didn’t want to keep up the coin toss.  We agreed we liked the conservative approach: keep me alive.  (LOL, yes, conservative and “duh”).

Since then, it’s been a rough two years.  We went through a grieving process the first few months.  I hadn’t lost anything other than hope.  A family was still in the cards, but it was on hold.  It turned out to be a good thing, too, as my husband went back to school for his MBA.  I didn’t want to be at home with a newborn and feel like a single mother.  I didn’t want to be overwhelmed.  Wanting a child has been something close to my heart, but nothing we could act on.  I never wished ill-will on an expectant friend or family member, I brought new mothers dinners in my church, and I was content on where G-d had us.  We are right where He wanted us.

Then yesterday happened.  And, I was a hot mess.  My sister told me yesterday that G-d has three answers for us: yes, no, and grow.  I don’t remember asking Him a question, but here we are: He’s making me grow.  I don’t want to grow!  Yes, I’m a child who is content living how we’re living.  The norm.  Status quo.  I don’t know what to call it, but I thought I was content.  However, the Lord is working on my heart.  My poor little heart.

Before my husband and I sought medical advice, we talked adoption.  Maybe, we would adopt, if that’s what the Lord called us to do.  It might not be for us, but we would see.  When we accepted our news on “the baby situation.” ironically, adoption didn’t enter our thoughts.  We’d do surrogacy, of course.  (Not realizing the cost of that option at the time!)  Months passed though, and adopt entered our minds.  Adopt was less expensive than surrogacy, so we could pursue it sooner.

At the time, I thought: let’s adopt a little blonde haired child.  I wanted our potential child to look like us and feel comfortable being ours and fitting in.  I wasn’t being racist; I was protecting our future child.  As time passed, I thought: maybe we should adopt from China.  A sweet, little Chinese baby girl- yes, I was open to that.  Then, in the last week, I have thought: we don’t have to adopt a baby.  What if we are called to adopt a two year old?  Or, a preschooler?  Yes, we’re open to an older child.  Then yesterday, my heart was stretched more: maybe we should foster a child.  Foster to adopt.

I admit: the thought scares me.  That’s likely why my thoughts are stirring tonight.  The thought excited me over dinner but terrifies and overwhelms me now.  My fear of commitment is freaking. me. out.  Not that i fear commitment, but I fear making the wrong decision.  But, is loving a child and giving them an open, safe, and loving home a wrong decision?  I wonder: when did I come to this place?  When did the sweet infant I imagined become a six-to-sixteen year old?  The Lord stretches us.

I told my husband last night: maybe, that’s why I am hysterical.  Maybe the urgency for us to take in a child is not years away but months.  Maybe, the Lord is pressing and breaking my heart to get us to move and start the process.  We are called to love and serve Him- what if He’s preparing us more quickly than we expected?

So, I am tired.  It’s funny how the thought of having kids could be years away breaks my heart.  But, the thought of it being only months away starts to freak me out.  We don’t always get a say in how He answers prayers, right?  I believe His way is better than mine.  I believe His timing is perfect.  I believe the Lord of all loves me and wants good things for me.  It’s likely the fear of the unknown and the accelerated timetable that seems to possess my thoughts tonight.  The how-did-we-get-here mind coma somehow keeps me awake.  I need to remind myself that G-d is in control, and we’re not adopting tonight.  I think you need to at least fill out an application before they bring you a child, lol.  Besides, my cell phone’s on silent.  *smile*

Tonight is preparing me for parenthood anyhow, right?  Sleepless nights, doubts, and questions.  I guess I can find solace knowing I don’t have to be perfect.  I don’t have to have all the answers.  I don’t need to be the best.  I need to love, try, and pray.  And, as I think now…  I need sleep.  Hope we can all get more of it soon.

Good night, and thanks for reading, love, L

why I hold back

It is one o’clock in the morning, and I am tired.  Yet, I found myself up thirteen minutes ago and looking at the clock.  I had hoped it was four a.m.  Because, if it had been four, I would have gotten more sleep.  I wouldn’t be here, halfway through the night, wrestling with my thoughts.

Go to bed.

Oh, that I could.

I will be honest, blogging use to be easier for me.  In my twenties, I through caution to the wind.  I had no filter, which, well, let’s be honest, makes for some great stories!  No holds barred- woo hoo!  Oh, baby.  Oh, baby.  Got myself into a lot of trouble, but it was fun.  I had the power of story telling and conviction, and I loved it.

I’m married now, though, and there’s a line I need to draw.  I need to protect the sanctity of my marriage and that which should only be ours.  And, I’ve been burned.  I remember a friend commenting on something I wrote years ago that stung.  I don’t know if she even meant it that way now, but it made me pull back.  It made me stop writing.  I let the enemy work in my life and squelch my voice.  I was meant to be heard.  My stories are meant to bring glory to G-d.  I don’t think she meant to hurt me, but I still walked away.

It’s more than that, too.  I have had some crappy friends in my life lately.  I believe that G-d is good.  I believe that my life with my husband is blessed.  It is not perfect, but it is blessed.  Sure, we are wanting.  But, I don’t compare our lives to our friends’ lives because I realize not everyone gets the same blessings.  We are all blessed, but not in the same way.  I have started to filter my Facebook posts.  Oh, don’t want to post photos of the new oven- people will think I’m bragging (though I fought six months over that oven before finally putting it to rest).  Shouldn’t put photos from our Disney trip up- people will think we’re rubbing it in.  Better not be excited about my husband’s new role at work because people will think ill of him.  Or, us.

What the heck is wrong with me?  Nothing.  Because even though I am the type of person who has cheered on and encouraged those around me, I have had others attack.  They are envious of the trips we’ve taken.  They are envious of my new oven.  They comment on us having it all.  We don’t have it all; we just don’t have kids.  One friend was always so bitter.  She thought my husband made “all this money.”  Seriously?  I reminded her that our husbands made the same amount, but we weren’t paying for childcare, diapers, kid cloths, and car payments.  We weren’t buying new cars and expensive clothes.  I shop on eBay most often for my clothes- discount city!  I cannot remember the last time I bought jeans over twenty bucks.

It has been such an unhealthy situation.  I even regretfully informed a friend we went to Disney World and didn’t tell her because I didn’t know how she’d react.  She told me she was glad I didn’t tell her because she would have been mad.  Ummm…. please tell me I caught you on a bad day?  It seemed so twisted.  It didn’t matter that we were at a breaking point in our life.  It didn’t matter that getting away and having fun was the only thing my husband and I saw as a solution to saving our marriage from the rut we were in.  We needed a drastic change course.  Yet, she reminded me: she would love a vacation, too.  In that moment, she tried to steal my joy.

I was disappointed, and, again, I hoped she had just had a bad day.  As I think about it, now, too, I realize her words are a reflection on her more than they ever were on me.

So, here, at 1:23 in the morning, I want to make a vow to you, dear reader.  Dear friend.  I hope to lose the filter again.  I hope I won’t spare you the gory details.  I hope to give you a truly intimate look at my heart.  I don’t want my posts to be in vain, but I want them to help others and heal things.  I pray that my story can help you or someone else.  I pray that my strength of communication can get my stories to those in need of knowing someone else is there, or pick you up when you’re down, or give you an escape from your day.  I am hesitant, but, standing at the edge, I hope I can make us all proud and just JUMP.

Sweet dreams, my loves,


prayers for a little girl

Dear friends,

The link below is for a friend’s daughter.  After years of struggle, the Lord has brought them to a place to seek help for healing.

Thankfully, their daughter has been accepted into a great program.  However, it is a large financial strain on the family.  Any prayers and/or funds are greatly appreciated.  Please feel free to pass on the information.

Thanks and love, Laura


passwords and paranoia

Our lives our on our cell phones, aren’t they?  Intimate conversations by text with family and friends.  A plethora of people we know sitting in our contacts.  Plenty of pictures and dozens of videos.  And, apps as far as the eye can see.  Our phones seem to be an extension of ourselves.  They are a look into who we are and what we believe, enough to cause us severe panic should they ever be out of our reach.

You know, like today, for me.  After a long day away from home yesterday, we stopped for Chinese take out on our way home.  Dinner was just before nine o’clock.  I ate half my teriyaki veggie bowl and had two bites of a side of lo mein.  Our long day ended with a nice evening; the hubbie and I cuddled, watched a show, and went to bed.

This morning, I decided to forgo my usual breakfast options for leftovers.  Lo Mein for breakfast?  Yes, in my world.  Although, not much later, I found myself debilitated with an MSG migraine sitting divaesque in my doctor’s waiting room (head in hands, massive sunglasses, fleece lounge pants, and a big scarf).  I was beyond miserable.  This is what I get for eating take out, right?  As we waited for our doctor (yes, my dear husband had to come home from work to save his dying wife), my hubbie entertained himself with my phone.

Scared the snot out of me for a minute.  I didn’t think I had the wherewithal to even know he had my phone, but a brief state of panic ensued.  Who have I been texting?  Have I been taking pics?  What is on my browser?  Almost instantly I realized: I was in the clear.  I share my secrets with my husband.  Bizarre, I know.  He knows of my life B.J. (Before Joseph :-) ) and of my inability to commit.  Or refusal?  Well, I use to cheat.  I use to lie.  I use to manipulate the men I loved.  But, not anymore.  As he perused my phone, I realize it was the innate freakout of my former self.  It was a human moment.

We have a tendency to hide our true selves or allow someone in mostly to our lives, but not entirely.  My husband knows me intimately.  Not just sexually, but intimately.   I have shared with him my deepest dreams and desires- the ones I barely whisper because giving them voice can scare me.  And, no one wants to feel judged.  I have shared numerous embarrassing stories and mortifying moments.  He knows the tales that I hate to hear repeated or ever uttered.  Stories that disappoint me but still shape me.  I knows the dark parts of my heart that I dare not divulge frivolously.

I have not shared these things with him without reckless abandon.  I have hesitated.  Or dragged my feet.  I have doubted and wondered and waited.  But, I have swallowed my pride and shared.  I have stood naked in every sense of the word in front of my husband so that he could see me- scars and all.

In the early story of man, the Bible says in Genesis that Adam and Eve stood naked together and “neither one was ashamed.”  I want a marriage like that: open, honest, strong, and increasing in closeness.  I was thankful (despite the sunglasses in a darken room) that I am a changed woman in my marriage.  I was thankful I had nothing to hide.  I remembered why I didn’t have a password: I had nothing to hide.  I didn’t worry about what my phone contained and even encouraged him to go through it more.  What lies in my phone has lied in my heart, and I’m willing to share both with him.

Happy Wednesday and phone day, L

p.s. Doing better.  Tired.  TMI: throwing up helped!  Resting now and getting ready for bed.  Good night.

step back

When I was a child, I heard a story in my pastor’s sermon that has stuck with me even decades later.

He talked about life being a quilt.  When you look at a quilt from a distance, it is beautiful.  There are so many details and colors.  It’s exquisite.

In any given spot, you can get super close to the quilt and put your nose up to it.  You will see just one color.  That color will be so prominent.  And, if you didn’t know better, you might say the quilt was only that one color.  It’s only once you step away that you see the quilt for more than one color and multidimensional.

The same can be said for life.  I’ve reminded many people around me lately that they need to do one simple thing: step back.  They are too close and too intent on just one situation and one moment when life is not what we want it to be.  It’s like we’re focusing on a small black or gray square so much we cannot see the beauty in the multiple pieces around us.

My husband, for example, has been stressed this past week.  I have been gently reminding him what my dad always says, “This, too, shall pass.”  Because, well, it will.  I remind my husband that what’s on the road before us now will be in the rear view mirror in a month.  And, it will likely be a distant memory in not even a year.  There’s no need to worry, doubt, and question life.  The answers will be here soon enough.  School and work and life can be lived now and worried about later.  G-d has a plan.

I wonder how many times our hearts have ached in questions.  How many sleepless nights are spent pondering things that don’t matter?  I have tried to gain perspective on our issues at hand.  What’s that prayer?  “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference?”  I am rarely monk-like in my approach to life (casual? yes, zen? no) until this past week.  I have decided to take a step back.  Sure, I had a minor vent session with my sister one night, but I have had the grace to remind those around me of the truths we live.

That G-d is good.  “All things work together for good….” (Romans 8:28).  And, that life is an amazing quilt, woven together with our memories- good, bad, and unforgettable.  My pastor’s story still rings true to help others.  We just need to take focus off the one thing that’s bothering us and focus on counting the blessings that surround it.  It’s easy to gain perspective when you just take a step back.

Happy Monday, Love, L

p.s. working on the conclusion to “scarred.”  Hoping to do it justice and post soon!

so you had a bad day?

My husband and I are big fans of nearly ever show on CBS, especially its sophomore show “Elementary.”  It’s been on the back burner, though, while we’ve had dozens of other priorities crowd out our chances to watch it.  Well, that was the case anyway until this past weekend.  We watched eight episodes within forty-hours.  You know, pace yourself.  ha

During one of the episodes, the phrase, “So you had a bad day…” played from Daniel Powter’s “Bad Day” song a few times as Joan Watson’s ringer.  And, it’s still playing in my head tonight because I had a bad day.

Maybe, I had a bad forty-eight hours.  Yesterday morning, my husband complained of the smell of rotten eggs (a.k.a. the scent added to natural gas) in his office.  My apologies, dear, because I rolled my eyes.  Uh huh.  Hypochondriac, likely, was my thought at the time.  Yes, I was a bad wife and dismissed his bemoaning.  I told him he’d feel better after a shower.  In the meantime, I rebuffed his thought and went to his office to print some documents.  Hmmm…  I smell it, too.  *Frown*  Here’s my idea: he might not be crazy!

An hour later, it was confirmed: he was not.  Oh, goodness.  The gas company shut off our gas, and we were gonna be without hot water.  The Lord smiled upon us though.  A new friend had his contractor come by last night to check things out, he came back this morning and not only installed a new water heater but at a reasonable price.  We were bummed at our lowered emergency fund but overjoyed at the hot showers we had after he left.

Later this morning, I had a doctor’s appointment.  Blood work for a physical.  And, after a forty minute wait, they said I had to go to a different lab.  Say, what?  I had the same work for the same doctor in the same lab last year.  What is the problem?!  Oh, did I mention that it was fifty minutes into my appointment before they told me I had to go elsewhere?  I know I usually am grateful for the way I handle situations with grace, but today was no such day.  I begged and pleaded.  Please, just draw my blood.  For the love of all things holy, draw my blood.  Yes, it was a crazy request.

I was as gentle as I could be with the poor, new tech who was unfamiliar with the system.  It wasn’t totally her fault that she was wrong.  I can blame hormones.  I shall.  I can blame lack of sleep.  I will.  And, I can probably blame the long wait, so okay.  I started to cry.  Heaped over in the blood drawl chair, I was a weeping willow.  Bawling my eyes out, I just wanted an easy appointment.  I was done with the day, and it wasn’t even noon.  Somehow, G-d showed me grace again, and the blood work I was denied was done- an hour after my time slot.  Goodness.  Inexperience to blame for the confusion.

As the day has progressed, I have been thankful for a busy husband and a lack of children so that neither would drain the little resource I had to give of myself.  I was grateful to work from home and screen my calls.  As the hours went by, I found myself completely drained of energy and optimism.  I went as far as to have “some of the hard stuff,” which is soda in my house.  *laughs* Now, you know it’s a bad day because the last soda I had was around New Year’s.  But, as I evaluated the day I realized the two things I truly needed:

1- a reboot.  This girl is so tired.  My brain and body need rest to recharge and feel whole again.

2- time with the Lord.  Quiet time, no matter how long or short, does my spirit good.  I find peace and am truly whole.  It steadies my heart and mind.  It gives me the right perspective so I stop whining to myself about my bad day and focus on being thankful that I was given another day.  I am eased in knowing my humanity, and I am not suppose to do it all.  G-d’s got it, so I need to learn to rely on Him more.

So, if you have had a bad day, I say skip the soda or any other vice and find a moment to reboot physically and spiritually.  You will come out stronger and more prepared once you do.

Sweet dreams, love, L