MY Yoke is Heavy!


Weight!  So much gravity to responsibility. My teens and their life, literally, and future, their character and growth. My husband’s relief and support and this thing called marriage. The women and young ladies I serve who ache, are lost, hopeless or even simply eager to learn. The angst of my friends who battle giants. My own character development and faith walk. The hands on the street stretched out while the other holds a cardboard sign. Money, possibly, the heftiest of all burdens for many. I work, more hours than I rest, put have no income. Short list not all inclusive.

A lightened load I seek. God says, “then lay down what I never asked you to carry. I ask that you become like Me, not that you are Me.

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When Surrender leads to Victory!


 Matthew 26:39 “Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

More times than I can count, I have asked God to “take this cup from me.” Change my path, decrease my burden, ease my suffering. No rest for the weary as the saying goes.

I find solace in the fact that, even Jesus, bowed before His father and begged him, not once, or even twice, but three times, to change the plan, redirect the path he was to tread. (Matt 26:44 “So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.”)

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When they can’t Love you Back!


“What do you think my love language is, Mom?” he asked.

“Well, there is a test you can take on line,” I said.

“Yeah, David was telling me I should take it. Will you help, in case I don’t understand the questions?”

“Of course!”

We were late for church but when my son asks for emotional help or growth, I refuse to brush aside the rare occurrence.

A quick search and the window popped up. We read…
“For each set of statements, select the one you prefer the most,”

No awareness on his part but I was all but ignorant of the sadness each question built on, not his, but my own.
An ache clinched my heart as truth was revealed; love is a foreign concept for him.

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Blessed! “I do not think it means what you think it means!”


Sitting among a group of peers, in true “round-table” fashion, each had a story of hollow wombs and vacant arms coupled with the slightly unconventional way of filling the desire, deep-seated need, for children.  Some early in their journey, others veterans of the system, we each divulged details of the miraculous way God had built our families.  Conversation was deep, enjoyable and even beneficial until one comment stopped my heart, to which I mentally had to force myself to breathe.  Three words were uttered that crushed my spirit, heart and soul and provoked me to evaluate my faith.
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Joy Comes in the Mourning!


Deeply grieved today, I am forced to choose. Stay fixated on the circumstances that plague our family and the sorrow of my journey or find a different angle.

No story this time, that would be fixating, but I trust you have your own. Loss, wounds, frustrations; impossible situations as parents, coworkers, friends, or children weigh us all. Insert your heavy-hearted situation here.

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My Joy is Not up for Grabs!


Sorrow. Pain. Companions of mine often synonymous with killers of joy. Thieves. They rise and take what is promised to be “new every morning,” but when dawn breaks mourning lingers on and on. As I grow older, a little wiser, I realize how false these accusations are. In truth, no one or nothing can take my joy, I alone, give it away.

Infertility remains loyal to me after 18 years, yet joy, well…it has waned and even vanished at times under the darkness of depression. Unfortunate, has been my choice, to let circumstances sway my ability to chose joy, come what may.

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Battling Alone is Never His Plan


The house was quiet and Dave and I drifted off to sleep with a plan to take the next morning slow and easy. A rare treat as our middle child had been on suicide watch for some time, causing shifts in our sleep habits. All three kids were at a church camp retreat. REM sleep had settled in when a sudden surge penetrated my body and shot me to a straight up position in bed while the words “in Jesus name” left my mouth loud enough to wake Dave.

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Perfect Timing!



Left leg crossed over right knee, I bounced it out of boredom, partly, and partly out of irritation.  The clock behind the receptionist counter revealed the Pediatric Ophthalmologist to be 30 minutes behind schedule and nothing in the pages of the Health magazine between my fingers was to hold my attention or the attention of my 3 young children in tow.

Grace, Teresa, have some grace. (Sigh)

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Just a Little Venting!


“Do everything without complaining and arguing.” Philippians 2:14 NLT

Blatantly obvious words that leave little (actually zero) room for negotiation. Don’t consider, but a direct command to just “do.”

Little or big things, hard or menial tasks all categorized into one lump sum of “everything.”

Exclusive of, not partaking in or allowing an exhale of grief to cross lips during said “doing,” equals “without” and is mutually exclusive with non-existence.

Three “all or nothing” directives offer no wiggle room, “what if” scenarios or “but I was just” excuses.

Why does He have to be so stringent and uptight? What’s a little whine before dinner done to harm anyone?
Venting our annoyances is therapeutic, right?

Guilty! I justify my “arguing” in ways that could turn a jury’s vote. But God’s word lacks an addendum that rights my wrongful attitude of grumbling.

I texted my 19 year old to find out how it was going. His reply, “sitting in these stupid lines for the 5th time is not cool.”

It wasn’t a painful process and he had no where more important to be, as I did, so I implored him to accompany his sister, a freshman in high school, to her “essentials day” by walking her through the picture line, locker assignment line and “pay for everything line.”

Lines are annoying, waiting is cumbersome but his expression of dissatisfaction was more than venting. It stung. What I heard was “you’re not worth my time, Mom.”

All has been resolved since this first text began an elevated discussion on complaining where I threw this verse in his face while, myself, complaining that he isn’t more sensitive. Crud! It’s so annoying when God convicts me while I’m convicting my children. Oops, did it again.

Truth…complaining ALWAYS takes our eyes off of opportunities God may be placing before us to serve and encounter others.

Blinded by our own selfish desires for comfort, whether it’s a mountain or a mole hill, we will stunt our growth in Christ if we focus on the annoyances or grievances of a task or obstacle that blocks our path. . We become stumbling blocks with the contagion that is complaining by breathing negativity rather than the joyful spirit of Christ. God cannot be glorified in the midst of whine and pessimism. Only if we reflect His nature in EVERYTHING we do will true joy be found in all circumstances.

So why risk it?


The Challenge of Being Challenged!


Challenge Completed! (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!”)

Yesterday marked the final round of a throw down challenge with my husband.  His was a physical cleanse, mine was an emotional purge, figuratively speaking, as I blogged each of those days. He lost 27.5 lbs. and I gained awareness to 27.5 (at least) character defects I must now work on. Seriously!

I’m obsessive, insecure, prideful, anxious, overbearing, timid, empty, doubtful, complacent yet never satisfied over every single syllable.  More than daily, I threatened to withdraw, press into lies and excuses rather than press into growth.  Grateful for the accountability stamina of my cohort, I pushed forward and learned some valuable lessons.

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