it’s christmas time, y’all!

holla!  it’s time to deck the halls and celebrate baby Jesus.  ooooooooo OOOOOO!

in honor of tiny, little baby Jesus sleeping in the animal food bowl, i thought i’d create a list dedicated to what He’s taught me this year– homeskillet style.

1.  my ways are not his ways, yo.

i’ve learned i do not naturally love like Christ, think like Christ, act like Christ.  i wish i did, but i don’t.  i mess up so much just because i over think, i don’t listen, or i get scared.  super glad this year i finally accepted my limitations and asked for guidance.  i’m totally still a super big mess.  i will be until the day i die, but i pray when that day comes my nature looks more like tiny baby Jesus.

2.  love means i say i’m sorry, word.

remember the movie with ryan o’neal and ali mcgraw called “love story”??  there’s this classic scene where o’neal’s character has royally screwed up, and ali, with her perfect ’70’s hair, says, “love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

what is THAT all about???  seriously.  that’s alllllllllllllllll love is about.

it’s about putting the other person first, and i can’t speak for anyone else, but that’s NOT  how i roll most of the time.  i can be selfish, pushy, impatient, critical, and downright mean.

what would my marriage look like, how would my boys feel, how many true friendships would i have, if i NEVER said i was sorry for not loving well???

i pray i own my mistakes and tell the ‘skillets  i love “I’M SORRY”— because those are some powerful words.

3.  obedience is scary, fo’ realz.

last night i met with a new ‘skillet, and as we began to share our stories,  we kept coming back to the same thought– we don’t want to miss what God wants to do with us, through us, for us.  we looked at each other all excited and said, “we just don’t want to miss it!”

how do we do that?  i think it’s a moment to moment decision to seek God’s will.  now, that’s a tall order.  just thinking about how many times i haven’t lived that way makes me wonder how many times i’ll fail in the future.  dude.  that thought alone can paralyze me.  obedience, all the time, forever and ever, is a scary proposition.  but, here’s the thing, i don’t have to eat the elephant all at once.  i just have to be willing to seek God, be willing to wait for a clear direction, and then be brave enough to move my feet.  i pray i have a lifetime of  “don’t miss it” moments.

4.  my home is my mission, holla.

this one shakes me down.  my knees get all weak, and i feel light-headed.  my boys and my husband are IT.

i am not equipped, there’s no clear checklist, and if i fail THEY will suffer.

i clearly need help, encouragement–  and, from time to time, a couple of cupcakes to make this reality go down a little easier.

i’m sooooooooooooooooooooo thankful God has given me an army of women to help me battle my own insecurities and fears when it comes to how i be these things called “wife” and “mother”.  God started putting my army together as early as elementary school.  He added forces through high school, college, and through my time in memphis i gained wonderful sisters for life and, now, in the ‘boro i am finding awesome ‘skillets to share my story.

each and every woman makes me better.  each word of advice helps my children and my fella.  each word of love helps me to stop the critical voice inside my head–  and, each cupcake keeps my sugar level just high enough to make it through the day.

5.  God loves me deeply, dude.

i have felt this more and more as this year has passed.  i’m grateful to feel down to my bones that there is nothing i can do to drive God away.

i can not look like Him, and He loves me anyway.  i can take too long to say, “I’M SORRY” and he loves me anyway.  i can be disobedient or just miss His direction completely, and He loves me anyway.  i can feel inadequate and not enough for my boys and my guy, and He loves me anyway.

He loves me so much He sent His only son to die for me. 

seriously.  baby Jesus ROCKS y’all.

shaved head and stuff

so.  my hair.

hair today....

i shaved it allllll off.  yeah i did!!

here’s the deal.  my hair was coming out in handfuls since my second chemo treatment, and i have an obsessive personality, to a point.

so, hair loss + a bit of o.c.d = me constantly raking my hands through my hair, wondering how MUCH would fall out the next time i shampooed.  then, when i actually DID shower i would wash and re-wash my hair until the water ran cold, watching my hair clog the drain.  i’d clean that mess up, and move on to blow-drying my hair, which took longer than usual, because i’d have to stop and clean out the sink full of hair.  fun times.

gross hair nest

5 days.  that’s all i could take.   it was juuuuuuust long enough to make me snap.  i called the hubby into our bathroom and held out my hands filled with a nest of hair, and said, “i’m ready to let this go.”

my heart was pounding, i was nauseated and jittery just thinking about what this statement MEANT.  i had been recovering from an unfortunate mullet for more than a year and had just grown my hair long enough to get it into tiny dog-ears.  i did NOT want to lose my hair.  i did NOT want to do this.

but, i hated the alternative even more– letting my hair loss become my focus.  letting the number of hair follicles on my head determine if i was happy or sad.  seriously, how lame is THAT.

i can get fixed on how i look very fast, homeskillets.

remember, i’m the girl that rocks a gimpy arm and leg.   i’m the girl that battles both acne and wrinkles on a month-to-month basis.   i have my issues, real or imagined, and i know my mind can become a place of nasty with a quickness.

i truly love who i am.  i love how God made me.  it’s taken me a long time to not operate out of a place of protection, and to not put my worth in other’s opinion of me.  so, i wasn’t gonna let hair or the lack of hair get me tangled up–(get it– hair/tangled?!  super cheesy perfection)– no matter how scary shaving my head seemed.

the hubby was on board, and we wanted to make sure we included thing 1 and thing 2.  i explained that the cancer-fighting medicine was working really well, one of the ways we could tell was because my hair was coming out, and since it was happening anyway, i had decided to shave my head.

i could tell this was a lot to take in.  so,  i said,

“the enemy can use a simple thing like hair to distract me from what God has done– we found the tumor early, i had it removed, and He has brought so many people around us while we walk through this step.  i can either focus on the loss of my hair or focus on God’s goodness and provision.  i choose God. “

i don’t know if they fully understood, but i pray years from now, when life hits hard, they’ll l have this moment to help them decide to choose God, too.

through sickness and in health...

it was time.  the clippers were ready.  and, there was no turning back.  i was soooooooo scared.  thankfully, an awesome ‘skillet brought a cupcake and a bottle of wine.  she documented the event, and cheered me on.

my hubby was amazing. truly.  he was so sweet, so gentle, and very loving through the whole sheering process.  i love the picture of him working on my fade… awesome.  i didn’t realize how intimate a process it would be.  i’m so glad it was a quiet moment with a wonderful sista friend and my man.

the whole process took about 20 minutes.  more than a years worth of awkward hair stages– gone, in 20 minutes.

seriously.

i went to the bathroom and got the first glimpse of my melon.

my head felt so light i thought it might float right off my body.  i saw my brother’s face staring back at me, in drag.

it. was. freaky.

after the initial shock,  i felt totally rockin’.

hardcore. to. the. max.

sweet freedom

and, free.

free from the fear of what could happen.

free to focus on the GREAT moments and people all around me.

free to focus on the good days.

God has used a simple hairdo to give me more freedom and strength for the 10 more chemo treatments ahead–  which, for me,  has put a whole new spin on Philippians 4:13:

i can ‘do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

(get it– hairdo/’do?!  i kill me!!)

booyah

boy oh boy.

chemo is not fun.  my mouth tastes like metal, my tummy is upset, i’m completely nauseated, my hair is falling out.

but, i keep telling myself i get to choose whether the symptoms will win.

during the first week of chemo, i fought hard.  i had my sister to visit and breaking dawn to watch.  i could not be sick.  it was hard to fight, and it left me wasted.  now, i’m in my second session of chemo, and i decided i would just give in to the sickness.  this has been just as hard!  i don’t like feeling weak.

i.am.wasted.

so, do i get to choose?  i mean, really?  do i?  i fight or give in, and at the end of it all, i’m left spent.  God, i need help.  i obviously can’t do this in my own strength, but submitting entirely makes me feel so far away from You.   where’s the middle ground?

my hair is coming out– and, all i keep thinking is God knows EVERY hair on my head.  He knew this part of my story before the creation of the world.  so, do i get to choose?  God, i need help.  i know that You love me.  please show me Your love.

these are my thoughts today.  this is where my heart is.  and this is how God has answered me:

Sending a virtual “booty bump” your way. Just my way of saying Booyah, girl, you are on my mind!

Booyah baby!!!!

hopes his amazing wife spends the five hours she’s hooked up to that machine today remembering how very, very, very much she’s loved. And that this is but a season. 2nd round of chemo today. Let’s kick this week in the rear and move forward. Extra prayers, everyone?

Wearing my BOOYAH shirt today too! Every time I look down, I’ll say a prayer for my amazing friend.

these are just a handful of comments that have been left on a special facebook page set up by a friend.  i have had dinner delivered to my door every night since chemo.  i have had friends come and sit with me, drop by just to give me a hug,offer to get inked as a sign of solidarity, and send pictures of the word “booyah” on fishing tackle, and written on windows in china.

holla. this too shall pass...

so.  yes.

i DO get to choose– not the symptoms or if they’ll get the best of me, but my God.  the way i feel cannot limit God’s power and love–  each and every person who has loved on me or prayed for my family proves God is bigger than chemo.

i get to choose.

i get to choose if i’ll honor God through the struggle.  i get to choose if i’ll rest in the overwhelming love He’s shown me through my amazing homeskillets.

i.get.to.choose.

and, i choose booyah.

under the big top

life is truly a circus.  it’s filled with tight rope acts, flaming rings of fire and, if your lucky, cotton candy.  this year, my big top housed some amazing acts–   three rings of constant change and surprises.

i thought to honor turkey day i’d take a moment to reflect on my crazy circus–  and try to be thankful for each and every spectacular, life-changing moment in 2011.

so, homeskillets, here’s my pre-turkey thankful list with a big top twist.

clearly, He needs a megaphone for me

first and foremost i’m super grateful the BIG MAN upstairs is my ring master.  i can’t imagine what i’d be like today if i hadn’t handed my life to God eight years ago.  i was a mess right after i had thing 1.  i was lost and sad and empty.  BUT GOD.  He opened my eyes and my heart.  this circus would be one clown car closer to crazy town without him.

sweet moments make my life better

second, i’m so glad i got a beautiful, cotton candy moment in june when the Lord (and many of you) allowed me to go to haiti.  this experience changed my life.  i have new friends because of this trip–  women of all ages and  at different stages of life.  i feel so blessed to know each and every one of these sweet ‘skillets, and it wouldn’t have happened without this trip.  i also got to feel for 6 sweet days just how big God is.  He has no limits and He can use me in spite mine.  my haiti experience was definitely a cotton candy moment–  so sweet.  thank you,  homeskillets for helping me go!  i love you all.

my nemesis, seriously

third on my list are some tightrope moments.  i believe the tightrope is my biggest nemesis in the circus.  a tightrope represents ultimate balance, concentration, and confidence.  there have been times this year i haven’t had any of those, and i could feel myself falling.  one of these moments came before haiti.  i was struggling as a mom.  i felt as if my skin was too tight, the rooms were too small, and my boys were too much.  i was off balance.  my concentration was gone.  and, i was questioning myself and my abilities every second.  BUT GOD.  thankfully, He has provided awesome help for me when my anxiety/depression gets the best of me.  thank God for counseling and medication!  can i get a word and holla.  fo’ realz.

Lord, refine me

and, i can’t close out my thankful list without being thankful for the flaming rings of life.  i’m walking through the fire as i type.  cancer and chemo are my flames.  i am thankful because through the flames i will be refined.  i will be able to lean into the Lord and my faith even more.  i will learn just how weak i am, and just how strong God is.  so, i say with a thankful heart, bring it on!!

there it is.   a year under this homeskillet’s big top.

ninja skilz

i totally ran 5 miles on saturday.  it was great.   i wish i had some super cool trauma to report, but the morning was pretty calm. 

even though the run did not bring the drama, something did happened that was really random and just may be my undoing!  so, all of you that enjoy my suffering–  just wait.  it’s coming.

i reconnected with a peep  i met last summer on the trail. 

(when i say “met” i really mean “distracted” when i raised the roof and threw a few ooooo OOOOOO’s  her way every time we ran past each other). 

i was threading my car key through my shoelace when i spotted her–

i was all, “hi!  remember me?!”

and, she was all, “yeah!  you haven’t been here since last summer!”

and, i was all, “dude!  why you gotta call a sistah out like that, DANG!”

but, i let it go–   i understand that some running folks don’t fully embrace my philosophy of a six month rest period after a race.  whatever.

then she was all, “you’re tracey, right?”

i was all, “yeah!  WOW!  great memory!  and, your name is becky….. christy……”

and, she was all, “no.  i’m mary.”

then i lamely chuckled and said, “huh.  that was my next guess.”

but, she let it go.  because CLEARLY this woman has super ninja name-remembering skilz that i don’t possess–  how else would she  remember my name after  i yelled it out one time, 6 months ago, while i was running by her.   it’s pretty obvious i cannot be faulted for mary being a name ninja. 

after the total name fail i changed the subject real quick.  i asked her if she ran all year long.

SHE DOES.

she only STOPS  running  if the temperature drops below 20 degrees.

that is hardcore ‘skillets.  seriously.

then, i heard myself saying something INSANE.

i was all, “awesome!  do you think i could jump into your runs after the half marathon so i can stay on track?”

and, then the {name ninja/never takes a break girl} or ‘MARY’ was all, “sure.  but, what do i get out of the deal?”

then, no lie, i waved my hands all vanna white-style from the top of my head to my feet and said, “you get to run with all of this.”

thankfully, mary  let the comment slide, without pointing and laughing at me.

which made me think–  maybe i have ninja skilz of my own.

super-mad skilz that keep me from getting mocked when i make ridiculous statements.

but, seriously.  all ninja-ness aside.  let’s address the crazy situation my spontaneous response has gotten me into–  i’m now committed to running all year long.

dudes.

let the pain and suffering commence!

a bottle of wine and a full length mirror

i was suppose to run 5 miles saturday.  i planned on running outside and early.  instead, i ran 3 miles– late in the afternoon, on a treadmill.  i was foiled by a late night and a bottle of wine.

guess what— a night of wine consumption makes me sluggish, and it makes my head hurt, and it makes running not so fun.

so.  there i was.  nursing dehydration and slug-like tendencies.  i knew i had to get some kind of run in, but even thinking about running outside, in the sun, made me want to blow chunks.  which left me with no choice, i was gonna have to do a treadmill run–  in front of a WALL of mirror.

oh.joy.

i thought running was painful BEFORE??

guess what—  seeing my reflection added a new dimension to the trauma.

mirrors are mean. seriously.

i’ve decided mirrors are rude, and any mirror of a super-sized nature is NOT my homeskillet.  fo’ realz.

see.  that rude reflector of truth shattered my last shred of runner dignity.  it made it very clear i look completely wack when i run.

i mean, i don’t intentionally go for freaky, but  that mean mirror made it clear that the combination of my unique breathing technique to avoid the dreaded side-stitch, and the freestyle hand movements i use to punctuate the music piped in through my m&m ear-buds kinda keeps all potential cool points at bay.   (yes.  i have blue m&m ear-buds.  no.  they are NOT taking off cool points all by themselves.  seriously.)

here’s the thing–  when i run outside i can at least pretend i look cool.  in my head i look AWESOME.  i’m all hardcore and serious.  i am an athlete with athletic skills and stuff.  and with one run that darn mirror killed my dream.  that mirror is a dream killer.

i tried to tweak my moves — you know to match the dream with reality.  i pulled myself up straight–   to lessen the defeated, downtrodden look my normal posture portrays.  i tucked my arms in tight–  to lessen the bird flap quality i didn’t know existed until that mirror killed my fantasy.  i tried putting more of a bounce in my stride–  so i didn’t look so dejected.  also super cool— my wide head band made my head look incredibly tiny.  which made my body look freakishly off  balance.  awesome.

shrunken head syndrome.

not good.

just sayin’.

so.  the first attempt to get a long run in was a total fail.  but, i did learn an important lesson– a bottle of wine and a full length mirror should be cut completely out of my training regimen.

baby, i was born to run…

Oh honey, tramps like us
baby we were born to run

Come on with me, tramps like us
baby we were born to run

Ru-uh-uh-un
Mm-mm-mm-mm

bring on the pain

that’s right, homeskillets–  it’s time to start training for the half marathon.

it’s time to bring the pain for a t-shirt.

it’s time for the blisters.

and the tears.

and the trail.

and the possible potty mishap!

it’s time.  to RUN. 

and, to teach the road who’s BOSS….

Oh honey, tramps like us
baby we were born to run

Come on with me, tramps like us
baby we were born to run

Ru-uh-uh-un
Mm-mm-mm-mm
Uh-uh-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Ru-uh-uh-uh-un
Mm-mm-mm-mm
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Ru-uh-uh-un

so limited

sweet haiti

it’s been two weeks since i went to haiti and it might as well be two years.

i miss it.

i miss the closeness i felt with God.  i miss waking up everyday knowing i would have no regrets when my head hit the pillow, because every fiber of my being was focused on seeking God’s will.  i miss the people of haiti and feeling a part of God’s bigger picture.

boy, do i miss it.

i can’t remember any other experience in my life that has stripped me so completely in such a short amount of time.  every day i was there God showed up in amazing ways.  He taught me a lot about myself and how He has made me–  uniquely flawed.  i feel like a kaleidoscope–  clear and able to take in God’s light, but my faults somehow shatter it.  the great thing is, God still makes rainbows out of my messiness.

before going to haiti i was lost.

motherhood had become an overwhelming task i couldn’t seem to get my hands around.  i was operating out of fear, instead of celebrating the opportunity to love these two great boys.  there was a day when i cried out to the Lord.  it was raw and desperate.

i couldn’t stand my own voice and behavior– so critical, so condescending.  i was so afraid i was “breaking” them.  i even started going to therapy again.  i was hoping this would help me understand the boys’ personalities–  if i could just understand them, i would be better.  ha!

i was quickly told i needed to search my heart and re-evaluate myself, before putting any of the pressure on my boys.  ouch.  that’s sounds about right.

i had to admit i was uncomfortable showing love to my guys.  i was totally able to fill their basic needs, but i was really limited when it came to filling their hearts.  i was so focused on correction, i was losing the joy in being a mom– their mom.

then, God sent me to haiti.

the first full day we were there we went to church, and then we went to the school area we’d be serving all week.  there were children around, and we had a chance to start building relationships.

i was uncomfortable.

so.  i prayed.

Lord, where should i start?  what do i have to offer?  what is my purpose here?

i’m usually very outgoing and feel comfortable around new people.  but this was different.

i couldn’t use my natural ability to make connection–  talking.  

surprise.  i like to talk.

but, the language barrier took me out of my comfort zone.

i felt limited.

so, i looked for ways to fit in.

negative to soccer, 'skillets

the first thing i spotted was a pick up game of soccer– uhmmmmmmmm yeah.  that would have just been wrong.  (me + any type of sporting equipment =  tears)

then one of the guys pulled out marbles and jacks for the kids to play with–  the kids grabbed the marbles, as fast as they could, and stuffed them in their pockets, as fast as they could.

they have nothing, and they’re not willing to share.  the need they live in every day has taught them to grab first and fast.   so, playing a game of jacks or marbles wasn’t going to happen.

too much to share

i felt limited.

how can i help or make a difference when all they know is survival?

i felt God saying–  love like ME.  seek MY will.  respond like ME.

but, i didn’t know how to love like Christ.

i’m the one struggling to show love, remember Lord!!??  what can i do?

hands and hearts-- connecting

then the girls started playing patty-cake games– wow.  there was contact!  to watch a simple thing like patty-cake break down barriers is amazing.  simple acts make a big impact.   watching our girls playing with the children showed me the heart is seen very clearly when you let your guard down, look into someone’s eyes, and purposefully spend time with them.

again, i felt uncomfortable.

i felt my physical limitations—  because of my cerebral palsy, i have limited use of my right hand.

i can’t play patty-cake.

i felt limited.

so limited.

could God use me at all?  was i even needed on this trip?

i didn’t know, so i pulled back and watched.

and i felt God saying,

“you don’t have to be in the action to be changed by me.  it’s okay to be on the sidelines and be taught how to love.  that’s your purpose here–  learn how to love better.  watch.  really see how a simple touch can make a huge difference.  look at the joy in the eyes of a child when you really spend time looking at them.  learn from those with you, that love easily and well.  you are mine and i want you to see.”

simply. love.

and, just like that, homeskillets–  God’s light poured into me, and i knew His love COULD be reflected through my flaws.  i just had to be willing to be teachable.  to be changed. 

the ahhhhh-mazing teenagers on this trip opened my eyes.  they were my teachers.  they lived out love.  and, i thank them for that.

i also thank the LORD.

“thank you for knowing me, creating me, orchestrating this trip for me to see love.  thank you for showing me every detail of my life has a purpose.  i am meant to walk in this good work — for my family, for the hearts of my boys.  and, to see how much YOU love me.”

i am grateful God allowed me to see love lived out.   i am grateful i am limited.

how can i not?

bon jour, haiti!

the first glimpse of haiti was beautiful–  beach, mountains, gorgeous clouds.  the land looked untouched–  full of promise and potential.

port au prince

then the city was underneath us–  tents smushed together, scattered among very small plots of grassy area.  the poverty and NEED jumped right off the ground into my heart as i looked out my plane window.

how would i feel when i was living in it?

how do they feel living in it?

is God here?

these questions rolled in my head as the wheels of the plane hit the ground.  no turning back.  for better or for worse i was in haiti.

i said a short, silent prayer–  “Lord, help me see you.”

the airport was overwhelmingly hot, simple, dirty, unwelcoming.  my senses were on alert trying to take everything in. we walked through a narrow glass hallway that separates the outgoing flights from the incoming ones, down a broken escalator, past a few men with stony faces playing music for tips.  in that short walk i felt a million things–  fear of the unknown, sadness for the conditions, uneasiness because of the unwelcome looks i felt, embarrassment for the amount of STUFF i had with me.   my arm was actually aching from the carry-on i had with me and i still needed to pick up my luggage.

i said a short, silent (and a little more desperate) prayer–  “Lord, please let me see you.”

we made it through customs, gathered our things, and moved in groups of two or three outdoor to find our ride.  the heat and humidity hit me first, then the calling started–

“this way!! i’ll take your bags!!   it’s okay, it’s okay, come this way!!”

i can’t even lie– i was in sensory overload in about 2.1 seconds.

i didn’t know where to go, who to trust, or how to say “slow your roll” in creole.

i.was.vulnerable.

and, just like that.  with one short walk.

God began answering my prayers by stripping me down–  goodbye sense of security,  goodbye control, goodbye ability to communicate with just words!!!

by the time we made it to the bus, i realized God wasn’t gonna let me hide, homeskillets.

He wanted, and got, my FULL attention the entire trip.  i had nothing normal to cling to– i had ONLY  Him to rely on.

and He totally had my heart.

broken.

life goes on

i cannot put into words the heartbreak i experienced as we drove through port au prince.  no smiles, no laughter on the faces we passed–  just the mark of hard-fought life.  the people are beautiful, but their faces are as hard as stone.  they live surrounded by rotted food, crumbled buildings, human waste and extreme filth–  yet, there are babies and children there naked, playing, living.  God showed me LIFE continues and it has nothing to do with convenience or comfort and everything to do with love, perseverance, and hope.

i started in on the ugly cry flat out from the get go, and in that moment when God had my full attention and my heart was completely ripped to shreds ,  i knew my Lord HAD to be real because if He isn’t i couldn’t see this level of depravity and be able to bear it.  without a faith in His redeeming love…

… some may ask, “how can you go to Haiti and believe there is a God?”

to that– my heart’s only full response can be,

“HOW CAN I NOT!!”

perseverance and hope

haiti…

where do i start?

how do i put into words how MUCH six days changed my heart?

how do i share:

the group—  feeling displaced.  what is my purpose? what do i have to contribute?

the place—  how can one believe in God in this level of desolation?  my response– how can i NOT?

the people—  choosing to live instead of just exist, hearts for God and a faith i long for, kindness and hope to share.

the kids—  God heard my prayers, knew what i needed, and arranged each moment.

the quiet moments— the mountainside, the breeze, holding hands, smiles, constant prayers, new friendships.

the tears— the first glimpse, the shoe shine, how great thou art, the market place, feeling misunderstood, the orphanages.

the laughter—  dancing on bug spray, toe jam, dancing in a box, card games-nnnnnnnUKE, the desperate rooster, giving the Lord praise (oooOOOO), newsflash– i’m competitive!

the relationships —  they’re messy, must be intentional, take time, moments, opportunities.

my heart—  God sees it even if no one else does.  willing to grow.  no mission except to see God, hear God, do the work of God.

i'm gonna be bold, yo.

i think i want to start to share my haitian journey by being bold.  i am gonna say i believe there is a God.  i believe He did send his son, Jesus,  to die for our sins, and i believe Jesus did conquer the grave.  now, these entries will have my normal take on life — the silly, the sad, the serious– but, i cannot truly honor the experience i had if i don’t first and foremost say  i believe the gospel is REAL and worth living for.

maybe me writing this down doesn’t seem “bold” to some, but to a recovering “people-pleaser” like me  this is huge.

my short time in haiti taught me that i can either be lulled to sleep by the conveniences and comforts i have here at home, or i can choose to see life stripped of the bare basics and ask tough questions of God.

it may take me a while to sort through all my thoughts, emotions, and God lessons.  i know that’s okay.   in time, i’ll be able to get it all down.

i hope i NEVER stop getting God moments from this amazing experience, but there is one thing i HAVE to say before i get into all my “stuff”–  God is in haiti, and the faith of the haitians taught me i don’t have to be afraid of the sadness and strife of life because God is in it.  their unwavering love for God  leaves me longing for a closer relationship with my savior.

and here’s  the kicker, homeskillets– all i have to do is ask.