The Fish Tank

I was talking to my husband about the disappointment I felt when my friend did not get the good news I was hoping for. I prayed that this would be her miracle moment and it didn't happen. He saw things from a different perspective. "What if," he asked me, "her miracle moment comes out of the pain of this situation? What if her miracle isn't the good news we were all hoping for, but in the devastation?" My prayers were wrong. I was praying she would find her faith in the answer to my prayers that the situation she was facing would turn out positive and when it didn't, I felt like it was a lost opportunity for her to see God. What if our miracle moments happen in despair? We are looking around for the miraculous healing and when it doesn't come, we lose hope. What if the miracle is in the unanswered prayer? We believe miracles only come in life's positive experiences. Why can't they arrive in the messy, dirty, gritty places? Miracle moments h...

I was discouraged the other day. I live in a small town that is growing rapidly. Our community is definitely feeling some growing pains but none more than our schools. We just opened our fifth elementary school and changed the bus system to better accommodate the ever-growing student population. The first day brought traffic, late buses, and the crazy out in all of us parents. Being on both sides as an educator and parent, I could understand the frustrations of all. I cannot, however, relate to or excuse the "venting" and complaining that occurred on our community pages and social media. It made me sad and sick that while we claim to stand united, Prosper Proud, we, in turn, are bashing our administration and neighbors for all the world to read. My mantra for our family: be kinder than necessary. We seem to always be on attack. Whether it's a neighbor who has a yard full of weeds, a teenager riding his skateboard in the middle of the street and not getting out of the wa...

The first week of school is almost over and the novelty has worn off. The adrenaline is gone replaced by tired meltdowns. Showers occurred in the pool last night with a quick rinse off in the hose after our swim. The snooze button is hit and questions of when this school charade is over are asked. In the weeks leading up to school beginning, I was frequently asked how I felt about my last born going to kindergarten. I was pressured to tell of my plans for what I was going to do with my life now that I have seven free hours each day. Don't you fret, dear friends, I can fill those six hours like a squirrel can fill it's cheeks with nuts. Here's the interesting thing, I wasn't sad about my baby growing up. Sure, I miss the moments of insanity of a colicky infant, a one year old that was far too sneaky and mischievous, and a four year old whose love language was personal time. I miss the coos and the firsts and the snuggles. I get nostalgic every time Timehop taunts me ...

I got out of bed and headed to get ready. I had already fed the boys breakfast and done a few things around the house but got back in bed to enjoy my coffee and a few minutes of The Today Show. It was now 9am and I was still in my jammies, hair a mess, finishing my coffee. I ho-hummed my way to the bathroom to get ready feeling inadequate, useless, and, quite frankly, bored. I desire to do more; be more. I am forever grateful for my time at home, but I am ready to be needed again; to be fulfilled in a different way. What I didn't realize in that moment, was that I was doing just that: I was ministering in my pjs. I follow a lot of Christian artists, speakers, and authors who seem to tackle the world in a big, bright, and shiny way. I have extraordinarily bright and talented friends who could quite possibly adopt all the orphans and solve world hunger if they banned together. And here I sat with a messy bun and coffee breath. What good am I? I know my place is to raise my sons and...

I took one of my friend's to church a while back and for some reason, the one thing that stuck with me was her reaction to the congregation. She said it looked like everyone had walked out of a magazine. I do believe we have a very attractive congregation that exemplifies beauty far deeper than the outward appearance. However, her observation struck a cord with me. Do we get ready in our churchy clothes and live our churchy lives on Sunday morning looking pretty doing all the right stuff in our comfortable little churchy world hoarding Jesus the rest of the week? The same friend and I had a pretty intense spiritual conversation yesterday and it solidified my fears. We are a bunch of Jesus hoarders. It's easy to talk faith and spiritual things with like-minded folk. It's a far greater challenge to go out and tell the world about the one who saves. But you know what? That's exactly what we are called to do. I learned through our difficult chat that there are many fals...

I recently read an article about someone famous who slipped up. Crazy, right?!?! This celeb said something that was taken the wrong way. The kicker of it all, she had recently bashed another fellow celebrity who did something similar. Isn't that the way life is? We throw judgment only to make the same mistake a few days later? I have been grappling with grace lately. When to give it (always, duh), how to give grace and still have boundaries, and the one I am struggling with most: how to give grace while still holding someone accountable. It wouldn't be a construction project at the Fish house without some frustrations. It also wouldn't be a construction project without me venting to a girlfriend, punching out my frustrations at my boxing class, and writing about it. I've already vented and punched, so I guess it is time to write. We are redoing our backyard. The project was going fine for the first few weeks and then things seemed to stop. Communication was murky at b...