The Fish Tank

I am impatient. My husband is not. I wanted to get married quickly. He wanted to wait. Kids? Let's have them now. He wanted us to be a little more stable than living in a 750 square foot apartment paying off debt. Wait. Wait. Wait. I struggled to be patient. At one point, my sweet husband asked me not to pray for patience anymore because it was affecting him. The wait is not my favorite. It's funny because when I finally get to the goal or attain the desire, I know the timing is perfect. I can see how the weaving back and forth came together perfectly. But it's so hard to see perfection in the waiting room. "The days are coming," declares the Sovereign Lord, "when I will send a famine through the land-not a famine of food or a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the words of the Lord." Amos 8:11 I am currently reading through the minor prophets of the Old Testament. The minor prophets end the Old Testament. They are the last we hear from God

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." John 1:16 The woman talked about one of life's biggest betrayals. Her husband was intimate with another woman. The emotions and storm this woman faced were unimaginable. She could have stayed bitter. She could have destroyed him with her words. But she didn't. Grace upon grace. Instead of slandering his name, she decided to look internally. She made the choice to seek God and what He needed to teach her during this time. And when she got really angry or felt an unimaginable hurt, she screamed, owned the feeling, and prayed. She would be walking the aisles at Target and scream at the can of beans about how much rage she was feeling. And then she prayed. She did this over and over again. It was a full-time job. What she found through this experience was freedom and that she had a lot to learn. She found that by forgiving her husband when he didn't deserve it, when he was still lying and deceivin

I walked into the gym and set my bag down. I was in a separate room off the main floor. The room is like a small warehouse. I like it because it's usually quiet and I can zone out. There were a few guys in the room when I got there. The music playing was pretty crude, so I put my earbuds in and jumped on the row machine. I continued to hear the music over my earbuds and was unimpressed. It was disrespectful and distasteful; especially of women. I know these men didn't mean to offend me with their music choice. I just happened to walk in on their workout. I decided to ignore the music and continue on. If anything, it gave me that extra oomph I needed this morning. I grabbed heavier weights and decided to make the most of it. I could have told these guys what I thought about their music. I could have ranted and raved about how distasteful it was and how gross they were for listening to such trash. I could have given them dirty looks or got in their way as a way to show them I

"Your pain can either be your platform or your prison." Carl Lentz You decide. Whether you are hurting because of the continuous atrocities of our hurting nation and world, or someone has personally hurt you, we all experience pain. We are going to hurt at some point or another. The question is, how will we respond. Carl Lentz preached about pain. He talked about how we are so focused on the breakdown or the breakthrough that we don't see God in the every day. We are so consumed with the overwhelming loss or with waiting for the big break, that we don't experience the opportunities for growth in the normal every day life. We can let pain, heart-ache, betrayal, and injustice bind us in a place of pain or use it for our platform. When we allow others or circumstances to define us, we are the ones stuck behind bars, not the perpetrator(s). What are we going to do with the pain? Hurt people hurt people. We've all heard this saying or seen this quote. It circ

I got into my car music blaring screaming six year old in the back seat. I turned the music down because I couldn't do so much noise. My eldest asked to turn the music back up and I had to tell him I needed it off. He was a little disappointed since he had chosen the music. He thought he had put his camp CD in but then realized it was an old WOW Worship CD. I rushed Jackson to the baseball fields to drop him off with his dad who was there running the scoreboard for his brother's game. Of course, Scott left his phone at home that night. It was acting wonky so he left it charging. I couldn't get a hold of him and needed to. Wyatt was in a lot of pain and I needed to take him to urgent care. Ever feel like life is like standing at home plate while ball after ball is screaming at you and you don't have a bat to hit them away? I feel that way. In the past month we have dealt with a broken fridge, air conditioner outage, a dying car that was bleeding money to fix, broken

I am a routine type of gal. Mondays are for the gym, grocery shopping, and prepping for the week. Tuesdays are gym and study time. Each day of the week, I do similar stuff. I like my routine. A lot. I don't like being swayed from my routine. It throws me off and makes me anxious. It seems that lately, my routine has been thrown off more often than not. I changed my jammie pants to a pair of shorts. My hair messy in a bun on top of my head. Glasses on. Face unwashed. I hopped into my car and headed down the country road blinded by the rising sun. I get to the school and pick-up my belly ache boy. He's hamming it up pretty good but I give him a hug, kiss, and a little reassurance anyway. This is not how I wanted my day to start. I had plans of my own little one. As I drove on one of my favorite roads, I realized something. God has given me time. I've been in such haste to hurry up and get out of stay-at-home mode and into work-mode that I didn't even see. God gave me

Two of my three boys needed warts removed. My big guy went first a little nervous when he saw the tools used to remove these things. He was brave and powered through with hardly a wince. His younger brothers looking on. Next, came my sweet yet fiery red-head. Oh my good gravy. I have never seen a kid so terrified in my life. He was crying before he even sat on the special chair. He was freaking out and honestly didn't really know why. He had just watched how easy and painless the procedure was with his big brother. He had no reason to be scared. Yet, he was frightened to the core and there was no soothing him. Eventually, his little brother told us he had to get out of there and went to the lobby to wait. He couldn't handle the enormity of the situation. The doctor, nurse, big brother Jack, and myself all tried to convince Grady that this procedure was no big deal. It was quick and painless. He wasn't having any of it. We eventually had to hold him down, two nurses, m

I was brushing my teeth thinking about these pastors and this revival they are leading. I follow this particular pastor on social media and listen to his podcasts. His fierce and sets your heart on fire. I had just scrolled through Instagram and saw a picture from night five of their event. Night five. The first thought I had was: they must be exhausted. How do you preach, speak, and put on an event for thousands upon thousands and not collapse from severe fatigue? And then it dawned on me. He filled their cup. "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely goodness and loving-kindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever." Psalm 23:5-6 The only way the pastors of this church are able to put on a five day revival event for thousands of people without falling over is with God. He fills their cup each day so they may set forth to do the work He ha

When I was younger, hashtags were called pound signs and you only used them in relation to numbers or when selecting something off of a menu on a telephone call. All of a sudden, the pound sign was renamed and rebranded taking social media by storm. I must admit, I thought hashtags were lame when they first came on scene. But, like colored jeans, I eventually embraced hashtags in all their glory. We are good at hashtags aren't we? We can think of some pretty funny stuff when we are hashtagging (Is that even a word?). We have one for our obnoxious dog. Our friend nicknamed our dog Charnoxious. Her name is Charlotte and she's a giant obnoxious lab. So, her hashtag is "charnoxious." I noticed that we are good at the Christian hashtag. You can Google "Christian hashtags" and get pages of blogs, Pinterest boards, and lists of commonly used hashtags. Here are a few: #butfirstjesus #womanintheword #rootedintheword #faith #grace #choosejoy #beautyfromashes #go

I'm a white girl who grew up in a white world. I was born and raised in Orange County, California. Most assume the population there consists of skinny, tan, blond girls and while I fit the blond criteria, I am no where near skinny or tan. That's a stereotype in and of itself. But, for the most part, my community growing up comprised of white people. I typically shy away from racial discussions. Because I am blond, female, and white, I feel like I have nothing to say and nothing to add to the conversation. I was raised in a home that loved and welcomed everyone regardless of race or culture. I never thought of myself as racist or seeing others any different than being people just like me. Yes, I have gotten the dumb blond jokes and comments and had people assume I am uneducated or I must not know something because I am a stay-at-home-mom, but I have never had to face any real challenges because of what I look like. Because of this, I felt like I had no authority to speak on th

I'm a fixer. Well, if I am being honest, I try to be a fixer but what ends up happening is that I need rescuing because my fixing has created a much larger problem. I like righting wrongs. Let me clarify. I like righting other people's wrongs. I am a rule-follower and rule-followers don't make a lot of mistakes. At least we like to believe we don't make a lot of mistakes. Marriage is a beautifully messy conundrum. Two individuals come together from varying backgrounds uniting as one. There is no play book. We receive tons and tons of advice and opinions when we are engaged and newly married, but, like most things, everyone is different. We are usually so love-struck when we get married that we don't realize the road ahead can get a little rocky and curved. Oftentimes, we enter marriage believing we can change our other half ridding them of those quirks and habits that we don't particularly like. We prod and nag hoping to see change to no avail. Instead, we c

The boys were standing in line at the bus stop. For some reason, they created a need for a line to get on the bus. It's always a big deal about who is first in line and who is in front. Never mind the fact that they have assigned seats on the bus. It doesn't matter what order you enter the bus. You will always sit in the same spot. Anyway, I digress. As the boys stand in this make-shift line, they get hands-y. Something about boys and their inability to keep their hands to themselves always leads to trouble. So, there they stand in the line with no purpose poking, prodding, and pushing each other. Of course I nag them to stop only getting a two second reprieve before they go at it again. Another parent enters the picture with his child and looks at the boys with irritation and gives a, "why can't you get those boy under control" kind of look. I watch the scenario unfold and then it dawns on me: we struggle to let our kids make mistakes. My husband and I have m

My family and I were at my sister's house. My brother-in-law came down the stairs asking, "Who put boogers on my wall?" Since his kids are a bit older than mine, one could assume the culprit was one of the Fish boys. Of course, no one fessed up, but we all knew: one of my kids used the wall as a tissue. Welcome to the #boymom life. I flashed back to the booger incident this morning when I was straightening up one of the boy's rooms. I looked over on the wall under the window and there it was: a booger. I mean. Seriously. One cannot get up and grab a Kleenex? Is that too hard? I guess so. I remember a friend who knew me well told me I was going to have to get used to having dirty dishes in the sink when I got pregnant with our third child. There is a year between our second and third and she knew the lifestyle I was currently living wasn't going to be a reality once that third baby was born. In my crazy OCD mind, I thought surely I would be able to handle three

We plopped down in the booth a little out of breath but excited. It was the fourth day of school and the two of us finally get to have a grown-up lunch together. My friend and I were happy to finally have the time to catch up without interruption. We both asked what the other was up to in her new found freedom and we both had similar responses: B-U-S-Y. I always chuckle a bit when people wonder what us stay-at-home-moms do all day. My friends are probably some of the most productive and talented ladies I know. There isn't time for nothingness. As we talked about running here, there, and everywhere trying to tackle our mile-long to-do lists, we both laughed at how crazy we both are. We've got an entire school year to take on all the projects and errands. What is with the need to rush through it all in one week? "Hear this, O Job; stop and consider the wondrous works of God." Job 37:14 Job is a book of the Bible many skip over. Who wants to read about the suffer