Skip to main content

Simple Things and Constant Thanks

  Sometimes you have to do one or two little things to make yourself feel special again, to remind yourself that no matter how confused you may feel inside and no matter how thin you may be stretched, this will all fade into the background someday.


  Sometimes you need to take a step back and put the moment into perspective. Stress will ease, the questions you hold will become less difficult.


  Sometimes you need to remind yourself to value the little things. Sometimes you need to count your blessings, remember the simple things in life that make you happy and help you feel valuable and human.


  Today, for me, this looks like wearing my softest sweater, painting my nails a color I really like, and buying two songs that have slipped amongst my favorites. Little things, but things nonetheless that will have me singing happily.


  My Father loves me, and my true joy is found in Him. Sometimes I need to run back to my Father’s embrace and thank Him unceasingly, and that above all is what I am learning to do. My response to trials is becoming praise.


  I’m not asking “Why is this happening?” anymore. I’m just saying “Thank You for everything.”

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Conspiracy Theories

  I personally am not someone who has any great number of conspiracy theories. Yes, when a sudden Swine Flu epidemic broke out shortly after Obama was elected as president, I did wonder if the man-made disease had been released on-command.   But come on, when it comes to Obama, politics, and the American government, I am most certainly not the only suspicious person around.   There are lots of conspiracy theories, like the ones you learn about when you watch National Treasure. But the kind of conspiracy theories I’m prone to come up with are slightly less political and exciting.   I tend to watch my sister take a long drink from MY glass of water, and then say suddenly, “I see what you’re doing! You’re passive-aggressively trying to kill me by drinking my water, and slowly removing everything I need to live!” This is the sort of comment that leads to my sister’s laughter and to jokes about being passive-aggressive between a ninth grade boy and I, as he is constantly asking me for water...

Please Don't Settle

  I wrote a song a few years ago called “Don’t Settle.” I wrote it for a friend of mine who had previously been planning on committing suicide. It is one of the only songs I’ve written that I felt came with a tune- the words came easily, and a tune came with them. It is one of the few songs I’ve written that I know God gave to me; He sang it to me softly and I simply wrote it down and remembered it.   Lately I have thought of perhaps revising the verses a little, but the chorus I will not change. It was the first piece that God gave me, and it is perfect. It goes like this:   “Don’t settle, please don’t give up Fight for only the true and beautiful Fight for only the true and beautiful Don’t settle, please don’t give up Fight for only the truth, I’ll fight for you I’ll fight for you.”   It was the cry of my heart for my friend, and I believe it is the cry of God’s heart for His children. I know that it is what I want Him to sing to me now, as I am reminding myself not to settle, not to...

More about what a mess I am...

   This past Friday I went to my parents house. I sat on the couch beside my youngest brother, my mother sitting on the floor in front of me as my kids played around her, and we watched old home videos of when I was two and half years old and my sister Anna was ten months old. I was wild and loud- standing on furniture, dancing and stomping and singing, running around and swinging toys that inevitably hit Anna in the face. The living room was littered with toys, and a basket or two of laundry sat in the corner.   It was like a photograph of my living room right now. And the kids, well, my children live from the same script- the same wild, the same loud, the same accidental injuries.   I looked at my mama and said, "No wonder I call you when it seems like no one really gets it. You get it. You've lived it."   But I think that, really, other people do understand my messy living room and how achingly exhausted I am by ten in the morning some days. But the ...