Yesterday I mentioned that I've been having an outbreak of "those days", but what they've really been is a testimony to God's goodness and His provision for our family! Here's a brief recap of what He's done for us this week:
On Monday, Dave's car wouldn't start when he was trying to head home from work. He texted me that he was having trouble, but I had 3 kids and only 2 car seats, so there wasn't much I could do. So, while he was trying to jump it and not having any luck (the battery was fine), I was praying and asked my mom to pray as well. Within about 5 minutes of asking my mom to join me in prayer, I received another text that it started! Dave is pretty sure that it needs a new starter because it had been giving him trouble for quite some time, but it has started right up on the first try ever since.
On Tuesday, I did a load of cloth diapers (an all-day projoect, since I'd forgotten to soak them the night before). By the end of the day, I went down stairs to move them to the dryer and found the washing machine dripping cold water into the basin. I turned on another spin cycle to get the excess water out of the diapers and hoped that after it ran again for a minute that the dripping would stop. Instead, it was twice as bad! I quickly pulled the diapers out, then attempted to turn the corroded water valves off and went to bed. When I went down to start another load of laundry Wednesday morning, there were over 2 inches of standing water in the basin. I ran down as soon as the load finished to get the clothes out before they were completely soaked again by the dripping, but stopped for a moment to pray before opening the lid. To my surprise, I opened it to find no dripping! It has been fine through 2 more loads!
Lastly, yesterday morning Dave was on his way to a doctor appointment (to find out why he smells cigarette smoke all the time) when he got rear ended in the van. But he wasn't hurt and the van doesn't even have a scratch, so I fully believe he just wasn't supposed to see the doc that day for some reason and I'm thankful the Lord is taking care of it in His way and time. After waiting a month for that appointment, he was able to reschedule for next Wednesday, so all-in-all, not a bad outcome for being involved in an accident.
Basically, I feel like I'm standing here looking at all the failed attempts of the enemy to get us down lying on the ground useless. They just seem to glance off of us right now, and I praise the Lord for it. It also gets me a bit excited. So much effort against us, must mean God's doing something big right now.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Just one of those days... Or everyday?
I must admit, I've had several of "those days" lately, and that phrase has been stuck in my head. Today, being yet another in what seems an unusually persistent outbreak, prompted some conviction in my heart and reminded me of something that came to mind over the weekend that I wanted to share.
The conviction I experienced was about choosing joy. I thought, "Yes, when I'm having one of 'those days', I should choose joy rather than dwell on the things that are going wrong." But the truth is, every day is a day to choose joy. It may be a harder choice on some days than others, but sometimes it's those "normal" days that can sneakily get you down.
During worship and prayer at Community Group on Sunday, we had a time of sharing about God's faithfulness to us and promises He's kept in our lives and I was reminded of a time when He began to teach me about joy:
When I was younger, I had a tendency towards being melancholy and sullen, especially when in public (I make this distinction because I was homeschooled, and I rather enjoyed the seclusion from society, being also quite shy). I really think this melancholy aspect was something I willfully took on myself; something about it appealed to me as mysterious and desireble. Then, when I was about 12 and our church was first experiencing a real movement of the Holy Spirit, I remember going forward for prayer to be filled with the Spirit at our fall Retreat. I was overcome and fell to the floor weeping intensly for what seemed like hours. It was like all the sadness I had built up inside was just gushing out. After a while, Wendy Virgo came and knelt beside me on the floor and simply asked me, "Why are you crying?". I had no response, but almost immediately I started laughing just as intensly as I had been crying. The laughter lasted much longer than the crying, and the whole event made a great impression on me. However, I really don't think I fully understood its significance until recently. I really believe that God deposited a deeper sense of joy in my heart that night. I knew what it meant to be happy before that, but this was different. This was a deposit that has stayed with me ever since, and has grown exponentially as my understanding of what my Savior did for me has deepened. I knew that Jesus had died for me, and I loved Him for it; but the true beginning of my understanding of His love began when the Holy Spirit came upon me that night. When something greater than our comprehension has been done for us, I think that it is only with the help of the Spirit that we can grasp the meaning, and He lays the foundation in our hearts for the joy that follows.
And what a joy it is! A night of laughter is nothing compared to the strength it imparts when you're having one of "those days". What He did for me on the cross overshadows any uncertainty I experience in my day-to-day life. When I don't know how we'll afford to fix the starter on the car, or how we'll manage with a leaky washing machine, or how I'll ever convince my 3-yr-old to use the potty... What I DO know is this: God so loved the world, He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him will have everlasting life. That is my hope, that is the never-ending source of my joy.
The conviction I experienced was about choosing joy. I thought, "Yes, when I'm having one of 'those days', I should choose joy rather than dwell on the things that are going wrong." But the truth is, every day is a day to choose joy. It may be a harder choice on some days than others, but sometimes it's those "normal" days that can sneakily get you down.
During worship and prayer at Community Group on Sunday, we had a time of sharing about God's faithfulness to us and promises He's kept in our lives and I was reminded of a time when He began to teach me about joy:
When I was younger, I had a tendency towards being melancholy and sullen, especially when in public (I make this distinction because I was homeschooled, and I rather enjoyed the seclusion from society, being also quite shy). I really think this melancholy aspect was something I willfully took on myself; something about it appealed to me as mysterious and desireble. Then, when I was about 12 and our church was first experiencing a real movement of the Holy Spirit, I remember going forward for prayer to be filled with the Spirit at our fall Retreat. I was overcome and fell to the floor weeping intensly for what seemed like hours. It was like all the sadness I had built up inside was just gushing out. After a while, Wendy Virgo came and knelt beside me on the floor and simply asked me, "Why are you crying?". I had no response, but almost immediately I started laughing just as intensly as I had been crying. The laughter lasted much longer than the crying, and the whole event made a great impression on me. However, I really don't think I fully understood its significance until recently. I really believe that God deposited a deeper sense of joy in my heart that night. I knew what it meant to be happy before that, but this was different. This was a deposit that has stayed with me ever since, and has grown exponentially as my understanding of what my Savior did for me has deepened. I knew that Jesus had died for me, and I loved Him for it; but the true beginning of my understanding of His love began when the Holy Spirit came upon me that night. When something greater than our comprehension has been done for us, I think that it is only with the help of the Spirit that we can grasp the meaning, and He lays the foundation in our hearts for the joy that follows.
And what a joy it is! A night of laughter is nothing compared to the strength it imparts when you're having one of "those days". What He did for me on the cross overshadows any uncertainty I experience in my day-to-day life. When I don't know how we'll afford to fix the starter on the car, or how we'll manage with a leaky washing machine, or how I'll ever convince my 3-yr-old to use the potty... What I DO know is this: God so loved the world, He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him will have everlasting life. That is my hope, that is the never-ending source of my joy.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
A Miracle
So I've been pondering what on earth I should write about. Trying to stay true to my goal of simply taking something noteworthy from my life right now, I think the subject is quite obvious. But, before I get to my miracle, a little backstory is needed (The backstory became a back-novel, so you may want to skip the next two paragraphs if you're pressed for time. So much for concise, but hopefully this will be the exception):
Shortly after Isaiah was born, so going back about 3 years, I started developing a strange skin condition on my right hand. It initially appeared as a poison ivy-ish rash, blistering and itching like crazy, but I knew I hadn't been around any (it was the beginning of March) and it was only on the inside of my pinky. It steadily spread across the rest of my fingers, stopping before it got to my thumb, but causing me to have to remove the ring my mom had given me and I'd been wearing since I was 12. I also soon discovered that it changed in a sort of cycle, going from blistering rash to dry, cracked and bleeding, with a rough feel like sand paper, and back to blistering rash again. It was also obvious that the blistering was made worse by lotion, and the cracking made worse by contact with water. I asked my doctor about it and he diagnosed me with dishydrotic dermatitis. As a new mother, this was extremely frustrating. Not only could I not control the fact that I had to wash my hands a hundred times a day from changing diapers and doing dishes, etc., but I also could now not even touch my baby's beautifully soft skin without scratching him painfully. At least it was only on one hand...
Then Tess was born. Within a few months, I started developing the same condition on my left hand as well! I was devastated. All these beautiful pink satin clothes, and every time I touched them they snagged on my sand paper hands. I soon had to remove my diamond engagement ring because it trapped too much moisture next to the skin and my finger swelled so much I was afraid I may soon not be able to get it off!
Okay, enough depressing backstory, time for the more recent happenings. I felt convicted a few months ago to renew my requests for prayer that my hands would be healed. You know how sometimes, after you repeat the same prayer request and you feel like all your friends must be tired of hearing you complain about something that's obviously not changing, you just kind of suck it up and deal with it. Well, God seemed to be telling me not to accept it, and to keep asking! So, I did. And nothing changed. But every Sunday I would wait anxiously for someone to have a word of knowledge during the meeting that might apply to me and be my sign that God did indeed want to heal me. Well, the Sunday before last, David Harsh brought a word about someone's hands and I think my heart literally skipped a beat. A voice in my head said that not all the details directly applied to my situation, but I didn't care. I went forward for prayer. As he prayed for me, I kept looking at my hands every few minutes, fully expecting that I would open my eyes and find new skin. But I didn't. I did, however, keep being reminded that even Jesus didn't always heal just through the spoken word, but sometimes an action was taken, such as putting mud in someone's eyes or telling them to go show themselves to the priests. I felt maybe I needed to go wash my hands. I decided that when David was done praying, that's what I would do, but I asked God to give David a word of some kind to confirm it. So then he stopped praying and said he saw a picture of me putting something on my hands and rubbing them together, and that it might seem ritualistic, but through that action would come my healing. So I practically ran to the bathroom and began scrubbing my hands with hot water and soap with visions of the rough skin just being washed away. But it wasn't. My hands looked no different after 2 washings, so I went back to my seat and told my husband what had happened. He quickly reminded me that the way I apply a special lotion at night before I go to bed was also a sort of ritual, so with renewed hope I proceeded to apply my lotion diligently all week.
It was Saturday when I first noticed the change: I stroked my daughter's face and she didn't turn away from my hand. I looked at my fingertips and saw smooth skin for the first time in 3 years! Now, my hands are not completely restored... yet; but they are in the best condition they've been in since it all started. And I'm rejoicing in the continued faithfulness of my God, who, by His grace, granted me the thing my mother's heart had longed for every day: to be able to lovingly stroke my children's faces without causing them pain. I am fully believing that He will be faithful to the end, bringing the complete healing of my hands as I continue to ask Him for more.
Shortly after Isaiah was born, so going back about 3 years, I started developing a strange skin condition on my right hand. It initially appeared as a poison ivy-ish rash, blistering and itching like crazy, but I knew I hadn't been around any (it was the beginning of March) and it was only on the inside of my pinky. It steadily spread across the rest of my fingers, stopping before it got to my thumb, but causing me to have to remove the ring my mom had given me and I'd been wearing since I was 12. I also soon discovered that it changed in a sort of cycle, going from blistering rash to dry, cracked and bleeding, with a rough feel like sand paper, and back to blistering rash again. It was also obvious that the blistering was made worse by lotion, and the cracking made worse by contact with water. I asked my doctor about it and he diagnosed me with dishydrotic dermatitis. As a new mother, this was extremely frustrating. Not only could I not control the fact that I had to wash my hands a hundred times a day from changing diapers and doing dishes, etc., but I also could now not even touch my baby's beautifully soft skin without scratching him painfully. At least it was only on one hand...
Then Tess was born. Within a few months, I started developing the same condition on my left hand as well! I was devastated. All these beautiful pink satin clothes, and every time I touched them they snagged on my sand paper hands. I soon had to remove my diamond engagement ring because it trapped too much moisture next to the skin and my finger swelled so much I was afraid I may soon not be able to get it off!
Okay, enough depressing backstory, time for the more recent happenings. I felt convicted a few months ago to renew my requests for prayer that my hands would be healed. You know how sometimes, after you repeat the same prayer request and you feel like all your friends must be tired of hearing you complain about something that's obviously not changing, you just kind of suck it up and deal with it. Well, God seemed to be telling me not to accept it, and to keep asking! So, I did. And nothing changed. But every Sunday I would wait anxiously for someone to have a word of knowledge during the meeting that might apply to me and be my sign that God did indeed want to heal me. Well, the Sunday before last, David Harsh brought a word about someone's hands and I think my heart literally skipped a beat. A voice in my head said that not all the details directly applied to my situation, but I didn't care. I went forward for prayer. As he prayed for me, I kept looking at my hands every few minutes, fully expecting that I would open my eyes and find new skin. But I didn't. I did, however, keep being reminded that even Jesus didn't always heal just through the spoken word, but sometimes an action was taken, such as putting mud in someone's eyes or telling them to go show themselves to the priests. I felt maybe I needed to go wash my hands. I decided that when David was done praying, that's what I would do, but I asked God to give David a word of some kind to confirm it. So then he stopped praying and said he saw a picture of me putting something on my hands and rubbing them together, and that it might seem ritualistic, but through that action would come my healing. So I practically ran to the bathroom and began scrubbing my hands with hot water and soap with visions of the rough skin just being washed away. But it wasn't. My hands looked no different after 2 washings, so I went back to my seat and told my husband what had happened. He quickly reminded me that the way I apply a special lotion at night before I go to bed was also a sort of ritual, so with renewed hope I proceeded to apply my lotion diligently all week.
It was Saturday when I first noticed the change: I stroked my daughter's face and she didn't turn away from my hand. I looked at my fingertips and saw smooth skin for the first time in 3 years! Now, my hands are not completely restored... yet; but they are in the best condition they've been in since it all started. And I'm rejoicing in the continued faithfulness of my God, who, by His grace, granted me the thing my mother's heart had longed for every day: to be able to lovingly stroke my children's faces without causing them pain. I am fully believing that He will be faithful to the end, bringing the complete healing of my hands as I continue to ask Him for more.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
A Start?
It has been suggested to me that I should attempt a blog. Since I'm not one of those "has it all together and a blog to prove it" types, this may or may not be a consistent thing, depending on how my days go! However, I do enjoy my life, my adventures with my husband & kiddos, and my sometimes overly-ambitious cooking/sewing endeavors. So, if others would like to follow along with whatever happenings I deem as noteworthy, I guess I'm okay with that.
Can that be considered an acceptable introduction? I hope so. It will be my intention to keep my posts as simple and to the point as possible (less likely to embarrass myself or my husband that way). So, there you have it.
Can that be considered an acceptable introduction? I hope so. It will be my intention to keep my posts as simple and to the point as possible (less likely to embarrass myself or my husband that way). So, there you have it.
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