Tongue Tied

Have you heard of these? They're all those pesky, ultra dramatic problems that just crumble you to bits and pieces....that when put in perspective aren't really problems. Sometimes when we poke fun at our non-problems, it makes the real ones a little easier to bear. It also reminds us how crazy blessed we are. Sethswife's First World Problems (To be read in a whiny, weepy voice): The internet was down all morning so I had nothing to keep me from doing laundry. Sometimes Pinterest's servers are overloaded so I can't log on. Just after I sat down in my recliner and put my feet up, I realized I was cold and wanted socks and a blanket. We're out of seasoned salt, so my popcorn is boring. My favorite show is going on "mid-season hiatus". Sometimes Pandora plays a song I'm totally sick of and I'm out of skips. Seth's First World Problems: It takes forever to text on my smart phone. Why is the Diet Mountain Dew always gone? I lost weight so now my

This is a long one. Sorry. Some things I just can't edit down. ****************************************************************** Leave it to David Crowder to have me bawling at 3 in the morning. “How He Loves” is rapidly becoming my life song. In just the first few bars, I’m lost in it, swirling in a tornado of memories, good ones and bad ones. Scenes from my life play before me in a succession of pain and release, struggle and freedom. I know my attachment to this song isn’t unique. It’s everybody’s favorite…but for a reason. You can insert your story in between the lines and marvel at how God is bringing it all together. Last year was the year my life imploded. It wasn’t as though everything had been carefree and happy before, but suddenly, every trial came to a jagged point. Every arrow seemed pointed at my heart. All the constants in my life were shaken, threatened. Some even toppled from beneath me. I can remember sitting in my living room as I grappled to process a trial I

I'm conflicted. I'm going to be honest, though at the risk of offending someone. I hate how exercise-obsessed our culture is. It's not exercise that bothers me, not hardly. I spent a good portion of my pre-mothering life engaged in sweaty sports and had a great time doing it. And I certainly don't embrace the flip side of the coin of our culture--the side that has to supersize every meal and drown in in food. But I'm tired of seeing our culture's idea of beauty. I resist this idea that a woman has to be toned and bony in order to be attractive. Why does perfect equate to working out constantly in order to look like the airbrushed and photoshopped mutilation of women that we see in media? Because let's be honest, just eating right and working out apparently isn't enough for our celebrities to be beautiful. They need surgeries and technology to make it "better". As Cindy Crawford has said "I wish I looked like Cindy Crawford." So I'

Things I don't freak out about: Higher taxes Medical emergencies Having $0 for college Diet/Exercise Unmedicated childbirth My husband entering burning buildings Things I do freak out about: Spiders in the basement Missing Fringe Dog poop on shoes Grammatical mistakes I'm weird.

I’ve seen a lot of beauty in my life. I’ve seen beauty in nature. The majestic rise of snow capped mountains kissing clouds. The crimson rock of an ancient canyon. Billowing spray from pounding waterfalls. White capped waves crashing against cliffs. The sparkle of blue green ocean slithering across sand. I’ve seen beauty in people. In the twinkle of my grandmother’s eye. My mother’s hands gliding across ivory keys. My Dad’s wink after he tells a joke. My husband’s hands reaching for mine. I’ve seen beauty in moments. When the church doors opened and I saw him waiting for me. The first time I laid eyes on my babies and whispered God’s love into their ears. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of my children. Singing with my husband. And I’ve seen beauty in pain. My grandfather sending flowers to my grandmother on the very day he died. A broken heart healing. The good news of God’s grace softening stone will. Tears of forgiveness. A father carrying his infant son’s casket to his tiny grav