Of Family: Fears and Failures

You may argue with me, but my family is the best. My parents have always been consistently faithful to each other, to us as role models and to their commitment to lead a Godly life.

However, we aren’t without our mistakes. And I’m not without my regrets as to how I’ve treated them, what I’ve said  or my crappy attitudes when they don’t do what I want them to do.

Each time we all get together, I tell myself that I’m going to be mature, I’m going to respond with grace and humility and I’ll give to them generously.

But I don’t. I act like a bratty 8 year old. I fail terribly. I get crabby. I demand my way. I get ticked off, retreat to my closet, eat chocolate and cry. And pet the cat(s). Thank God for cats. Seriously.

Then, I crawl back to the party I’ve offended and ask for forgiveness. It’s the same dooloop over and over again. I feel hopeless that I’ll ever really change. And you’d think I’d learn.

After all, I’m old enough to know better, I’m a mother in waiting, supposedly a “professional” and a wife of 12 years. But 8-year-old-Becky rears her ugly head time after time after time after time…

I’m so thankful for the Creator of the universe and for His forgiveness. Otherwise, I may end up seriously hopeless-never leaving my closet, nutritionally destitute from my steady chocolate diet and perhaps even rejected by my cats due to stinkyness.

But in Him I find hope that I can and I will change-with His help.

“If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you. I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:3-5

Like me, you may have difficulties with the people you love the most. My intention with my vulnerability is to encourage you out of the stinky, chocolate-laden closet while in pursuit of His cleansing forgiveness.

Don’t give up hope. In Him there is hope!

My “House of Dirt”

Biceps follows someone on Instagram that makes him mad. According to him, “they are so good, so in shape, so muscular and so ridiculously strong” it makes him angry that he’s not on that level. As if Biceps could get any stronger or better looking.

My response to his instagram outburst this morning was: “They’re going to die, too.” A callous (but funny?) response, I know. There is no escaping death-unless you are Michael Jackson and you have yourself frozen, of course.

No matter what we do with our time, we will all meet an end. As my pastor has said, “We are houses of dirt.”

I spend almost an hour a day sweating my butt off so that I’m not totally embarrassed to wear a swimsuit. Sure, it’s good for my health, my heart, my longevity-and of course, Biceps appreciates it.

However, whether I’m Ms. Fitness or not (leaning more towards the “not”), I’m going to die and decay and rot. Muscles and fat and all.

I spend countless hours a week ridding my home of softball-sized white dust bunnies, courtesy of two furry felines. Literally, I feel as if my house is really a “house of dirt”.

I wash our clothes, wipe down sinks, do dishes, clean mirrors, mow our lawn, tend the garden, wash the van, sweep up more dust bunnies (and then clump them into one giant fur pile to gross out Biceps).

But, our house could be leveled by a tornado or even a sharknado tomorrow-and all my cleaning, decorating and obsessing would be back to square one.

I watch as the women I know work themselves into a frenzy-and I’m tempted to follow suit. My phone dings, rings and notifies me of something every two seconds. I am constantly “on call” as a realtor. My day doesn’t really end. I could make a little money with this job; or a lot of money and buy everything I’ve ever wanted and then what? I die?

If you have been storing your treasures here on earth-whether it’s a physically fit body, the perfectly clean showcase home, the awards and recognition from a job well done-I want to remind you that we are all made of dirt. We will all die and decay.

And then what?

“But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.” Matthew 6:20

How to fall asleep fast.

I’ve never been good about falling asleep. Even as a child, I remember playing my favorite cassette tape–”Antshillvania” until I dozed off into a bliss of rainbows and unicorn dreams.

I wasn’t a belligerent child by not going to bed easily—at least, not at that moment. The trouble has always been my racing mind-pinging from one subject to the next, one song to the next, one kitty cat prayer to the next. In today’s world I might have been diagnosed as ADHD.

My mother correctly diagnosed me, however, as having a wildly creative mind.

Last night, while Biceps was out saving the city, my mind wouldn’t shut off. Here’s a typical 30 second snippet from my brain:

“Did I hand out enough flyers on that home?”
“Did I call Cynthia back?”
“What did I eat for lunch?”
“Who wrote, ‘Hippy Hippy Shake?”
“Would Netflix update their past season?”
“I wonder who Des chose to be her one and only (for the next two months)?”
“What will our WOD be in Crossfit tomorrow?”
“Did I remember to harvest the okra today?”

And so on…I needed something to settle me down.

I grabbed my Bible, and remembering what I just heard that morning on the radio, flipped open to Psalms 4.

Psalm 4:7 & 8-“You brought me more happiness than a rich harvest of grain and grapes. I can lie down and sleep soundly, because you, Lord, will keep me safe.”

What else does a girl need in order to fall asleep?

Crossfit and Bibles

The alarm rang this morning at 4:15am. I hate that blasted thing. I hate alarms and all that they stand for. I want an alarm that makes me coffee and kisses me softly on the cheek while laying a kitten on my lap. Is that too much to ask for?

 

By 6:30am this morning, I had dropped Biceps off, ran 2 miles, went to Crossfit and started my short drive home on the deserted streets. (Save for the few headed towards the donut shop. Naughty, naughty.)

I have been feeling a bit on the downer side lately-which is totally not me. I’m the one that bounces into Crossfit at 5:30am humming a tune and annoying the other participants, I’m sure. Today, I just slipped in the back and got to work, not making eye contact.

And while on round 3 of my last movement of 30 friggin’ box jumps, and as my trainer was yelling at me, I started thinking. When was the last time I even talked to God about how I was feeling? Sure, I’ve been reading His Word, but have I been humble enough to admit to myself, let alone HIM, that I was bummed out and really didn’t know why? It sounded so….girly.

And girly doesn’t come naturally for me. Obviously. (*ps-this is a fake picture. There was some concern the last time I posted this.)

Weird, yes. But girly? Not so much.

So, I came home, brewed some coffee, grabbed my Bible and snuggled up to my dewey garden-which is where I feel the closest to God. And I told Him how I felt and asked Him to give me clarity.

Somewhere between I Peter 1:6 and 7, I realized that these trials are temporary. And I have a hope with Him. And I should quit whining, because really, who wants to see someone crying at Crossfit?

No one, that’s who.

So, just in case you are going through something right now, or you may be a little or a lot bummed out, here’s the scripture that pulled me out of the depths of despair.

“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith-of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire-may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” I Peter 1:6 & 7