Category Archives: faith

Wednesday remix – no more land tortoises

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So sorry for the Wednesday remix delay. I knew what I wanted to post and it was a matter of scanning the pics, etc. which always takes longer than usual.

Can you say ouch? I can. 

On a side note, I’m having elbow surgery on Wednesday. It’s not major surgery but it might delay some posting since it’s my right arm, my “writing arm.” Time permitting, I might create some advance posts in the interim.


But back to the remix… Tonight I offer my post in honor of my oldest OS who spent two weeks in El Salvador with his bonita and two weeks with the fam this summer. With all that he has accomplished as a young man, Nate has embodied the Romans 8:37 spirit in being “more than a conqueror” in so many ways. By his example, Nathan has shown me how to Do Hard Things. In recognition of our collective swimming accomplishments both past and present, behold my toe-headed boy back in 1995. 

Nearly all known floatation devices were employed. 
The only kid on the swim team with the works. No shame. 
This is sweetest sugar boy I’ve ever seen in the pool!



There is nothing more precious or inspiring than seeing your child doing something you, yourself cannot do. Replete with floaties, nose plugs, swimming goggles and a noodle, that boy persevered. He didn’t worry about how he looked, my OS just wanted to stay alive during the swim meet! Cheering from the pool side, I was crazy proud of him!

As you can see, Nate didn’t inherit his daddy’s natural love of water. At least for a short while, my OS possessed his mama’s land tortoise qualities. 


Go Nate, go! You can doey it! He has come a long way as a cadet at West Point since completing survivor swimming his yuk year. 


Then in a strange twist of genetics, I believe that this summer, I came to inherit his determination. 


Oh and I can barely believe what I’m about to tell you! It’s no coincidence that AT THE SAME POOL, I jumped again into the deep end of the pool with even less forethought. And then although lacking any semblance of finesse, I stepped/jumped off the diving board 15 times yesterday. Here’s the amazing footage and it’s ok if you laugh, just keep it to yourself. Every time I see this video, I feel incredibly embarrassed and joyful. My youngest OS informed me that I “frolicked” off the diving board. Kids these days…

Years separated our victories but we have broken through barriers. Nate was one of my heroes when he was five and will always be as a man, son and Soldier. 

Thank you, dear readers for your messages both public and private. Keep doing your own hard things, if I can do it, so can you by the power of the Lord. 

Doing hard things – the dilemma and the decision

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Land tortoises aren’t especially attractive, are they?

As I navigate into this world of swimming, I am betwixt calling myself a swimmer and a former land tortoise.

Do it? Don’t do it? I did it!

Still on the outside to some extent, I keenly observe human aquatic creatures. How you move about in the water, your level of ease, the effortless way you seem to both inhale and exhale while simultaneously kicking your feet and moving your arms in a horizontal position. And your buoyancy. Me likey your buoyancy. I am among you but not quite ready to say I am one of you for fear I might be revealed as an impostor.


The day before going to Playa del Carmen in Mexico, I could be found at the neighborhood pool. I successfully wrangled my orange hair, freckle face OS to join me and as we all know teenage boys LOVE going to the pool with their mamas, right? And if their mamas are learning to swim, well, let’s just say Ike was BEYOND words for this adventure…




We arrived at the pool and I informed Ike that I absolutely had to jump into the water seven times because his dad had told me so. Ike was very eager for me to get the task completed but when you have spent most of your life as a land tortoise, it’s harder than one thinks especially if one is an impatient, orange hair, freckle face OS.


But I did it.

This is the scene of the incident,
feel the tension!

And then I told Ike what I was going to do next. I was going to jump into the deep end. With a mixture of encouragement and nonchalance, Ike approved. In a flash, I approached the nine foot water and immersed myself into the pool. I repeated this activity several times.


The whistle blew and it became adult swim time. Again I was in the deep end of the water. Everything was going well until I was mistakenly identified as a swimmer.

That ball bobbing in the water…
what was a former land tortoise to do? 



A little urchin of a boy who apparently hadn’t noticed that although I was in the deep end of the pool, I was still clutching the side, approached me. “Could you get the tennis ball for me?” he asked unaware of the enormity of his question.


I was dumbfounded as I looked and saw a bright yellow tennis ball right in the middle of the water. I wish there was some kind of attractive, water-resistant sign I could have as a reminder that I am NEW at this. You know the kind of sign on top of a car used in driver’s ed? 

I’d like something along these lines
but cuter, sassier and water-resistant, please.



“Um,” I stammered. “I’m not that great of a swimmer and I don’t know how to stop in the middle so I can probably get your tennis ball but I’ll have to give it to you on the other side.” That poor child just wanted his toy not a long explanation. He probably wished he had just waited. 

This would also work but in purple and with squiggles.

Without giving him a chance to respond and wanting to look like the heroine, I dramatically inhaled a big glob of air. In a splash (get it, splash?) I swam my way in the deep end, paused momentarily to intercept the tennis ball and returned it to him on the other side as promised.


As it was on the eve of our big vay-kay, I just had to smile to the Lord. I felt Him winking at me from the heavens saying, “We did this.” Another challenge met. It was a proud and humorous aquatic event. I guess  I’m becoming less of a land tortoise after all. But I do have a lingering question…how do you people stop in the middle? 

“Hi, I’m Cindy and I’m a recovering land tortoise.”
A terrible picture of me but I love the dents in my
head from the swim goggles. Btw, I don’t have buckteeth. 

And would you believe that another astonishing thing happened to me on Monday? Another crazy water story I will share forthwith! You bless me, truly you do with every prayer and motivating message! 

Doing hard things – part four, what am I afraid of?

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I’m trying to process the best vacation of my life. I’m searching for what the Lord is teaching and showing me after five precious days  in Playa del Carmen, Mexico.

As previously mentioned, I’m co-leading a book club this summer for middle and high school girls. The book Doing Hard Things is intended for teenagers but it is speaking to this middle age mama’s heart. While languishing at the beach, in Playa del Carmen, under a cabana, with a fruity, non-alcoholic drink within hand’s reach, a gentle breeze wooed me to contemplation. What am I afraid of?

Here is a partial list:



Heights – looking down from an unsecured area is terrifying
Planes – I often warn fellow passengers that I am not a great fan of turbulence and can grab their hand at any point.
Water – (I’m working on this one)

The view from my beach chair…

Rollercoasters – there’s no point to being scared and nauseous unless during childbirth
Hypodermic needles/IVs – refer to above


and a host of other ones I choose not to mention.


Throw in a nervous bladder and a poor sense of direction. The Hubs is such a lucky guy, huh?


Since facing my fear of water/swimming, I realized I am also afraid of:


Failure – what if I don’t succeed? I have taken swimming lessons before but after completing them, I wimped out when I couldn’t synchronize my body correctly. Convinced that I looked just too stupid plus my knee hurt very badly, I gave up, defeated and land-locked.


It’s scary to ponder, if I’m still at this same point of mastery next year, what does that say about me?


But then, strangely, paradoxically, I am frightened of:


Success – I do not know this new Cindy very well and where is this girl going to take me? Possibly people might expect me to join in aquatic merriment. When doctors suggest swimming as a healthy form of exercise, I might have to heed their advice. I would no longer garner pity for being stranded on the shore. Pity, in a bizarre sort of way, has been part and parcel with summer. If I’m really a swimmer, then people might realize that my swimming strokes are awkward, clearly a sign of a novice.

Summer, I gotta be honest, I find you intriguing and complex. 

And then there’s the biggie –
I might enjoy swimming and then what do I do? I’m getting farther and farther from clinging to the secure side. What is on the other side? What is in the middle? Weird. 

I received this card in the mail from an encouraging mama
whose daughter is in the book club. This frog and I understand each other. 

Next post I want to share a swimming story that happened just before vay-kay. It’s becoming an interesting metaphor on my quest. Thanks again for your support. I hear your collective, sweet voices on land and sea, I’m serious.

Doing hard things – part three, in Mexico

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(Connectivity is a struggle here so I apologize in advance for the visual quality of this post). 

We arrived in Mexico on Saturday. Comfortable fitting goggles, three different bathing suits and a new found sense of anticipation about water were securely stowed in my spirit and suitcase. 
 
And in a way, I have packed you too. Truly, your support has meant so much. I hesitated for a short while about even blogging about my fear of water but now I’m happy did. Though you, dear readers may be avid swimmers, I sense you understand because likewise you have a hard thing you have mastered or need to look beyond, so as we say in Mexico, muchos gracias, amigos. 🙂

This morning my orange hair, freckle face OS announced that he wanted to go snorkeling. We are staying in an all-inclusive resort so without the concern of money, it was an easy decision. Yes!

The Hubs and I strolled to the beach to meet the OS. As picturesque as the view is (and it’s magnificent), the loveliest sight for us as parents is seeing our three bairn together. At 21, 16 and 14 years old, their lives are busier and more diverse. We see our time with them like grains of sand flowing from our hands but I don’t want to cry so let’s not go there. The OS had ventured to an outlying reef and were bobbing their heads in and out of the water dazzled by the creatures.

Aaron met us back on the beach and urged us to join them. “Mama, you’re going to love this!” he exclaimed.

In a moment, I found myself in the water. This is a new Cindy. I’ve been to beaches in several countries throughout my lifetime and never has a body of water beckoned me as the Atlantic Ocean at the Playa del Carmen has done.

Instead of looking for excuses as to why I couldn’t snorkel or get into the ocean, I believed I actually could. My middle OS told me to look underwater and without hesitation, I did as instructed. The view did not disappoint. Schools of yellow and black striped fish glistened past us. Small black fish darted in the reefs. With another gulp of air, I witnessed a larger fish that truly was painted by the hands of God, this one aquamarine with other hues of blue in its body. I was not marooned by fear or shipwrecked by sadness any longer. I rode a wave of gratefulness the entire day. 

It no longer concerns me how many times I have put my head underwater. It’s not natural quite yet but I’m moving forward and not counting or dreading it. At one point during our snorkeling adventure, it was as if the fish were approaching me saying, “Hey girl, what-choo doing here? Looong time, no see! It’s great to see you!” The Mexican fish are friendly like that!

Yes, I tasted a fair amount of ocean water. I got a bit scared and hoped a shark wouldn’t come and ruin the whole thing. And I admit to being VERY clumsy on the reef and narrowly avoiding an ankle injury plus I appear to be melanin deprived. But…

I belong. With my family. In the water. Making memories. Splashing and beholding. Cherishing and treasuring.

Doing Hard Things – part two

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As many of you now know from previous posts, all my life I have been afraid to swim. The amount of toil and moil I have wasted in making sure the words of “non-swimmer” stayed on me like the world’s worst tattoo or the longest acting sunblock ev, ugh.
To be sure, there is no badge of honor or virtue attached to the title of “non-swimmer.” Your words of encouragement and support help mend that broken place I have carried too long. 

Last night as we gathered to discuss Chapters 7-8 in Doing Hard Things, I decided to share with the girls in the book study, my personal struggle with water. As suspected, everyone in the room knew how to swim but me. When they heard that I had jumped into the pool SEVEN whole times earlier this week, they giggled good-naturedly and rejoiced in my feat. As I told them how difficult it’s been for me to face this fear, the girls and my co-leaders didn’t show condemnation, instead I sensed…

grace
mercy
understanding
encouragement

flowing from their hearts. As they listened, one of the girls, bless her heart, even clapped for me. When the night ended, those girls said they would be praying for me and I believe this to be true. 

And you know what else has been incredible? 

For years I have told myself that at the very moment I enter the water, EVERYONE and I do mean EVERYONE in the entire pool or any significant body of water for that matter, stops whatever they are doing and begins to notice. Like Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, adults and young children jeered at me most assuredly. The floundering limbs, exaggerated gasps for air, combined with hopelessly blanche skin all belonging to me, the voice inside convinced me that the world stopped in horror at seeing a middle aged non-swimmer mama in the water.

But you’ll never guess what I have noticed lately. Sit down for this because it’s a biggie. No one cares about me in the pool. The lifeguards are on standby but really no one else gives a whoop. I don’t look like I don’t belong because I do belong. 


A friend who regularly reads my blog, shared this with me in an email…“I think my grandmother was about 65 years old when she took swimming lessons. I remember her proudly showing us she could float. She was a pretty hefty woman at that time of her life. It is a sweet memory. If she can do it, Cindy can do it. 🙂 I also admire her for losing many, many pounds after she had a heart attack. She had always been heavy – great Southern cook with a sweet tooth. Sometime in her sixties, she started walking almost every day and dropped down to a beautiful, normal weight.”
I will be in that water!

An anchor of shame and incompetence has dashed decades of warm weather memories. I’m so over it. It is long overdue that I jump into the turquoise blue ocean of opportunities. I hope to be sharing with you another accomplishment as it pertains to my relationship with water in Mexico! Yes, Mexico! 

Wednesday remix – with a pull and a prayer

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Your words of encouragement in regards to my swimming victories are spurring me on! Thank you, friends and family! In subsequent posts, I want to share what I’m learning, less about swimming techniques per se, but the greater aspects of my quest for aquatic magnificence.

They have nothing to do with today’s post
but seriously, aren’t they adorable?

Oh, and love, I want to share glimpses into love between a Soldier and his bonita. But more on that later…


Until then, I came upon something I wrote eight years ago about Aaron and a loose tooth. Still brings a grin to my heart…


Call me a wimp. Call me a baby. Call me the worst mother in the world. I don’t care, I just couldn’t do it. 


Aaron’s loose tooth would have to stay in his mouth until he could pull it. I’m not a good gore person and if you haven’t seen a tooth dangling from your kid’s mouth lately, one day you’ll understand. Strange as it may seem, the Lord used this experience to draw Aaron closer to him in a real and tangible way.


Losing a tooth isn’t an easy thing for the W-H’s. Some families’ teeth casually slip out one day with nary a wiggle. Our OS’s teeth are very stubborn. They like where they live and can be freeloading tenants. Aside from myself, I’ve only assisted one person in losing a tooth.


(Enter 70’s time machine…) One day accidentally on purpose I punched my sister Lorri in the mouth during a fight in the station wagon. While our parents were out of the vehicle, I gave her a knuckle sandwich which consequently sent her tooth flying. 

No knuckle sandwich necessary in this pic!

We searched and searched but never located the tooth and thanks to my natural charm and urgent begging, Mom and Dad never found out.


(Return from time machine…) Our middle OS lost his first two teeth at the dentist’s office. With a few good yanks, the dentist produced two adorable baby teeth which Aaron happily placed under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.

I don’t recommend Aaron as a dentist
but oh the personality!

Now with budgetary concerns, Aaron’s loose tooth would have to leave the old-fashioned way. Each morning, Aaron showed me how loose his tooth was getting. For two days, my OS lingered in the bathroom, the only tools to expel the tooth being his boyishly dirty fingers and toilet paper which he used as a gripping device. Meanwhile I stood in the hallway clutching my stomach afraid I was going to pass out. He might as well have been giving himself an appendectomy, it grossed me out so much!


With utter determination, Aaron pulled and grabbed his central incisor. Possessing all the courage an eight year old can muster, he shut the bathroom door and with amazing bravery, mightily tore at the remaining root. Free at last, free at last, the battle was won, the tooth was out!


However, that wasn’t the only time Aaron lost that tooth.

I can’t believe we still have this in the house!

At bedtime, he prepared to put it under the pillow. It was the first tooth he had ever personally pulled and suddenly, he could no longer find it. He cried and searched. We combed the house looking for it. Maybe it’s in his pants in the washing machine, I wondered so we jetted downstairs only to find soggy jeans with empty pockets. This tooth was originally placed in a special Tooth Fairy container, where was it now?


That night as Aaron lay on his bed, dejected and forlorn, he asked me to join him in prayer. Aaron led the intercession and though I don’t remember what he said, Someone did. My OS drifted into sleep hoping that God, in His mercy, would locate the missing tooth in time for the Tooth Fairy to make her delivery.

I was even more surprised to find this assortment of 
dental treasures! Why are we saving these? 

In the wee hours of the night (pun intended), I awoke at 1 am and used the bathroom downstairs. Normally I frequent the potty in the master bedroom but for some reason I didn’t and…yep,  

“You found me!”


that’s when I spotted it. Aaron’s Tooth Fairy container and the pearly white  he had misplaced in the downstairs bathroom!

Aaron woke up in the early morning with a huge smile, astonished that the Tooth Fairy had actually arrived. A crisp one-dollar bill magically was found under his pillow. He was delighted but as for me, observing what was placed in Aaron’s heart was more valuable. As I shared in his excitement, my OS told me, “I’m glad I prayed. It actually works. God is real!”



Matthew 18:19 says, “Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.” Aaron humbled himself before the Lord and received his heart’s desire. If I would have yanked that tooth on my own, perhaps he wouldn’t have seen in a very real way how the Lord values all of our supplications.


With a couple of tugs and a simple prayer, Aaron received a true wisdom tooth and a tiny, shiny bright testimony to God’s faithfulness. 


Gotta a tooth story? Ever entered a 70’s time machine? I’d love to hear!

Doing Hard Things – part one

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The Lord is prompting me to not only read this but have the courage to do this. 

It’s no accident that this summer I am co-leading a book study for teenage girls entitled Do Hard Things. With each progressive week, I find myself feeling the nudge to have victory over one of my Hard Things.

A teenager in Florida who was afraid of water = me



A fear that has gripped me for almost half a century that I am determined to overcome.


Fear of water – swimming
I was the teenage girl with bad body image sporting a white rubber bathing cap and cowering at the country club pool. Yeah, that was me. Too embarrassed and prideful to take swimming lessons. 

I hated spending days at the pool. 


I was the young collegiate at summer parties terrified someone would toss me in the water and see me flail about like a goof. Everyone was alerted to NOT throw Cindy in the water. 
You see a pool, I see an aquatic obstacle. 
And when the OS were little, I was the mama stuck on the beach chair. Longing to jump into the water, instead I watched the Hubs toss the boys in the air at the pool. Just a lonely mama who couldn’t venture to the deep end of the pool and stayed on the side. 😦

If I’ve got the guts to make raw multi-seed crackers, I should be able to swim, right?

A giant chasm separates fun and me. Summer is the season that covers its mouth, points at me and snickers, “You don’t belong here. Just go back inside and feel sorry for yourself.”

The Hubs and the OS in the water sans moi.

But there’s got to be an end to it. With great fear and trembling, I want victory over this phobia. Give me back May, June, July and August! Heck, let’s throw in September since I live in the south! Don’t you agree? 

I long for a picture of my OS and I in the pool.

I really hope and pray to report that I am conquering this fear…stay tuned, this is a very hard thing for me!


One more thing…here’s the link for the crackers! They are GOOD!

Wednesday remix – staying pure

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I’m a day late on Wednesday remix but the message I’m sharing today is timeless. Love and purity aren’t things bound by time! Come on now!

From April 2009 – when our OS were 12, 14 and 19 years old….
This guy does think about other things besides basketball! 
On a beautiful spring day, my husband and I were going to attend the wedding of a co-worker. While running errands with my orange haired, freckle face OS looked up at the sky and commented, “This is a perfect day to get married.” It was an unexpected but lovely comment from Ike who concerns himself more with perfecting his jump shot than on mushy stuff like love and marriage. While driving with him in the passenger seat, our youngest OS also informed me that he would like a beach wedding. I didn’t know he even thought for a second about such things but my heart burst like the sun that morning.
Aaron makes a covenant with us and the Lord. 
Then in February, our 14-year-old son participated in a True Love Waits ceremony at our church. My husband and I stood alongside him and slipped the purity ring on his finger. This was our son’s decision, he was not forced or bribed to be a part of this. Aaron had chosen his ring and eagerly anticipated wearing it. Our middle OS went to school the next day and everyone noticed the ring on his finger. When asked about it, Aaron confidently explained the pledge he made to his future bride.  (He still wears it to this day!) 
We all made a promise to the Lord and each other. 
While meeting his peers at West Point back in 2009, a fellow plebe asked my son to tell him all the things he had done with a girl. 


Without preaching or sounding arrogant, Nate was careful to not speak. He didn’t want to sound hesitant or apologetic with his proceeding answer. My OS recounted to me that he just said nonchalantly,“I’m just chilling on that stuff.” My hunch is this guy doesn’t hear that response too often but according to Nate, he seemed to respect my son’s decision.  
(Fast forward three years and now he’s still holding true to his convictions. Nate is in love with a beautiful young lady, read this post and this one for the sweet story thus far!) 
Nate and Lu…they are so cute together!

During my eight years of working in the field of sexual purity, I heard so many heartbreaking stories. It would be easy to think that there isn’t a single young man with self-control and respect out there. Not true! The Hubs and I are doing our best to raise and prosper three of them! We need to encourage the boys and men in our midst to do as Scripture says in Psalm 119:9, “How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word.”

The beginning of our family started on September 5, 1986.
We never expected the Lord to change our hearts on so many things
and allow us reach for higher standards.
What do these three things have to do with each other? Am I merely writing these words to impress and brag about the precious family the Lord has given me? It’s true I am fiercely proud of my sons but I share this with you to give you parents of daughters a ray of hope too. There are some good guys out there. I share these brief glimpses into my family to tell you parents of sons to esteem the young men in your life and encourage them to prosper in honor and integrity. 

Wednesday remix – who you calling a diaper head?

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It’s been about ten years since anyone has called me a “diaper head.” In all my life, I think I’ve only been called a “diaper head” once! HA! I share this Wednesday re-mix in celebration of the growth our family has experienced since that fateful diaper-headed day. Read on to learn again that our family is very imperfect, often dysfunctional but God isn’t finished with any of us yet! 

I’m the shortest one in my family and the happiest
when I have a ginger with his arms around me. 

Sparks were flying and it was almost a week past the fourth of July. My precious Isaac, the red head, had turned into a human firecracker! I didn’t know that much dynamite could fit into a 30 pound “container.” All this fury over a simple command to pick up dinner napkins. Apparently I was the match that set his anger ablaze. I knew Ike had a temper but whoa, seriously? 

Don’t let that smile and cowboy hat fool you…
this guy can be a stinker!

He slammed doors, screamed and even charged at me with two tightly bound fits. His red eyebrows furled, his blue eyes enraged all because I told him he needed to do his regular family chore. Firm attempts to corral him weren’t working and things were going from bad to worse. Just that afternoon, his brother, Aaron, had been rather challenging so by this time, I was humbled and worn out.


Hoping Ike would soon tire because I knew I certainly was exhausted, I doggedly pursued justice to no avail. 

I prefer fireworks at a distance, thank you very much!

“Mommy is a diaper head! You’re a baby head!” flew from his ruddy lips. From the bathroom where he had been exiled, Isaac’s self-control had completely left and mine was hanging on by a thread.


The normal forms of correction we use weren’t working and the situation seemed desperate. What was I going to do? The Hubs wasn’t home, there was no back-up. I had to handle this one alone.


But in my second of need, I realized I was wrong. I was not alone. It’s then that I heard His voice. 


“Pray, Cindy. Pray.” I slowly walked up the stairs speaking to God with each step, asking for guidance, counsel and patience. His still, small voice beckoned me and told me to do something for Isaac that clearly wasn’t my choice. 


God told me to hold him. Simply take that furious fellow into my arms and rock him gently. Let him know I loved him.


This wasn’t exactly the form of discipline I had in mind (LOL) but I knew the Lord was guiding me to be “quick to listen and slow to anger.” James 1:19. Then He told me to show mercy and compassion. God told me to forget Isaac’s pre-school insults. So against all my human judgment, I cradled that angry guy in my arms and spoke softly to him. The firecracker and his mom were finally settling down.

A snapshot of life too many years ago…

It is a tradition each night before my sons go to sleep, to pray for them. I petition the Lord for and with them and always thank God for the blessings I find in being a mother. That night, I assumed it would be tricky to give great laud and praise for all the day’s adventures.


But again, the Lord supplied me with the humility and gratitude necessary. “…and thank you God for letting me be Isaac’s mommy today. Even though it wasn’t easy, thank you God.” 

I love seeing Aaron’s physical and
spiritual muscles growing!

A little later on, I tucked my middle OS in bed. Despite a rather action-packed afternoon with him as well, I said, “…and thank you God for letting me be Aaron’s mommy today.” I gazed into that handsome face and just smiled. We stared at each other for a moment and to my surprise, Aaron rang in after me…”and thank you for letting me be Mommy’s child today.” He’d never said anything like that before!


God had spoken and apparently I wasn’t the only one listening! Being a mother is an aerobic activity. Hard on the mind and body.


But to the soul, O Lord, to the soul, motherhood is infinitely more complex. In the course of a few hours I had a whirlwind of feelings. God’s soft and mighty hand soothed us all. We had gone from intense emotional explosions to quiet, gentle love. The Lord Jesus found us where we were in a crumpled mess. He gave us what we needed to heal. Praise Him!


Is there something in your own family that’s troubling you? Feeling bruised and beaten in this job of a lifetime? Have you ever had a few agonizing hours as a parent? My prayer for you my friends, and I mean this with sincerity, is that each of you reading my post will experience the kind of day I had. Grow and give great thanks to God from whom all blessings flow. Fireworks can be dangerous and are pretty to the eye but I discovered on a hot July night, they can be beautiful to the heart and soul.

My beloved firecracker

Defeat and victory in skirtland

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Unless you are my 22 month old niece, if I offer to make you a skirt, say no.


You don’t have to be polite about it either. Really, it’s for the best…

The skirt “prototype”
I’m not sure what compelled me to think that I could do it. It’s a mystery to me. All I know is that a week ago I, without presentiment, asked my friend Becki to help me replicate a favorite skirt and bless her heart, she said yes. Three DAYS of nearly non-stop effort on the part of both of us and if you determine fashion by the wearability and beauty of a garment, let’s just say it’s we’ve got ourselves an epic fail. 



So what do you do with that? Was it all in vain? 


Reasons it was a waste of time…

Approximately 4,000 pins on this dumb zipper

Zippers – correctly sewing a zipper is perhaps one of the most frustrating endeavors of my life. Just as I thought one side of the invisible zipper was good, the other side would be horrible. I contemplated chucking the whole thing, such a mess.


Man-hours – My skirt would cost over $300 if Becki and I were paid minimum wage. I’m not sure it would get fifty cents at a garage sale. :*

“Hi, I’m Nate and I’m
the cutest conehead you’ll ever see!”



I’ve given birth to ALL three of my OS in the time it took to make this simple A-line skirt. And at least during childbirth, I had a finished product. Yes, my OS were gooey and slippery. Nate even had a cone-head but overall I was pleased with the results…three lovely creations.  I’m not able to gloat about my skirt. I still haven’t hand-sewn the waistband. The skirt and I need some space…


BUT, I refuse to say that it was a waste of time and here’s why…

Becki and I on Day Two – optimistic 
and still speaking to each other!

Friendship – despite her own desire to sew, Becki pushed that aside and poured herself into my project. Who does that? She pinned and measured, explained and repeated countless times. She researched and investigated skirt making. She invited me into her home, she drove over to mine. She laughed and shared, commiserated and forged ahead. When I was literally flat on the ground from the emotional weight of the stupid invisible zipper not working again, Becki pressed on. 

A view from the carpet, that’s Becki slaving away



On the third day of our skirt journey, I began taking pictures of the ceiling. I lay on the carpet, far from the skirt because I couldn’t take it anymore. There Becki sat at the sewing machine. Gf faithfully yanked the stitches out of that blasted zipper again as I clicked away on my camera phone and went to my “happy place.” 

Amazing grilled veggies and goat cheese on a bed of greens

And check this out, Becki even made us a delicious lunch of grilled veggies, goat cheese and salad greens. She was the epitome of being a friend and a teacher.


Hope – If left to my own resources, surely I would have scrapped this project.  Many Bible verses traveled in my brain during our time together. This one, James 1:2-4, resonated the most within me.


Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 

A little cherry skirt that will spend more
time in the closet than on my person!

Perseverance finished its work. I collaborated with a person who cared and not just about the skirt but about me.  I may only wear this garment while cleaning the house. Yeah, it’s janky, the waistband is awkward, the seams don’t match perfectly but WE did it. And as stupid as this may seem/seam (a pun for people who love to sew), guess what? I think I’m going to do it AGAIN!