The Death of a Stupid Phone

          My smart phone died on Friday. I was without internet access and my contact list from roughly noon on Friday till Sunday noon. We have a cell phone we use as a home line, but I don't have any of my new contacts from the past six months in there. Only a couple of people are even aware of it, so I had a nice break from the slavery a portable device can bring.
            I was land-locked from Thursday at noon till Saturday morning. The playgroup I was supposed to attend was impossible, and I was unable to host a playgroup that I had postponed for two weeks because of our bout with strep. I also couldn't attend a mom's group I usually go to on Thursday night.
          Sometimes it takes a lot to get my attention. As I blogged the first time this morning, I nearly threw my brand new phone across the room out of frustration at losing my nearly finished post somehow. I instead put my phone down, and reflected on what I should really be writing about. My original post was all about selecting my new phone. It was a little humorous, but what did it really matter anyway. 
         When I looked at the latter part of this week, I realized it had a reoccurring theme.The flood gave me a break from outside commitments. The death of my phone freed me from phone calls that I didn't initiate, texting, and the internet. I spent alot more time listening to my family. I had more time to be involved in their lives. I was a lot less aware of time. I was more present. My mom and dad were raised as Amish, and honestly some of the simplicity of that life appeals to me. When I visit cousins, I feel the same blissful break I did this past week. I am glad for the time off I had this week. However, I am glad to have access again. While I was off, a dear friend of mine lost her father and posted it on Facebook. Another friend gave me tips on my meal rut. Yet another shared a story relating their life to mine. There is a sense of community that I can have with others despite a screaming three year old, and that often preserves my sanity in this stage of my life.
         My three year old said her older sister told her that God brought the flooding to our property.  She thought it was a mean thing to do.  I told her that God is good all the time even if we can't see how. Satan wants to discourage us, but God wants to bring good even from our challenges. The flooding brought me a pause to relax and enjoy my family. I also had a chance to watch my oldest daughter show leadership as she removed tractors from our flooding barn that I had decided I wouldn't be able to move because I hadn't counted on her help. There is good in all of it if you look hard enough. Although, honestly,  sometimes I can't see it, and I have to ask God for a little illumination.
         I'm grateful for breaks from the norm because I can easily get out of balance. Where are you on the spectrum today? Are you leaning to one extreme? I challenge you to take a break if you need it. The world will still be there when you get back. The death of your stupid smart phone could be just what you need.

The Post Baby Bump

         Hi! It's the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home. Welcome to my blog! Today's topic is "No More Perfect Bodies". I wrote all about my insecurities about my body during pregnancy in a post a couple months back called "Your So Vein". I'm now 7 weeks out from having a new baby. I loved reading Jill Savage's take on "No More Perfect Bodies". She talks about how society embraces the pregnancy bump, but they also need to embrace the post-pregnancy bump. I've watched my body slowly go back to more of it's former self over the past few weeks; but honestly, I never am quite satisfied.  I asked my hubby when trying on clothes this past Friday if a top made me look "fat". He assured me that it looked great (and thankfully, he always tells the truth in that area...sometimes it even stings a bit). Still, it's been almost a week, and although I've enjoyed wearing the other clothes I bought that evening, I'm still yet to pull it out for fear that maybe he was wrong, or maybe I've had one too many cookies this past week and my "bump" is past what that shirt can handle. I'm always conscious of myself. I've always been that way. I even find myself  wondering what my midsection looks like when I'm sitting down in a group or at the swimming pool. I find myself putting my arms around my waist to disguise what people see. When people comment how great I look post-baby, I feel pressure to maintain that. If they don't comment, I think maybe I don't look good anymore. It like I can't win. I don't think I obsess over this, but I honestly am tempted every day with thoughts to loathe what God has so graciously given me.
        My mom didn't allow me to play with Barbies growing up because she thought they would give me a distorted self image. Well, that didn't work because I rarely remember enjoying how I looked. I've always loathed my legs (my brother used to call me "thunder thighs"), and that is the primary reason that I started running faithfully...I liked the way my legs looked for once. (I've now found what a difference it makes in my attitide and fatigue level, and now I'm hooked for other than liking my legs) I look back now at pictures of me in high school and think how perfect I looked. Someday, I'll probably look back at me in my 30's and think the same thing. There is such a temptations to want more and to never be content.  The women that are older than me that I truly admire for their beauty are not perfect,  but exude a confidence despite their imperfections. So what if they have crows feet? Their smiles light up their eyes. So what if I have age spots? I'm probably more aware of them then anyone else is (except maybe my two year old who daily scrutinizes my face and points to my spots asking me, "What's that? Is it an owie?").
       The fact is that God created me in my mother's womb and saw that "it was good". To despise what He has made me to be is like telling the Master of the universe that He messed up in His creation...that He is somehow wrong. God is perfect. I am not. The sooner that I can appreciate this fact the sooner that I can accept my imperfections and move on to what God has really called me to do...to love others and be His hands and feet. He thinks I'm beautiful post-baby bump and all.

What do you struggle with? I'd love to hear. Please share it below.

Click here to read more blogs in the blog hop.

How Do You Know He Loves You?

        One of my favorite kid's movies is "Enchanted".  I love the character Amy Smart plays as "Giselle" and how she is so naive and prone to break out in song (maybe this is because I was told growing up that I was a bit naive, and as my girls will attest, I often break out in song...although my voice is nowhere near as lovely as Giselle's). One of my favorite montages of the movie is the song "How Do You Know?"  It's a lovely little ditty about showing the love of your life that you care.
        I was recently reminded of the concept of showing your love for God from a dear friend. If we fall in love with anyone, we certainly will show this by the lives we lead. We start dressing differently to impress them. We become interested over night in whatever they really love to know them better. It is no different in our love for God. Jesus said, "If you love me, keep my commandments." ( John 14:15) Because we love Him, we will naturally want to please Him. There, however, is a world of difference between doing something out of love for God versus trying to do something to earn God's love.
         "There is nothing you can do to make God love you more, and there is nothing you can do to make God love you less." This is one of the most beautiful concepts taught at the event called the Great Banquet.  It is based on the concept of God loving us unconditionally...which is taught in I John 4:19 that talks about us loving Him because He first loved us and in Romans 5. Verse 8 in Romans talks about God showing His love for us by Christ dying for us while we were still sinners. We didn't have to be "cleaned" up to be loved.
         My dad was a pastor and felt very strongly about his beliefs, as most pastors do. He took Deuteronomy 22:5 to mean that women should not wear pants, so I never owned a pair of pants till after he died, when I was a teenager.  My mom honored his conviction their entire marriage even though she didn't share it.  My mom and my dad were both raised Amish (although neither ever joined the Amish church), so they were used to being different from everyone else. They didn't live with electricity or automobiles ...it was kerosene lamps and buggies for them.
        I, on the otherhand, struggled with being different. All I ever wanted growing up was to fit in. I remember hating going to the mall and feeling that everyone was staring at me because I was wearing coolots instead of shorts like everyone else. (If you are unfamiliar with coolots, think seriously bell-bottomed shorts...they came into favor again about seven years ago, but I couldn't bring myself to purchase any). I'm sure some of this was imagined, but not all of it. I knew I was different, and I didn't feel like it was a positive thing back then. When my dad died, I was 13; and I grieved his death horribly. I adored my dad! I do remember feeling a little relieved though when after he died my mom said that she saw nothing wrong with wearing pants or jeans as long as it was feminine. The letter of that Old Testament law might have prohibited pants, but the spirit of the law was to only prohibit manly attire. I doubt my husband thinks I look manly in my jeans. Do you, honey?
       The problem I have with a literal adherance to every law in the Old Testament is the sheer volume of the laws. How do you decide which to keep? If you decide to keep one, doesn't that mean you should keep them all? Aren't they all equally important? Well then, we would need to sew blue tassels on the corner of our garments (Numbers 15:38) and not mix linen with wool (Duet 22:11). Who can actually remember all of them let alone keep them? There is also a tendency with rule keeping to feel that we are somehow earning our way into heaven (which was one of my mom's biggest beefs against the Amish church). Ephesians 2:8-9 clearly states that it is by grace that we are saved (which is God's gift), not through works, "lest any man should boast". We should follow rules out of love for God, not to score brownie points with God.
        How do I know God loves me?  Well as Roy Rogers and Dale Evans sing, "The Bible Tells Me So" (which was one of my favorite songs from my childhood). Don't take my word for it. Read it and you'll know too.