At the End of the Rainbow (Does God Have a "Like" Button? )

           I love the "like" button, but perhaps I overuse it a little. When something on Facebook makes me smile or even just know someone a little better than before, I'll "like" it. Do you ever wonder what God would do on Facebook?  Do you ever think, "If God saw me would He groan over how needy (or whiny) I am? Would He "like" me? Would He leave a comment? Would I be on His friend list? Most of my posts on Facebook revolve around an interesting photo or a link to my blog. Sharing my blog can be feel futile and a bit frustrating.The way they choose to show your feed to certain people is confusing; and often times, I debate whether or not to actually post a link at all. If people really want to know what's going on, it's easy to subscribe. Sometimes,  I want to give up Facebook completely because it makes me think more about other people's approval than I'd like to admit. I didn't start blogging because I want a million likes (although it feels gratifying to get a few).  I did it because God does amazing things all around me, and I want to share it. I want our children to look back and know where they came from. I want them to know that God had a hand in their lives from the very beginning. I want them to know me and my thoughts because there aren't enough moments in the day to express them.  I also want other friends to know that they are not alone in their hard days, and that God is real. Most of all, I want to make God smile.
           In my last post, I showed you my kooky smiley face. I was also in the middle of painting some serious yellow on my walls. My hubby rolled out the Aquatic Green on our hallway and a few comments about their union. I love those two colors; and although the 2 x 5 strip of them together looked great, on the walls they looked awful. In our last town, there was a house on campus with this crazy rainbow assortment of colors. My girls would always say they wanted to live in that house. However, my six-year-old child quipped that our colored walls were "too crazy" for even her. Half-pint said it reminded her of a bathroom. Today when I picked up our copy of Usborne books "Find the Duck", I discovered my subliminal inspiration. When I looked at those two bold colors competing for my attention, I felt like a miserable decorating flunkee.
          It lasted on the walls just overnight before I grabbed the primer and went to work. We had hastily cleaned up and stored our painting paraphernalia in the garage before friends came over to witness the "tropical" look on walls ("tropical" was their word,  not mine). It was 6am when I dragged the supplies out and noticed a few sprinkles coming down on our van. The sun was shining brightly. I began to get very excited.  This could mean only one thing: A RAINBOW!  I started searching and saw the tip of a gorgeous double rainbow.  I dashed into the house to grab my phone because I knew it wouldn't last long. After snapping a couple shots of the northern end, I slowly scanned south to see where it landed. Our house was at the end of the rainbow.  I took a video clip and tried a panoramic shot, but it started fading and the rain stopped.
           I'm convinced it was a small display of beauty just for me. Was it God saying, "Now this is how to do color!"? Was He trying to show me that he didn't put blue next to yellow in the rainbow,  so I shouldn't either? Perhaps. When I close my eyes and really listen, I think He was saying something like this: "The reason you like color is because I like it too. You were made in my image. I like what your trying. Don't give up. You are special...that's why I made the rainbow end on your house. I made this rainbow just for you...because I love you!" When I shared the pictures of the rainbow with Charles, he said that it "must be the gold walls" we just painted. Whatever the reason, the timing and location of that rainbow made me smile and feel special. Rainbows became significant for me after going through the "The Great Banquet". There is a song that we sang repeatedly that talks about the colors of the rainbow being like the many facets of God's love. God may not be on Facebook, but He does control creation. Seeing that rainbow perched above our home felt like He had left an enormous comment on the sky for me instead of my computer screen that read, "I LOVE YOU in so many ways! <3" He loves us all, so what has He done lately for you that felt like a comment? If you can't think of anything,  I dare you to be bold and ask for a comment. Then, keep your eyes wide open and share it.

While I Am Unaware

          I watched Half-pint struggling with her emotions as friend after friend was unable to come to the Buddy Bash event at a martial arts school we joined two weeks back. I wanted to make something happen for her; but the more people we asked, the more we were turned down. People were out of town or were hosting other guests. Some already belonged to another dojo. Everyone had very good reasons,  but my little girl still took it pretty hard. I told her that maybe she'd make a buddy there. She insisted that there was no one even close to her age in her class that still had a white belt (the party was only for white belts). Having lots of siblings is usually a big plus because you can always count on them as a buddy. Normally Mary would've just been her buddy, but Mary had rehearsal that night for the upcoming community theatre that she's apart of.
        Earlier in the week, I had been feeling a similar frustration. Very honestly,  I told God that I felt like He'd forgotten all about me. My first new friend (remember my flourless chocolate cake flop) I'd made since coming here moved away a little over a week ago. Although I know it's not very mature, I pouted over it. I didn't want to say goodbye to her. I liked her too much. I told God I didn't think He was doing a very good job of answering my prayers. Right away, He brought another friend's name to my mind who has been a direct answer to specific prayer. However on our very first playdate, she shared that she anticipated moving in the next few months. My "answer to prayer" would be moving too. I brought this up to Him to point out that I still felt neglected by Him. As I sat down to journal, I specifically asked to feel His presence that day. I had just had so many days that I felt lost in the shuffle...like God was too busy with someone else to really "be there" for me. Later that day, Mary laughed and said, "Mom, you have a smiley face on your leg!" I have no idea what I leaned against; but sure enough,  there were two eyes and a mouth imprinted on my leg. That's just the sort of kooky sign that makes me know it was no coincidence. It made me and the girls laugh out loud. It also made me aware that God was there the whole time, waiting for me stop being so oblivious and trust Him.
          The next day, I found out my "answer to prayer" no longer had to move. I was shocked and extremely grateful...and I felt like a great big whiner (Is this where my kids get it?)! This all happened the day before Half-pint was agonizing over the lack of a "buddy". Guess what happened at the Buddy Bash? She made a new friend who's only a couple months younger than her...that happens to homeschool...and whose mom happens to have the exact same name as my friend that moved away. Seriously! What are the odds on that?? My hubby pointed out that this has been a really great week for me: a great friend is staying put, a new friend has just surfaced, and Charles spent his three day weekend patching and painting our kitchen/dining room and hallway (which is a serious labor of love if you saw all the holes and cracks in those walls and knew how much he despises drywall compound). Last night as I was cutting in the happy face shade of yellow (inspired by a friend's autumnal picture in a golden grove),  my heart was all smiles. Even getting my hair stuck in a fly strip couldn't spoil my day. Even realizing on our way to church that I still had fly trap goo in my hair didn't bother me. This morning, I couldn't help but sing along with Lincoln Brewster,

"You dance over me
While I am unaware
You sing all around
But I never hear the song

Lord I'm amazed by you...
And how you love me."

        Are you pre-happy face? Know that God is there. He hears you, even if He isn't answering every prayer the way you asked.  On the drive home from the bash, Half-pint remarked that she probably would've never made a new friend if her sister or friends were there. If God isn't answering "yes", it's because He has something better in mind. He's getting ready to give you a smile too.

The Story of "Oh, Glory!" and Other Wordiness on the Prarie

          Mr. Blue Eyes is realizing the power of words. He's recently discovered the word "no", and all the power it can hold. Screaming it at his sisters can result in them backing down from swiping his toys that he's decided only he can use (like his treasured rocking horse). Thankfully,  he is yet to discover the word "Mine!" He is just beginning to understand the consequences of ignoring our "no". This weekend,  he had several time outs from the outdoors, when he tried to ignore me. His snotty nose and red eyes are pretty pathetic, but I resisted the power of his cuteness. He's not only learning words, but gestures as well. When I deliver him from time out, he usually gives me a sweet little kiss and hug. You may think me heartless to squelch his fun, but he's been trying to make it through our pasture to our gravel road (and was close to success this last week). Yes, our son is a runner. Too bad for him, I am too. Of course, he still smeared bird poop all over his outfit last week while I was distracted.  It's pretty easy to get your hands (and shoes) on it with 25 chickens and 8 ducks that free range. The country is awesome and beautiful,  but not exactly sanitary.
            Our sweet son also learned another new word besides "no" this past week. Father's Day Eve he began calling Charles, "Dada". He's had the sound capability for a while, but insisted on calling Charles by other names (with great enthusiasm but inaccuracy). For some reason, teaching him the sign while saying "Dada" helped him connect the two together within a couple of days. I love hearing him scream "Dada!" each time he catches a glimpse of him, except when Charles is mowing and I have to convince Mr. Blue Eyes that he can't ride on the "brmm-brmm".
           Going through the produce section of a grocery store is both heartbreaking and hilarious as he screams "BALL!" for every round produce...lemons, onions, limes, kiwi, tomatoes,  and my personal favorite, enormous watermelons. He just wants to chuck each and every item accross the store. He cries when he's told "no throwing" to the items we do pick up. Our last trip to the store was much easier because he wanted to go on the "Ba Poo" ride ( baby translation: Winnie the Pooh) at the end of the shopping trip. Every time he nearly threw a shopping item, I asked him if he wanted a ride. At one point on our trip, he literally paused with his arm poised behind his head and then thoughtfully put down the can of tomato paste.
           It's good to listen and not just talk all the time, so I've taken a break from some of my wordiness by reducing posts.  Summer has been a good time to reconnect with Charles and the kids, and put my phone down. (It's also been necessary to put it down, due to the unexplained back-up of 499 of my photos that stole 75% of my data allowance for the month of June by the time I'd hit June 5th.) 
            We took a work/business trip earlier this month and helped my mom pick 15 quarts of strawberries. 30 beautiful pints of freezer jam resulted along with a few memorable moments.  One nearly forgotten phrase that I heard at my mom's was: "Oh, Glory!" My mom has uttered this every time she hurt herself for as long as I can remember. I also realized I'd forgotten why she said that. She said that she was thanking God that she could even feel the pain. One of my mom's dearest friends was a paraplegic; and when my mom would complain about her back hurting or her toe getting stubbed, her friend would tell her how she wished she could feel the pain. If she could've had a backache,  it'd meant she could walk. If she'd stubbed her toe, she would've been grateful to be up and moving again. I always thought I was doing good just uttering "Ouch!" when I got hurt instead of swearing. However, my mom challenged me to show gratitude in my pain. I'll have to work on that.
          Because no trip with five kids can ever be uncomplicated (despite getting to take along my 15 year old, permit-packin' neice), we also had 10 ducklings emerge after taking them with us in the incubator. The adaptor that we used in the van to run the heating element worked well enough that the remaining 3 eggs  successfully hatched too (albeit four days later than usual). We also took two one-week-old ducklings along. Half-pint snuck them out of the box a couple times to sit on her lap. I couldn't help but smile as they snuggled into her hands and turned their heads backwards (in true ducky fashion) for a nap. My mom may have a heart of gratitude, but she would've never tolerated ducklings on a seven hour road trip. I don't think I would've heard "Oh, Glory!", but rather a firm "No!" if I tried to take some along. We ended up selling seven of the ducklings on the business portion of our trip through our old hometown. It was a short sweet trip; and if we didn't see you this time, it's probably only because you didn't have strawberries or ask for ducklings. We will try to catch you on the next round.          
           What's the newest word around the Ingall's farm? There may be some goats appearing before cows. Let's all take in a deep breath together and exhale, "Oh, Glory!"

The Real Deal

          My parents forced me into slave labor by the time I was old enough to walk. By slave labor, I mean gardening. It wasn't too bad until I hit the age where I developed my sense of justice; and all of a sudden, I didn't want to spend my summer in the sun sweating and pulling weeds. I think that would've been right around elementary school when I was old enough to realize other children weren't forced into such atrocious ways of spending their summer. They were busy eating sweet Fla-Vor-Ice and running through a sprinkler, while I was stuck eating peas and tomatoes with mud-caked nails. Like my mother before me, I vowed that I would "NEVER have a garden when I grew up".
            As I grew up, my tastebuds matured beyond colored sugar water, and I realized that homegrown produce was much better tasting (although I still think garage ripened tomatoes from the final pre-frost season in October taste nasty). Now, we are the parents of children that are encouraged to help in our garden (note that they are NOT slave laborers because we have not planted our entire yard in crops like my dad did...yet). We were out gardening as a family on Friday, when I showed the girls how to tell what plants were weeds and which ones were potatoes (since that was the patch we were tackling).  We've had some pesky beetles attack some plants, leaving many with holes; but I was still pretty confident in identifying potatoes because of my years of servitude.  Potatoes are an awesome crop because they usually grow so fast they only need a few weedings to choke out the competition. I highly recommend them for the beginning gardener (plus potatoes keep nicely most of the winter if stored cool and in the dark). When I got near the end of weeding, I grabbed one of the plants only to get poked by it's thorns. Since when did potato plants get thorns? The weeds were  perfectly spaced and, in some cases, were growing right next to the real deal. I had been fooled. Take a look at the picture. Can you spot the weed? I had to go back through and weed through the "plants".
            Gardening is good for my introverted soul. I'm usually quiet. (I say usually because this past week I was little Miss Chatterbox when helping plant a forrest garden with my hubby...sorry, Charles). While pulling the thorny weeds, I started thinking about all the half-truths in our lives that are close to the truth. They fool us into letting them grow in the garden of our life. Little thoughts like "I need time away from the kids" is true, but if it grows into thoughts like "I'm tired of never having enough time for me", it could lead to neglect of your kids. Thoughts like "I really messed up" can be true but can be either self-destructive or motivational, depending on what grows from it. If it becomes "all I ever do is mess up", we need to pull that weed/thought out right away.  If it grows into "I will apologize for messing up and behave differently next time", our mistake can lead to learning. Our thought bears fruit (or vegetables, if we're sticking with the whole potatoes analogy).
          How do we judge weeds from plants? If you relied on me or others, you could be just as disappointed as I was with my "fake" potatoes. Today, I read 2 Cor 10 which talks about our true struggle being supernatural,  not physical.  I am convinced there is another unseen rhelm in play all the time. There is a force determined to deceive you. Verses 3-5 say, "For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." If you're like me, you may be saying, "Great! I've heard that verse before.  How do you take thoughts captive?" Here's what I believe (but I'd love to hear your thoughts on it...feel free to leave them below.): When we have a thought, we need to be intentional on what we keep and what we weed out based on whether is true, noble, lovely, admirable,  excellent, or praiseworthy (Phil. 4:8). How do we even begin to judge what is true? The best way I've found to determine the veracity of a thought is by reading the Bible for myself. It is our truth. It is our sword of the spirit, our weapon for demolishing stongholds. Let the Holy Spirit guide you. There is nothing wrong with listening to a pastor or teacher; but just as you eat daily, you need to eat spiritual food daily, not just weekly at church. We live in a time where the Bible is easily readable with many translation options. (Here's an online reading plan.) Many of you helped your kids sign up for a summer reading program, why not plan one for yourself in the best book of all time?
          Inevitably,  you may make a mistake or two on your thoughts. Maybe you are like me and don't recognize that it's a weed till you get hurt. No biggie! Just go back, do a little more weeding and ask Christ for help. Think about what you know is truth (having scripture memorized to meditate on instead of that half-truth is fabulous when you can't get a thought from replaying in your head). God wants us to be victorious, and He will help us all the way. We just have to ask. My hubby sent me this great link to top five regrets people have on their deathbed. I don't want mine to be that I tended the weeds and lost my true produce--the things that would've nourished me, not poked me. Happy gardening!

A Natural Mother

          I look at our cat Tiger, and I'm awe...and a little jealous.  She's not even a year old, but she gave birth to eight amazing kittens last week. There was no midwife to hold her hand; although judging by the frantic exodus of the other cats when I opened the porch door, I'd say her fellow cats heard and saw zmore than they wanted. All day long she willing jumps into the box with the kittens and nurses them till they are happily asleep (there is no pediatrician advising her not to nurse them to sleep). Occasionally, I see her jump out for a cat nap in solitude, food, or water. I cannot imagine nursing that many little ones at once, let alone as new mom. Yet, she does it all effortlessly. She even purrs. There's not even a fellow parent to help her out. It makes me feel like a bit of a whiner. She makes motherhood look easy.  Motherhood is difficult and challenging for me, and anyone else who is honest.

            Of course, she never deals with switching out clothes for different seasons or preparing meals, or figuring out crazy things like which orthodontists to go to...or loses her credit card (I'm speaking from very recent experience). Her boy doesn't fall down stairs while attempting to escape the back porch and get hen-pecked on his eyelid after falling onto the hen, making him look like the perfect model for an article entitled "How to Fail at Keeping Your Child Supervised and Safe". She happily nurses for weeks till they grow up and start catching their own dinner or eating from the cat bowl...not for months or even years as the World Health Organization recommends for human babies. She feels no pressure to make decisions about schools or sports or budgets. She doesn't have to cut birds from her diet to because her kittens are sensitive to them. (I tried adding gluten back into Mr. Blue Eyes diet once again, only to have the phlegmy noise return to his breathing within twelve hours...Gracie immediately noticed he was "purring" again.) Life isn't all peaches for her though. She gave birth to eight, but one died shortly after it's birth. Another still had it's placenta attached and appeared to be dead because of it's failure to find her and start nursing. Thankfully,  Half-pint stroked the cool kitten and it moved enough to prove it still had a little bit of fight left (we cut the dried placenta the following day when Tiger still failed to remove it). It's a week later and it's impossible to tell that one apart from it's siblings. I guess we all need a little help from time to time. I found out this week that the verse our girl's had memorized for church this month is Galatians 6:9 which says, "So let's not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don't give up, or quit." It's been a good reminder of the rewards of perseverance, as I've also cut up half a dozen ticks in the past couple of days. Keep on parenting, dear friends. It will be worth it in the end!

The Colors on the Canvas

           It's blog hop time...kind of. I realize it's Sunday and not Thursday,  but some of you may be like me and just now getting around to reading through your email's from this past week, only to catch up on your favorite blogs. Some of you may be even more like me, soothing your inner introvert at 3am by blogging in peace and quiet. If it means something to just one of you reading this, then it is totally worth it. After all, it's better to come late to the party than stay at home. The topic for this month's Hearts at Home blog hop was "Love Your Story". 
            I grew up watching ABC's Wide World of Sports on Saturdays and loved the line about "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." The images they showed were always so poignantly perfect for those words. If I had video tape footage of my entire life, I could show you brilliant images for both of those phrases. Those words are my story in a nutshell. Since no such video exists, let me paint a picture for you.
           You'd need to start with some warm corals. They would represent all the love I felt from my mom and my dad. I was wanted and loved in my family,  especially since my mom had lost three babies before me. There were a few sad moments in my childhood, like the loss of pets, that caused a few grumpy streaks of gray in my early childhood,  but not enough to overtake the warm corals.
         My first stroke of blue came on my seventh birthday, when I sang at my best friend's funeral (along with my other fellow first graders). I had heard the shocking news just a few days earlier, and I couldn't believe that he had actually died. A motorcyclist had raced through an intersection, crashed into the back seat of the car he was riding in, and killed him instantly. Thankfully,  my parents both helped me process what had happened and led me to pray to God for help and comfort. So much of my life was still wrapped in love that there was coral added to that blue, which left some soft lavendar at the heart of me.
          Then there was an even more intense stroke of blue, so intense that it bordered on the bright cobalt blue that I am so fond of. Six and a half years after my first loss, my dad died of cancer. My dad was a pastor, loved all things holistic long before that was trendy (he plowed up almost our entire yard to plant various beans one year), and had young children not ready to be without their father. I was just thirteen and my brother was almost seventeen. I turned to God again because that was how I was raised and that is what made the most sense to me. He wrapped me in so much love that my cobalt blue had some rich purple to parts to it.
            The next portion of my life was so dark that you'd have to paint this part with black. Five and a half years later, I was left with another loss. This one wasn't public or even on anyone's radar. In fact, I held this loss as a secret for thirteen years. There are always two sides to everything. God whispered, "Trust me! I'm still here, and I will bring good from this!" (Romans 8:28) Satan sneared at my loss, hoping I'd wallow in self-pity, and believe that no one could love me if they really knew about secret parts of my picture. (You can read about that part of my canvas here.)
            I let myself drift away from God because I distanced myself from "the church", from the hypocrites that I couldn't stand to be apart of. However, motherhood brought me new surprises...a desire for our children to know God. How could I teach them what I was unsure of though? More black snuck onto my picture with the experience of a miscarriage after my first two girls were born, but a soft white glow began to cast it's light on all that black (including my hidden secrets) till it was pushed to the outer limits of my canvas through an event called "The Great Banquet". A few nights after that my secrets came into the open, and I began sharing that part of my story with others (the first time was on the fifteen year anniversary). That's when I finally accepted God's love and began reaching out to others as part of an imperfect church that was made up of us very imperfect people. That love was so warm you'd notice some brilliant red on my canvas as well as the white glow that grew and grew. It overflowed into everything and touched everyone around me. All my life began to make sense in light of this verse: 2 Corinthians 1:3-5.  It says, "All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too."
          Last year, I was challenged to look for patterns in my life while participating in the study "Believing God". We split our life into five sections; and since I was 36 at the time, that meant looking at seven year periods. I found that I had experienced a major loss of a loved one in each period. God has comforted me through them and placed me in the path of others who have experienced the same things. My loss has helped me to help others who've experienced a miscarriage (and had no one to talk to). My secrets have helped me to stop judging others. God's love has helped me to truly love my story and trust that He is enough even when challenges come.
           There may be major losses in the five periods of my life, but you'd be blind to not see the gorgeous green on my canvas as well. He gave me five children to love and be blessed by (and yes, sometimes overwhelmed by...like my recent trip to "Mom's Night Out"). Stand back and take look at the full picture. It's not perfect, or completed yet, but I think that the Painter is beginning to like the way it looks.

Check out more mom's stories at www.jillsavage.org

Mother's Day Out

           Who would bring their kids to a movie entitled "Mom's Night Out"? Isn't the whole premise about a mom getting away from her children? One mother chose to ignore the logic and brought four children into said movie, only to be interrupted several times to settle disputes over popcorn and notified (via frantic leg kicking) that one six-year-old's blatter was about to burst. Yes, in case you haven't guessed, that crazy mom was me.
           I put out a query the night before on Facebook,  wondering if any area friends wanted to go.  As soon as dear Charles gave me the green light, Half-pint begged to go with me. Mary chimed in, and before long Carrie and Gracie had tear-filled puppy dog eyes. Everyone wanted to go.
           Boundaries are not my strong point. I am an empathizer. I can totally see everyone else's point, even to the point of forgetting my own. I boldly declared to the girls that they could only go IF no one else responded. I was tempted to say that only the older girls could go and leave behind my four and six year old, but I felt like I'd be showing preference.  My hubby is so good at including everyone in what he does that sometimes I feel a little selfish for saying "no". He can be working on the car or planting trees, and he will willingly take five times longer to do something just to include them. I decided to see what www.dove.org said. After all, the movie was rated PG. Dove is really careful to lay everything out in a conservative manner. Many PG "kid's" movies are only recommended for ages 10 and up. I was hoping I could point to them as a justification for leaving Carrie and Grace behind. Nope. They said it was suitable for "all ages". I hate being the bad guy.
         I checked Facebook, and texted a couple of friends.  No one was avaiable. It was Mother's Day. What kind of mom leaves her kids behind when they are the reason for her being celebrated?  After attending the movie, I think the appropriate answer would be "a smart one." The movie was great and my older two really liked it; but despite going to the bathroom before the movie, one hour and forty minutes is too long for a six year old to hold it. Gracie kept talking to me during the film because only some of it was engaging to a four year old's mind. I had to remind her that I couldn't understand the film if she talked to me the whole time. When I told Charles,  he told me that she always talks during movies. Clearly, it's been a while since I've sat down to watch a movie with her...and it may be a while before I do again.
             Despite the distractions, I could really relate to a lot of the movie. I laughed A LOT...from the moment she said she was a "mommy blogger", to when she had a CD issue in her vehicle (been there done that), to when she hid from the kids to eat chocolate in her closet. I laughed at the reference to homeschooling and especially the arrest of the man who killed "mama". What stayed with me the most was when she was talking with Bones about how inadequate she felt. She didn't feel like she was enough. I know how that has felt a lot in my lifetime.  Bones asked her, "Enough for whom?" At the bottom of all her feelings of inadequacy were her own expectations for herself,  not her children's, her husband's or even God's. It made me stop and think about why I don't feel like I'm enough at times. The reality is that it's mainly because of what I'm telling myself or the lies I've chosen to believe.  That message in the film stayed with me beyond those two hours. It stayed with me through this whole week, and I've thought of it many times when I felt overwhelmed.  Bones told the main character that his mama always told him that God loved him just the way he is. I've tried to remember that more this past week, especially when I don't feel like enough. I've also chuckled to myself (clearly much later) over my "moments" I've had since the movie...one of them very shortly after I came home and was confronted with the fact that my house does resemble more of her messed up house than I'd like to admit. Repeat after me: "I am enough."

If you haven't seen the movie, you should...but leave your little ones at home!