Amanda Jenkins's Blog, page 3
November 18, 2013
The Miracle of Kong
Continuation of yesterday's post and another excerpt from my book, Confessions of a Raging Perfectionist:
I often avoid watching the news. Stories of kidnapped or terminally ill children are usually too much for me to bear. I remember being really upset after watching a report on Natalee Holloway, the American teenager who disappeared during a spring break trip to Aruba. Dallas was out of town and I was alone, which should have been my cue to avoid all things tragic. But against my better judgment I watched, and true to form, I came unglued.
And I couldn’t shake it. Watching Natalee’s poor mother talk about her desperate, fruitless search for her child reminded me of how vulnerable my kids are, and how helpless I sometimes am to protect them. I called a friend, who did her best to talk me off the ledge. She gave me a few Bible verses to look at and encouraged me to pray and trust the Lord. I read Psalm 91 but refused to be comforted.
That is, until I watched King Kong. There’s a part in the movie when Blondie runs away from the giant gorilla . . . and into a T. rex. She’s a goner, for sure, but just before she gets eaten (this is a spiritual analogy, I swear), King Kong steps into the frame. And our heroine—recognizing her only shot at survival—slowly backs into the shadow of almighty Kong. Who, of course, wins the day.
And suddenly Psalm 91 came alive. Granted, it was an unconventional lesson, but it made the point. Because like the T. rex, there are things I can’t handle alone—things with the power to consume me and my littles. I’m often told to not be afraid—that in the grand scheme of things, the odds of bad stuff happening are low. But minimizing the threat has never been a comfort. Only the image of God standing over me and my loved ones, covering us with His shadow, does the trick.
He’s bigger than the scary stuff.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2
God is bigger than the things that terrify me and bigger than my shortcomings, which is a good thing because much to my dismay, I’m not perfect. I make plans but can’t see around corners. I get tired, and I can be impatient with my kids (most often around dinner-making time). I don’t have all the answers, especially with Elle’s ever-changing autistic fixations and needs, so I make stuff up as I go along. And I’m terrified of snakes. No kidding. I’ll throw down with anyone to protect my munchkins, but if a snake shows up in our backyard, it’s every man (and small child) for himself.
Because in spite of my efforts to the contrary, I’m limited. God, on the other hand, is not. He watches over my children when I can’t. He guards and guides their hearts. His judgment is never hindered by fear or anger or a lack of understanding. He sees around the next corner—and the next and the next.
He’s got it covered because He doesn’t sleep.
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. Psalm 121:2-4
God's in charge and nothing escapes his purview. And I believe it, and most of the time its enough. But other times, when children suffer and life turns upside-down, one question rears its head:
Is He good?
Tune in tomorrow.
I often avoid watching the news. Stories of kidnapped or terminally ill children are usually too much for me to bear. I remember being really upset after watching a report on Natalee Holloway, the American teenager who disappeared during a spring break trip to Aruba. Dallas was out of town and I was alone, which should have been my cue to avoid all things tragic. But against my better judgment I watched, and true to form, I came unglued.
And I couldn’t shake it. Watching Natalee’s poor mother talk about her desperate, fruitless search for her child reminded me of how vulnerable my kids are, and how helpless I sometimes am to protect them. I called a friend, who did her best to talk me off the ledge. She gave me a few Bible verses to look at and encouraged me to pray and trust the Lord. I read Psalm 91 but refused to be comforted.
That is, until I watched King Kong. There’s a part in the movie when Blondie runs away from the giant gorilla . . . and into a T. rex. She’s a goner, for sure, but just before she gets eaten (this is a spiritual analogy, I swear), King Kong steps into the frame. And our heroine—recognizing her only shot at survival—slowly backs into the shadow of almighty Kong. Who, of course, wins the day.
And suddenly Psalm 91 came alive. Granted, it was an unconventional lesson, but it made the point. Because like the T. rex, there are things I can’t handle alone—things with the power to consume me and my littles. I’m often told to not be afraid—that in the grand scheme of things, the odds of bad stuff happening are low. But minimizing the threat has never been a comfort. Only the image of God standing over me and my loved ones, covering us with His shadow, does the trick.
He’s bigger than the scary stuff.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2
God is bigger than the things that terrify me and bigger than my shortcomings, which is a good thing because much to my dismay, I’m not perfect. I make plans but can’t see around corners. I get tired, and I can be impatient with my kids (most often around dinner-making time). I don’t have all the answers, especially with Elle’s ever-changing autistic fixations and needs, so I make stuff up as I go along. And I’m terrified of snakes. No kidding. I’ll throw down with anyone to protect my munchkins, but if a snake shows up in our backyard, it’s every man (and small child) for himself.
Because in spite of my efforts to the contrary, I’m limited. God, on the other hand, is not. He watches over my children when I can’t. He guards and guides their hearts. His judgment is never hindered by fear or anger or a lack of understanding. He sees around the next corner—and the next and the next.
He’s got it covered because He doesn’t sleep.
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. Psalm 121:2-4
God's in charge and nothing escapes his purview. And I believe it, and most of the time its enough. But other times, when children suffer and life turns upside-down, one question rears its head:
Is He good?
Tune in tomorrow.
November 17, 2013
Mommy's Death Grip
I was paging through a parenting magazine and came across the above article that, five years ago, would've had me racing to the store to buy everything on the "how to guarantee your child will live long and prosper" list. But after autism and adoption and having my limitations exposed, I'm trading in the deficient list for surrender, and choking fear for abiding peace.
The following is an except from my book, Confessions of a Raging Perfectionist.
As is true for most mommies, my children are my greatest treasure and my goal in life is to mother them well. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep them safe—be it beg, borrow, steal, or kill. My love for them is bigger than my ability to reason, and as such, I’m often at the mercy of my mommyhood.
And so is everyone else.
I remember the first time our little family went out after Sam, our oldest, was born. We were walking the promenade in Santa Monica, watching street performers do their thing, when a dancer came by to collect donations. Intending to be funny, he reached toward Sam’s stroller—you know, to get money from my baby, which got a chuckle from onlookers. But not from me. With slow-motion flare, I stepped in front of the stroller (which put me nose-to-nose with the poor guy) and said, “Nooooo!” It wasn’t my best moment. Luckily, after almost a decade of parenting, I now know the difference between a joke and actual danger. But my instinct to protect my kids at all costs remains, and it’s the scenario we see time and time again—moms standing between their children and danger, fearless and empowered by relentless, crazy, ain’t-nothing-gonna-hurt-my-baby love.
I love the story about a mom in California who was knocked to the ground by a stranger who then attempted to kidnap her child. I say attempted because Mom bounced up, chased down the ne’er-do-well, and saved her three-year-old. Which begs the question: Who in his right mind takes a child from his mother’s arms? And then there was the mom in Florida who rescued her nine-year-old from an alligator. Apparently the kiddo was swimming in a lake near his home when a gator grabbed him by the legs—but not before his mother was able to grab hold of the boy’s arms. Tug-of-war ensued, and Mom won. The little boy later told a reporter that in addition to the scars on his legs from the alligator, he had scars on his arms where his mother refused to let go. I have no idea whether that story is true or a fantastic urban legend, but it sounds right. Moms don’t go down without a fight. And bad guys—be they man or beast—would be wise to take heed.
But while heroic mommy stories inspire me, I live in fear of things I can’t control because our world is scary. There are diseases I can’t prevent and accidents I don’t see coming. There’s oral sex in elementary school, crystal meth, sexting, and other things I’m not hip enough to know about. There are school shootings and acts of terrorism. There are criminals of every kind and tragedies that happen every day. And, of course, there’s autism. I’d like to think I’m tough enough to wrestle alligators and diligent enough to control who has access to my kids, that I have eyes in the back of my head, and that if I do my job right, my nonverbal little girl will find her voice.
But I’m beginning to know better.
So I have to wonder: Is there peace for a weary mommy? I know full well that I don’t have the power to protect my kids all the time and that God is the only one equipped for the task. But how do I trust Him, knowing He may not choose to spare them the pain I work so hard to prevent? I spend my days checking off lists, believing that the things I do for my children will prevent unnecessary heartache. And vice versa—that if I fail to be the best mom I can be, I will have failed them. And so, since my perfectionism has become hopelessly intertwined with my crazy mommy love, will I ever be able to say I’ve surrendered my children to God’s will and care, and actually mean it?
I'm thinking, no.
Mommy's Death Grip part two—the "how I changed" part—will post tomorrow.
November 6, 2013
The Origin of Shine
My favorite children’s book is You Are Special by Max Lucado. Throughout my parenting years, I’ve read it over and over—and occasionally I read it to my children. It tells the story of Punchinello, a wooden boy who lives in a land of wooden people called Wemmicks. If a Wemmick is talented or beautiful or smart, he is rewarded by other Wemmicks with a gold star sticker. If not, he’s given a gray dot sticker. Every day they mark each other, and all the wooden people walk around covered in stars or dots or both.
Sound metaphorically familiar?
Poor Punchinello is the gray-dot type—average looking and talentless. One day he meets a Wemmick who has no marks, and when Punchinello asks her how it’s possible to be stickerless, she tells him to visit Eli, the wood-carver, to find out.When Punchinello meets his maker, Eli of course notices all the bad marks—but he doesn’t care. He tells his little wooden creation that he is special and that the other Wemmicks don’t know
what they’re talking about. The best part goes like this:
“Me, special? Why? I’m not very talented and my paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?”
Eli spoke very slowly. “Because you’re mine. That’s why you matter to me.”
Eli goes on to explain that for Punchinello to feel good about himself, he must spend time with his maker—every day—where he’ll be reminded again and again that he’s cared for and loved already. And then the stickers will fall off. Of course, the same is true for me.
And, apparently, for Paul.
In order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:7-10
Something in Paul's life plagued him, and he asked God to remove it—a few times. But God didn't remove it, which seems harsh considering Paul was committed to spreading the gospel and whatnot. Paul's response, however, was surprising, because while most of us work hard to self-promote and hide our shortcomings, Paul decided to talk his up—to delight in the them.
Why?
Because the moon doesn’t shine—that’s why. In fact, the glow of the moon is the light of the sun reflecting off the moon’s surface. Without the light of the sun, the moon would be dark. And the same is true with us and God. Our talents, our knowledge, our ability to love and laugh and weep and sing are mere reflections
of who God is. He’s the Light—the creator of all that’s good and worthy of recognition. The only one who deserves the spotlight, which is obvious when we take the time to notice. And our weaknesses allow Him to
shine in us all the more.
I’m special because God says so, but He’s the one worthy of attention and praise. Only at His feet will I have the ability to lay down my pursuit of perfection, along with my desire to be recognized for the handful of things I do well. Only at His feet will I shine for the right reasons. And only there will I begin to see myself the way God sees me, which is the key to being okay with who I really am.
Stars, dots and all.
http://www.amazon.com/Special-Board-Book-Lucados-Wemmicks/dp/1581342195
Sound metaphorically familiar?
Poor Punchinello is the gray-dot type—average looking and talentless. One day he meets a Wemmick who has no marks, and when Punchinello asks her how it’s possible to be stickerless, she tells him to visit Eli, the wood-carver, to find out.When Punchinello meets his maker, Eli of course notices all the bad marks—but he doesn’t care. He tells his little wooden creation that he is special and that the other Wemmicks don’t know
what they’re talking about. The best part goes like this:
“Me, special? Why? I’m not very talented and my paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?”
Eli spoke very slowly. “Because you’re mine. That’s why you matter to me.”
Eli goes on to explain that for Punchinello to feel good about himself, he must spend time with his maker—every day—where he’ll be reminded again and again that he’s cared for and loved already. And then the stickers will fall off. Of course, the same is true for me.
And, apparently, for Paul.
In order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:7-10
Something in Paul's life plagued him, and he asked God to remove it—a few times. But God didn't remove it, which seems harsh considering Paul was committed to spreading the gospel and whatnot. Paul's response, however, was surprising, because while most of us work hard to self-promote and hide our shortcomings, Paul decided to talk his up—to delight in the them.
Why?
Because the moon doesn’t shine—that’s why. In fact, the glow of the moon is the light of the sun reflecting off the moon’s surface. Without the light of the sun, the moon would be dark. And the same is true with us and God. Our talents, our knowledge, our ability to love and laugh and weep and sing are mere reflections
of who God is. He’s the Light—the creator of all that’s good and worthy of recognition. The only one who deserves the spotlight, which is obvious when we take the time to notice. And our weaknesses allow Him to
shine in us all the more.
I’m special because God says so, but He’s the one worthy of attention and praise. Only at His feet will I have the ability to lay down my pursuit of perfection, along with my desire to be recognized for the handful of things I do well. Only at His feet will I shine for the right reasons. And only there will I begin to see myself the way God sees me, which is the key to being okay with who I really am.
Stars, dots and all.
http://www.amazon.com/Special-Board-Book-Lucados-Wemmicks/dp/1581342195
November 4, 2013
Out of Ur
My recent interview on Out or Ur, regarding life, struggle, and my dad-in-law's celebrity.
http://www.outofur.com/archives/2013/11/friday_five_ama.html
http://www.outofur.com/archives/2013/11/friday_five_ama.html
November 1, 2013
The Elle Train
Elle has been visiting the nurse a lot at school. So much so that I began to think she was escaping the classroom—removing herself from overwhelming or loud situations has been her coping mechanism since she was a toddler. Our sweet nurse and Elle's teacher agreed to make it official by giving Elle a "brain break" every day—a scheduled time when she can go to the very quiet nurse's office and color for a half-hour or so. They're now her favorite part of the day. Here's an email describing her most recent brain break:
Amanda, What a wonderful blessed conversation I am hearing from my office; Elle is here for her brain break, and she's talking to the young girl next to her and they have quite a lot in common. Elle has helped this young lady feel better and before you know it, I hear Elle sharing the fact that she has autism. The young girls reply--"okay, we are all different! ". Praise God for that response. Elle seemed pleased and continued to talk to her. I went back and talked to them and encouraged the friendship. I pointed out that Elle has the other young girl smiling and feeling better. That is a gift. There is a grade between them but the other girl is from an HBF family and is new to this school too. God is awesome!!! Love seeing this before my eyes. I thought it might bless you as well. Your daughter is sweet and very creative. A true blessing. I am loving getting to know her. She brings a smile to my face every day. In His Hands, Lori
Amanda, What a wonderful blessed conversation I am hearing from my office; Elle is here for her brain break, and she's talking to the young girl next to her and they have quite a lot in common. Elle has helped this young lady feel better and before you know it, I hear Elle sharing the fact that she has autism. The young girls reply--"okay, we are all different! ". Praise God for that response. Elle seemed pleased and continued to talk to her. I went back and talked to them and encouraged the friendship. I pointed out that Elle has the other young girl smiling and feeling better. That is a gift. There is a grade between them but the other girl is from an HBF family and is new to this school too. God is awesome!!! Love seeing this before my eyes. I thought it might bless you as well. Your daughter is sweet and very creative. A true blessing. I am loving getting to know her. She brings a smile to my face every day. In His Hands, Lori
October 31, 2013
Israel, Mercy, and Me
I struggle with habitual sin. In my little corner of the world, lots of Christians make the distinction between run of the mill sin and habitual sin--the former being somewhat unavoidable as we continually war with our sin nature. We may stumble and fall, but we get back up, pressing on and striving toward our prize in Christ. And the latter being the repetitive, avoidable, lifestyle sin of the hard-hearted, often considered proof that someone isn’t even saved because by their fruits you’ll know them. Which is all true. Sometimes.But it’s also true that in spite of the fact that I’ve been utterly sold out for Jesus for the past two decades, I’ve got plenty of sin on repeat. My vanity, for instance—I’m vain everyday. I’m jealous of beautiful women on TV and the ones in line at the grocery store. I fixate on my flaws. I hate my wrinkles, my graying hair, and my seemingly impenetrable muffin top. My daily priorities easily shift, often making my workout more important than time with God.I also lust for stuff. Everyday. Whether paging through my Potterybarn catalog or walking up and down the aisles of heaven on earth—I mean, Target. Sometimes I avoid buying things I want, other days I cave, making purchases I have no business making. On a good day, I white knuckle my way to fiscal discipline, remaining ungrateful for what I actually do have.Everyday I’m selfish. Everyday I’m impatient, most often with my kids. Everyday I’m easily angered. Everyday I fail to love someone the way God wants me to. Everyday I need a savior. Everyday. Which is why Hosea 2 is a healing balm to my sin weary soul.
I will remove the names of the Baals from her lips; no longer will their names be invoked.In that day I will make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, the birds in the sky and the creatures that move along the ground.Bow and sword and battle I will abolish from the land, so that all may lie down in safety.I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion.I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord.“In that day I will respond,” declares the Lord—“I will respond to the skies, and they will respond to the earth; and the earth will respond to the grain, the new wine and the olive oil, and they will respond to Jezreel. I will plant her for myself in the land; I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.”’I will say to those called ‘Not my people,” ‘You are my people’; and they will say, ‘You are my God.’”Hosea 2:17-23
Too often we make the mistake of thinking Israel was uniquely unfaithful to the Lord. But the truth is, I’m Israel. I’m just like them in my wandering. In my justifying of sin. In my doubting God’s goodness. In my ungratefulness. And God meets me there and he rescues me. He changes me, the first day of salvation and every day I’m willing to surrender my wants and needs to him. If I lay down my sinful desires in exchange for righteousness—a beautiful and inequitable trade. Understatement.God has recently dismantled my world—one idol at a time—starting with vanity. Just like he did with Israel, he has deemed me righteous, and is fulfilling his promise to make me new. To make me less like Israel (i.e. less like me) and more like Jesus. And he’s displaying his mercy, patience, sovereignty, and extraordinary grace throughout the messy process. He’s my rescuer.My sin-antidote.My hope.
This posting can also be seen at pickyourportion.com:
http://pickyourportion.com/2013/10/29/israel-mercy-and-me-hosea-2/
I will remove the names of the Baals from her lips; no longer will their names be invoked.In that day I will make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, the birds in the sky and the creatures that move along the ground.Bow and sword and battle I will abolish from the land, so that all may lie down in safety.I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion.I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord.“In that day I will respond,” declares the Lord—“I will respond to the skies, and they will respond to the earth; and the earth will respond to the grain, the new wine and the olive oil, and they will respond to Jezreel. I will plant her for myself in the land; I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.”’I will say to those called ‘Not my people,” ‘You are my people’; and they will say, ‘You are my God.’”Hosea 2:17-23
Too often we make the mistake of thinking Israel was uniquely unfaithful to the Lord. But the truth is, I’m Israel. I’m just like them in my wandering. In my justifying of sin. In my doubting God’s goodness. In my ungratefulness. And God meets me there and he rescues me. He changes me, the first day of salvation and every day I’m willing to surrender my wants and needs to him. If I lay down my sinful desires in exchange for righteousness—a beautiful and inequitable trade. Understatement.God has recently dismantled my world—one idol at a time—starting with vanity. Just like he did with Israel, he has deemed me righteous, and is fulfilling his promise to make me new. To make me less like Israel (i.e. less like me) and more like Jesus. And he’s displaying his mercy, patience, sovereignty, and extraordinary grace throughout the messy process. He’s my rescuer.My sin-antidote.My hope.
This posting can also be seen at pickyourportion.com:
http://pickyourportion.com/2013/10/29/israel-mercy-and-me-hosea-2/
October 29, 2013
September 27, 2013
The Elle Train
Elle's prayer last night:
"God, thank you for my family. Please help us go to Disney World in Florida, and to get a puppy that is very small so I can hold her, and to get more mayonnaise at the grocery store, and please, please for my Daddy to come home safe. In Jesus name, Amen"
"God, thank you for my family. Please help us go to Disney World in Florida, and to get a puppy that is very small so I can hold her, and to get more mayonnaise at the grocery store, and please, please for my Daddy to come home safe. In Jesus name, Amen"
September 25, 2013
The Long Game
Dallas is out of town right now, meeting with a team of people working to expand the reach of a missions organization based in Texas. With all the mess going on in the Middle East—the churches being targeted and Christians being killed—much of the talk has been about whether or not to send the organization's founder into Pakistan to minister to Christians there. To speak into their suffering. To encourage. To stand alongside.
I was folding laundry and watching Moneyball when I got this text from my husband. It's a soundbite from a call between the team and a pastor serving in Pakistan:
"Pastor Azik, are you and your family fearful? Do you need anything, are you in trouble?"
"For the Lord, whatever it is, it is. Whatever I am, I am."
I paused my movie and stared at my phone. How is perspective like that possible? What must it be like for Christians, whose commitment to Jesus puts their lives and families in danger everyday? And what the heck am I doing with my life, grumbling over things I don't have, while my brothers and sisters around the world are being persecuted, kidnapped, tortured and killed for their faith?
I bowed my head and quietly asked God to forgive my shallowness, my self-centeredness, my shortsightedness, my ungratefulness.
And God brought this verse to my mind:
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:19-21
Why do Christians remain devout in the midst of horrific suffering and persecution? Because they know they're not home yet. Because their treasure—their hope—is in Heaven. Because they hold the world and everything in it loosely, knowing paradise is just around the eternal corner. Because they know the things I make too important—relationships, accomplishment, beauty, money, recognition—are counterfeit happiness. And because true joy, purpose, and lasting peace are in Jesus alone.
Oh, Lord, continue to mold my heart and mind, so that one day I can pray in earnest—
"For the Lord, whatever it is, it is. Whatever I am, I am."
I was folding laundry and watching Moneyball when I got this text from my husband. It's a soundbite from a call between the team and a pastor serving in Pakistan:
"Pastor Azik, are you and your family fearful? Do you need anything, are you in trouble?"
"For the Lord, whatever it is, it is. Whatever I am, I am."
I paused my movie and stared at my phone. How is perspective like that possible? What must it be like for Christians, whose commitment to Jesus puts their lives and families in danger everyday? And what the heck am I doing with my life, grumbling over things I don't have, while my brothers and sisters around the world are being persecuted, kidnapped, tortured and killed for their faith?
I bowed my head and quietly asked God to forgive my shallowness, my self-centeredness, my shortsightedness, my ungratefulness.
And God brought this verse to my mind:
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:19-21
Why do Christians remain devout in the midst of horrific suffering and persecution? Because they know they're not home yet. Because their treasure—their hope—is in Heaven. Because they hold the world and everything in it loosely, knowing paradise is just around the eternal corner. Because they know the things I make too important—relationships, accomplishment, beauty, money, recognition—are counterfeit happiness. And because true joy, purpose, and lasting peace are in Jesus alone.
Oh, Lord, continue to mold my heart and mind, so that one day I can pray in earnest—
"For the Lord, whatever it is, it is. Whatever I am, I am."
September 20, 2013
The Elle Train
Clerk at the store says: Are you able to find everything?
Elle: No. I'm not buying everything, I'm just buying some things.
Elle: No. I'm not buying everything, I'm just buying some things.
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