Beth K. Vogt's Blog, page 12

When It’s Wise to Take Responsibility for Our Anxiety

@bethvogt

I’m sharing one of my less-than-stellar mom moments today.

That’s always fun.

Okay, so sharing the time I went a little “cuckoo mama” on one of my kiddos isn’t fun – but it is honest.

My youngest daughter Christa headed to college in Minnesota a few months ago. We dropped her off early for volleyball tryouts on August 16, seven and half weeks ago.

We keep in touch via phone calls and texts and Face Timing and Snapchat and Instagram – my husband has a Snapchat account now. And Christa even has group Snapchats with her siblings. My mama’s heart loves that.

Christa’s been great about phone calls and texts, and when she says she’s going to call us, she does.

Except for this one night …

She’d had a typically busy day, between classes and volleyball practice and just normal life as a college freshman. She’d texted her dad and me earlier in the evening and said she’d call us later.

Fine. No problem.

Only no call came.

And it got later. And later. And later.

I texted her several times. Left a couple voice messages on her phone.

Still nothing.

And that’s when my imagination kicked in. All sorts of not good scenarios, the kind that only a mom can imagine. I ignored the “She’s fine” voice in my head as my anxiety built. I even checked with one of her friends, via that friend’s mom.

Stop shaking your heads. I know. I shouldn’t have done it.

Christa did call us, it didn’t matter that I was relieved she was okay. Or that she’d been in a Bible study and then had been hanging out with friends, forgetting that she’d turned her phone on silent.

When Christa called, I went “cuckoo mama” on her. I vaulted past my relief and let my irrational anxiety fuel my anger as I told her how upset I was.

She took it all. Explained. Apologized. And later on, I apologized for overreacting.

The reason I’m sharing this is because I heard something yesterday that I wish I’d heard before all that angst-ridden interaction went down with my youngest daughter:

“It’s not good to make our kids be responsible for our anxiety.”

I take full responsibility for creating tension between me and Christa that evening. I let my anxiety get the better of me – and I blamed her for it. Expected her to have prevented it.

She should have called when I expected her to.

She should have called sooner.

No and no.

I’m the one responsible for my anxiety, not my daughter. Not any of my kids, for that matter.

Christa’s a considerate young adult, with a good head on her shoulders. And I need to let the truth of who she is – and the truth of how our relationship runs most days – guide my thoughts and actions. Not let myself get irrational and dump my anxiety on my daughter, as if it’s her job to prevent it.

She has enough responsibilities in her life without have to deal with unrealistic ones that aren’t based in truth.

 

When It's Wise to Take Responsibility for Our Anxiety http://bit.ly/2op63ny #relationships #anxiety #perspective
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'It's not good to make our kids be responsible for our anxiety.' Quote by Dr. Drew Pinsky http://bit.ly/2op63ny #family #anxiety #choices
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Redefining Balance So We Stop Thinking We’re Doing Life Wrong

 

I have a certain morning routine.

I typed that sentence and immediately – immediately – thought of the many ways my “certain” morning routine is interrupted on any given day.

I walked away from this blog post and made myself a cup of tea. Came back, started typing again, all the while laughing out loud so that my husband said, “What? What?”

I read him what I’d written and he laughed too, because he’s seen my morning routine up close.

Some days my morning goes smoothly. I get up early. Go walk the dog with my husband. Text close friends and family the daily “morning meme.” Have quiet time. Keep the TV on in the background – hey, I like all three hours of the Today show – while diving into writing.

And some days, there’s no routine at all.

Some days I interrupt my schedule on purpose.

Some days things just happen. Phone calls. Appointments. Meetings. Emergencies. We all know how those can happen.

Yesterday, my morning routine was interrupted by the arrival of a neighbor, three barking dogs, and yelling. Me and my neighbor. Not at each other – at the dogs. And let me tell you, that early morning episode unsettled me for a while. I don’t like yelling. At all. And we’ve been dealing with an ongoing family issue which has left me with very little emotional margin.

When people ask me how I’m doing these days, my answer is, “I’m juggling.”  I’ve found all these various GIFs of people juggling – Ha Ha, isn’t it funny? – and I share them. No words. Just a picture because it’s worth a thousand words, right?

Juggling is exhausting. It’s also not supposed to be a full-time gig. Professional jugglers don’t juggle every day, all the time.

Which brings me to the whole idea of balance because juggling involves balance.

My friend Wise Guy and I were talking about balance one day. Wise Guy gave me the best definition of balance – a visual, really. He stood up. Picked one of his feet up off the floor. Leaned back until he was off-balance. And then he proceeded to lean forward and backward, adjusting his position again and again, so that he never lost his balance completely.

Balance is not static.

 Maintaining our balance? It takes work because balance changes with time and circumstances.

Sometimes our morning routine works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes we’re only juggling three things.

Sometimes we’re juggling normal life and then a huge, unexpected emergency is added and we’re knocked off balance, but we still have to keep juggling. We have to adjust to keep our balance, too.

And sometimes, sometimes, we have to juggle and balance longer than we expected.

Life is hard. It doesn’t mean we’re doing anything wrong.

It means we’re alive.

I needed this reminder today. Maybe you did too.

You’re doing okay, probably better than you think you are. Breathe. And remember:

Balance is not static.

Keeping our balance means we adjust … adjust … adjust.

Redefining Balance So We Stop Thinking We're Doing Life Wrong http://bit.ly/2mCpoAL #expectations #encouragement #balance
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'Balance makes me grumpy.' Quote by @JennaBushHager http://bit.ly/2mCpoAL #expectations #balance #perspective
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Choosing to Realize Being “Good and Mad” is All Wrong

@bethvogt

I almost got into an argument with a good friend yesterday – one of my best friends, as a matter of fact.

But I hit a huge roadblock on my way to getting “good and mad.”

I was lining up all my reasons for being angry and staying that way, and then I got up to walk around my house and put some steps on my FitBit. My FitBit prompts me to log at least 250 steps each hour. We writers embrace the motto “backside in chair” to meet deadlines, and we need nudges like that to get up and move.

While I walk, sometimes I play Words with Friends. And sometimes I pray, using prayer cards I wrote out after I read Fervent by Priscilla Shirer.

Yesterday morning, I prayed.

The title of the prayer?

“My Hurts.”

It opened with these lines: I want to walk in freedom, especially in the area of forgiveness. I do not want a root of bitterness to grow up in my heart for any reason. I want to be at peace with others.

 Ahem.

 I could either stop praying and hold onto my anger, or I could keep praying and let God work on my attitude. My self-righteousness.

The words could be rote … or they could become truth and gentle conviction.

I was halfway through the prayer before the tightness eased in my chest. Before I did more than just read the words. Before I admitted my attitude was wrong and chose to stop being angry with my friend.

My friendship is so much more valuable than my wrong attitude.

My earlier texts with my friend had stopped because she was busy with her job and I was busy, well, getting my heart right. Then these words appeared:

     My friend: I don’t want to get sideways with you.

     Me: I don’t want to get sideways with you either. #youknowtoomuch

     My friend: I love you.

     Me: I love you, too.

We were good because we chose our friendship over anything else. And that is the best kind of friendship. A friendship worth fighting for.

 

Choosing to Realize Being Good and Mad is All Wrong http://bit.ly/2UZqSlW #friendship #forgiveness #perspective
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'Never forget the three powerful resources you always have available to you: love, prayer, and forgiveness.' Quote by H. Jackson, Jr. http://bit.ly/2UZqSlW #forgiveness #relationships #faith
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Realizing Stories Connect Us: Where Were You on September 11, 2001?

@bethvogt

 

There are days that change a generation. That change the world forever. Days that are marked as “never to be forgotten.”

Today is one of those days.

On September 11, 2001 – 18 years ago – four U.S.  commercial airplanes were hijacked in terrorist attacks on our country. A total of 2, 977 people were killed in New York City, Washington, DC, and outside of Shanksville, PA.

I’m certain each one of us remembers where we were, what we were doing, when we first heard the news of the attacks.

I was driving my two oldest daughters to high school in Colorado Springs, with my youngest daughter buckled in her car seat. My daughter Amy switched back and forth through the radio channels, searching for favorite songs. At one point, an announcer said something like, “We’ll update you on this breaking news situation as soon as possible.”

Amy switched stations again.

“Stop! What was that?” I motioned for her to go back to the station.

As we continued to school, very little information was available. Once home, I turned on the news—and watched in horror as the second plane struck the south tower of the World Trade Center.

It seemed as if the world was unraveling.

Within the hour, I returned to my daughters’ school, which was now on lockdown. Yellow-coated security staff – parents I knew well – greeted me, and I had to show them I.D. before they would release my children to me.

My son, who was a freshman in college in Denver, called me. “Are we at war?”

My reply? “I think we are.”

My husband, who was stationed at Cheyenne Air Force Base in Wyoming at the time, called to say wouldn’t be home any time soon.

No surprise.

Close friends called to say their overseas flight had been diverted to the Denver airport. They didn’t know this until they were on the ground and the pilot told the stunned passengers about the terrorist attacks.

When they asked if I could come pick them up, I said, “No one can get near the airport. But if you can get a taxi and get out of there, I’ll meet you somewhere between Denver and the Springs.”

With flights across the country grounded for days, they stayed with us for two weeks.

And all the time, we tried to figure out what had happened. How had it happened. And how … how … did our country recover from such horror?

I remember watching Lisa Beamer, the widow of Todd Beamer, one of the passengers on Flight 93 who attempted to regain control of the plane from the hijackers, as a TV crew filmed her boarding a plane flight weeks after her husband’s death.

By her actions, Lisa Beamer chose courage over fear.

That memory has stayed with me to this day.

Remembering is one thing.

Honoring the memory of those who died, of all those who lost loved ones, of the heroes – including the first responders – is another way we can choose to never forget. Pausing to share our stories. To recall their stories.

Their actions can inspire us to live without fear whenever we have opportunity.

Realizing Stories Connect Us: Where Were You on September 11, 2001?http://bit.ly/2UKOomB #NeverForget #heroes
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'September 11, 2001, revealed heroism in ordinary people who might have gone through their lives never called upon to demonstrate the extent of their courage.' http://bit.ly/2UKOomB #911 #neverforget #PatriotDay
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Choosing Our Anchors Wisely

@bethvogt

 

I own two anchor necklaces.

My husband gave me one last Christmas. The other was also a Christmas gift from my dear friend, Angie. I’ve worn one necklace most days this past year. The other one hangs from the rear-view mirror in my car so I see it most days, too.

Why are these two necklaces so important to me?

Because my One Word for 2019 is “Anchor.”

Many of you know how I abandoned the whole New Year’s resolutions thing years ago and now choose One Word to focus on each year. Words like forgiveness and trust and collaborate. Doing so has changed me in ways I never imagined, forcing me to confront heart attitudes, while uncovering both weaknesses and strengths.

I have three more months to focus on my 2019 One Word. Reality is, I will keep wearing my one anchor necklace when this year ends, and I’ll also keep the other necklace hanging on my rear-view mirror.

It hasn’t been easy, grasping this whole idea of “anchor.” The one thing I’ve learned is how quickly my mind and emotions can become unsettled by my circumstances.

And maybe that was the point of the past year: realizing that I can allow my circumstances to have too much sway over me. If I’m not careful, I can anchor myself to what is happening – good or bad – rather than anchoring myself to the trustworthiness of what stays the same.

A lot of things have happened in the past months, both expected and unexpected. Sometimes it’s felt like circumstances have ruled the day … that they have ruled me. But thanks to the constant visuals of my two necklaces, I’ve anchored myself to the word “anchor” – see what I did there? – and chosen, again and again, to find a stronger, surer anchor. One that holds me steady, rather than tossing me around: the truth of who God is.

God doesn’t change. He is the stability of my times. (Isaiah 33:6)
God’s love for me doesn’t change. He abounds in steadfast love. (Psalm 86:15)
God’s provision for me doesn’t change. Nothing –no circumstances – can separate me from Him. (Romans 8:31-39)

Now that it’s September, I’ll begin to pray about my One Word for 2020. I’ll watch for a visual and a Scripture verse. But even as I do, I’ll be careful not to forget what I’ve learned this year about where I anchor my heart and mind. It’s my choice, day by day, to focus on the truths that hold me steady, instead of the fluctuating circumstances that can seem like trying to balance a teeter-totter all by myself.

 

“I’m secured by your grace as I sail across this stormy sea.”

 The visual I included with my One Word post last year brings me back to grace, once again. I won’t be perfect at not reacting to my circumstances – but that’s not the goal. As one of the signs on my mantle says, “Live by grace, not perfection.” 

And the truth that God always offers me grace? That anchors me, too.

When Do We Stop Worrying About What People Think of Us?

@bethvogt

This is one of my “thinking out loud” moments and you – yes, all of you – get to listen in.

It’s 4:10 a.m. when I’m writing this as I try to figure out something. Sometimes I do that by putting words on paper. This time, I decided to let my scribblings become a blog post.

Last Wednesday I got sick. It wasn’t the most convenient time for me to get sick, since I was heading to Nashville on Thursday for a writers conference – a long-planned-for-and-much-anticipated event.

Despite being sick, I kept packing for my trip. Laying down and sleeping, and then rallying to pack, and repeat, repeat, all through Wednesday. And when 3 a.m. Thursday dawned, I woke up and prepared to head to Denver airport, despite still being sick.

But once I was in the car, with my husband in the driver’s seat, I broke down crying. “I can’t do this. I can’t get on the plane.”

It was as if admitting that allowed me to drop twenty pounds of excess baggage as I dragged my aching body upstairs and crawled into my bed.

But even as I burrowed beneath the covers, I fought the urge to get up and keep trying. I’d paid good money for that conference! And I was letting so many people down. I was supposed to room with my friend, Julie, whom I hadn’t seen in years. And I’d miss spending time with one of my best friends, Edie, who’d encouraged me to come to the conference. Others had been confident the conference would be good for me, too.

What would people think of me?

And that right there was the 20-pound question weighing me down: What would people think of me?

Well, more than likely, they’d think I was too sick to go to Nashville. It’s a simple as that.

I was too sick to get on the plane. People who feel like I felt last Wednesday don’t belong on a plane. Believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be seated next to me. I slept for the next three days. Didn’t feel anything close to normal until Saturday. If I’d gone to Nashville, I would have just been holed up in my hotel room, sick.

But back to this question I’m puzzling over: What would people think of me?

Some of you may recall I turned 60 a few months ago. Here’s another question: When do we outgrow worrying about what people think of us? Do you like how I generalized that statement? It was a bit less painful to ask that way.

Here’s the reality: If it had been anyone else but me, I would have been more gracious about them not going to Nashville than I was about me not going to Nashville.

Hmmm.

Why is it that we offer others grace more easily than we offer it to ourselves? And yes, I realize I slipped into the third person again there.

Do we think we are undeserving of grace?

An author friend of mine called grace “the simplest gift of all.” I say yes … and no. Grace, God’s key that He uses to open the door to forgiveness, can seem easy at times, but then there is the hard, beautiful grace that stretches to cover scars and wounds.

And maybe that’s what trips me up at times when I feel less than perfect. Maybe I’m afraid too much of my wounds and scars will show through God’s grace.

But at moments when I’m freaking out and wondering, “What will people think about me?” I’m forgetting He lavishes His grace on us. God knows I’m not perfect – I’m the one who tries to fake it. That’s why He offers us grace. And I suspect most people don’t think I’m perfect, either. And the ones who matter love me anyway.

There is more than enough grace for everyone, isn’t there? And there’s more than enough grace for me.

 

When Do We Stop Worrying About What People Think of Us? http://bit.ly/30F5m7Z #perfectionism #grace
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'God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.' Quote by William Shakespeare http://bit.ly/30F5m7Z #honesty #expectations
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***

Creatives are a different breed of people. We know we have to do “real world” tasks, but so much of our brain is taken up with the joy of creation. Unfortunately, we also have to “get stuff done.”

My Brilliant Writing Planner started from a desperate need from the founder, USA Today best-selling, award-winning author, Susan May Warren to untangle and tame her life. More, she wanted a life more aligned with her personal values, the goals that helped her write her story, on the page and in real life.

Because it’s easy to get derailed. To find yourself living moment by moment, not in tune with your values, your goals.

Living someone else’s story. Curious? I hope so! Find out more about the My Brilliant Writing Planner 2020 today! 

 

 

Choosing to Open Our Hearts to Encouragement

@bethvogt

Some stories are worth retelling.

This is one of those stories. It’s a true story, one I love to share with others because what happened 21 years ago changed me and influences me to this day. Let me tell you why I love hummingbirds.

***

After eight years living in Niceville, FL (yes, Niceville), my roots ran deep into Florida’s sandy soil. My kids were happy. My husband was happy with his job at Eglin Air Force Base. And me? I was happy too.

I treasured a wonderful circle of friends, taught women’s Bible studies and helped lead the women’s ministry at my church. My phone rang constantly – one of my kids labeled my pantry with a sign that read “Phone Booth” because I often retreated there to enjoy uninterrupted conversations.

If God had pushed the pause button on my life, I wouldn’t have complained.

But I know there’s no pause button — especially for a military family. The time came for us to PCS, military slang for move.

“I want you . . . to go to Colorado,” the military, aka “Uncle Sam,” declared.

What? Move from the land of white sand and emerald waters to a landlocked state with not a drop of humidity?

Several months later, we pulled out of our driveway. I drove one of our cars, suitcases in the back, my two young daughters in the middle seat. My husband drove our van, with our son riding “shotgun.” I cried for an hour — all the way to the Florida and Alabama border. The only reason I pulled myself together was the alarm on my daughters’ faces—and their anxious chorus of “Mom, are you going to be okay?”

My car may have been pointed west, but my heart’s compass did not budge off of south. I burned emotional heel marks all the way from Florida to Colorado.

After telling my husband, “I can’t live in base housing again,” our Florida home didn’t sell. Not wanting to juggle two mortgages, we chose to live on base. As I clambered over my bed to get to the miniscule bathroom, I tried to banish images of my large, comfortable still-on-the-market Florida home. Only two people could fit in the galley kitchen at one time. Colorado weather assaulted my body — in mid-July I crawled into bed wearing sweats and socks. July!

Most of the family settled into Colorado easier than I did. My husband had a job to go to — a reason for being there. And once my kids started school and began making friends, they had a reason to be there too.

I struggled to adjust.

One morning at the base gym, I pounded out my loneliness and frustration on the stair-stepper. I also prayed. I’d never been much of a “Could you send me a sign” kind of pray-er, but I was desperate for a tangible bit of hope.

God, I need some encouragement. I need to know You love me, even though You let my life turn upside down. Could You give me a sign? Nothing big. How about a hummingbird? Would You send one to show me that You love me?

 With my hope set on a small, fleet-winged bird, I gathered up my water bottle, gym bag, and car keys and headed home.

Several days later, I visited a nearby nail salon for a manicure. Gail, the nail technician, introduced herself, and directed me to her work area. Walking down a narrow hallway, I rounded a corner — and stopped short.

At her worktable she had set up an adjustable, white architect-style lamp. Dangling from the arm of the lamp was a crystal hummingbird.

My sign!

That wasn’t all. On the wall behind her table hung a hummingbird calendar. Next to the calendar was a stained-glass image of yet another tiny, ruby-throated bird. The final touch? Taped to the wall beneath the picture were the words: God loves you. I think God wrote his answer to my prayer in black and white so I didn’t miss it.

Since my hummingbird encounter at Gail’s shop, I’ve scattered reminders of God’s love throughout my house. A crystal hummingbird adorns a vase in my dining room. Another dangles from the lamp in my office, and yet another handcrafted hummingbird hangs from my car’s rear view mirror. Whenever my family hikes in the Colorado mountains in the early spring, my ears tune to the sounds of hummingbirds in flight. And whenever I hear the whir of hummingbird wings, I hear God whispering, “I love you.”

 

Choosing to Open Our Hearts to Encouragement http://bit.ly/30pWUcE #faith #perspective
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'My faith helps me understand that circumstances don't dictate my happiness, my inner peace.' Quote by Denzel Washington http://bit.ly/30pWUcE #encouragement #faith
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*Photos by  the amazing LisaAnne Meeter. 

Grandmotherly Advice as You Start College — A Conversation with My Daughter and Her Mimaw

Guest Post by Christa Vogt

Last weekend, my husband and I visited his 100-year-old mother. Our youngest daughter, Christa, came along to visit her “Mimaw,” since she leaves for college this week. When we arrived at the skilled nursing facility where Rob’s mom has been staying for the past two months (too long of a story for this blog post), Christa asked for a few minutes alone with her Mimaw. The rest of this blog post? I’ve turned it over to Christa so she could share about their conversation.

This week is a huge week for me. I’m going to college in Minnesota, where I’ll be playing volleyball for Bethel University. I leave early Thursday morning and it’s crazy to say I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Last Sunday, I had to say another goodbye. This time it was with my 100-year-old Mimaw.  I know my parents were surprised when I asked for a couple minutes alone with Mimaw, but I wanted this moment to be special.

Mimaw and I talked for a few minutes about the basic things. Yes, I’d started packing. Yes, I already know some of my volleyball teammates. Yes, I’m very excited.

Once we discussed these things, I was able to ask her the more important question for me – if she had any advice she could give me. I honestly thought she’d take a moment to think about it. But she instantly perked up and told me two things:

Be yourself.   Her first answer was short and sweet.
Ask for help.  Here Mimaw elaborated more. “I do not tend to ask for help, and I could’ve gotten a lot farther in some things if I had just asked,” she said. “You have a good family support system. Call them, even about things you think are stupid, and ask for help. They’ll be there to help you.”

The first recommendation to “Be yourself” is one I’ve heard many times. But hearing it from a woman who has seen a century’s worth of people being or not being themselves meant so much more to me. She sees the value in me being me.

Mimaw’s second answer surprised me. My grandmother is what my family likes to call “Montana Strong.” She was born in 1918 in a one-room log cabin built by her father and, at the peak of her career, she was a lobbyist for National Farmers Union on Capitol Hill. She was correct when she said she doesn’t ask for help; this woman denied having congestive heart failure, ok?

But if my grandmother, who will celebrate her 101st birthday on October 31, wishes she had asked for help, I think we all should listen. She has every right to claim “I’ve done so many things by myself,” but instead, she wishes she had reached out more.

Going into college volleyball is scary. But I have a feeling, the more I ask for help, the more quickly I’ll learn and grow. Maybe I’ll ask an older teammate for help. Or my coaches – although yes, they intimidate me right now. Or I could even ask my fellow freshmen. Sometimes asking for help comes with a good ol’ dose of humility.

But I also know that if I need to, I can call home and there will be nine people ready and willing to offer whatever help they can from 989 miles away.

Disclaimer: Not everyone has a supportive, close-knit family like mine. Help won’t always come from family. It can come from a friend, a peer, or even an authority figure in your life. But help can’t be offered if you don’t ask.

So reach out if you’re struggling. You’re being yourself when you do.

Grandmotherly Advice as You Start College - a Conversation with My Daughter and Her MiMaw http://bit.ly/301VsNp #perspective #encouragement #college
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'To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.' Quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson http://bit.ly/301VsNp #beyourself #quote
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Choosing to Love Louder

 

This week has hemorrhaged heartache – and the week’s not even done yet.

We’ve all watched the news or read the headlines, grappling with the horrific actions of others. And no matter how many times a news anchor or a journalist attempts to better explain the who and how of the tragedies, their words can’t strip away the pain.

But even more distressing is the dialogue of how – the rage that rises as people attempt to determine why the tragedies occurred and what we need to do to avoid them in the future.

Politics preempts grief.

In the midst of heartache that touches an entire country – I would daresay the world – there are also the unseen sorrows we each carry that will never garner a headline or be mentioned by a TV news anchor.

The young couple who struggles with infertility
The woman facing a breast cancer diagnosis
The student who is anxious about the start of a new school year
The son or daughter navigating end of life decisions for a parent
The person bewildered by the silence of a friend

What do we need from others when we are brought to our knees in the normal course of our days?

Do we want to listen to a debate about how to fix the problem? Advice on how to live life better? Discuss what we could have done to avoid the situation in the first place?

And yes, I realize that sometimes we do need a plan of action.

But first … may we be greeted with love.

Our solution to someone else’s problem might be right. Or it might be wrong. But we will never, ever be misguided if we respond to someone else in their time of need by loving them.

Let me share a little story with you.

There was a time in my life when I was hurting — brokenhearted. And I was about to make a bad decision. I had my reasons. I thought they were pretty good reasons for my bad decision.

I was encouraged to talk with an older woman about what was going on in my life. At the time, I felt cornered. I knew she’d look at me and tell me how wrong I was and to get back in line and do this, do that, and, you know, basically be a “good Christian.”

Instead, she came and sat beside me and, with tears in her eyes, she said, “I can see why you’re hurting. I understand.”

And we wept together.

That, my friends, is love out loud. I expected judgement — even condemnation. I received words of mercy and grace.

I don’t know anyone personally affected by the tragedies in Texas or Ohio, so there are only two things I can do for those people: I can pray for them and I can choose to love them by not entering into the anger being thrown around in the media.

And then, I can be present in the lives of the people I do know. I can be available to love them a little louder when they need it.

What a difference it would make if we all chose to love a little louder today.

 

Choosing to Love Louder http://bit.ly/2ZACDRm #relationships #grief
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loude

'I need you to love me a little louder today.' Quote by Unknown http://bit.ly/2ZACDRm #mercy #choices
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Being Intentional About the Home You Create for Your Family

My son and daughter-in-love moved into their new house yesterday.

Not to be overlooked at all, five days ago, Josh and Meagan had a little girl, Isabelle – their fourth child. And since then, they continued prepping for this anticipated move.

Back to yesterday, when my husband and I brought dinner to them. The moving van parked in the driveway was unloaded, but most of the boxes in the various rooms were still taped closed.

Isabelle, oblivious to all that needed to be done, slept in the porta-crib in the living room. Dinner was ignored as the three older kids carried boxes to different rooms. There was no way we were going to get that house organized in an evening, so we focused on the most important thing: getting the beds put together. At the end of a long day that involved a lot of hard work for everyone, you need a place to rest.

And isn’t that an important quality of a home – being a place of rest?

There have been times I’ve wanted a larger house. Times I’ve wanted a cleaner house. Times I’ve wanted a house with a bit more style, but I just can’t quite pull off an HGTV model home, even if I do like watching quite a few of the TV shows.

What do I want most in a home? It’s encapsulated in a wooden sign posted in my dining room. When I saw the sign in a store featuring local artisans, I cried. It says:

“Somebody told me that this is the place where everything is better and everything’s safe.” ~Home

 For me, home is where you are safe – and that’s why home is where everything is better.

There’s nothing wrong with having a big house. Or a clean house. Or spending big bucks on renovating your house.

But there’s something very, very wrong when you don’t feel safe in your home.

The best kind of home is where everything – and everyone – is safe.

It’s not loving to be asked to keep secrets where you or others in your family are being hurt. You may be living in the same house with people who are not safe – but I hesitate to call that place a “home.”

I’m realistic enough to know that no family is perfect. That’s where love and forgiveness come into play. But home, in the truest sense of the word, is a haven from hurt, not the cause of it. And despite the long-held belief that we can’t go home again – thank you, Thomas Wolfe – we should want to go home again because we know we’re loved and accepted there like we are no other place in the world.

I’ve had people give me different compliments after being in my home over the years. The one that has meant the most? A friend came over and fell asleep on my couch one Sunday afternoon — and I loved the fact that he felt comfortable enough to do just that. Later on, as he left, he said, “Your home is so peaceful.”

Even now, years later, I hug those words close to my heart. I haven’t always dwelt in peace … haven’t always known peace. But I came to know grace and peace through my faith, and it’s made a difference in my life. And so, when my friend experienced peace in my home, that was tangible evidence of true change in my life.

You have to be intentional to create a place where everything is better and everything is safe. But when you do, then you’ve established a home where the door is always open … and people trust that they are always welcome.

 

Being Intentional About the Home You Create for Your Family http://bit.ly/2KicnEI #home #family
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'The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.' Quote by Maya Angelou http://bit.ly/2KicnEI #home #perspective
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Today is the last day of the $1.99 e-book sale of Moments We Forget, book 2 in my “Little Women gone wrong” series! 

 

Today is the last day of the $1.99 #ebook sale of Moments We Forget by @bethvogt! Don't miss this 'Little Women gone wrong' drama exploring the complicated dynamics of #sister relationships. https://t.co/QisI2AnTTT @Crazy4Fiction
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