You Are Enough

I woke up not liking myself very much today. I have many days like that. Anyone else? It’s when that lying devil gets between our ears and tells us that we aren’t enough, that we are so flawed, we’ll never get life right; we’re meant to be unhappy. I sometimes think my anxiety is a direct line from Satan trying to sabotage me through my own weakness.
When I get like this, I clean. I clean the house and somehow it feels like I can clean my soul. I was cleaning under my nightstand and I found this note from my daughter. I have no idea when she wrote it, or how it got there, but I know God put it there for me to find today. God’s love for us is bigger than the lies that creep into our thoughts when our guard is down. We can’t change our past, but we can try to do better going forward learning from the mistakes we make. They say failure is the best teacher. I just wish the lessons didn’t have to hurt so much. But maybe we wouldn’t learn if they didn’t.
We are not perfect, but we need to lean on God when we feel like this. I am good. You are good. I am enough and so are you, because of Him.

God is Good!

A FANTASTIC UPDATE: My mom met with her oncologist yesterday and her treatment will begin in mid-March. IV Chemotherapy is not necessary. The tumor growth is dependent on estrogen and progesterone so they want to give her hormone suppressants and then will do an injection of bone regenerator to help strengthen the bone. She’s been told there are very few side effects from this treatment. We are feeling so relieved about her prognosis! We are beyond grateful for all the prayers everyone has been sending her way. The power of prayer cannot be underestimated. Thank you to everyone for your love and support. We are blessed to have an amazing circle of friends.


Life Lessons From Missing the Point

All the lanes at the grocery store were open and there were still at least three people lined up at each one. I chose what I thought would be the most promising one; a woman taking her receipt from the cashier, about to be on her way out and then a man just after her who had very few items in his cart. It seemed the odds would be in my favor to get out of the store quickly.

The man before me had other ideas. He needed his cigarettes. They had to be Marlboros with the silver label. The cashier seemed to be suddenly unsure what “silver” could mean as she pointed to every box besides the ones for which the man was asking. She somehow even got all the way over to Skol as a possible selection. As the minutes ticked by, I was getting hot in my heavy coat and looked behind me to see an even longer line of agitated people. Would it be faster to check out my own groceries at the U-Scan? Mercifully, the cashier landed on the correct pack of smokes.

The man then wanted to write a check for $20 more than his total amount. A check… That chewed up another three minutes as he asked twelve times what the amount was. The check reader spit his check back out with an error message. The cashier explained at least four different ways the same thing: “Sir, your check cannot be processed for $20 more than your total.” He decided to void this check and try another one. I was becoming unglued by then. I kept a forced smile on my face and began to put my groceries back into my cart.

“I’m so sorry,” the man said turning to me as I loaded the last few items.

“It’s all right. I know these things happen. I just need to get going,” I said pleasantly, convincing even myself that I wasn’t about to flip out.

“It’s just ever since my wife died last month…” his voice trembled a little. “She was the one who did all the shopping for us.”

Well crap. Of course it was some heart-wrenching reason that this poor man would be having a hard time doing this simple task and there I was making him feel rushed. I stopped and looked at him. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m sure it’s an adjustment.”  I kept my eyes averted and pushed my cart sheepishly over to the U-Scan.

How many times do I need this reminder? We will never know what people are dealing with inside their hearts. I was embarrassed of my impatience. I told my kids the story when I got home.

“We need to be kind and patient with people because we don’t know what they are going through,” I said after telling them the story.

“But Mom, isn’t smoking bad for you?” Luke asked.

“Yes, it’s a bad habit to smoke, but–”

“Maybe that’s why his wife died,” Noah offered. “She breathed in all that gross smoke.”

“That’s not really the point I was trying to ma–” I began.

“Maybe the cashier was trying to make him not buy the cigarettes,” Luke added. I couldn’t help it. The conversation had gotten so sidetracked, I began cracking up. The boys did too.

“You’re right,” I said. “Never smoke. That’s the point of the story.”

Bless these perceptive children.

Maybe one of them will go into law.