My joy.

Lately I've been filled with anxiousness.

Worry.

Frustration.

Disappointment.

And a basketful of emotions I don't always know how to comprehend or process or deal with properly.

The past few weeks have given me a lot of time to sit and think.

About our lives.

The people we choose to allow in them.

The choices we have made and continue to make daily.

Waiting on this baby has been hard.

Both in the long term struggle with infertility
and the short term reality of my body preparing itself for labor.

All too often in this process I've let my heart be hurt because
I allow my head to do too much analyzing and not enough praying.

Repeatedly these past few weeks I've had to stop myself mid-cry
and get down on my knees and just give it to God.

What a sight I must be, awkwardly squatting on all fours with a huge belly bulging
and tears streaming down my puffy and blotchy skin.

But appearances don't matter to my Heavenly Father, and daily he takes me back into his arms, comforting me and reminding me and consoling me as I pour out my sin and sorrow and fears and frustrations with myself and my circumstances.

Daily I beg for forgiveness for worrying more about others and less about God.

Daily I beg for forgiveness for opening my heart to temptation of self pity
over failures or frustrating situations.

Daily I beg for God to create in me a clean heart and to renew my spirit, even when I deserve
not one bit of grace for my ugly and restless heart.

Daily he answers my cries.  

Daily he renews my heart.  

Daily he sends new praises into my soul.

The past few weeks I have felt like I'm stretching and breaking into a new role that I'm not always sure I'm prepared for.
I'm learning to accept what God has had and may have in store for this little family and for myself and often it is overwhelming to my soul.

I daily feel worried about what other people think of me.  

I practically feel their disapproving and annoyed eye rolls not just in the words they say but also
all too often in their lack of words of support.

And it has weighed heavily on my heart.

Instead of coming into this new season with joy in my heart and a pep in my step, I've questioned and I've cried and I've worried that I'm not enough in the eyes of the world.

Truth be told, I probably never will be.

But.

BUT.

I am not called to do or be as the world wants me to be.

To gain the approval of friends or family or anyone but the Lord.

Sometimes it is hard.

To go through the growing pains of friendships.
To go through the growing pains of being challenged in my walk.
To go through the growing pains of realizing the path I have planned is not always the path
God has planned.

To feel inadequate.

To feel lost.

To feel abandoned.
To feel like nothing I say or do is good enough or pleases people enough.
To feel constantly guilty or worried or a hot mess of emotions over something I've said or done or thought or wished for.

Yet the Lord never leaves me.

He never ceases to amaze me in his continued grace and mercy.

He renews me and inspires me in spite of my circumstances and my stubbornness.

He comforts me and heals me even when I feel that I have failed.

He is changing me.

Minute by minute.

Hour by hour.

He has taken a broken shell and created a miracle.

And I pray he will continue to build in me a woman of character.

Rather than the stubborn, prideful, sensitive soul I seem to regularly be.
I pray he will take my ugly, ugly sin and transform it into something that can be used for his glory.

I want to be confident in him.

I want to stop worrying so much about everything else.

I want to be free from the chains of anxiety.

I want to learn that not everyone is going to like or love me or my choices 100% of the time.

But most of all, I want to learn that it is okay to be me.

Fears, failures, and all.

It is okay to be me.

Because only when I'm truly and truthfully me can God break the chains that tie down my heart
and allow me to find true freedom in Him.

My value is in Christ alone.

Only in Him will I ever find true peace and comfort.

He is my joy.

"But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me."
Psalm 13:5-6

I lean not on my own understanding.

My life is in the hands of the maker of heaven.

I give it all to you God,

trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me.

I will climb this mountain

with my hands wide open.

I will climb this mountain

with my hands wide open.

There is nothing I hold on to.

thank you, sweet sister, for the precious gift of pictures of my little family!

Hearing God.

Why can't I hear God when I talk to him?

Swee'Pea asked me this question as we were driving home tonight from a long day in Los Angeles.  We had been sitting quietly as we weaved through traffic and listened to the ball game on the radio and his question caught me off guard.  I turned down the radio and asked him to repeat what he had asked.

Why can't I hear God when I talk to him?

I stuttered as I began to answer.  Wondering if I was saying the right words.  Wondering if I would permanently damage his faith or future salvation if I didn't give him the right answers.

Oh, his voice isn't always audible like mine or daddy's is... I replied.  But you can hear him if you really listen.  You can hear him in your heart.  You can hear him when you read his words.  You can hear him through other people who love you and take care of you.  When you pray, God will answer.  Sometimes we just don't understand right away or know that he is trying to speak to us.  We just really have to listen.

I hoped my answer was deep enough to impact him, but simple enough for him to understand.  He was quiet awhile before he painfully replied:

But I pray and pray and he never answers me.  Why won't he talk to me?

His answer broke my heart.  How often had I had the same thought?  That God was withholding his voice from me.  Refusing to answer me when I cried out in pain or desperation?

Sometimes it is just a feeling you have... in your heart.  When you are lonely or scared or confused or in pain... you pray.  And God calms your heart.  You feel his protection on you.  You feel his love wrapping you up in a warm hug.

He was quick to respond this time.

Like when I'm in bed at night, and all the lights are off, and I'm scared.  I pray to God to keep me safe and he helps me to not be frightened.  And when I'm hurt I pray and he makes me feel better.  Is that God talking to me?

I reassured him that it was.  That it was God letting him know that he was loved and protected.  That God was keeping him safe and calming his heart.  He sat silently for awhile before bombarding me with question after question that left me feeling vulnerable and inadequate and completely helpless as a mother.

Why do people die?
What happens when you die?
Does it hurt?
Does everyone go to heaven?
Why is Papa sick?
Will Jesus heal him?
Why are their kids that don't have mommies and daddies?
Why do babies die?
Why did Jesus take away your babies in your tummy?

He asked one after another, hardly skipping a beat as I tried to answer as best I could.  I tried to speak to him frankly but compassionately.  Not wanting to scare him but at the same time not wanting to withhold the truth.  And while I spoke I felt so much self doubt and sadness creep over me.  Did I believe the answers I was giving him?  Hadn't I asked the same questions of God, some of them more times than I can count?  Hadn't I laid in bed and cried and beat my fists into the pillow and demanded that God answer me... give me a solid good reason why there was pain and suffering not just in my own life, but in the lives of my family and families around the world?  Hadn't I gone down this road in my own salvation journey, my own battle with my faith, my own path to better understanding the truth of the gospel?  I wanted Swee'Pea to know the truth.  But how often had I questioned the truth myself?

The truth of the matter is that I love Jesus and his gospel message.  I am confident that Christ loves me and saved me from sin and from myself.  I know without a doubt that the pain and disappointment I have experienced in life has nothing to do with his love for me.  Long ago, before I was even a thought in my mother's mind, Christ demonstrated his passionate love for me.  He chose to forgive me for the sins he knew I would someday commit.  He chose to be led like a lamb to slaughter.  He chose to die in a most gruesome and tragic way.  He chose to bare the burden for mankind so that I would never have to bare the true weight of my ugly heart.  I was born a sinner.  I will die a sinner.  But God has saved me from those sins because I choose every day to give my life to him.  I don't deserve that love.  I don't understand that love.  But by his grace I have life, both here on earth and in heaven.

How do you explain to an almost 5-year-old about the journey that has taken you to the point you are at now in your faith?  That loving God is not simple.  That obeying God is never easy.  That you will continue to sin... choose to sin... even after Christ has saved you and even when you know the truth of his Gospel.  That you will never fully understand why he allows ugliness and sin in the world.  But at the same time, that you will never fully understand his beautiful grace and mercy in the world either.  How do you explain that the same pain that has brought you to your knees and caused you to shake your fist at God will also bring you closer to him than you could have ever imagined?  That the same pain that has torn you apart can at the same time knit you even closer to the one person who loves you more than his own life?  How do you explain that the pain and suffering you endure are not caused by Christ, but are allowed by Christ because he gave us free will and in that free will we continue to be a broken people?  A broken people with hearts that are prone to wander.  A broken people who could have been lost forever.  But, because of God's divine plan for mankind, we are a broken people who are so loved by our creator that in his goodness and mercy, he died on the cross to forgive our sins.  And, if we open our hearts to him, he will use our sin to break us, so that in that brokenness his beloved will be brought back to him.

These are not things I can explain to my little boy of four.  But these are things that I pray someday he will understand.  That loving Christ is a choice that is worth every single ounce of pain and wondering and suffering.  These are conversations and details that I will share with him another time.  On another day.  When he has lived long enough to experience true disappointment and pain.  When he is at a crossroads of truly understanding what it means to pick up your cross and carry it daily.  For now, I simply answered him with this:

I don't know why bad things happen.  But I know that God loves us so much!  So much that he died for us on the cross.  So much that he wants us to be with him in Heaven if only we will choose to love and honor and obey him.  But sometimes it is so very hard to do that.  Every day mommy makes mistakes and every day mommy has to ask for forgiveness.  And each day mommy prays for you, too!  When you are awake and when you are asleep she prays for you.  Prays that you will know God and love God.  Prays that your heart will long to follow him.  Prays that you will want to love Jesus and obey him even when it is hard or you are sad or angry or don't think life is fair.  Every day I pray that your life would be lived to serve God and God alone.

Quietly he digested this.  He asked a few more questions about heaven and what it would be like and who he would see there and what God would be wearing.  And I was honest in saying I wasn't sure, but I that I knew without a doubt it would be the most beautiful sight we would ever see.  He was quiet for awhile before speaking up once again.

Mommy?

Yes, baby boy.

I wish I was a puppy dog so I didn't have to sit in a car seat.

And just like that, our deep theological conversation was over and we were back to talks of pets and breakfast and soccer and school.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for my son.  Thank you for giving him a mind that yearns to learn more about you and about the world around him.  Give me the words to say to him.  Fill my answers with your love and mercy and truths.  Let your light shine from me as I love this little boy.  Guide me as I seek to parent him in a way that reflects your love.  Help me to know how to pray for him, how to speak to him, how to teach him.  Forgive me when I stumble and fall and sin and make mistakes in showing him your love.  Protect him and wrap him in your loving arms of grace and kindness.  Let  him know your presence in real and tangible ways.

Thank you, thank you for the privilege I have of being his mother.

Amen

Finding joy in the monotony...

More often than not, a day at home with Swee'Pea is anything less than glamorous.

Breakfast and coffee and dishes.
Lego building.
A few too many episodes of "Super Why."
Him begging me to go to the gym.
Me trying to decide if I'll give in to the desperate pleas of my four year old or the desperate cry in my bones for just one. more. cup. of liquid sanity.
Hungry.  He is always hungry lately.
Washing what feels like my millionth bunch of grapes this summer.
"Can I play the iPad?"  over and over and over.
I try to play with him as much as I can, but being the sole source of entertainment sometimes gets tiring.
The iPad comes out to play.
Lunch.  Tears over eating.  I don't like turkey!  I don't like carrots!
Time outs.
More tears.
45-minutes-later and a few "you will NEVER go to Disneyland again if you don't eat these carrots!" and lunch is done.
Desperation makes you say crazy things.  
The start of home school lessons.
Fidgety.  Whiney.
How about nap time?
More tears.
To his room.  Crumpled in a heap of emotions on his bed.
Almost an hour of "am I done now?!" and I'm about to lose it.
More tears.  This time from me.
I am not a napper, so nap time is my sacred quiet time.
To study.  To pray.  To read.  Or to not read.  To perhaps sit with a bag of pretzels and watch "Teen Mom" on Netflix just because i can.
He is up.  Sometimes after an hour of yelling back and forth at each other.  Sometimes after nearly 3 hours of good, hard sleep.
We try school again.
It sometimes goes well.
And sometimes there are more tears.
We always finish with encouraging words, stickers on our reading chart, and praises for a job well done, no matter how little we may have in fact completed.
Time for more snacks.
Always he begs for strawberries.
Always I offer whatever is washed and ready in the fridge.
Time for dinner.
Another bean burrito.
Daddy isn't home in the evenings much so I am almost always unmotivated to cook.
A promise of Yogurtland if he would just eat those gosh darn carrots!
More tears.
We resort to watching television with a plate of fruit for him and a glass of wine for mommy if we are really being honest here.  
Maybe a shower.  Maybe some popcorn.  Maybe climbing into mommy's bed because she doesn't like to sleep alone.
And at the end of the night, as I smell his sweet little boy smell, I always, always thank Jesus for this sweet boy. For the lessons I am learning each day parenting him.  For the grace God has with me as I stumble about and mother in the trenches.  For the forgiveness I have been granted for the countless times I screwed up and sinned throughout the day.

This doing daily life with Swee'Pea is still relatively new to me.  I didn't used to get to spend my days with this precious boy.  I remember those years vividly.  I remember the pain.  the bitterness.  the anger.  the jealousy.  I remember how burdened my heart was to be at home, and how miserable I was in every. single. aspect of my life because I wasn't.  I remind myself of those days often, because in reminding myself of my past I am reminding myself to rejoice in my present.

Because when it seems like I've folded my hundredth sock...
and cut my thousandth apple...
and wiped up my millionth crumb...
and said "no" for the billionth time...

i remember.

This is all a gift.
A precious gift that I don't deserve.
Being home with this sweet little man.
Being a wife and a mother.
It was what I was born to do.  
And I am grateful.
I am filled with inexplicable joy.
A helpmate to my husband.
A mother to my son.
What greater gift could I have asked for?

It isn't always easy.
Or beautiful.
Life is messy.
And it is hard.
I get lonely.
And I whine.
I am selfish.
And I sin all the time.
But when it comes down to it, there is no place I'd rather be and no job I'd rather do.

Every single day is another chance to find joy.  Even in the hardness and the chaos.  Even in the messes and the monotony.

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."  Psalm 118:24

Infertility, Hope, and Hannah.

Popeye and I are having a less than easy time conceiving a second child.

My belly full of Swee'Pea.

For the first few years after Swee'Pea was born, we didn't talk a ton about having another child.  I would pester Popeye off and on about having another baby, and sometimes we genuinely did discuss when we would start officially "trying" for another.  But mostly we both just prayed.  He, I assume, for direction and openness in having more children, and me for my own heart to be protected as more and more friends announced their pregnancies and continued growing their families.  I prayed for my heart to be open and willing to whatever God had for me.  But even more so I prayed for my husband's heart to be softened and changed and ready for however many babies the Lord would grant us.

After 3 years of solid prayer, Popeye was ready.  And I was terrified.  We had struggled with infertility with Swee'Pea, but because we were still so fresh in our marriage and so terribly young, it hadn't affected me the way infertility was affecting me in recent years.  I had become increasingly more aware (and researched) about the risks and challenges of having a child in what my doctor has termed "later child-bearing years" (please.  I still know people I graduated high school with who are just now finishing college).  And I knew that the longer and longer we waited, the harder it could be to have a baby on our own.  However, I also knew that after many many years, one of many prayers had been incredibly answered.  Popeye and I were united.  We were committed.  But most of all, we were at peace knowing that God had a perfect plan and design for us as we made our way down the road to having another baby.

I wish I had some fantastic news to share with the world sharing how we have won the mighty battle against infertility.  Sadly, a year later, we seem no closer to having a baby now than we were last summer when we felt God nudging us towards having another child.   It's been a long year.  Oh, what a long year it has been.  A year of temp-taking and charting and peeing on sticks.  A year of ultrasounds and medications and surgeries and stitches.  A year of guessing games and false symptoms and confusion and grief.  But through it all, these two things remain.

Hope.
Incredible hope.
Hope that is never failing.
Hope that is found in Christ alone.

Faith.
Unstoppable faith.
Faith that can move mountains.
Faith that brings indescribable peace.

You see, we started this journey fully surrendering to God's perfect plan.  For three years, Popeye and I both worked to surrender our own selfish desires to God, praying for him to soften and change our hearts to His will.  And for a full year, we've continued to pray for God to bring us the desires of our hearts knowing full well that His plan may not be our own.  We waited obediently for Him to put on our hearts to have another child, and now we wait in obedience again for our child to come.  Through this journey our faith has been tested, our unity threatened, and our emotions on edge.  But like a warm blanket on a cool winter's eve, His love and peace has surrounded us, comforting us in our hardest times and bringing new hope to each and every morning.

Yesterday I was reading in 1 Samuel and came across the story of Hannah.  Hannah was the barren wife of Elkanah, and because of her childless state she was treated horribly by Elkanah's other wife, Peninnah.  Hannah grieved greatly for a child, and wept and would not eat for her sadness over her empty womb.  One day in her grief-stricken state, she left her husband and family and went to the temple where she had an encounter with Eli, a great judge of Israel:

She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.  

And she vowed a vow and said, "O Lord of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant and remember me and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a son, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head."

As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth.

Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard.

Therefore Eli took her to be a drunken woman.

And Eli said to her, "How long will you go on being drunk?  Put your wine away from you."

But Hannah answered, "No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit.  I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord.  

Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, 
for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation.

Then Eli answered, "Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him."

And she said, "Let your servant find favor in your eyes."  
Then the woman went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad.

They rose early in the morning and worshiped before the Lord; then they went back to their house at Ramah.  And Elkanah knew Hannah his wife, and the Lord remembered her. 

And in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Samuel, 

for she said, "I have asked for him from the Lord."


The man Elkanah and all his house went up to offer to the Lord the yearly sacrifice and to pay his vow.
But Hannah did not go up, for she said to her husband, "As soon as the child is weaned, I will bring him, so that he may appear in the presence of the Lord and dwell there forever."
Elkanah her husband said to her, "Do what seems best to you; wait until you have weaned him; 
only, may the Lord establish his word."
So the woman remained and nursed her son until she weaned him.
And when she had weaned him, she took him up with her, along with a three-year-old bull, an ephah of flour, and a skin of wine, and she brought him to the house of the Lord at Shiloh. 
And the child was young.  
  Then they slaughtered the bull, and they brought the child to Eli. 
And she said, "Oh, my lord!  As you live, my lord, I am the woman 
who was standing here in your presence, praying to the Lord.
For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him.
Therefore I have lent him to the Lord.  As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord."
And he worshipped the Lord there.
1 Samuel 1:10-28

What a woman of great faith and hope in the Lord.  Barren and brushed aside, she poured her heart and soul to the Lord, promising Him the gift of her firstborn if only she would be entrusted with a son.  And the Lord remembered her.  And, in what I feel is even more a testament to her great faith, she remembered her promise to the Lord, and returned her son to Him.  The son she had longed for, prayed for, and fasted for.  The son she held for just a few years in her arms before she brought him back to his rightful place.  The son who would someday become the last great judge of Israel and one of the Old Testament's greatest Prophets.

Hannah's hope in the Lord was so amazing that she promised to return to Him the one thing she had desired most in her life.  Her faith was so strong that she willingly brought her son to the Lord just moments after she had weaned him and he no longer depended on her alone for survival.  Her love for the Lord was so strong that even as she left her only long-awaited son to serve the Lord, she praised and glorified the Lord in song for His goodness and faithfulness (1 Samuel 2:1-10).  I can only pray that my hope will continue to be in the Lord.  That my faith will not be shaken through times of turmoil and pain.  That I would continue to listen to God's voice as He guides me along this journey of infertility and parenthood.  That I would be ever willing to faithfully follow His plan above my own, even if it means giving up the thing I desire most.

But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more!

 Psalm 71:14

Dear Jesus, thank you for this incredible hope I have in you.  Thank you for your precious gift of your spirit and your word that carries us through each day.  Thank you for your amazing promises that I whisper as prayers as I daily desire to surrender myself to you.  As I daily surrender my plan, my desires, and my timeline of how things should be.   Thank you Jesus for daily protecting me.  For protecting my heart and my marriage as we travel on this journey.  Thank you for the joy of new life that I have the privilege of celebrating with dear friends and family.  Thank you for the genuine joy I have in knowing and loving you daily.  Thank you for the beauty of you.

My rescuer, my stronghold, my delight...

Speechless.

That's how I feel right now.

There are a billon and one emotions swirling around inside of me and just trying to process them makes me want to curl up and cry myself to sleep.

Have you ever had days like that? Weeks? Months even? Where the very thought of having to verbalize what you are feeling seems impossible. The very task of putting words to your emotions seems completely ridiculous, as if no words in your vocabulary could ever even closely represent what is swirling in twirling in your heart of hearts.

Anger.

Denial.

Grief.

Confusion.

Loneliness.

Pain.

Greed.

Desperation.

Frustration.

Fear.

Even now, typing out these words, the tears pour from my eyes. These are not feelings you are supposed to express, oh no. Only happy thoughts... thoughts of excitement and joy. Of peace and happiness. Of contentment and satisfaction. Those are the thoughts and feelings people want to hear about. Those are the words people want you to share.

And as much as I have experienced amazing emotions, the past few months have also been a time of hardship in my heart. I've been wrestling over and over with the things that have been presented to me, not on a silver platter in a tidy, organized fashion, but in a lump of a burlap sack, spit out at me recklessly and haphazardly.

The sudden and horrific death of a beloved aunt.

The fear of layoffs and being left jobless.

The constant disappointment of infertility and the struggles that go along with it.

The crushing weight of trying to keep up with life. With friendships. With my walk with Christ.

The voice inside of me that screams, "Give up! Just pull the covers over your head and give up already!"

The defiant child inside that stubbornly refuses to obey, to relent, to accept what is given.

The nagging whisper that reminds me at the weakest of times that I'm not good enough, fast enough, smart enough, nice enough, pretty enough... simply, not enough.

And so I cry. And I fight. And I kick and I scream. And I lie. And I pretend it is okay. And I put a pretend smile on my face. And then I break.

And only when I am truly broken can I be rescued. Only when I am in the most desperate places can I truly be saved. Picked up from the ashes. Comforted by the true comforter. Loved by the one who is Love.

Because he desires me. Adores me. Delights in me.

And in the stillness of the quiet morning, with my cup of coffee and a tender soul, He heals me. He takes away my pain. He conquers my demons. And I am ever so grateful to be wrapped in the arms of my Heavenly Father.

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.

The cords of death encompassed me; the torrents of destruction assailed me; the cords of Sheol entangled me; the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.

Then the earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry.

Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him.

He bowed the heavens and came down; thick darkness was under his feet.

He rode on a cherub and flew; he came swiftly on the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him, thick clouds dark with water.

Out of the brightness before him hailstones and coals of fire broke through his clouds.

The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire.

And he sent out his arrows and scattered them; he flashed forth lightnings and routed them.

Then the channels of the sea were seen, and the foundations of the world were laid bare

at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of your nostrils.

He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters.

He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me.

They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support.

He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.

Psalm 18:1-19

52 weeks of thanks: Week 1

...because just being thankful in the month of November just doesn't seem like enough.

52 blogs of thanks. For 52 weeks of the year.

(how is that for commitment, poor neglected blog)

And without further ado (and not always in any particular order...) I give you week 1.

*******

I am thankful for Baby Jesus.

and bearded man Jesus, too, if you are wondering.

Thankful for His teachings. His stories.

His precious words of hope, peace, and joy.

Thankful for life He lived for me. The life he gave up for me.

Thankful for His promises never broken.

His love over flowing.

His grace never ceasing.

His mercies new every day.

His faithfulness without fail.

Even when I'm a sinner.

Especially when I'm a sinner.

I'm thankful for His word, wrapped up in pretty pink binding, ready to be devoured.

I'm thankful for a pretty new journal. Empty pages ready to be filled with my spiritual journeys of yet another year.

For a pile of books just begging to be read. Bookmarks and post its already marking the pages of those that I couldn't wait to crack open if even just a page or two.

Thankful for the knowledge that each and every day I get a "do-over." A clean slate. An opportunity to serve and love and shine and obey and repent and forgive and be forgiven.

Thankful for a Jesus that loves me, cares for me, craves a relationship with me, even while I'm still a sinner.

Thankful knowing that regardless of my joy, my happiness, my sin, my hurt, my pain, He is there.

Without fail.

And I am ever so thankful. Ridiculously thankful.

Because of the Lord's great love

We are not consumed,

For His compassions never fail,

They are new every morning;

GREAT is your faithfulness.

The Lord is my portion;

I will wait for Him.

Lamentations 3:22-24