Tag: Jesus

A lesson on Grief.

 

 

Grief is the strangest thing.
It comes and it goes with no rhyme or reason.

For those of you who don’t know, my precious grandmother passed away on July 30th. She was almost ninety-five years-old.
I knew it was coming…eventually.
I knew she hadn’t been feeling well.
But somehow, I was blindsided.

It’s so crazy how someone who is so vibrant and full of life can just be gone.
Ceases to exist.

I don’t even know how I’m doing.
I’m functioning normally.
I think I am happy.
Some days, I think I am totally rocking this.
Other days, the void feels less like a leap and more like a canyon.

I try to look at the situation from a cognitive approach.
She was ninety-five.
She lived a long time.
She was ready to go.
Every one dies.

Some days that works.
Other days, my soul is so unsettled.
I have dreamt of her every single night since she passed away.
My daughter, talks about her every day.
She surrounds me in my home.
Her china is in my cabinet.
Her vases are in my kitchen.
I am wrapped in her favorite blanket every night.

Most of the time her things bring me comfort.
Other times, they bring me pain.

That song, five more minutes.
It is a song always on my lips.
What I wouldn’t give for just five more minutes.

My grandma was  not an average grandma.
I didn’t just see her on holidays and special occasions.
She was my best friend.
When Trey and I were first married and moved to KC, grandma would come and stay for weekends or even weeks at a time.
We would stay up until 12 or 1 in the morning cuddled on the couch under a blanket watching movies.
When Rock Band was the cool game on the wii, she and I would play together.
Her singing and me playing the guitar.

I talked to her multiple times a week on the phone.
I looked forward to seeing her on weekends when we would go home.
I named my daughter after her.
She watched me every day when I was little.
My cousin and I have a lifetime of memories from spending our childhood at that red house on Z highway.

I just wish I had five minutes to tell her how much I miss her.
I would tell her how my heart aches to hear her laugh.
I would tell her that Chloe talks about her every. single. day.
I would tell her Chloe carries around jewels that she calls her Gramma, Jewell.
I would tell her how Chloe talks about grandma and Jesus.
I would tell her that no place here is safe.
…I see her at Nebraska Furniture Mart..we frequented it when she came to visit.
…I see her at our old apartment watching movies with us.
…I see her Chili’s eating ribs that she declared were the best ones she had ever had.
…I see her at Garmin visiting Trey.
…I see her at the hospital I delivered each baby.
…I see her in every red sparkly thing.
…I see her at UMKC, she was at both of my graduations. She was my biggest fan.
…I see her in our Church…the one she loved to visit.
…I see her in every flower.
…I see her on 151st Street at the exact stoplight I was stopped at when she said, “Courty, you are such a good little momma.”
…I see her when I watch Andy Griffith, or Mama’s Family, or Full- House, or her beloved Larry the Cable Guy.
…I hear her voice singing I’ll Fly Away, Amazing Grace, or Beulah Land.

I now cannot bear to listen to the last voice mail she left me because it encompasses me in a wave of grief.
I am dreading Thanksgiving.
I want to skip Christmas.
I can’t even bear to think about what her last Thanksgiving and Christmas were like. Those memories haunt me.
Why didn’t I cherish each last memory?
Why couldn’t I just “know” it was the last?

Why does this have to hurt so  bad?
Why has it ONLY been three months?
Why do I have to wait a lifetime to see her face again?
Why will I eventually be alive longer without her than I was with her?

Grief, I HATE you.

If you’re grieving, know there are others right there with you.
If you aren’t grieving, be there for someone who is.

Grief doesn’t have an expiration date.
It doesn’t go away.
I hear it lessens.  I hope I can attest to it one day.

Don’t say, “God really needed them in Heaven.”
“They are in a better place.”
“She wouldn’t want you to be sad.”
“Cheer up! It will be ok.”
“You’ll see her again one day.”

While I believe all of those things, they dismiss the pain I am in.
I know she is in a better place.
I know she has been rewarded for the work she put in here.
I know she is rejoicing.
I know she would’nt come back.

But, I WANT HER.
I MISS HER.
My heart ACHES.
My momma is sad.
My dad is sad.
My sisters are sad.
My kids are missing out.
My nephew will never know her.
It SUCKS. IT ISN’T FAIR. I DON’T WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT HER.

I’m happy for her.
But I am so sad for ME.

I know, God comforts the broken-hearted.
I feel His presence.
I have hope I will be reunited with her.
As a Christian, I know those things.
But I still live in this broken world.
My heart will continue to be broken regardless of how close I walk with the Lord.

Instead, say, “This sucks. I’m so sorry you are hurting.”
“Grief is awful.”
“What a profound loss you must be feeling.”
“I know your heart is aching. I know that feeling.”
“Tell me about them.”
“What is the funniest memory you have?”
“What is one memory you’ve had since they passed you wish they could
seen?”

News flash. Bringing them up will not remind the person they have died.
They know. They haven’t forgotten.
Talking about that person is the only way to keep them alive.
So talk about them.
Listen to the stories.
Be there to just sit in the ugly and the brokenness.
Everyone experiences grief.
Everyone.

Feel it.
Experience it.
Don’t push it away.
Don’t hurry it.
Honor it.
Understand that changing the subject, avoiding it, and pretending it didn’t happen only make the hurt worse.
Grief is there whether we acknowledge it or  not.
The only way to lessen the sting is to walk through it.

Be a friend to someone.
Especially in this season.
This is someone’s first Holiday Season without their precious loved one.
It also might be someone’s 45th Holiday Season without their precious loved one.
While it gets less intense, I guarantee the loved ones still ache for them.
Talk about them.
Let them know that their loved one had an impact on your life and that you also miss them.

Don’t dismiss someone’s loss with flippant “Christian phrases”.
Just because you are a Christian doesn’t mean that we are sheltered from the cruelty of this world.
We aren’t.
Treat someone the way you would want them to treat you if you were in the ocean that is grief.

Love one another.

 

 

 

Chasing Perfect.

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Perfectionism.

It’s a daily struggle.
I find myself in pure bliss when every single thing has been checked off my to-do list.
The house is clean.
Kids bathed.
Appointments scheduled.
Dog fed/bathed.
Laundry done & put away.
Workout done.
Prayer time done.
Homework done.

The problem is, I’m either too exhausted by the end of that list to enjoy it or, it rarely happens. Which totally leaves me in a dangerous place of hanging my happiness on whether or not my list is complete.

In my (therapizing) myself, (What the hubs says I do to him) I have figured out that the to -do list makes me feel safe and in control.

While on those “magical days” I feel perfectly content, on those other days when all of the things don’t get done, I feel out of control.

Satan begins restructure my self-esteem in a way that tells me I am only as good as the things I have completed or produced. While there are many many issues with perfectionism, I think the most dangerous part is that it gives Satan a little bit of room to wiggle our lives.

If he can’t control my behavior, my mind is the next best thing. It’s not likely that you’ll find me shoplifting or engaging in another unlawful act. But, on any given day, you may find my mind in places it shouldn’t be.

If I haven’t checked my list off, if I haven’t made it to the gym, if I ate something I shouldn’t have, if I slept in instead of reading my Bible, if I yelled at my kids, if I didn’t really listen when my husband told me about his day, if I wasn’t patient with my two-year old, then I am a failure.

I’m not as good as my neighbor across the street who spends her days playing with her kids instead of doing homework and cleaning.

I’m not as good as the single- mom who spends all of her free time volunteering at church.

I’m not as good as the other grad student who has practiced her skills three times each week.

Or, as good as the girl who got a 98% on her midterm instead of my measly 95%. It must mean I am not meant to be a counselor. Who would want to come to a counselor who got a 95% on their midterm? Certainly not me.  (Kidding. I am making a point about how DUMB my thoughts are).

…you do it too. You just may not be willing to admit it. But behind that screen, you’ve wondered why you’re not as…(whatever) as the person you’re looking at on social media.

If our self-image comes from a comparison with someone else or a comparison with the perfect version of ourselves we believe we should be, we will never ever be good enough. Hear that. We will never be good enough. The instrument we use to measure ourselves will always be changing.

If I want to lose weight…I do…but then I’m not thin enough.
If I want to make more money, I do, but then it’s not enough.
If I want to be a better parent, I am, but not as good as the mom across the street.

There’s always going to be someone who is smarter, prettier, thinner, more fit, funnier, wittier, richer, more acclaimed, more well-known, etc. It is a pointless race that keeps our mind on things that don’t matter.

Well, not that they don’t matter, but comparing ourselves to someone else is a futile endeavor. It gets us nowhere but frustrated.

Some weeks, I get up at 5am and read my Bible for an hour and pray for 30 minutes. Then, I go to the gym. Other weeks, I don’t make it out of bed at 5 and sometimes I don’t make it to the gym. I bet you can guess how my self-esteem is on the days I don’t do those things.

I wonder if you could guess where my relationship with God is on the days I haven’t gotten up early?

If you guess not close, you’re right.

I feel completely disconnected.
I used to think it was because I was not disciplined enough.
I used to think it was because God required me to give him that devotion every single day for an hour and a half. If I didn’t, it must mean I don’t love God as much as I claim to. The honest truth was that I pulled away from him because I felt that if I didn’t do those things, then I wasn’t worthy of his love.

I’m not worthy of his love.
But he didn’t pull away from me, I pulled away from him because I THOUGHT that he would only want me if I was coming to him every single day for exactly 90 minutes.

Then, one day, the Holy Sprit spoke to me and said, “You’re making our relationship a to-do list. It’s not about what you do or don’t do. It’s about me.”

See how Satan does that?
By setting this ridiculous standard for myself in all areas of my life, he managed to wiggle into my relationship with God. He shifted my eyes from Jesus and to myself.
It stopped being about who He Is and it became who I am.

I let Satan in.
I let him in my mind when I started comparing.

While those things didn’t immediately affect my relationship with God, slowly but surely my perfectionism ended exactly where I never intended.

The point of all of this? Be so very careful what you allow yourself to think. Your thoughts have SO much power. Control your thoughts. Don’t let them control you. While you may not have any control over what thought pops into your mind, you absolutely have the power to decide whether or not you are going to spend any time thinking about it.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ.” – 2 Corinthians 10:5

Don’t Cry, Mom.

 

Don’t. Cry. Mom.

Those words were uttered by my sleepy five year-old about an hour past his bedtime (we are late to everything, even to sleep.)

I jumped  fell into his bed after spending entirely too long trying to get my Chloe/Zoe to sleep (that’s a whole other post.)

…If you’re wondering, she wasn’t asleep. I gave up and yelled for her father to try again. Mostly because I had promised Landry I would put him to sleep and partly because I was exhausted with trying to get her to sleep.

My head hit this big brown bear laying in the middle of his bed. A familiar smell hit my nose and went straight to my heart.

This bear, it was my grandma’s. She kept it in her room (you know how old women do?) As suddenly as my heart recognized that smell, the tears began to fall.

Isn’t it funny how a smell can unravel us?

Isn’t grief weird? I wasn’t even thinking about her. It just hits you like a rogue wave. Moments after you were completely fine, you can be smack dab in the middle of complete heart ache.

When my sweet sweet boy noticed my tears he said, “Don’t cry, mom.”

Why do we say that? Why are we so uncomfortable with feelings we all have?

Sadness and grief are universal feelings. Every person on this earth will have experienced both feelings at least once before they die.

Yet, we dismiss them as quickly as they surface.

So, I asked him why he didn’t want me to cry. He said he “didn’t want me to be sad.” To which I replied, “But I am, Landry. And I’m going to be for a long time. I loved and knew my grandma for thirty years– my whole life.”

He said, “Wow, mom. That’s a long time.”

I said, “It is. And wouldn’t it be weird if I was only sad for a day? And I knew her my whole life? Does that sound right? Should I only miss her a day?”

He said, “Well no. You will miss her for a long time.”

I said, “Yeah, probably for the rest of my life. But you know what? That’s okay. She was so special to me. So sometimes I’m going to cry. When I do cry, I feel better. Do you feel better when you cry?”

He said, “Yeah, I do.”

I said, “Do you ever feel better when someone tells you not to be sad or not to cry?”

He said, “No.”

I said, “Or, do you feel better if someone says, oh wow. That makes me so sad too. I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad.”

He said, (rather enthusiastically) “Yeah, that!!”

I went on to explain that being sad is something that is normal. We need to let ourselves feel it when it comes up. Ultimately, that’s the only thing to help us to feel better.

I ended the conversation by explaining that it’s okay for boys to cry and it doesn’t mean he’s weak, it means he’s strong.

I truly believe that we do our sons, husbands, fathers, nephews, and friends a disservice when we enforce the false narrative that men shouldn’t cry. That men shouldn’t feel emotions.

Because, they DO have feelings.

They DO have emotions.

They should feel free to express those emotions without fear of being teased or called a “baby” or a “girl.”

Emotions are not “girl” things.

Emotions are “human” things.

In my house, I saw my dad cry.

I saw him do laundry, change diapers, clean the house, take care of my mom, buy tampons at the store, and anything and everything else because he was my mom’s partner and he was our other parent. He was/is strong because he was able to be both masculine and also emotionally available.

In this house, my children have seen my husband cry. They watch him do laundry, clean the house, take the trash out, take care of all of us, kiss boo boos, change diapers, take Chloe to gymnastics, and any other “girly” thing that needs to be done. My husband is strong because he is able to be both masculine and emotionally available.

We need to do better for our sons. We need them to understand that it’s healthy and normal for them to cry and to feel emotions. If we allowed for them to be who they are, we might just be so surprised at the society we could live in.

One day he will be able to say, “It’s okay to cry, mom. Just cry.”

 

 

DEPRESSION is an ugly word…

What do all of these pictures have in common?

•• D E P R E S S I O N ••

After my first pregnancy. I had depression.

During the end of my last pregnancy and after my last pregnancy, I had depression.

For those of you who don’t know, depression is NOT general sadness. It is not grief. It is not something you can change by the amount of faith you have or something you can “will” yourself out of by optimism.

If it was, I would be the poster child for that particular remedy.

Believe me, no one has more grit and determination than this girl.

It’s is different for everyone.
But for me, the first time, it was crying all of the time.

It was knowing that I should be so happy but all I could do was feel sad and then when I couldn’t feel that anymore, it was emptiness.

Then, during my last pregnancy, it was dark. It was being so overwhelmed at the thought of answering a phone call, getting out of bed, getting dressed, going to work, taking care of my child.

The thought of the next day was almost too much.

After Chloe was born, it was better but still so much emptiness.

It was dark.
It was lonely.
It was overwhelming.
It was guilt at the type of mom I wasn’t being to Landry.

Guilt over not being so happy when all I wanted was a baby.

Then guilt at not being so overjoyed at having the baby girl I always wanted.

It was guilt over not being the wife Trey deserved.

And I did feel happiness. I did feel joy, at times.
I was so thankful for my babies.
I never wanted to harm them or anyone else.
I just wanted to feel like myself again.

Luckily, after Landry, I knew depression.

I knew medication helped me tremendously the first time.

After Chloe, I accepted that this was something I had to fight.

I knew what to do.
I went back to my doctor and I got on medication.

Did I ever want to be on medication?
Nope.
Was it something I resisted and tried to explain away?
Yep.

Could I will myself out of it?
Nope.

Was my life good?
Yep.
Everything I ever dreamed?
Yep.

Did that change it?
Nope.

That last picture, the Golden Gate Bridge, 1600 people have jumped off that bridge to their death.

Because they wanted to escape the pain they felt day in and out.
An overwhelming and inescapable hole.

I was lucky.
I have an amazing support system.
I figured it out early on and know that it’s something I will likely always face.
I found something that works for me. Medication.

It’s an ugly word.
Well…for mental illness it is.
For cancer? Not so much.
Of course you would take medication for cancer, but if you take it for depression, you’re weak.

Nope. I’m strong.
I’m strong because I choose to look my illness head on and say, I see you and I’m fighting you.

I know everyone has their “theories” on antidepressants and therapy.

And guess what?
You’re wrong.
Until you’ve struggled with it, you don’t get a vote.

Anything other than your personal experience isn’t helpful to anyone that does have a mental illness.

It’s harmful.
It stigmatizes.
It makes getting help more difficult.
It makes you look ignorant.

It causes jumping off a bridge seem like an easier option than getting actual help.

When jumping off a bridge seems like a better option than seeking help, you could say that we as a society have failed.

Be kind to others.
Chances are, that person you’re talking to about mental health, may be someone diagnosed.
Or, they might know someone very close to them who is.

There are SO many people who struggle with a mental health illness.

Until we start talking about it and normalizing it, we will continue losing lives to it.

#depression #mentalhealth #stopthestigma

{I’m a fan}

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Last night we started our new study in life-group called “Not a Fan”. The premise of the study is: are you a fan or a follower? First, you have to define a fan and a follower to determine which category you fall into.  Webster defines a follower as: “one that follows the opinions and teachings of another”. Another definition from Webster is: “one that imitates another”.  The definition of a “fan” as Webster defines is “an enthusiastic devotee usually as a spectator. It is also defined as an “ardent admirer or enthusiast.”

This was such an eye-opening hit to the ego. If I am being honest, completely totally honest, I am a fan. I don’t follow every teaching of Jesus. I follow his teachings when they fit into my day, life, or situation. I follow him when it’s easy for me. As for the second definition…I definitely don’t imitate Jesus. Is being a “fan” enough to get me to Heaven? Maybe… but then there’s also a chance that Revelation 3:16 may just apply to me. It says: “So, because you are lukewarm neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”  That is nothing short of terrifying. I could live my entire life going to church, applying the Bible to some parts of my life, praying when I need something, before meals, at church, and at night and still God could say to me at the end of my life “Depart from me I never knew you”. Matthew 7:21-23

So, what does it mean to be a follower. I think a follower, a true follower, is someone who earnestly follows Jesus and his teachings at all times. Not just when they feel like it. The bottom line is that if I want to follow Jesus, if I want to honestly know him, I have to die to myself and this world…daily. I have to take up my cross and follow him Matthew 16:24. He commands us to love him with all of our heart, our mind, our strength, and our soul. He also commands us to love our neighbor as our self. He commands us to do that. Nowhere does it say: “when you are feeling good and things are going your way love me with all of your heart, mind, soul and strength. It doesn’t say: “love your neighbor as yourself when they are treating you well”. Oh, I wish it said those things. Because then…I would be categorized as a “follower”.

I was listening to the amazing T.D. Jakes this morning. He was preaching on love and God’s commandment of love. He commands us to love. Bishop Jakes illustrated that God wouldn’t command us to do something if we didn’t have the ability. He wouldn’t command us to transform into an animal, for example, because we don’t have that ability. But, since he did command us to love him and our neighbor, we must possess that ability. Which means that our excuses for not doing that don’t hold up. That’s some more bad news.

Not only should we do these things, we must to do these things, if we truly want to be a follower of Jesus. Those are some difficult commands.

To me, all of this means that I have to search God’s word and learn all that I can about Jesus. I have to understand his teachings and let them make an imprint on my heart. It means, that I have to learn to control my mind. It means that I have to fight my flesh daily. I have to bite my tongue, give up on winning every argument, I have to stop being lazy and complacent, I have to turn the other cheek, I have to love God more than I love myself and fight all of my earthly desires. I have to die to myself daily.

It’s a tall order for sure. But I am certain that it is more than worth it. So this is day one on my quest to become a true follower of Jesus.

– Court

{I’ve come to worship}

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I’m gonna lift my hands
til I can reach heaven
I’m gonna shout your name
til the walls come falling down
Ive come to worship
Ive come to worship

That song spoke to me this weekend. We serve this BIG God. The God who created everything. The only thing we need to do to be in his presence is to worship.

Since I started going to a new church (7 years ago) I stopped worshiping like I used to. I used to LOVE Praise & Worship. I loved just being in His presence. I loved that I didn’t have to pray about anything, or ask for anything, or really do anything, but praise him. I loved just feeling Him all around me. It really is the greatest feeling in all the world. Then, when we moved to a bigger…a much bigger church, full of new people, new songs, and unfamiliar territory, I stopped. I became a spectator to praise and worship. I sang the songs and watched others worship. I would close my eyes sometimes but that was as far as I was willing to go. I was more concerned with what everyone else was thinking of me, than I was about what God was thinking of me. The one person I was most concerned about was my husband. Why I was so concerned with what he thought I have no clue. He has told me time and again how beautiful it is to him to see me worshiping. I think that it was hard for me because he and I worship differently. He doesn’t raise his hands and I do (did). So, I started trying to worship like him, but instead of worshiping like him, I wasn’t worshiping at all. Not worshiping is dangerous. It is dangerous because when we stop worshiping we start starving our soul.

I have recently started to dive into the word. This has been a constant struggle for me. While I have gotten so much closer to God in that way, and in my prayer life, I have neglected worshiping him. He laid that on my heart last Wednesday. While it is necessary to read the word, and to pray, it is also a necessity to worship. Reading the word feeds your mind, while praying and worshiping feed your soul. I was neglecting the soul part.

On Wednesday night, I stopped caring. I stopped caring what the person behind me was thinking, or what the person in front of me was thinking, I even stopped caring what the man beside me was thinking. All I was concerned about was what God was thinking of me. Truth be told, I doubt that any of those people were even thinking of me. I once heard Dr. Phil say: “you would stop worrying about what people think of you if you realized how little they actually do”. Wait! People don’t think about me?! No, no they don’t. That stings a bit doesn’t it? ha! So, those people at church weren’t looking at me thinking about me raising my hands? Nope! They were worshiping God. They weren’t worried about what I was doing. So all of that time (seven years) I was neglecting praising my Savior for nothing.

   I dove in. I worshiped with all that I had. And it was one of the very greatest nights I have had in so long. I really love the verse “I’m gonna lift my hands til I can reach Heaven, I’m gonna shout your name till the walls come falling down”. We reach Heaven with our praise. When we praise God, all of that stuff that builds day after day between us and God, disappears. Then, it’s just us. Nothing else. What peace.
   So if you are like me, and you worry a lot about what others think. Stop! Because they probably aren’t thinking about you. And…even if they are, who cares? Worry more about what God thinks. He’s the only one that really knows you. And…His opinion is really the only one that matters. So, “Sing your song like you are unashamed, sing for joy at the mention of his name”.
– Court

{Straight from my heart}

This one has been a long time coming. This blog has been torn straight from my heart…straight from my soul. I love to write and I write about semi-personal things.  However, I have had this story on my heart since the day I started this blog. Now, now is the time.

As many of you may know our family has been through some rocky times. When I was in eighth grade my mom started getting sick. She and my dad visited the Mayo Clinic multiple times to figure out what was wrong with no luck. After numerous hospital visits, tests, possible diagnoses, and doctors she was diagnosed with something called NASH (non-alcoholic steato hepatitis). Which basically meant her liver was failing and for no apparent reason. She had none of the characteristics that a person typically diagnosed with this has. She had to stop teaching and was basically confined to our house and bed my whole high school career.

She suffered. We suffered. It was the single hardest thing I have ever faced. There were many times I questioned why my mom? Why us? What did we do? We had always went to church. We had always believed and trusted in God. So…why was this happening? My parents did a pretty good job of keeping my little sister and I sheltered from the worst of it. But sometimes, we peeked through the cracks and we saw the worst.  In those times of weakness, sadness, worry, doubt, and death, HE was there.

He was there every time I saw my dad open his Bible to read. He was there in my Aunt’s unwavering faith. He was there when my mom and aunt habitually took the Lord’s supper. He was there in the form of a man that would end up being my husband. He was there in my grandmother’s prayers and my sisters’ tears. He was there in my mom’s strength. He was there when bills were paid. He was there in each meal or card we received. I remember finding verses on healing in the Bible and posting them all over our house. On the doors, in my mom’s room and her bathroom…everywhere. I would declare and pray the verses aloud every time I saw them. He was very much there.

She spent many many nights in the hospital. She was on a list to receive a transplant. She was called once around Christmas. However, she was too sick to undergo the transplant. We kept praying and believing…even when it looked impossible.

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This picture is from Hoop Queen the January before she received her transplant. She had just had a liver biopsy (if I remember correctly) and was sent home with a pain patch. JUST so she could watch my sister and I walk for Hoop Queen. She was in so much pain. She was so strong.
If my mom ever reads this I will be in SO much trouble for sharing this picture. She hates it. So do I. It tears at my heart each time I see it. Our storm…her storm looked impossible that night. I was afraid I was losing my mom and I was afraid I was losing her quickly.Fast forward to May and we got THE CALL. The one that meant she would be saved. This hell was over. We packed up and left in the middle of the night to drive to St. Louis. I still remember stopping at the gas station with Trey, Shelley, and Ciara. I remember being so excited, nervous, scared, and thankful. I remember the song that played over the speakers outside the gas station “everything is going to be alright…rock a bye”. I felt like that was God calming my fears. We all thought it was our happily ever after.Fast forward a few hours. My mom has been prepped for surgery and is waiting to go in. We get a call. Its a NO GO. The liver from the donor is BAD. I cannot remember a time I have been more angry at God. I was so heartbroken. I remember thinking “really? Is this a joke to you? Do you think this is funny?” So back we went to the “normal” we knew. I remember her…she was so strong. She was so positive and HER faith was astonishing. Mine, mine was diminishing by the second.

Three months later we receive another call…at night (because for some reason these things don’t happen during the day). It was my dad’s birthday. I called my boyfriend (my hubs now) he was in Detroit interning at General Motors. He told me he would be on the first flight he could catch. I remember walking downstairs cautiously excited. My dad was in the living room getting things organized. I remember asking him “how do you know this is going to work? it will probably be bad again!” His reply, I will remember all my life…”Let’s pray”. Right there, in the middle of our living room, my little sister and I joined hands with my parents as my dad led us in the most powerful prayer I have ever heard. A few hours later…well a lot of hours later, my mom had a new liver.

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The day my mom came home with her new liver. HIS grace is sufficient.
I told you all of that to tell you this. No matter what your storm is, God is BIGGER. I have been struggling with some things. I have been struggling with personal, little, everyday things. I haven’t been able to shake them,no matter what I do. Tonight at church we sang Cornerstone. The part that spoke to me is this:Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Savior’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of allAnd then he spoke to my heart. He asked me why I trusted him with my mom but I couldn’t trust him with my own personal struggles. Why do I keep picking up those struggles up seconds after laying them at his feet? Then I thought about the lyrics…Through the storm HE IS LORD.

He is the God who made the Universe. He is the God who hung the stars. He is the God who knew us before we were born. So, why can’t I trust this awesome God with something so small? Because, instead of letting go and letting God, I tried to control the problem. You see, with my mom, I had no control. I HAD to give it to him. With big things in my life I have no control. But with little things I think I have control. In my own arrogance I decide to help God.

God doesn’t need our help. Whatever you are going through…know that our God’s grace is sufficient. If he can hang stars and form the mountains and heal my mom, he can take care of whatever you are facing. Let go, and Let God.

My sweet Jesus healed my mom. I am SO thankful he did. Because without his perfect blood, I wouldn’t have these moments.

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– Court
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{Who do you want to be?}

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    I don’t know if it is my age, or if it is my stage in life. Lately, I feel enlightened or…awakened. All that is on my mind lately is self-improvement. Do you ever feel like we spend so much time and energy on the outside that we often neglect the inside? I do. I told my dad not long ago that I wished there was a “gym” for my soul. I know…church is that “gym”. However, I need a more regular gym than every Sunday, occasional Wednesday, and life group. My soul needs a “workout” daily because it gets fat, lazy, weak, and just plain ugly very quickly. That leads me to the question: who do you want to be? Do you have a picture of her in your head? I do.


Who is she? She is made of the best qualities of those closest to me and of those that I admire from afar.


My grandmother is someone I would love to end up like. She has all of the qualities I wish to possess. My most favorite is her kindness. She is even “naively” kind. She is kind to those that are not kind to her. She loves those that don’t love her. And…she isn’t kind because she feels like she needs to be. She isn’t kind because she is striving to be a better person (like me) she just is.


I want to be confident even when I don’t feel confident. if you know me, you know that I have a hard time hiding my feelings. If I feel intimidated, I look intimidated. I am learning that confidence doesn’t mean that you are arrogant. Confidence means that you are comfortable in your own skin. Oh, to be comfortable in this skin….


I want to be humble. I LOVE that quality. There is something so very attractive about a humble person. I think one of the ugliest qualities, if not the ugliest, is arrogance. I actually hate it. That quality is why I didn’t want to have a blog. I don’t ever want to give off the impression that I think I am better…because I am not. I could write a whole blog on the things that are wrong with me (stay tuned I’m sure it will appear one of these days!) Confidence and humility go hand in hand, oddly enough. One of these days I will figure that one out!
I want to be generous and helpful. I want to be generous and helpful in every month (not just December). I want to spend time helping those in need. One of my most favorite quotes in the Bible is Matthew 25:40 The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ I really believe that a lot of us are just one pay check, one lost job, one accident, one sickness away from being “the least of these”. So many people, maybe you, helped my family when my mom was sick. Some sent money to help pay bills, some made food, some visited us in the hospital, some helped take care of my sister and I. There are too many things to even list. Let me take the time to say thank you. Thank you for showing us the love of Jesus. Thank you for being so kind and generous. Thank you for caring about us. I don’t know how we would have made it through without the help, support, and prayers of our community. The point? I want to be one of those people.


Have you ever been around someone who just made you feel better about yourself? After talking to them you felt genuinely happy and encouraged. Like when you are talking to them, you feel as though you are the most important person in the world. I have. I have met quite a few of those people. I want to be one of those people. I want to be the type of person that others are genuinely happy to see.


Of course this is not an exhaustive list of all of the qualities I wish to possess. And… you don’t have time to read them all. How do I become that person? The only answer I have, is to display those qualities, even when I don’t feel them. Then, maybe I will transform into “her” one of these days. Who do you want to be? what does “she” look like? I think the world would be a better place if we all spent more time worrying about the size of our heart instead of the size of our jeans.

– Court