#14 - or, Green is NOT my color.

Can I just be super honest with y’all for a second?  I’m jealous.  I’m totally jealous of women who post about their daily devotionals at 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning on <insert social media site here>.  I’m jealous of stay at home wives and mothers who have the time and ability to sit down at a totally acceptable time of day, after they’ve been up for a few hours and have had enough coffee to get their brains firing on all cylinders and they have the ability to grasp and understand what they’re reading.  I’m jealous of the amazing “a-ha” moments they share with us at 11:00 a.m., while those of us in the workplace are running to a meeting, conference call, working on some big project that our boss wanted like 5 minutes ago, or scarfing half our lunch down because we’ve been up since 5:00 a.m. (or earlier) and our stomach just growled so loud we’re pretty sure someone on the floor above us just heard it. 

There.  I admit it – I’m jealous of you, stay at home wife/mother. 

But, let me also say thank you. 

I’ll be totally honest on another front here – some days, your quick devotional update is the only devotional I get.  Some days, I wake up late (ok, MOST days I wake up late).  Sometimes, by the time I get off work, go to whatever extra meeting, ball game or other commitment I have (and I don’t even have any kids yet), it’s all I can do to get home, grab some supper and get ready for the next day to do it all over again.  Some days, by the time I walk through my front door – I have to force myself to eat, shower and get my clothes ready for the next day because all I really want to do is crash…and the thought of reading anything just wears me out.  It grieves me emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes even physically to go without getting into the Word on a regular basis.  My soul has a deep longing to have quiet time each day that I can dig into the Holy Word of God and feed my spirit – and some days I accomplish that and I feel amazing and connected and heard and loved by an incredible and living God and it’s awesome, and…some days I don’t. 

I long for the day that, God willing, E and I have children and I can (hopefully) stay at home with them and be able to encourage my fellow sisters out there who are wearily juggling the demands of being a wife and mother (as if that’s not enough) and holding down a full time job in the process. 

So thank you.  Thanks for sharing whatever verse or lesson or screen grab of your devotional with the rest of us…you have no idea what encouragement it is to those of us who are trudging along through our days just hanging on by a thread because of what some coworker is stirring up down the hall, or the nasty email we just got from our boss, or the sick kid we had to leave this morning because there’s too much going on at work and we can’t take off. 

So. To the gal that keeps us going with your daily share:  Keep on keepin’ on, sister – you’ll never know how grateful we are for it.

#13 – or, hi, my name is Ashley and I’m an indian giver.

Abraham is a man to whom I simply cannot relate.  Try as I may, I have a hard time finding any similarities with the man who laid the son God promised him on an altar, for the sole purpose of being obedient to God. 

But, Abraham, the man who tried to help God along to bring His will to fruition – yeah, I can totally relate to that.  All too often, I find myself trying to help God out – even when the only way I can think to accomplish something is contrary to what I know the Bible says.  (I think y’all know me well enough by now to know that I have no problem being brutally honest here…)  So yeah, sometimes I try to help God out in a way that I know is displeasing to Him.  There, I said it.  In fact, I suppose any time I try to step in and ‘handle it’ for God is contrary to Him – and it must be akin to telling Him that my plans are surely better.  And it doesn’t always happen in the most obvious of ways – but some of my biggest missteps can be traced back to simply forgetting (or ignoring) that my God is Jehovah Jireh.  He is the provider of EVERYTHING I need, the provider of EVERYTHING I could want, the provider of EVERYTHING He wants for my life…and yet, I find myself either questioning the goodness He has promised me or the vision I believe He has revealed to me of what He wants for my life.  Or, worse yet, I find myself not fully handing my life over to Him as He has commanded – for no other purpose than He desires our full obedience all the time.  Instead, I pick and choose the parts I want to hand over.  I pray and “give” my problems to God to handle and as I stand up – get this – I pick my worries, my struggles, my issues, my life, my hopes and fears – and I walk on, trying my best to carry them with me.  I pray to God to be the provider for my life – to supply all the things He wants for me, to fulfill every good and wonderful thing He has promised and to carry my burden when the weight is just too much…but I struggle to fully submit my life to Him and have faith in what He says He will do.  (As if past experience has taught me nothing).  And I pick my own ‘stuff’ back up and keep trudging on.

Why do I do this?  What is wrong with me? 

How frustrating I must be to such an amazing Father. 

Lately, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about Abraham.  God made an incredible promise to him – a son that he and his wife shouldn’t have been able to conceive.  And instead of trusting God’s timing, Abraham tried to help God fulfill that promise.  But after he learned his lesson, a son was provided – and shortly after, God told him to sacrifice that precious gift.  So what did Abraham do?  He gathered the things he would need, took his son up a mountain, built an altar and prepared his sacrifice.  Abraham laid his precious promise fulfilled by God on an altar built with his own hands and he was prepared to sacrifice Isaac. 

Abraham laid his son before God – fully ready to offer him up because he completely trusted God’s plan.  Wow.  And here I am with my (sometimes insignificant) problems, struggling to hand them over.  When I feel myself consumed by worry, I’m trying to remind myself lately what great faith and trust Abraham must have had.  I also find myself trying to remember all the promises in His word, which He has vowed to all of us who place our trust in Him.  And as if those aren’t enough, I count the promises God has fulfilled in my own life – some I knew from prayers that were answered, and some that caught me completely by surprise (but were so much better than anything I could have asked).  I’m also working on giving my problems to God and leaving them there – and every day is a struggle to not be an ‘indian giver’ with my life.  It is definitely one of the most difficult things I’ve ever tried to overcome, and it’s a task I’m learning every day – but I know with God, all things are possible. 

And if that’s not enough good news, He tells me in Hebrews 13:5 “…I will never fail you.  I will never abandon you.”

It’s good to have assurance like that, isn’t it?

#12 - or, is this the real life?

Yikes!

30. Thirty. 3-0. Three-oh.

Three. Zero.

When I was younger, thirty seemed like the epitome of being a sho’ nuff grown up. People in their 30’s had families, commitments, homes, careers. They were at a place where they should ‘have it together.’ And now I’m merely hours away from that place. But believe me when I say: I most certainly do NOT have it together. I don’t even have some of it together. Imagine a laundry room with dirty clothes on the floor, clean clothes spilling out of a basket, some shoes scattered around, some stuff hanging up to dry – the dryer buzzer just went off and the washing machine is still running and there’s absolutely no sign of being caught up on laundry any time soon – that, my friends, is my life.

When did this happen? I feel like my 20’s were just a blur. And I can’t believe they’re almost over. I’m closing in on the final hours of an entire decade, y’all. Somebody who’s been here tell me you were as depressed about this as I have been. It’s been really difficult for me. Honestly.

One of the biggest things I’ve struggled with this year has been how extraordinarily and undeservedly blessed I am. I guess struggled probably doesn’t make much sense – but let me try to explain. I came into this world and joined two sisters and a brother in my family. My oldest sister, Dina, had some health issues very early in her life and, as a result, had severe brain damage. Since E and I haven’t had any children yet, I can’t imagine how devastated mom and dad were when the doctors diagnosed it. A baby who wasn’t supposed to make it to her teenage years lived a long life – she passed away at the age of 29, more than double what the doctors told my parents.

pay no attention to my crazy hair.
tra la la.
carry on.

Which is what brings me to my struggle during my own 29^th year…the knowledge that I was blessed with this incredible life – a kind of life that my sister was denied. It’s a really difficult thing to articulate, but I suppose I just want to honor everything that she didn’t get to accomplish. I have felt like I needed to make extra sure that I do everything I can to live my life to the fullest – to have no regrets – to experience things, to explore things, to DO things and not waste the time I’ve been given. Life is truly precious – in ways we don’t even stop and consider most days. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m just as guilty of that as the next person.

I’ve often heard the eyes are the windows to the soul - and if you don't believe that, take another look at the pictures above. If this is true, Dina had the purest soul I’ve ever had the privilege to know. My childhood pastor probably said it best when he told us that we would probably never be able to understand the conversations she’d had with God himself. For someone who never spoke more than a handful of words – she has probably singlehandedly had the most profound impact on my life. Even though she looked at me like I’d stolen her momma, and even though I never got to have real conversation with her – she taught me things that most people will never understand. And I am forever grateful for having the honor to call her my sister.

Earlier this year, tragedy struck our family once again. My sister-in-law, Lindsey, lost her own sister, Allison. I guess you’d have to know the dynamic of our family to appreciate how difficult this was for us. Suffice it to say, when you marry into our family – it’s a package deal. We are taking in everybody. So get used to it. Anyway, in the aftermath of this loss, in which I think we all felt like we’d lost a part of us, I started thinking about things that I’d learned from Allison over the years. Lindsey has been a part of our family for so long now, I can’t remember life before her. She is my sister. She is a very best friend – and I am often so moved by her generosity, her willingness to love without condition, and her natural God-given ability to be a friend and confidant. Plus, she shares my love for rice krispie treats and she’s helped me solve many of my life’s problems over a pan of them.

And by extension, Allison had been a part of our family as well. She’d worked in my mom’s beauty shop. She came to my parents’ house for just about every fish fry – and I’m not sure that I’ll ever not think about her when we are frying fish. I’ve watched her kids grow up. Her daughter even calls me “Aunt Ashley” like the rest of the kids (and I am SO honored by that).

Allison was truly one of a kind. A shoot-you-straight kind of woman (my kinda gal). She did a lot of good during her time here. We shared a lot of laughs over the years – she gave me love-life advice on more than one occasion. She reminded me how great my family is more times than I can count. Gosh, how blessed am I to have gotten to share some time with her.

So, in honor of Dina – and what she didn’t get to accomplish, I wanted to share some things that I learned from Allison about how to do life. Some things I hope to do to honor both of their memories.

#1 - laugh. Laugh often and without reservation. Allison had one of the most amazing laughs I’ve ever heard. It was heartfelt – and honest. And she was one of those people who inspired you to try to be witty, just so you could crack her up.

#2 - be honest. Allison was a shoot you straight kind of woman. I really liked that about her. She was definitely one of those people who spoke the truth to you – even when it was hard to hear. And let’s face it – we ALL need a friend like that in our lives.

#3 - cherish family. Maybe one of the best things about Allison was the obvious love and affection she held for her kids. She was an amazing mother who loved her kids as much as anyone I’ve ever known. And I know she will continue to watch over her family. And I’m sure she loves them just as fiercely in heaven as she did here on earth.

#4 - put on some makeup and fix your hair. Even when you don’t feel like it. You know, I was thinking the other night about seeing Allison through the years, and I can’t remember too many times that I saw her without being ‘dressed.’ A true southern belle thing, I’m sure – but a valid one nonetheless. Even when I don’t feel like getting dressed and putting makeup on, I always feel better once I do. Trust me, I love pajamas just as much as the next gal, but there’s something about those days when your eye makeup looks amazing and your hair magically does exactly what you wanted – it’s hard to have a bad day when that happens. And sometimes, you just gotta fake it till you make it. I’m sure there were times she didn’t feel like it, but anyone who knew and loved Allison knew that if you were going to be seeing her – she would have on her makeup with her hair fixed.

I’m a blessed woman. I have amazing family and friends. I have been given much more than I deserve. And I’m going to try to remember that every day from here on out.

#11 – or, if you lay down with the pigs…

I admit it – I’m human. Sometimes, I get mad about stuff I should rejoice about. Sometimes I get wrapped up IN ‘life’ and forget to sit down and be thankful FOR my life. Sometimes I feel like I’ve squandered days…months – even entire years (can anyone else believe that it’s November already?!).

We squander a lot don’t we? Take stuff for granted on a daily basis. It’s ok to admit it – we all do it. A conversation I had with my friend, Kricket, not too long ago planted the seed for this particular entry. I’ve thought a lot about how I wanted to approach it. I couldn’t decide what made the best sense for me to get my thoughts in order and translate everything I’m thinking into some cognitively sound statements. And, I think the best way I’m going to do that is to approach this in two posts…more on the 2^nd one later…you’ll understand by mid-November.

It all started with a conversation about someone we know who has had the tendency to squander things in their life. I certainly won’t get into details of a very private conversation – but, by the end of the conversation, Kricket and I found ourselves discussing the parable of the prodigal son. I think a lot of us think of the father with his arms open wide welcoming his son as he walked up from afar – even after he’d squandered all of his inheritance.

…But what I think we fail to consider is the fact that his lost son had indeed wasted his ENTIRE inheritance – and as a result, he’d been working for a farmer – feeding pigs. I mean, let’s just stop right there and discuss that – have you been on a farm or to a petting zoo before? Pigs stink. Really. Bad. Can you imagine the smell that must have been wafting off of him? Could his father smell him before the son actually got close enough for his dad to throw his arms around him? My guess is yes. And yet – the father opened his arms wide and rejoiced. He sent for his best robes and the fatted calf – and for a celebration of his son’s return. Much to the chagrin of his other son.

And speaking of the son who’d stayed and worked… What did he feel? Jealousy? Anger? Disbelief? Of course. That’s only human, right? I can’t say that I’m so enlightened and spiritually advanced that I wouldn’t react the exact same way. To be the one who’d worked the land and done the right thing and feel un-rewarded for that? Absolutely I’d react that way.

I marvel at the fact that I am a sister of Jesus Christ – we are joint heirs of the Kingdom. And that even though I have played the part of the prodigal daughter more times than I want to count, much less admit, in my life – Jesus is never jealous of me – His sister. Wow! I am astounded that even though His Father’s inheritance is so much greater than anything you or I could ever dream up – he is never mad because I lose my way and come back smelling like the pigs.

Man, isn’t God good? I’m so thankful for a God who doesn’t mind that sometimes I smell like the pigs. And He welcomes me home with open arms – puts His finest robes on my shoulders and prepares a feast for me – and in my mind, it’s filled with lots of pasta. And bread. And chocolate. (But I’m confident none of it has any calories).

What is on the table by the fatted calf in honor and celebration of your return? It's not too late, by the way. He's ready - arms wide and waiting for you. And he can smell you - but I promise He'll still hug you tight and rejoice your homecoming.

#10 - or, beauty...and other four letter words.

You know what I’ve been struggling a lot with lately? Beauty. People talk about it constantly. Magazines tell us how to dress, style our hair & wear our makeup so we can be beautiful. And every one seems to have their own idea as to what beautiful is – and what it is not. Lots of people have made millions off of their ideas. And lots of people like to push their own ideas on you – as if to say that if you don’t dress well (or even color/style coordinate your hair, accessories and makeup), sport a tan, cut or style your hair the right way, or act a certain way – well, then there’s no way that you’ll ever be “beautiful.” I’ve had a really hard time recently with this thought process. I’m not really sure what sparked it…I just know that I became a little more self conscious recently, and it seems like as soon as I recognized it, I started noticing the talk about beauty being a lot more prevalent in my every day life.

I’ve never been a girl with fantastic levels of self esteem. Basically, I have no self esteem. It really doesn’t matter what the scale says, what my closet says (what? your clothes don’t speak to you?), what kind of make-up I use, how many pairs of cute shoes I buy…I hardly ever feel truly pretty. Those are hard words to type, by the way. Sure, E tells me I look pretty when we’re on our way to church, or to a party, or on a date or something…but he’s my husband. I mean…that’s his job…(hehe). But, something I have learned over the years is that’s not really a foreign concept for a lot of girls…I’ve had several friends over the years who’ve gone through dramatic weight loss, only to find that they still didn’t really feel like anything changed. Their psyche still told them that there was something innately wrong. I know plenty of girls who are just naturally thin who are self-conscious as all get-out over all sorts of things on, or about their bodies. I've learned that these feelings are not exclusive to girls who are overweight. Or to girls with freckles. Or to girls with curly, red hair. It knows no age boundaries, no cultural and color boundaries. It simply is a fact of life for the majority of women I know.

We diet, we exercise, we worry, we’re suckered into buying the latest and greatest products, we try on seventeen different outfits before work/school/church/dates or any other event you’d like to insert…only to end up in a black shirt, jeans, & heels – or a black dress and heels. I wonder how many photos of me there are out there where that is exactly the uniform I’m wearing. I don’t think I could even venture a guess.

But above all else, the thing that I’m most desperate to cure here is my thinking…not my weight. Or my wardrobe. Or my concerns about what other people say on the subject. You see, my sister and brother both have daughters and I’m extremely close to them. I think they look up to me…(or at least to my shoe collection). But I want to be a role model for them…and maybe for my own daughter someday. I want those girls to know that it doesn’t matter what society thinks they should look like, what brand of clothes they wear, or what some punk kid (and by that, of course, i mean some little freckle-faced boy) tells them…I want those girls to know that they ARE beautiful, no matter what; and no amount of clothes or makeup can change that. I want those girls to grow up and not conform to what society says or who the idyllic ‘pretty girl’ is of their time. But let’s face it – that can only happen if the women in their lives start living what we want for them. Words aren’t enough…we have to teach, and then live by example.

In all of this, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what God says about beauty. 1 Peter 3:3-4 (NLT) tells us: “Don’t be concerned about the outward beauty of fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.” Maybe in addition to teaching young girls all about how to wear makeup, fix their hair, and color coordinate their clothes and accessories – maybe we should also teach them that none of that stuff really matters. Heck, maybe we should teach some grown women that…

And I’m certainly not saying that the cute pair of shoes I bought the other night is the last fantastic pair of heels I’ll ever buy…I mean…let’s not get crazy or anything. And I’m also not saying that today is my last day to wear makeup and fix my hair. But I do want that to become less of what my mind focuses on when I look at myself in the mirror. I’m sure it won’t ever be my first nature to stop focusing on what my eyes see. But, I do need to start looking with my heart – because I know that’s where my true beauty is hidden. And I hope that some of you will join me in this movement.

#9 - or, tiramisu and other two edged swords.

I recently read a book that quoted Mark Twain: "I can live for two months on a good compliment."  ...Which is funny, because I've been thinking a lot about the power of our words lately. 

I guess you could say it all started a couple of months ago at a supper club dinner with some pretty incredible women I know. For those of you who know me well, you know my passion is cooking. Any kind of cooking…I'm there...it's a stress reliever for me. Gardening...not so much. (ask the flowers I put out every spring that are dead within a month). But cooking........ahhh...........cooking. There's something about being in a kitchen – hands in dough, or cake, or covered in food coloring – that's the stuff that really calms me down and gives me time to sort out life's little dilemmas.

Anyway, this particular cooking club host chose an Italian theme. I racked my brain about what to make...and finally decided on a tiramisu. Now, I'm infamous for deciding and attempting to cook something "because I saw a recipe for it online" - which, coincidentally, sounds a lot like my shopping theory: "I bought this outfit because I saw these fantastic shoes I just had to have." So, after searching and searching and calling around everywhere in the S-BC looking for ladyfingers, Eric finally brought some home to me (for those who are interested: World Market). So here I was in my kitchen at midnight the night before Supper Club, making this tiramisu I've never even attempted – praying I wouldn't have to fake an illness to get out of going if it didn't turn out ok. But, thank goodness, it did...and I received some very high compliments on it, to boot. (recipe below)  Not a bad day in my book...

But it's what was said by some pretty smart women that night that really sparked these thoughts I've had for awhile now...I forget the context, I forget what was even being said – but one woman very wisely said: "...the getting married part, that's the easiest part...the two becoming one - that's the difficult part..." And it really made me stop and think about planning my own wedding. I was so wrapped up in details. I was so stressed out and I made it such a big deal. I was so worried about the candles matching the tablecloths, matching the flowers, matching the color of the guy's ties...ugh! It gives me a headache just thinking about it. But the important stuff – that’s the stuff that happens after you're home from the honeymoon, when real life hits. Jobs, bills, friends, family, sickness, health, loving, honoring, cherishing (sound familiar?) – that's the difficult stuff – but, I think that’s the ‘stuff’ that makes you as a couple learn to operate as one. And, after all that I've been through, I'm convinced (now more than ever) that those words in our vows were chosen very specifically.

How often do we take those words to heart to help us through the everyday stuff? Paul got it right in 1 Corinthians 13:13 - "and now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." But, how often do we get it right? How often do we choose our words carefully – do we plant our feet in the dirt and mud of life and speak love? It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately…

Maybe it’s been dominating my thoughts lately because our biggest problem the first ten months we were married? Very simply: words. We didn't realize the power of our words. We didn't realize the power our words held over us long after they were spoken. If we knew then what we know now...things might have been very different. But, things would not be the way they are today - and so I am thankful, because we learned a very valuable lesson. And I think we’d still be walking around oblivious to the power simple little things (like words) can have in a life. Thank God for lessons and for disciplining us.

These days, we choose our words very differently. If we disagree, we do so with love. If we agree, we do so with love. We speak love to each other. We lift each other up. We talk. But, we listen more than we talk – and that has made all the difference. You know that old saying: “God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason” …yeah.

I'll admit…it's quite easy to fall into a rut and 'forget' how to treat people...to not have time to live by the golden rule. But life is so much better when you do.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.

Ephesians 4:29

Tiramisu (Ashley's way)

Ingredients:

6 egg yolks

1 1/4 cups white sugar

1 1/2 cups mascarpone cheese

1 pint heavy whipping cream

2 (12 ounce) pkg ladyfingers

4 cups strong coffee or espresso, cooled

1/4 cup, or less coffee flavor liqueur (optional)

1 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder, for dusting

1 ounce square semisweet chocolate, for curls

Directions:

1.

Combine egg yolks and sugar in the top of a double boiler, over boiling water. Reduce heat to low and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and whip yolks until thick and lemon colored. (we'll just say that these were "holy" yolks by the time I got finished whipping them. just a heads up.)

2.

Add mascarpone to whipped yolks. Beat until combined. In a separate bowl, whip cream to stiff peaks. (I put a little sugar in my whipped cream - more out of habit than anything). Gently fold into yolk mixture and set aside.

3.

Dip ladyfingers in cooled coffee for 5 seconds (letting them stay any longer will result in soaking up too much and becoming soggy) and line the bottom of dish. If using a spring form pan, be sure to line sides as well. Spoon half the cream over the soaked ladyfingers. Repeat ladyfingers and cream.

Refrigerate several hours or overnight.

Garnish with cocoa and chocolate curls.



I assembled my Tiramisu in a pretty crystal dish (just because I love serving in it)...but feel free to stand the ladyfingers around a springform pan and then layer it up like a more traditional presentation.



#8, or - ok, so now things are finally starting to make sense.

A few months back, I wrote about a one-word challenge that K-LOVE encourages at the end of every year. Basically, you pray about it, and wait for the Lord to tell you what word you should strive for that year. After listening to the stories of folks and their 'one word' experiences - this year, I bit. I prayed and prayed, and the word I got: rejoice. You might remember (and if you don't, go back a few posts - you'll find it), that I was a little bit confused by this word (and truth be told, I was a bit mad because I felt like it was a little bit cruel considering the circumstances of my life). At the time, I truly felt like my whole life was crashing down around me. My marriage had fallen apart, we had been separated for something like four months at that time, and we were well on our way to a divorce. I was a little (ok, a lot) mad that this was the word that kept popping up. But, I finally settled in on it, and just said "ok, God. If rejoice is what you're insisting on telling me, then I guess You'll fill me in on the details at some point." So, I went with it. And what a difference half a year has made.

I'm happy to say that Eric and I somehow found our way back to each other...people have asked us what changed - the only answer we can come up with: we don't know. Perhaps the only explanation is 'divine intervention'. We were just as shocked as our families and friends when it all happened. But, we both knew that it was all God, and none of us. We found ourselves a christian counselor and we have been to a few sessions and we absolutely love her. And we're absolutely amazed at the changes that God was making in and around us during our nearly ten month separation. If you think it's impossible to learn some heavy life lessons in a little less than seven or eight months (because I'd rather we didn't count the couple of months that I sulked, stayed in bed, and generally loathed the idea of being around anyone), well, then welcome to my world. I think I grew up more in ten months than I did in ten years. I've learned a lot, some of it I've shared here, some of it I've shared with close friends and family, and some of it - well, some of it will stay right where it belongs - between me, Eric and God.

And, while I'll still use my blog to talk about fun things going on in my life, or sad things, and events around me, or things that I feel like I'm learning from God and He gives me words to share - I'd really like to start using it as somewhere to talk about one of my other passions, as well - food. My initial intent all along was to have somewhere that I could share recipes with friends, and post pics of cakes I've worked on. And so, with that in mind, I hope that you'll all continue to grow with me...and I hope that you'll feel free to keep me in mind when you start a new recipe - because I'd love to be able to share it for you! (including your pictures!)

I can't wait to see what God will reveal to me next...and then to be able to share it with y'all! Thank you so much for your continued love and prayers - you'll never know what they have meant to me...to Eric...and to our marriage.

And so, in closing - I'd just like to remind y'all that you never know what God is up to...and just when you think that nothing makes sense in your life - hold on. Wait for Him to reveal it to you in His time. Wait for Him, don't try to fix it yourself. Listen to Him. Let Him guide you through it. He is the author of perfection. He understands your pain. And He will see you through it - in some form or fashion, He will. And He will work all things together for His glory. And through that, you will be blessed...and, you'll find your reason to rejoice!

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
Romans 12:12