Good Girl

"You're a good girl."

How many times have I said that to my girl? So, so many. Attempting to encourage her to strive to be her best. Trying to build her up and enable her to believe that she is a good girl. Trying to correct wrongs that I may have done or will do. And... possibly a dose of trying to counteract my battle with good girl/bad girl.

Now there ain't nothin' wrong with that girl. Lurve that face!

Driving home from church tonight I contemplated the affirmation I so often give my mini diva. She is a good girl. But I want something more tangible for her to grab a hold of. Something that can't be changed by her behavior. Even when she misbehaves I tell her she is a good girl but her action was not good. How confusing is that?

Here's what I believe the Lord is telling me: her goodness isn't of her. God deposited a whole bunch of good and purposeful stuff in her, but that wasn't something she did. It isn't dependent upon her. Which brings me to my next question: how am I to break that down to a pre-schooler? (Who, for the record, understands a whole lot more and oftentimes a whole lot better than grown ups. Present company included. And by present company I mean me.)

This. Yes. This is my girl. And how God sees His girls (and guys).

I've battled with being a good girl/bad girl. When I was pleasing to the adults around me, I was a good girl. And oh, how I longed to always always always (did I mention always yet?) always be a good girl. But when I was cranky, moody, lazy, or just plain made an innocent mistake I was called a bad girl. I hated that. I hated myself for showing imperfections that made me a bad girl. I covered up mistakes. I hid the evidence. I manipulated conversations and situations. I lied. Just so I could at least be thought of as a good girl. Now I see the ridiculousness of it. I lied about a bad or negative action to maintain the image of being a good girl. But it was what I was shown: that's how you stay a good girl. You can do bad things as long as you don't get caught. 

Not this good girl. I just tried not to get caught. (Good grief!)

And that's what I don't want my girl to face. The constant pull between am I good or am I bad? Am I of value or am I worthless? Am I acceptable or am I refuse? Now as she is getting older I can see the struggle. I can see how there now needs to be a transition in how I affirm her. She's better able to understand why she is of value, why she is good, why she is accepted, and why she is understood. 

To me, she is of value because she was so wanted. She is accepted because of the sacrifices my husband and I made and make for her. She is of value just because her little heart beats. She is acceptable because she is mine. 

To the Lord, she is of value because she was created with a purpose. She is accepted because of the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross. She is of value just because she lives. She is acceptable because she belongs to God. 

That's how I want her to live: free to just be her and unafraid of who she will become.

Have you ever played copy cat? You know, the game that is only for the person copying the victim? Repeating every word that comes out of the other person's mouth. Ugh. I decided to play along with mini diva one day. It started with things like, "my mom is the best" and "when I grow up I'm giving my mom all of my money." 

Then it struck me: there is a teachable moment here. So I started saying things like, "I am beautiful" and "I am smart" and "Jesus loves me" and "I try my best at all I do." Stuff that maybe the more she says it the more she will believe it. Maybe it will get deep down in her spirit and when she makes a mistake her internal dialogue will remind her that it's safe to own up to her mistakes since she's accepted no matter what. It's okay to own up to those mistakes because that mistake doesn't have to dictate the rest of her day or life: it can just be something that happened and she can move on from.

Yes, you are. Don't argue with me. You are. 

My hope here is that instead of perpetuating the cycle of being called a good girl then teaching a good girl who is imperfect to cover up her flaws I will teach my wonderfully and fearfully made little miss that it's okay to show your cracks. It's okay to be imperfect. It's okay to learn and make mistakes because that's how we grow. That's how we become better than good. That's how we learn to lean on Jesus and His goodness and righteousness. 

That goes for you, too. It's okay to be imperfect. It's okay to have cracks and flaws. It's okay. It really is. Because this whole life isn't about you or how you look but on what kind of life you live and how you impact others. It's about how pleasing you are to the Lord. And self made perfection and righteousness don't matter a hill of beans to Him. He just wants you. He wants to love on you, accept you, cherish you, affirm you, and let you know how safe you are in His arms. And if you make a mistake, you are safe to run into His arms and own up to it, and free to do better next time. 

Can we do that? Can we just do our best and let God make up for the rest? Can we trust Him to cover us with His righteousness so we don't have to try. so. very. hard and still never quite measure up? I know we can. Now let's quit making life hard and just start living. Flaws and all. 

Live your life, live it well, and live it well by knowing you are pleasing to God.

Because you are.

I'm THAT Mom

Comparison is the thief of joy. 

Theodore Roosevelt

Someone smarter than me said that. And it's true. I'm going to share a very real, raw, and true story that is telling of how just a little, teensy weensy bit of pride and comparison will set you up to trip and fall on your face in poop. 

Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.

Proverbs 16:18 NLT

Picture it, Christmas, 2012. Okay, the Sunday before Christmas. We wake up to a sick mini diva. Poor thing had diarrhea. Just about nothing worse than your baby being sick: especially a stomach sickness. Especially the day of the BIG Christmas party with her aunts and uncles and grandparents. 

I, of course, was convinced it was just too much candy or treats. No one would catch what was surely just the reaction to her eating too many Christmas cookies from the church party. Surely it wouldn't be a stomach virus. Surely she didn't catch anything from anyone at the church party. Right?

Yes, you are mother of the year. Now I can't breathe.

Wrong. I went to church the morning of our family Christmas event since I taught Sunday School and sang on the worship team. While there I learned that two of the children who attended our church's Christmas party both had the stomach flu. And had it actively on the day of the party. For the record, it wasn't the mom who brought the kids to the party. She's not that mom. 

I'm that mom. Stick a bar of soap in my mouth because I'm that mom and didn't even know it.

But I'm not that mom. Not the one who selfishly takes her kids to parties so as not to disappoint them or herself. No way. I'm not that mom who exposes the people she loves most to illness so as not to have to break her baby's heart. No way. I'm considerate. Right? Because I'm better than that. Right?

Uh.. no "okayest mom of the year" coffee mug for you this year. 

Turns out I'm that mom. I'm not as good as I thought I was. But don't feel too bad for me. I'm not so sure any of us are as good as we think we are.

My boss has been taking over with a lot of the duties at his home as his wife is very pregnant and mainly on bed rest. We were talking on the phone and he told me he just isn't as good as he thought he was. My response, obviously, was "none of us are." He told me that was encouraging. I think he was being sarcastic. I wouldn't blame him for that. But I meant it as an encouragement. Sure, he's not as good as he thought he was. I can almost guarantee you that he's better than he thinks he is.

It's a major award! The words I say are encouraging! If I keep saying it that makes it true, right?

Just like my boss is probably a much better husband, dad, business owner, servant, etc than he thinks he is I think we are all probably better than we think we are. We just don't see it because we take a little too much time to compare ourselves to others. 

I will never be as thoughtful as my friend Manda. Not for lack of trying; more for a lack of gifting in that area. She just has a knack for those things. I will never be as funny as my brother. Because, well, he's hilarious. I wish you knew him: I still crack up about things he said decades years ago. I will never be as generous as my friend Z. I will never be as beautiful as Paige. I will never be as insightful as Elaine. I will never be as bold as Natalie. I will never be as anything as anyone. I make a very poor copy; but I do make a great heidiva. (My blog, my rules, I get to pick my own name thankyouverymuch!)

There. It's perfect. 

Maybe I'm not as perfect as I thought I was. Maybe I bring a sick kid to Christmas and make almost EVERY single person there sick; including me, my husband, and my little Larry. Or maybe it was the ham. I blame the ham. I can still hardly stand the look of ham. Anyways. I may not be as great as I thought I was, not as perfect, not as considerate.. But once I stop trying to rank myself against other moms or people in general it turns out I flourish. I may not be as gentle in my mannerisms. Maybe I'm not a helicopter mom. But I certainly make my kids laugh with my humor. I try to be quick to admit my mistakes and ask forgiveness. I let them see the imperfections and strive to allow Jesus to make the most of me. 

It's okay if I look like a pink nightmare. It won't last forever.

Come close to God, and God will come close to you.

James 4:8 NLT

One last thought. When I taught the youth at our previous church I had a lesson called "Close to Perfect." It wasn't about being perfect or popular or good: it was about getting close to the One who is perfect and good. It was about dropping the facade of having it all together and just getting close to Jesus and allowing him to take the pieces of our lives and make them something beautiful. We don't have to try so hard and be perfect all by ourselves. We've got Jesus to lead us and direct us and correct us. It's okay to make mistakes: it means you're living. It's okay to be corrected: just adjust your steps. It's okay to not be like anybody else. Just be you. Even if you somehow find yourself being that mom. Turns out my kids and husband and friends like that mom and heidiva.

Right? Right.

Princess and the Potty

I almost feel guilty for the title of this post. Almost. Mostly because it isn't about the mini diva going potty like some may think. Partly because you'll just have to read the post through to see how the title fits.

If you know me personally you may know that I love to laugh. And even more than that I lurve to make other people laugh. And I love to encourage people and make them believe the best about themselves. Not because it's convenient but because it's true. But that's not today's topic. 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17 NIV

Today I want to talk about laughter. I come from a long line of funny people. Mostly unintentionally funny; but still funny. I look at it as a gift, a good and perfect gift that works to the benefit of myself and those around me. A gift that I've been given to enjoy and use. The following are a few examples of how I came to be the lady.scholar.heidiva. I claim to be. 

Example #1

My mother. When she's funny, she's really funny. My favorite is her senior high school yearbook. The quote that she shared, which she has always denied actually came from her, was: "Men are a joke. I love to laugh." It isn't really the quote that was funny; it is more that a) she claims she didn't understand what it meant and b) she steadfastly denies that she ever said it. If you don't think that's funny, it's okay. Because it cracks me up. 

But.. I don't get it?

Example #2

My maternal grandmother was more of an uncomfortable and sometimes socially inappropriate brand of funny. When my Pop Pop died (which was a terrible blow for both her and I. The rest of the family, too.. but we aren't talking about them.) he was cremated. And delivered to her doorstep in a black tupperware-esque box. She and I managed to find the funny in it and pondered such things as: which of her fine silver spoons should we use to spread the ashes? Do you think they cremated his prosthetic leg? Not to mention the fact that she set the box at my Pop Pop's regular place at the table. You may not find the funny in this.. but I already said it was an uncomfortable sarcastic funny. I miss her sometimes: her humor, her hoarding skills, and how beautiful she was.

I think this channels her kind of humor.

Example #3

My paternal grandmother. More of a slapstick comedienne with jokes such as: "Hey Heidi, you want a rubber check? It'll bounce all over the place!" And let's not forget that she didn't disown me after I told her she reminded me of Pruneface from the classic Madonna film Dick Tracy. (She looked like a movie star to me!) She would call me "Granddaughter Heidi" when I sometimes called her "Grandma Hallie." She could take a joke and would call you out on your slips. She was wry and sarcastic while still being warm. She found the funny in a little kid's innocence. Now that is good stuff.

Grandma Hallie would've liked this kid. 

Example #4 (my favorite!!)

My brother. He is the funniest guy I know. Maybe because he's my big brother and I think nothing he does is wrong and no one can be better than him. Nah. I'm not biased. I credit him with my use of the phrase "butt crack of dawn" and teaching the mini me's to discern whether their poops are "fifty wipers" or "clean sweeps." He can make fun of himself better than you can and he has a keen dry and intelligent wit. Or he can be gross and adolescent and that's good, too. I wish I could give you more examples.. but I am not sure this blog can handle that yet. 

Don't ask. It makes no sense. Knight Rider!

A cheerful heart is good medicine.

Proverbs 17:22 NLT

I've been thinking lately about how I got my sense of humor and love of laughter. As messed up as my family may be and as many poor traits or habits I may have gleaned from them (like grinding my teeth since my first set came in).. I'm grateful that the humor and finding the funny stuck. I'm grateful for the sarcasm that not too many will see the humor in and the simple humor that helps others see how good they really have it. I'm grateful that while I was scrubbing my bathroom this afternoon I did it while wearing a tiara. I'm grateful for a husband who laughs at my jokes or at the very least shrugs and replies with a simple, "bless your little heart." And I'm so so grateful for my kids who get my sense of humor and find me funny (though I'm not sure whether I should be pleased or alarmed). But most of all, I'm so thankful for a great big God who saw it fit to help me find the humor in tragedy and triumph and all the in betweens. What a good God to use what is sometimes my downfall and turn it for good. 

And we know that God causes everything to work for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.

Romans 8:28 NLT

What is something God has used for your good that may not have always been obvious to you?

I thought that I was being original! Look at the shine on her throne. 

Writing's on the Wall

When I was little I used to color on my mom's freshly painted walls with magic markers. While looking her in the eyes and with the marker behind my back I would scribble. Apparently this was in a new house. Off topic, but I also hit my big brother then ran into my room, hid under the covers, waited for him to come after me, then screamed for my mom accusing my brother of hitting me. I had the little sister thing down.

Anyways.. I caught little Larry coloring on the walls and our dehumidifier a few days ago. Normally I say things like, "Why are you working against me?" and "I just cleaned crayon off of thaaaat." Can you tell that last one is more of a whine than anything else? 

This time was different. This time I started thinking of reasons why I am grateful to have writings on my walls. (Yes, walls. Because I do not clean it up as I go and the kid is a crayon/pen/marker ninja.) The following are the reasons I am grateful for writing on my walls:

Reason #1

If I can see the crayon on the walls my walls must be pretty clean. Or else I wouldn't notice, right?

Reason #2

If he keeps finding crayons we must not be poor. I mean, if I have so many crayons that even after I put up a dozen boxes he is still finding them I must be fairly well off. At least in kiddie currency.

Reason #3

My kid is really physically fit. He's agile enough to scale shelves and walls to find unattended writing utensils and strong enough to hold himself up with one arm while grabbing said utensils.

Reason #4

The writings on the wall by my little Larry means I have a little boy. It means that I have my mini Diva (because turquoise Sharpie doesn't come off even with a Magic Eraser and scribble is left over from her wall writing reign). It means that one of my absolute greatest heart's desires was granted. I got to have two little G's that I adore. I could go on and on.. but I think you get the gist. 

Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you your heart’s desires.

Psalm 37:4

Y'all, I prayed for these babies. I had one of them named before I even met my husband. I dreamed about them. Somehow it seemed like I loved them before I knew them. Yet now I so easily take my heart's desire for granted because they mess up my plans. And bathroom. And I'm exhausted. How many other answered prayers go unnoticed by me because they aren't what I thought they would be? Or maybe they don't look the way I thought they would. Or maybe I'm not where I thought I'd be or who I thought I'd be when the desire was granted. My kids are better than I could have dreamed.. but for some reason I dreamed I would have more energy when I had kids. (stop laughing!!)

My little blessings remind me of how much I have to be thankful for in unconventional ways. They remind by waking me up at the butt crack of dawn to "have the snuggles." They remind me of how badly I wanted children with a sense of humor when they make me laugh at inappropriate things. Like little Larry ripping off his diapers and singing in the middle of the kitchen. Or the mini Diva announcing that she is no longer speaking to me, just Daddy. Then reminding me repeatedly until I respond. They remind me of how good I have it even when I don't see it.

They remind me of just how precious baths, sleep, eating, privacy, and attention are by merely existing. They remind me of how much I need the Lord by acting like me. They teach me volumes about love, patience, and forgiveness. One of my favorites things they remind me of is how to just sit back and enjoy beautiful artwork. Even if it is graffiti on my living room walls. 

Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:18

What are the writings on the wall that you are thankful for?

     

Aren't they beautiful? They get it from their momma...

I Don't Know

 For years I struggled with anxiety, worry, and depression. Back in the day when I had overcome the major hurdles of depression (thank you Jesus!) and I still worked at the shoe store (I bled black & white stripes) I would become overwhelmed. And eventually I allowed the stress to get to the point that I had psoriasis-like symptoms and my hair started falling out. Not something that twenty year old girls want to be sporting, let me tell you.

But what was I stressing about? I worked in a stressful environment; but it was honestly easy enough to resolve if I would have just gotten out of my own head and done what I knew I should do. Whatever that was back then; I don't even remember all of the issues my store had back then. My trainer joked that I just stressed about being stressed.

Did I remember to worry about how I angle the shoes on the wall??

He was right. But I either didn't want to believe it or I somehow thought my emotions were too complex for him. Probably a little bit of both. That whole stressing over stress and not really knowing the root cause followed me even after I became a Christian. For longer than I care to admit. But I will. It wasn't until last year that I was finally delivered of the "I don't knows" as I call them. 

It's when you feel that sense of dread: but you don't know why. You are anxious or overwhelmed; but you can't remember why. You are crying and hysterical: but you just can't figure out what is wrong with you. Imagine how much fun that was for my husband as a newlywed. Oh yeah, he loved it! And I felt like I was crazy and he would grow to resent me. (Spoiler alert: he learned me and how to handle me. Handle me: like I'm a wild animal or something!)

My husband is a brave man. He asked me what was wrong: I DON'T KNOW!!

I couldn't tell you exactly when God delivered me of confusion and anxiety: but he did. A pivotal moment though was when I finally absorbed a scripture that followed one of my previous favorites (one that I clung to while I was in turmoil over who knows what). 

Beloved, if our hearts condemn us not, then have we confidence towards God. 

1 John 2:21 KJV

The scripture that I had clung to before was this:

For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.

1 John 2:20

For eight years I clung to the promise that God is greater than my heart. When I don't know what is wrong; when I feel like I am losing my mind; when for some reason I feel like I need to be anxious over what only God knows; he is greater than my heart and knows all things. He knew the source and he knew the why's. And the word condemn described what I experienced well: I was condemned to be miserable because I don't do things as well as other people. Because of my parents. Because I didn't go to college. Because my boyfriend dumped me. Because I didn't say the right thing at the right time. Because I wasn't as good at singing or counting or spelling or doing or serving or remembering or shopping or beautifying or selling or speaking or saving or dancing or... See? I'd pin that feeling of worry or stress or misery on something in which I felt inadequate. The sad thing is that some of the things I blamed myself for I wasn't even expected to do. Even sadder is the fact that I'm pretty good at a lot of the things in which I thought I just didn't add up. 

With moves like this who has room for worry? 

But then the truth set me free. I read what came after 1 John 2:20. If I put my confidence in God then my heart won't condemn me. If my hope and confidence and trust are in him and not my doings or undoings then my heart won't have a way to condemn me. It won't be able to trick me or confuse me into worrying because my confidence is in Jesus Christ. It won't be able to make me think I should be stressed because if my confidence is in God then why would I stress? If I say my confidence is in him then that means I believe him when he tells me to cast my cares on him because he cares for me. I believe him when he says that I can rest in him and he will quiet me with his love and rejoice over me with singing.  

Y'all. That was powerful for me. Realizing that I was allowing habit and old thought processes and the enemy control my mind and thus control my actions was freeing. Realizing that I did not have to spend my life shadowboxing: fighting things that weren't even there. Realizing I was worried about things that weren't even real... It gave me boldness to not believe the confusion or hype. To not be afraid of what the Bible describes as sudden fear.

For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints.

1 Corinthians 14:33

Sudden fear, confusion, anxiety, worry... Not of God. He is the God of peace. Peace is described by Merriam Webster as: freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions. When a thought comes that would oppress you and bind you to the point that you just don't know: reject it. My pastor preached on how to pray this past week and he taught that to pray properly we need to learn how to listen. That struck me and so I've been determined to listen better. And as I'm listening I've come to realize how many times that I will still suddenly become anxious and when I question the thought as to why I am stressed the answer is: I don't know. So I renounce it immediately. No way am I going to occupy my time pondering and dwelling in anxiety and being disquieted for no good reason. God is freeing me more and more from the confusion of the "I don't knows" and the torment that comes along with them.

Let me urge you and encourage you: if you have a disquieting or oppressive thought and there is no rhyme or reason to it, dismiss it. You have my permission. Not enough for you? You have the authority in Jesus to reject the emotion. Recognize it and then deal with it. Here's how:

Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6,7 NLT

Is it easy? Not always. Is it better than dwelling in torment? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Try it and see.

Be free!

Snap Out Of It!

When I was little my mom loved Cher. She still does, I'm sure, but when I was little my mom had control over the radio and VCR. And she loved Cher's comeback and adored the movie Moonstruck. You know: the one where she has a fabulous gray streak and Nicholas Cage (her fiance's brother-tsk tsk) falls for her? My hands down favorite part is when he is declaring his love for her (or was it when he proposed?) and she snaps at him exasperatedly with the winning line, "Snap out of it!"

How can you be mad at a baby faced Nick Cage? 

My daughter recently pushed me over the brink. And the tipping point wasn't even anything horrible: just a culmination of irritations that only Jesus and a peanut butter cup could handle. And an ice cold Coca Cola. Anyways. I'm not sure if I said it or just thought it but the phrase, "what is wrong with you?" kept coming up. Once the storm calmed and forgiveness and hugs and snuggles were exchanged that thought popped up again. What is wrong with my kids? What is wrong with me?

Isn't she sweet when she's fake sleeping? My little comedienne.

Can I give you my opinion? I'm going to anyways so if you don't want it, stop reading right here. :) 

Nothing's wrong with my kids. Absolutely nothing. They are normal and healthy and are pushing limits just like they are supposed to. My mini diva isn't driving me nuts for naught; nope, there is purpose behind it. She's growing more and more independent and needs to know what boundaries are going to be enforced. And it's my job to teach her and Little Larry discipline and grace and forgiveness and obedience. Like I'm qualified for that. Seriously! I was given a toddler Sunday School class to teach and let me tell you: they're a tough crowd. Major love to all the teachers out there! You are a special breed.

So what about me? What is wrong with me to respond and react in a harsh manner? Because this girl does not like having to retrieve groceries and new clothes out of the trash. I do not relish vacuuming and sweeping weekly, let alone the twice or thrice a day required in this household. And you know what else? Mopping up a flooded bathroom is not my cup of tea. Especially when the mini diva was directly instructed to not splash. We won't even go into what they do attitude wise. I want to say they get it from their daddy.. But I didn't get the moniker Heidiva for no reason.

I need this in my life. Stat.

I'm getting sidetracked. And irritated that my floor is already covered, yet again, in cheerios. Cheerios that I did not give them. May I venture to say that there isn't anything wrong with me, either? Yeah, I said it. Someone messes with your stuff and you get agitated. Someone close talks you all day long everyday? You are more than likely going to need to just walk away at some point. Just like my children are learning and craving guidance as they grow: so am I. I'm learning to be the momma they need. I'm learning to be the wife and friend and sister and daughter and disciple and servant and worker that I have been created to be. 

You can't teach creativity like that. Lord, keep me from stifling Little Larry!

You made me; you created me. Now give me the sense to follow your commands.

Psalm 119:73 NLT

We were made by God, for God, for his good pleasure. There is a worship leader named Karen Walker Smith who I just love. If you haven't heard her testimony; check it out on YouTube. It's beautiful. In it she talks about how much we are loved by God. If we could grab a hold that he knows how frail we are, he knows how strong we are, and he knows what we have yet to master or learn. And he still loves us. And as I learn more and more that it isn't so much in my performance but my heart that I gain the good sense to follow his commands. Yet I'm human and still fall short. I'm so thankful that God does not condemn me when I mess up. Because I'd have been a goner a long time ago if that were the case.

Moral of the story: learning does not mean that there is something wrong with you. It means there is a lesson you haven't yet grasped or been taught. Let's give ourselves some grace. Let's stop fighting being taught and taking being schooled as a sucker punch and take it for what it is: grace and goodness. It's a good thing to learn how to do better. It's a good thing to realize that though you are flawed you are still worth teaching. Let's make a deal, you and me. Next time we go the wrong way or say what we ought not to, instead of condemning ourselves let's learn. And have the sense to do better the next time. And if (well, for me it's when) we fail again let's just try again. 

Her brows get the Heidiva seal of approval. Glorious.

If you're caught in a bit of an emotional roller coaster or tug of war at the moment you have my permission to snap out of it! 

Where Do I Fit?

Where do I fit.. That is a question I've been asking or pondering for a few months now. Lord, where do I fit in? Where is my spot? I know where I belong in my family but with everything else it seems so up in the air. I recently started working for a realtor (who is a fantastic boss and so much more gracious to me than I deserve) and I love the work; but my role is shifting and changing. I enjoy the flexibility and the education: but where do I fit? 

Those of you who know me personally and talk with me regularly probably know that my family made the decision to move to a different church. Which was a HUGE decision. We left the church we were married in and dedicated our babies in and the church where the people were our surrogate family and stepped in when our relatives couldn't. We left the church where we had positions and roles and jobs. 

But it was the right thing to do. My husband and I knew the Lord was leading us elsewhere and we promised God a long time ago to follow him. So we did. And we are glad for it: we are at peace and awe at how he is working in our lives.

Yet still the question: where do I fit? In our new church: where do I fit? With our friends: where do I fit? With my job: where do I fit?

Somehow I don't think it's that simple. Or maybe it is?

Have you ever seen the movie "Cheaper by the Dozen?" It's a cute family movie. There is a specific part in the movie that has always struck my heart. One of the middle sons was anxious over his spot in his family. His siblings teased him and called him FedEx saying the FedEx man dropped him off: he didn't really belong to them. His mother's response? She pulled him close, albeit absent-mindedly, and as she drew him to herself she said, "You fit. You fit right here." Awe! Melts my heart.

Look at that cutie! Who cares if he was dropped of by the FedEx man?

That's what I hear the Lord saying. Right here, Heidi, right here. You fit right here, next to my heart. And it melts me. In the midst of what could be confusion and chaos I can know that regardless of where I am or work: I fit. I fit next to God's heart.

Which brings me to...

How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn't let me.

Matthew 23:37 NLT

What a good momma hen: all you see are their little feet and even then you have to squint!

Jesus was lamenting over Jerusalem who turned away from him instead of towards him; and thus taught their children to do the same. I don't want to be so busy finding "my spot" to work and do good deeds that I forget to just be who God made me to be and let the works come from there. I don't want to teach my children that fitting in is Godliness. I want to teach them that they fit beneath his wings. They don't have to be the brightest or the best or the most well mannered or eloquent to fit in the heart of Jesus; or my heart, either, for that matter. And if one of my greatest desires is just for my children to be secure in knowing that just being themselves and having a heart for God is enough then I ought to live it. No matter what people say or think of me. No matter if I hold a position (that can be quickly revoked) or status. No matter what: I fit.

P.S. You do too. Right beneath the wings of Jesus, next to the warmth and comfort of his heart.

Not Yo' Meds

Little Larry has been being... difficult. He's teething and we have also gone from having a gajillion pacifiers to ONE. One lonesome pacifier that I will strip search the house to find at bed time. So, to ease his teething pain I give him Nyquil Tylenol. (Like I'd drug him with Nyquil. I ain't that kind of crazy.) 

Mini Diva has what she calls "the coughs." She tried to get out of school today but with no fever or other symptoms and her cough calming down off the chick went to preschool. After a dose of cough medicine. Mainly because home girl hates to cover her mouth. Yuck. 

Mini Diva believes in sharing all things. Especially germs.

Fast forward to this evening: Little Larry gets his Tylenol and Mini Diva gets her cough medicine. After bath time my favorite little buddy comes around the corner with my girl's medicine bottle trying to outsmart or out power the child proof cap. Of course he screamed like I was stealing his precious when I pried his little fingers off of the bottle. Then proceeded to scream at me with flailing limbs. Yeah, I save your life by not giving you big kids meds and somehow I'm the bad guy. Makes perfect sense. Like I should let him eat Sharpies while running with kitchen shears. That boy is something else.

Oh yes. Your argument is convincing me to see things your way.

In the midst of this little show down I thought about how often we do to God what my earth angel did to me. We hold on to what we think we want, or what we think we need, or what we think we are ready for with a death grip. Screaming tantrum and all. Grown ups certainly act like children sometimes. Trust me, I worked in the sales and service industry: I know. 

Oh, right. You insulting my intelligence totally made me reverse that bank fee. Riiight... 

What are you holding on to right now? What dreams or ideas or hopes are you stubbornly refusing to relinquish? Do they line up with what the Lord and your conscience are telling you is right and right for you at this point? If they do: fantastic. If not, or if you have a nagging feeling saying something is off with your desires, allow me to challenge you to lay it down. Lay it down and let the God of peace fill you with fresh desires and dreams: allow him to direct your steps. His ways are better. I will leave you with a few verses to think upon. Let them comfort you and for crying out loud: don't pitch a fit if you don't get to take the big kid medicine today. 

Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart's desires.

Psalm 37:4 NLT

(I've heard this verse explained two ways: a)God will literally grant your heart's desires and b) God will give your heart things to desire.)

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

James 1:17 KJV

Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6, 7 NLT

Mini Diva Speaks the Truth

Mini diva told me there was a girl who is big at her school. It was her teacher. And according to mini diva and her friends, teacher's got a big butt. Naturally, I laughed. Then corrected myself and asked her if she told her teacher about her big butt. Thankfully she hadn't. Phew!

When I was her age I told my grandma that she looked like prune face. And I meant it with all of the love in my heart: and I really loved my paternal grandma. She was patient and kind and warm and all the things a grandma ought to be. My kids' grandma is like that with them. Generous, loving, playful, and so merciful. I love that they have that in her.

Poor grandma. I'm amazed she didn't disown me!

Anyways: I had a point somewhere in all this. Psalm 8:2 says that The Lord has ordained strength out of the mouths of babes. There is strength and truth that comes out the mouths of little kids. My daughter loves her teacher: she wouldn't say she had a big butt to hurt her but probably to make her laugh. Just like I adored my grandma and would never have tried to hurt her ego by telling her she looked like a wrinkly mobster from Dick Tracey. I just thought she looked like a movie star. There is strength in honesty that comes from a place of love.

I had a friend ask me to be honest with her today. Not just any friend: but my sister from another mister. So to hurt her heart would be to hurt mine. I told her the truth with no buffer (there was none needed) and she took it with joy and sorrow. I trust she knows my heart is not to wound her but she quoted this scripture to me: faithful are the wounds of a friend. (Proverbs 27:6) My honesty hurt but in the big picture it makes her better and stronger than she was yesterday. Before you start feeling sorry for her know that she's inflicted some faithful wounds as well. But that's what friends do: tell the truth in a way that will help. Might hurt, but so does ripping off a week old soggy band aid: but that sucker's gotta come off sometime. Better to have someone who loves you to rip it off than a bully peel it away slowly relishing in your pain. Yikes. Gross analogy.

Be a friend. Be honest: but use wisdom and love in that honesty. Like with Jetta: her teacher may have a big butt yet wisdom says it is a loving thing to let that one slide. But if her butt gets stuck in a slide give her some help to get it out. 

Dudes, I'm LOL'ing.

Oops.. I did it again.

Well, it's been a few months since I've been on here. I've missed it, honestly. But we've got so much going on over here: I'm now working from home, mini diva's in school, we got adopted by a kitten, my hubby's in school and got a promotion at work, and I've been going to Zumba. So.. I'm pretty much doing a lot more than I was three months ago. Oh-and I'm still keeping little Larry alive and growing. Just a short little blurb tonight: here goes nothing!

I sprained my ankle last night. There was such a loud pop and shock of pain that I was actually afraid it was broken. Even my hubby thought there was a major issue with how badly swollen it was. After three x-rays, applying a frozen bag of peas, having the best "step in" grandma ever come get the kids from the hospital, and having the doctor examine my cat scratched and unshaven legs the diagnosis was given: yeah, you're fine. Take ibuprofen and stay off it a while. Nice. I could've bought a new purse. 

The worst part of the ordeal? Having to explain how it happened. Since I'm not telling you face to face I'll spill. After putting little Larry in his chair to eat I was dancing and jumping around, entertaining him and myself, when I landing on my ankle after tripping on a grocery bag. He thought the landing was hilarious. Mini diva loved playing nurse to me. Hubby did his best to keep me from crying (partly pain, mostly shame). The best part was my husband describing my dance to the doctor. It has become glaringly obvious why I have not been recruited to be a Zumba instructor: home girl can't dance like she thinks she can.

Hey now.. at least I know I'm more of a Finkle.

I wish this was the first time I had injured myself in an embarrassing manner. When I was five I rode my bicycle off of my grandfather's porch and into the bushes. My hands were filled with splinters. Did I mention I was riding my bicycle with my eyes closed? I was. And shocked that I fell off the porch. In my head I was envisioning myself as She Ra or Rainbow Brite or some magical character that I loved. In reality, I was a klutzy five year old headed for a world of pain and shame. By the way: this is the first time I admitted what really happened. Lets keep this between us, alright? ;)

I'm sure I'm not the only person who sees themselves in a more glamorous light than we are at times. And boy, is that mirror humbling when it turns out I'm not really Jem or that super coordinated dance teacher. Eh, it's still good to be a heidiva. 

Influenster

If it's free.. it's for me!

Thanks to Influenster, I was able to try several products I am too cheap to try on my own without coupons. Hey, check the first line: I like free! Anyways, I meant to post this last night but I dawdled and forgot. So here we go now!

One of the best parts of the Influenster VoxBox was definitely the Colgate Optic White system. I was only able to use it for about 10 days straight before I had to switch back to my sensitive teeth formula; but I definitely noticed that my teeth were brighter. I love the toothbrush: it has all the bells and whistles with grips, tongue scraper thingy (that's the technical term), rubbery scrubber things, and of course, bristles. :) The toothpaste has a warming sensation that I really liked. It foamed well and had a pleasant taste. The mouthwash foamed and foamed and then it foamed up some more. It absolutely kept me from eating after using it as I didn't want to hinder its whitening powers. ;) My husband loves it. Even after I had to stop using it my husband continues to use it and has requested that I purchase it again. When I have a coupon, that is. 

These were a surprise hit. Health food, shmealth food; that's my motto! But these belVita "cookies" were surprisingly filling and tasty. I had the cinnamon brown sugar flavor in my VoxBox and would certainly purchase these again. Crispy, not overly sweet, and just enough to tide me over til my mid morning snack. They were packaged in threes and that was enough for me to share with my mini diva and little Larry. Did I mention they were filling yet? And I didn't feel guilty or self loathing like I do when I feed the family pop tarts for breakfast. Definite win!

Ahh.. Dickinson's witch hazel towelettes. I wanted to like these a whole lot more than I did. I mean, Drew Barrymore uses them and anyone who knew me in my middle school years could tell you how I loved all things Drew. But these were stinky. Did they cleanse and refresh my skin? Yes. Did they keep the grease and oil at bay? Yes. Did they rid my face of sweat and yuck after Zumba? Yes. Do they stink to high heaven? Yes. And that is why I force myself to use them. The positive out number the negative.. but the negative nearly out weighs the bad. Until they come out with a fragranced version I will not rebuy. If you can deal with a potent smack of witch hazel when you open one of these individually wrapped towelettes after a workout or beach day; then these are for you. And I think that may be why the odor is so potent: they are individually wrapped. Great for maintaining integrity of product; not so great when you hate the scent. 

This was a nice treat: nectresse no calorie sweetener. I use them in my daily coffee(s). I honestly can not tell the difference between these and real sugar in my coffee. Plus: no calories! That means more coffee, amiright? That's all I can say about it as I didn't use it to bake or sweeten any other foods. I may not purchase it on my own as I am perfectly content using regular granulated sugar; but I would recommend this product to anyone looking for a sugar substitute.

I saved the best for last. I've been wanting to try Vaseline Spray & Go ever since I saw the first commercial. Of course, me being me, I was skeptical. The idea of the product for those who don't know is this: lotion you quickly spray on the "hot spots" (legs and arms) then rub down and put on some skinny jeans. Or yoga pants. Or pajama pants. Whatevs. I love it. It seriously works just like in the commercial. I mean, it may take 10 seconds as opposed to the 5 shown in the commercial to dry; but it absorbs into the skin quickly. My skin felt soft and smooth to the touch. And it smells delicious! Like shea butter, which I lurve. It is perfect for a girl on the go or the mom like me, in a rush to just take a shower and put on some lotion to feel like a real person, for crying out loud! It's great in our climate in Florida: humid, sticky, and hot. With that being said, I would not recommend it if your skin is dry. The one pictured is the one I was given to review; I am going to purchase and try the other varieties to see if they are more emollient. I had to switch to a normal moisturizer for a day or two then was able to bounce back to the spray & go; just to counteract some dry, less humid days we had down here. I would recommend this and will purchase this; even without a coupon.

Disclaimer: The products reviewed in this post were courtesy of Influenster and their VoxBox program. I was not paid for these reviews. 

Imagination

My kids are making me mad.

My kids need to put their seat belts on so they'll be safe.

I'm only taking the girls, not the boys.

Mom, pray for my kids. They're throwing up.

You may have guessed that the above statements were not made by me, but the mini diva. According to her she has four kids: Ethan, Manda, Jeremy, and Toulanna. (That last one's name gets changed all the time.) They are imaginary; but to her they are real.. somewhat. I play along because, well, she's four. And I want to let her be four. And I would totally let her play with Barbies and baby dolls until she's sixteen. Anything to help buffer her from dating. :) 

I'm going somewhere with this; stick with me.

Last night my husband and I were praying and mini diva came out of her bedroom wanting to pray with us. We asked what she would want to pray for or who she wanted to pray for. She chose to pray for her kids because they are real sick. My husband corrected her, telling her that prayer is serious and that we don't pray for imaginary things: we are not supposed to play around when it comes to God. This broke my little heart, the mini diva, however, was unscathed. 

The Lord quickly brought to my mind how often we pray about imaginary things. Worries and stresses and imaginary problems that will never come to pass: but they are real to us. Whether there will be enough money to pay for whatever bill that is due next. Whether my kids will be proud of me. What will people think of me if I do this that or the other? What if I don't turn out the way I aspired to? What if I get fired from my job? What if my friends don't like me or I hurt their feelings?

What if, what if, what if... 

Here's what the Bible says about all these "what ifs:"

Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.

2Corinthians 10:5

and this

Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.

1Peter 5:7

If you're worried, tired, weary in your mind from stress and imaginary things; cast it down and cast it on Jesus, the Prince of Peace. He cares for you and everything about you; if you care about it so does he. Whether the imaginary thing be your kids imaginary kids illness or that imaginary thing is whether I offended a co-worker because I didn't say good morning or maybe that imaginary thing is wondering if God really cares about me. 

You know, if God is big enough to deal with an adult still struggling with imaginary issues; isn't he big enough to handle a little kid's daydreams and imaginary problems? Isn't he smart enough to know her right where she is; isn't he wise enough to let a four year old be a four year old? He is. And if he is caring and loving enough to take time for a little girl; wouldn't he be tender enough to care for you? He is. 

Or, as he would say, "I AM."

Natural Woman

I'm channeling Aretha tonight. 

"Looking out on the morning rain/I used to feel uninspired/And when I knew I had to face another day/Lord it made me feel so tired."

Okay, so maybe only the first few lines of the song. I mean, if you were to see my eyebrows right now and the lack of make up you would definitely see that I am looking like a natural woman. It's been a different few days for me. And I was feeling pretty sorry for myself last night; so sorry that I was depressed about my lack of Reese's peanut butter cups in my house and the fact that one of my friends is in Kentucky for a few days/weeks/better not be months right now. (Come home now! You're all I've got left. I can't move to Kentucky-I'd freeze. Whimper.) 

Anyways. So, while I am sounding completely pathetic and destitute of anyone to feel sorry for me except for myself (my husband was at work and thus saved from having to console me and go on a junk food run), I had to find a way to console myself. I did what any other uninspired, tired, and self loathing woman would do. I went on Pinterest while I ate the kids Easter candy. And pinned recipes, DIY projects, and most importantly, anything I found with polka dots. 

And then I felt like a new woman. Who cares if all of my friends are moving a million miles away? Who cares that my kids will be leaving me for VPK soon? What's the big deal if the dishes are never completely done? There is nothing like feeling as though I've shopped, baked a flourless chocolate cake, watched a comedy, and had a complete make over to make me feel better in the late night hours. (To be clear, I was living vicariously through my Pinterest boards.) Yikes... As I read this, I'm beginning to feel as though I may need to get out of my house soon and actually shop, bake, and wear polka dots while rocking a cat eye. 

In brighter news, I am super excited to make a blog post on a review of products that I received for *FREE* from Influenster. Until that day, which will be soon, I'm off to watch Food Network and eat Reese's. Oh yes, my husband hooked me up. 

Until next time... 

Lies I Believed

When I was little, there were three major lies I believed. The best/worst part of these lies was that no one told me these lies; I somehow came up with them myself.

Lie #1 

If you run a red light, a loud siren with flashing lights will sound all around your car.  Then the police will come and take you to jail.  I took red lights very seriously.

Needless to say, I was a backseat driver. I didn't want to go to juvey for my mom running red lights; or worse, get sent to live with my grandmother. Yikes. 

Lie #2

Like many little kids when I was upset with life as a five year old, I would fantasize about how I was adopted and my real parents would come for me soon.  Most of these stories I've heard the kids imagine that their real parents are royalty.  Not me; my imaginary ideal parents were Johnny and Baby.  You know, the lead characters from Dirty Dancing.  

My mom and dad. I wished.

Lie #3

This is the one that makes most think a little different about me and possibly question my intelligence. I thought the reason that one said "excuse me" after passing gas was to take away the smell.  Somehow, those magical words negated any unpleasant fumes spewing from one's mouth or anus.  (Anus sounds like such a dirty word, doesn't it?) That was the only reason I could ever come up with to acknowledge a silent but deadly poot.  Why else would you admit that you stunk up the car?

IT WAS ME!

Anyone else out there who had a vivid imagination when they were a kid? 

Prayers, Orphans, and the Mini Diva

I love my mini diva. She's smart, funny, sarcastic, beautiful, and tenderhearted. 

Isn't she pretty? She stole my heart. A few weeks ago she announced that she wasn't mean anymore. Her secret to not being mean? She prayed for herself. And that's how she said it, too:  "Momma, know why I'm not mean anymore? 'Cos I prayed for myself. So I'm not mean anymore."

Don't you just love it? She truly believes what she is taught about Jesus. That when you pray to him, he responds. My ear was in agony this past week. She prayed for my ear and for Jesus to "take the boo boo away" from my ear, then tested for God's response. By smacking me in the ear. It still hurt, so she prayed again. And kept asking me and expecting my ear to be 100% better when she checked. It took a few days for me to feel a good deal better; but I believe her little (big) prayer worked.

One more story about my girl and her generous heart. She had a friend named Martha a while back. Martha's mommy and daddy were killed in a tragic slaying. So, it was Jetta's duty to care for her orphan friend. I was not to be trusted with Martha (apparently I am the slayer of Martha's parents). Jetta loved Martha. Would you like to see a picture of Martha? I thought you would. 

That's right, boys and girls, my kid tried to befriend a roach. Sadly, there are no pictures of Martha and Jetta together, nor a family portrait with Martha and her parents. Ha! Martha didn't last two minutes in our house (yes, she was discovered in my house ). But, Jetta took the Bible verse about caring for widows and orphans seriously. Even roach orphans. For the record, lest you think I am hosting a roach resort, eviction notices were served and there has been no evidence of creepy crawlies since. Tell me I'm not alone with a kid who is hilarious in her pursuits of humanitarianism? 

In memory of Martha, her mommy, her daddy, and other relatives that were massacred in 2012.