Saturday, August 24, 2013


Down the back roads of Kentucky, nestled in a curve, and framed by trees, sits a little brick church.  On Sunday morning you will find a gathering of people dressed in their Sunday best looking to find love.  Pews line the walls as you walk down the aisle towards the alter, a wooden bench soaked in tears, drenched in hope, drowning in sorrows.  As the singing begins you won't notice any fancy lighting, slide shows, or mist seeping from under the band.  Just people, their voices brought on by a pitch pipe, and the occasional harmonizing of baby cries . The preacher won't read from an already made script, perhaps he won't need to preach.  And you can visibly watch as the Holy Spirit makes it's way around the small, but powerful congregation.  This is home.

Nearly 20 years ago I found salvation on that wooden alter.  That's where it all begins.   I find myself right back on that cool October night.  From the outside looking in, not much has changed.  The same hymnals still echo off the walls, many of the same faces fill the room.  And the smell,  that smell , I don't think that will ever change.  But it's different.  20 years ago I was a kid.   Some have gone on, some have moved away, others quit coming.  Many new faces, and  many the same, though the mark of time has enhanced their beauty.  A lot can change in 20 years, and a lot can stay the same.   No, it's not exactly the same, but that smell, that feeling, the Holy Spirit, yes that has always been a consistent piece of home.

I've been away from that home for four years now.  Finding time during short trips back to make my way to that brick church. I have learned a lot in those four years, and grown more in my faith away than I believe would have been possible there.  I've carried that October night around with me, and learned that Jesus, God, the Holy Spirit is in me.  It isn't something you go out to "find", but something embedded inside of you.  It's something that once you find, though you may forget it's there, it can never be lost.

So it's my prayer that through life I grow more in love with God and Christ.  That I get to know them on a deeper level.  That I challenge myself each and every day to never become complacent in Christ, but to remember I am born of Christ. I can always do better, be better.  I don't want to simply walk like Christ, but with Christ, each and every day.

Thursday, August 15, 2013


I'm working on something. It's not a pinterest craft, sewing project, or a new toy organization system (although I really should get on that).  I am working on becoming the wife that I feel God wants me to be.  I spend a lot of time with my children.  They quite literally are my life.  They wake me up to start the day, and fall asleep cuddled close in my arms during the night.  I've been there for every new word, first step, boo-boo, and refrigerator worthy art.  They are the air I breathe.

But something has felt off lately.  I remember as a young woman my mom always talking to me about becoming a mom.  It was stressed that one should be ready for the sacrifices that come along with such responsibility, it's not to be taken lightly, and your life will no longer be your "own".  Yes, it was part of "the talk", but it stuck.  I do believe in all of those things.  That someone who is old enough to enter into parenthood should also be mature enough to accept responsibility.

So I've worked on being a good perfect parent, if there is such a thing.  I put every single bit of myself into my kids.  I'm not saying it's worth it because it totally is.  Nor am I saying I regret it.  They are the hardest and most rewarding job/work I have every been blessed with.  But somewhere on the trip from newlyweds to parenthood my husband and I lost a bit of our relationship.

Let me first say that I love my husband deeply, and he does me as well.  And no we aren't going through some horrible rough patch.  It's just a realization I think I came to.  I guess I owe that eye opener to the following blog... Butler Party of 2 .

This post hit me hard, like slap in the face hard. I love being a wife and a mom, but I am shameful to admit that it doesn't always feel like "enough".  As if something more, better should define me.  What's better or more than raising kids, creating a home, and living a life in love!? I don't know, but that selfish side of me can grab hold.  This blog post reminded me that I'm not just in this marriage for me, my husband, or my kids, more importantly I am in it for God.  He created Josh and I for one another, and was generous enough to let us borrow two of His precious babies.

So I am working on it.  I am working on joyfully doing dishes, and folding underwear.  Rejoicing in the few quiet moments my husband and I can get alone, and realizing that while sweeping the floor and scrubbing toilets often goes without thanks or recognition, God sees my work, my effort and my heart ALL of the time.  And the blessings he gives me are more than I deserve for doing a few chores a day.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Breaking Point

I reached that point, where it's hours past bed time, but the kids are still running around like a group of ants whose hill has just been trampled on.  That point where all I could do was simply sit and cry.  So I did.  I cried and I prayed, and eventually I begged my kids to listen.  They didn't.

This isn't a "woe is me" kind of post.  I'm not so much into them.  But I did promise to tell the truth.  And in the life of motherhood, parenting, the truth isn't always laced with sugar, covered in icing with a cherry on top.  The truth can be miserable, defeating, and lonely. 

So I reached my breaking point.  After 3 days of body aches, upset stomachs, fever, coughs, runny noses, little sleep (and always with a child on a shoulder) endless laundry, constant sweeping, wiping, mopping, and catering to every little need.  I reached my breaking point, and I sat and cried.

It wasn't the first time, and I know it won't be the last. But amidst the snot laced, teary pleading a light of hope.  Lena came over, put her arm around me, kissed my cheek and simply said "It'll be okay Mom".  (My three yr old refers to me as Mom now, another attitude laced post for another time)

And she was right.  It was okay.  Sometime after midnight both kids settled down and slept.  One on each of my sides cuddled up close, snoring.  It was beauty and blessings at it's finest.  I reached a breaking point, and my innocent grown-up three year old was there to remind me that it will be okay.  On the other side of a storm, you can find a rainbow.

This Southern Belle
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