Becoming Me by Angela Nazworth

Womb Woven and Wonderfully Made

2011-08-24T22:14:00.000-04:00

I am letting go of Becoming Me ... and now writing at my new blog. I hope you will stop by and see me and learn why I have ... transitioned.

Drinking Sunshine

2011-07-15T06:35:00.000-04:00

I know that I have not been around here much lately...there have been a lot of changes in my life and more to come. I'm excited to share details with you and will very soon. My latest post is up at (in)courage. I hope you enjoy it.

Recovery and Punctuation

2011-05-16T10:50:00.000-04:00

Just a few weeks after my blog comeback, I started to experience excruciating pains in my neck and arm. Long story short, I am now in bed recovering from neck surgery. The spinal surgeon did a great job and I am healing. God has shown me so much during the past few months and I cannot wait to share with you. Hopefully I will be writing soon.

You can find my latest post over at (In)Courage. It's about the comma and spiritual growth. Odd combo, but I think you'll like the message.

Take Fear Out of the Equation

2011-03-23T21:33:00.000-04:00

http://www.tradingphrases.com

The stress of the unknown weighted me anxious. I had an opportunity to pursue...a decision to make. A stirring deep within concocted a desire to explore. I didn't know why, but I knew that I must.

I knew that good would come from the exploration. Earth-shattering change was not eminent. Altering my life was not required; but inspection, scrutiny and analysis of situation and self demanded action. Yet, I froze...suspended in a nebula of confusion and fear.

Questions that I did not want to answer hovered. Undesirable scenarios loomed. A visual of potential hurt feelings flashed in my mind's eye. Threats of failure danced around me. Doubts circled and sang what-if?

I locked eyes with a Godly friend and whined
"I need someone to make this decision for me. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Explore it," she decided...quickly.

"I was hoping for a different answer," I sighed.

Then, she offered instruction. "Take fear out of the equation. Now, what do you want to do?"

I smiled. "I want to see what this is really about."

She returned my smile with one of her own, "Then, that's what you do."

So I explored. And I learned. And I grew.

In its unhealthy form, fear is, at best, an obstacle...at worst, it is an agent of paralysis and atrophy. When removed from the equation, fear is left without power and the right choice rises to the surface.

"And He got up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Hush, be still.' and the wind died down and it became perfectly calm. And then He said to them, 'Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?'"
-Mark 4:39-40

Being an Encourager

2011-03-20T21:38:00.001-04:00

(Warning, this is another one of those posts where I just "talk" to you)

Photo from Show Off Arts - Dayspring. com

It was my first day on the job as the corporate communications specialist for a well-respected community bank. Two hours after I arrived, my new boss, Laura, announced that the bank's president and CEO had resigned that weekend. Fortunately, the resignation was not tied to even a scent of a scandal, which came as a relief to this public relations gal. But still, a rather monumental change in leadership had occurred and I felt uneasy.

Adding to first day nerves, the interim president and CEO summoned me to his office to discuss an upcoming publication. Laura volunteered to accompany me to the meeting and I accepted her offer in an instant. I can be brave and independent, but at that moment I reeled with insecurity. I remember very little from that meeting, except for me trying to sound intelligent while I assessed the situation and proposed an idea.

On our way back to the marketing department, I asked Laura if she was fine with the way that I expressed opinions during the meeting ... remember, my tenure was all of four hours old.

Her sincere reply instilled me with confidence and became one of the most influential compliments I have received.

" Angela, you did great. You just make things better wherever you go."

Laura is an authentic encourager. That is how she works, leads and lives. Although our roles have changed and she is no longer my boss, she remains a friend and an inspiration.

The New Testament Greek word for encouragement is parakaleo, which literally means "to call along side." It was often used when writing about battle and meant to strengthen someone by bringing them the appropriate aid.

It is my heart's desire to encourage a wounded world. But, to be brutally honest (and I need to be), my motivation for encouraging others is sometimes blurred by selfishness and pride. Sometimes I encourage with the intent to receive some sort of emotional accolade in return.

Most of the time, I am genuine in my efforts. But there have been moments when encouraging felt like hard work ... and times when encouraging did not bring joy to my heart. I now know that if encouraging someone else does not bring joy to my heart (and I mean joy, not bubbly, syrupy, happiness - although encouraging others can lead to that as well) and if it makes me feel burnt out, then I am simply not doing it right. Oh, I may be doing and saying the right things, just not with the right motives.

The purpose of true encouragement is to affirm, console and challenge others to keep going forward. As a Christian, I am called to encourage others in the faith. Spurring someone on so I can garner feelings of value is not how Paul intended his words written in Hebrews to be interpreted. Instead, I must humbly put the needs or others before my own ... love them ... and then inspire them as they continue the journey.

"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near." Hebrews 10:23-25 NASB.

Feel Me Better

2011-03-19T21:55:00.002-04:00

He ran ferociously: elbows bent, fists clenched, feet flying and Batman cape flapping. Just inches from catching up to his big sister, a crack in the uneven sidewalk knocked him to the ground.

His jeans tore and his breath left him until his scream found voice and filled the air.

My knees were on the ground a mere second after his fall. He hoisted his body into my lap and open arms. Then, he wailed a solitary demand:

"Feel me better! Please, please feel me better, right now!"

I had not one item in my purse to help him...not a time machine, band aid, ointment or even a tissue. So I held him tight, wiped away the tears that trickled down his plastic mask and whispered that everything was going to be O.K.

His pleas continued. "It hurts...please do something to feel me better."

I reached into my mind's files of "Useful Mommy Tools" and pulled out numerous kisses that I applied to his quivering chin, muddy palms and bloodied knee.

He sniffed, gulped air, sighed and exclaimed, "You did it mommy! You feeled me better! - But, I don't want to run anymore, I just want to walk beside you."

Then, with his hand in mine we walked slowly home. My boy felt better. He also felt safe.

As I held my little man (who will be four next month), I remembered so many of my past falls... so many wounds that stole my breath and pinned me to the earth. I remembered the times that I pleaded for God to take the pain away and make me feel better.

I remembered the times when the pain remained...even grew despite my begging. But I also remembered being held close in the arms of God. I remembered the balm of His comforting truth and steadfast love bringing solace to my stinging, scraped spirit.

And, I remember those times of healing...of gingerly walking forward while clenching His hand; feeling safe...feeling loved...feeling better.

"All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ." - 2nd Corinthians 1:3-5 - NLT

I am...I am not

2011-03-17T22:30:00.000-04:00

(This is an updated version of a post I wrote in April, 2009)

During this process of becoming, I have found it helpful to enter a spirit of reflectiveness and take note of who I am at this moment and who I am not. The list is a hodgepodge of sorts...some of it humorous...some of it deep...all of it honest.

I am flawed; I am not hopeless

I am competitive; I am not cunning

I am weak; I am not too weak to admit my mistakes

I am in love with my husband; I am not always kind to my husband

I am a mother; I am not always skilled at mothering

I am encouraged when I remember that Christ is more than enough; I am not suppose to be enough for anyone

I am heartbroken for those who suffer; I am not going to deny the existence of hope

I am sometimes jealous of others; I am not going to thrust myself into the spotlight

I am contemplative; I am not shy

I am joyful; I am not always happy

I am stubborn; I am not unyielding

I am cautious; I am not against spontaneity

I am unintentionally quirky; I am not funny unless I am not trying to be funny

I am in my thirties; I am not able to metabolize food like I did when I was in my twenties

I am adventurous; I am not careless

I am a writer; I am not a singer...or a dancer

I am cute; I am not glamorous or traffic-stopping beautiful

I am fine with the fact that I am not traffic-stopping beautiful; I am not interested in plastic surgery

I am a work of art made by the creator of art; I am not ashamed of my Creator's design

I am loyal; I am not afraid to establish boundaries

I am committed to taking care of our planet; I am not one who worships the creation instead of the creator

I am understanding; I am not going to ignore truth

I am compassionate and merciful; I am not always a good listener

I am emotional; I am not irrational

I am talkative; I am not always going to know the right words to say

I am forgiven; I am not able to forget my wrongdoings

I am gifted; I am not able to do all that I desire

I am a member of the body of Christ; I am not meant to live life just for myself.

I am loved...I am chosen...I am the daughter of the King of Kings; I am not going to hide my true identity.

Who are you? Who are you not?

“Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.” Romans 12:4-10 NIV

Stuffed up and wound tight

2011-03-11T20:55:00.000-05:00

Nothing makes me face my humanity as quickly as a common illness. When sickness fogs my head and lungs causing my temperature to rise above 100 degrees (and I'm normally a 97.5 girl), I tend to melt into someone more fragile than I like being.

I have not brushed my hair in more than two days and have worn the same pair of flannel pajamas since 11:00 a.m. Wednesday. I am not a pretty sight to behold. I am, however, thankful that I am finally feeling strong enough to shower without fainting. That's a sign of recovery.

One of the biggest obstacles I face when I am sick is not the stuffy nose and other irritating symptoms that take over my body. It's my inability to accept that my body needs to heal that holds me back. Sickness makes me feel weak...needy...wimpy...and guilty. I like to believe that I can think myself well and push through the pain...do and be all things.

It doesn't work that way. And because it doesn't work that way, I tend to allow frustration to fester until I'm not just stuffy...I'm uptight and stuffy. That's not a fun combination.

As I was reading through Scripture verses tonight, I came across Psalm 131:1-3 - A song for pilgrims assembling to Jerusalem.

Lord, my heart is not proud;
      my eyes are not haughty.
   I don’t concern myself with matters too great
      or too awesome for me to grasp.
Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
      like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
      Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord—
now and always.

In my moments of wanting control and feeling weak when I'm not at the top of my game, I am reminded that pride is my enemy. I can call it "being strong," but I know better. It's pride...and it's both silly and dangerous for me to hold on it. I need to echo the prayer above and not allow my heart to feel proud and instead be quieted and calmed by truth and grace.

Critical Eye. Gentle Heart.

2011-03-10T20:50:00.000-05:00

(photo, "Sweet Lavender" by Jennifer Bowers at Sycamore Lane)

When I am at work, I keep close company with a red pencil and my Online AP Stylebook subscription. Oh, and just in case you are wondering how I feel about Mignon Fogarty of Grammar Girl fame...I love her. A lot.

I am a writer, an editor and a public relations/corporate communications guru. A critical eye is an essential tool of my trade. I am quick to draw slashes through comma splices, misplaced quotation marks and 99 percent of exclamation points. If there is a typo to be found...chances are I'll find it.

Unless (ahem), the typo generated from my fingertips. It is amazingly difficult for a writer to catch her own gaffes. At least it is for me and every other writer I personally know. There is just something about being too close to one's own work to truly see flaws. Often, when editing my own work, my eye reads what my mind knows should be there than what is really there.

Yesterday, there was a typo in the title of my blog post (gasp). Chances are you caught it before I did. In fact, had it not been for Mary, my fabulous friend, (In)Courage sister and fellow grammar snob (I consider grammar snob to be a compliment), "Reflection" may still be spelled as "Relfection."

Mary, very sweetly sent me an e-mail noting the error. And I was so happy that she did. Not only did she save me from more potential embarrassment, she gave me an idea for this blog post.

Regardless how Mary would have pointed out my mistake, I would have changed the error. It needed to be fixed. But the way Mary went about the correction went beyond helping me remedy a mistake, it truly blessed my heart. She didn't publicly chastise me in the comment section of the post or via Facebook. Instead, she gently and humbly brought up the typo because she knew that she would be helping me by doing so. She didn't create a "gotcha" moment. She came to me because she would want me to extend the same courtesy to her if the table turned. She also admitted to making similar mistakes of her own (I have trouble believing her on that one). Mary didn't get a sense of joy from telling me I was wrong, but she did feel the joy that comes from helping a friend.

The same type of syndrome that causes writers to be mildly oblivious to mistakes in their own essays is also common in other areas of life. Sometimes we are too close to something to really see that we're messing up. Trust me. I've been in that boat too. And when I'm in that boat, I've noticed that there are three types of people who come along. Type one passes by and ignores my mess. Type two lunges toward me and delights in sharing my mistakes with me and all who are in earshot. Type three is like Mary. She quietly comes beside me and whispers truth in my ear, laces it with encouragement and hopes for the best.

Personally, I learn the most from the Marys I encounter throughout life.

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." - Ephesians 4:2

Lent - A Time For Reflection

2011-03-09T05:00:00.008-05:00

In all of my 37 years of life, I have never observed Lent. Or at least I have never faithfully observed the season of Lent. There have been a few times when I decided to give Lent a try, but I never stuck to it. I never purposefully set aside the 40 days preceding Easter as a time for reflecting upon Christ's life, sacrifice, suffering, death, burial and resurrection. That confession may shock and sadden some of you. It saddens me.

My reasons for avoiding Lent ranged from not being Catholic to being highly cognizant of legalism. I also associated Lent with giving something up as a way of acknowledging all that Christ gave up for me. While that is not necessarily untrue, that line of reasoning made it difficult for me to submit to a 40-day sacrifice of my own.

Here's why.

I thought that giving up something as insignificant as...let's say...dark chocolate to remember and honor Christ's willingness to submit to a torturous death cheapened Good Friday. Anything I considered giving up was downright puny in comparison to what Jesus gave away for me. So, being the good perfectionist that I was...I nixed the idea of observing Lent every time I heard someone reference abstaining from something beloved to them.

Several days ago, I began to think some more about Lent and, once again, thought about "trying it." And then, once again, could not think of something valid to give up. The more I pondered, the clearer the truth resonated. As a follower of Christ, I am called to sacrifice. But I am called to give up something far more valuable than caffeine, sugar or Facebook.

In Matthew 16: 24-26 Jesus said "If anyone wants to follow me, he must say no to himself. He must pick up his cross and follow me. He who wants to save his own life will lose it. But he who loses his life for me will find it."

I am commanded to give up myself. And not just for 40 days.

I am asked to give away

my time

my energy

my selfish wants

my love

You may now be thinking that I have decided (once again) to not observe Lent, but I actually came to an different conclusion. Although I will not be giving up an item, I will be giving up (or trying to give up) parts of myself that prevent me from clinging to Christ. I plan to observe Lent as a season for reflecting specifically on Christ's life, death and resurrection and on ways that I can better love Him and others. For the next 40 days, I am committing to writing a blog post here that focuses on the season (I have found that I spend more time in scripture when I blog than when I do not). The posts may not be profound or well written...but they will be intended as a way to keep me accountable as I strive to spend more time learning how to give up me.

(Please know that by writing this post, I am not in anyway chastising you if you have chosen to give up something for Lent. I completely respect how that doing so is a way of worship for many...and I think that is beautiful. I encourage everyone to draw close to God and take time to reflect upon the sacrifices made by His only son.)

How to BE Community

2010-10-04T19:46:00.000-04:00

This past August, my husband and I celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary. In eleven years of marriage we have lived in ten different homes, in eight different cities, in six different states, and in three different geographic regions of the United States. In short…we move. A lot. No, we aren’t in the military. And no, we didn’t want to make all those moves to quench a thirst for adventure. We desire stability. But for one reason or another we have lived a nomadic lifestyle of sorts for the past eleven years.

The packing and unpacking brought with it highs and lows. Saying goodbye hurt. Saying hello to the new was both scary and exciting. Each time we moved, I remember praying for community. I wanted to find a group of like-minded friends who loved Jesus, adored their families, and were committed to serving others. Often, my prayer was answered the way I wanted it answered. I moved, I went searching for friends, and I found them. Sometimes, it wasn’t so easy. But then it hit me…life is not high school. There is more to living than fitting in. If I really wanted to be a part of a community, I couldn’t just look for it.

I had to BE Community.

To read about how I learned to BE community, please click here to head on over to (in)Courage.

A Woman Knows What She Wants

2010-09-21T23:14:00.000-04:00

I'm glad my husband keeps me informed regarding the cute things my kids say while I'm at work. Today I learned that my three-year-old son handed him a naked Barbie doll and said, "Daddy, here's a naked girl for you!" And I also heard that my six-year-old daughter exclaimed that there was no need for her to try squash because..."A woman knows what she wants."

My girl is not 100 percent wrong. Nor is she 100 percent right.

There are times when I just know something is wrong for me. For instance, I've never set my hair on fire, but I know it's not something I want to try. When I was younger, I wanted to get my belly button pierced, but since I have this thing against unnecessary pain, I knew that a naval piercing wasn't for me. I also know that many people consider chocolate-drenched grasshoppers a delicacy. I'll pass. If I want some crunch to my chocolate, a small pack of Peanut M&M's will do just fine.

Sometimes the situation is less obvious, like when I have the opportunity to use sarcasm as a tool to subtly attack someone. Or when I am tempted to tell a "little white lie" to get myself out of a jam or a potential embarrassing situation. In those situations it isn't so much a gut feeling as it is a lesson already learned...but still I can recognize the early warning signs.

Sometimes a woman just knows when something is wrong. And then there are times when a woman knows what she wants, but doesn't quite understand what she needs.

My daughter's body needs the vitamins and minerals that accompany each bite of a fresh vegetable. So one could argue that she needed the squash. But she didn't want it. She didn't want to look at it. She didn't want to smell it. She didn't want to get it near her mouth. And she sure as sugar is sweet did not want to eat it. She's a girl who knows what she wants...and by default, what she doesn't want. However, had she given the squash a chance, she may have found out that she truly liked it. Eating squash may have become a want of hers.

As I reflect on this simple example of typical kid-ness, some self observations jump to mind. As a strong-willed woman, I often know what I want. At least, I think I do. But when I take the time to examine my wants closely, I discover that they don't always line up with my needs...and in fact, some of my wants conflict with each other.

I want a healthy body. I want to eat whatever I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. Conflict.

I want my marriage to thrive. I want my own way. Conflict.

I want a clean and organized home. I want someone else to be responsible for the cleaning and organizing. Conflict.

I'm learning, at a rate that is both slow and sure, that in order for me to choose the right want, I must first understand what it is that I truly need.

When everything else is stripped away, one need remains at the core...one need fulfills all others.
More Jesus. I am a woman who needs more of Jesus and less of herself. I am a woman wants more of Jesus. And I am a woman who sometimes forgets that.

"The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 116:5-7 (NIV)

Hello Again

2010-09-19T21:20:00.000-04:00

Let me start out by stating that it does not take much for me to get a song stuck in my head. Before I wrote the a-i-n of "Again" I began channeling Neil Diamond...and now I cannot stop singing the words "Hello, my friend, Hello..." But it is sort of appropriate.

See what missing two months of blogging has done to me? I now digress while writing the first sentence of a post. I have a point for posting tonight...I promise.

As many of you know, this past year has been a whirlwind of sorts. In fact, I did some double checking down memory lane and realized that each year of the past decade came with at least one major life stressor for my family - job loss, death, relocations, new job adjustments, births, PPMD, more job loss, more relocation, etc. Some years contained multiple issues...some just one.

Last December, we learned that The Professor's job with the college would end in May. It had looked like a move would be inevitable. Then after months of him job searching, The Professor and I decided that it would be best for me to go on a job hunt as well. We were looking mostly for jobs in the DC area, but wanted to stay put, so I looked locally as well.

Honestly, I did not hold much hope for either one of us finding a job in our area of Ohio. Especially in my field of Public Relations. But the unexpected happened...I found a job. And with a bank of all places. I don't even have to tell you that the fact alone that a financial institution hiring a PR professional during a RECESSION makes me feel as if this opportunity was much more than coincidence.

The Professor, whom I am going to have to rename in this blog since he no longer teaches, and I have swapped roles. I work in an office from 8 to 5, while he works here at home raising our three-year-old son and six-year-old daughter. His job is harder than mine. And I'm not just saying that. It is.

The transition from "stay-at-home mom" to working-full-time-outside-the- home-mom" has not been easy for the entire family, but in all honesty I must admit that I think I have been transitioning quite well. I'm being paid to communicate. I also work with a team of amazing professionals who are as warm and caring as they are brilliant. And I know that while I am at the office, my children are being loved and cared for by the only person who loves them as much as I love them.

I hope to not stay away from here so long though...because I have missed all of you very much. And I've missed writing for me. I've missed writing for Jesus. I've missed writing about all that God has been teaching me.

And I'm going to end this post unusually...I'm ending without an ending...because I just cannot think of one, but know that I need to hit publish. Ohhh, I know...I'll end with some Diamond. Why not?

Drowning in Guilt - Repost from 2008

2010-07-01T12:29:00.000-04:00

I originally wrote this post two years ago as part of my Postpartum Mood Disorder Journey. Carrying around guilt....both real and false, can increase the intensity of a mood disorder and have adverse effects on one's emotional and spiritual life as well.

With the recent drowning of the 2-yr-old son of former NFL star Randall Cunningham, this incident with my then two-year-old daughter crashed freshly against my heart.

Although the story below is real, I changed the names of the other "characters."

Drowning in Guilt - June 7, 2008

Guilt. It is invisible, yet weighs heavier than a stack of cinder blocks. And when placed on a soul, it can immobilize body and mind. Have you felt this weight? Do you carry it today? Those of you who are not new to my writings know that I once believed many lies. One of those lies was that carrying around the cumbersome baggage of guilt was a consequence for my mistakes. Ever hear the phrase, “you made your bed, now you have to lie in it?” Yeah, I bought that one too.

There is truth in the fact that we do face consequences for our mistakes and that we may even be reminded of those consequences often, if not daily. However, if we accept the freedom that is offered through Christ, there is no condemnation. We’re forgiven. Christ remade that bed. Choosing to live with guilt is the same as living a lie.

And to reiterate, I lived that lie for years. Much, much longer than I lived in the truth. I’ve harbored guilt about things I did, things I didn’t do, and things I could have and possibly should have done. I first collected those trash bags of guilt as a young lady. But the most repugnant, heaviest bags I picked up came after I became a mother. The guilt started with my miscarriage and continued with both of my children. I foolishly viewed myself as the only one responsible for their well-being. I feared that any mistake I made could mess them up for life. I didn’t only collect those trash bags, I decorated with them. I allowed them to define me.

And while I felt guilt about over many mistakes, there was one mistake, one fleeting moment that nearly destroyed our family as we knew it.

Pumpkindoodle was two-years-old and I invited my good friend Kim* and her three kids to swim with us. A very cautious Pumpkindoodle was satisfied sitting on the gradual steps that doubled as the pool entrance. I stayed close by her. Kim’s youngest child, Danielle*, sat with me and Pumpkindoodle, while Kim took her four-year-old boy to the deep end. Danielle, a precocious daredevil, took that opportunity to explore. She jumped up and darted around the side of the pool, ignoring our warnings. When she decided to reach for a leaf that was floating in eight-feet of water, I sprang into action. I told Pumpkindoodle to stay still and I started to swim toward Danielle. I knew that with a four-year-old attached to her, Kim would have trouble getting to her daughter in time. My girl, never before moved from the steps, even with my coaching, so I felt confident she would be safe.

I reached Danielle in time and as I did, I heard a sputtering sound. I turned around and saw my baby girl face down in the water. I’m not a strong swimmer and I although I was moving as fast as I could, I felt like I wouldn’t reach her in time. I screamed and another lady dove in and saved my Pumpkindoodle, who quickly expunged the water from her lungs.

Sobbing, I held my toddler tight and whispered, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. I felt as though I was the one struggling for breath as a million thoughts swirled through my mind. “You should have got out of the water, you’re faster on land.” “Why did you endanger your child’s life?” You should have put your daughter on a lawn chair and then ran to save Danielle.” “You are so stupid, so careless, you don’t deserve this child.”

Within minutes, Pumpkindoodle recovered undramatized, and we went back to the pool, just the two of us, the next day. I smiled, played with her and laughed as if nothing happened, but in my mind I saw two little girls… one in my arms wearing her pretty princess swimsuit and one, wearing a bright pink Dora suit, floating face down in the water, splashing helplessly. The image tattooed itself on my brain with the words “her mommy is a failure.” I couldn’t sleep at nights. The incident invaded my dreams.

The Professor tried to rescue me from my pit of self-loathing and guilt, “Stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’. You had a split-second decision to make and you went to the aid of the child you thought was in the greatest danger. If you hadn’t have reacted, maybe Danielle would have ended up in the water, maybe she would have died. You need to let this go.”

He was right, but I still couldn’t get past the pain, the regret. In fact, it took me nearly two years to get past the what ifs. What a waste of time! Two years. Christ forgave me instantly. In fact, my husband may be correct in that there was nothing to forgive. I’m not sure. But who am I to chain what Christ had freed? He died for each and every one of my sins. Not accepting His forgiveness for that error in judgment is like telling precious Jesus, “I’m sorry, your blood was not enough.”

Please know, that His blood is more than enough. That there is nothing, I mean absolutely nothing that you have done or will do that will take more than the blood of Christ to cleanse. Forgiveness is yours. Toss out that guilty baggage. It stinks and it will just weigh you down and hold you from your purpose. Oh how that delights our enemy. And how it pierces the heart of our Savior.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Romans 8:1 (NIV)

The Message version is also too beautiful not to post.

With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ's being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death. Romans 8:1-2 – The Message

Contradiction

2010-06-28T10:49:00.000-04:00

I once wore a veil of rejection. Sometimes, I am foolishly tempted to put it back on...even though I know how beautiful the view of life is without it.

You can read the entire story at (In) Courage... you may even see glimpses of yourself.

I'm OK...I'm Just Waiting...

2010-05-11T13:57:00.000-04:00

"I have been deprived of peace;
       I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, "My splendor is gone
       and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
       the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
       and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind
       and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
       for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
       great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
       therefore I will wait for him."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
       to the one who seeks him;

It is good to wait quietly
       for the salvation of the LORD."

Lamentations 3: 17-26 NIV (Italics, mine)

What happens when one who blogs on a daily basis suddenly drops out of sight for a few months, then returns for a time or two, then disappears again with the exception of a few sporadic reposts?

Said blogger recieves many kind e-mail messages asking her if she is OK.

And then said blogger makes things worse by not responding...I know...Not. Cool.

Here is a snippet into my life right now...I write this snippet not to complain or to vent, but rather to explain the cause of my extended absence.

Since our ten years of marriage, The Professor and I have lived in:

10 different homes
8 different cities
6 different states

The Professor has been employed in visiting positions in:

5 different colleges/universities
5 different cities
4 different states

Our daughter is six-years-old and she has lived in:

6 different homes
6 different cities
5 different states.

Our son is three-years-old and he has lived in:

4 different homes
4 different cities
4 different states

We move...A lot. And through each move we have learned quite a bit about:

God's faithfulness and provision
Commitment to marriage and family
Our physical limitations
Our emotional limitations
The kindness of others
Various cultures
Creating, building and maintaining friendships
The consequences of living above our means
The struggle and joys that come with living within and below our means
What we truly need
How to start over...and then over...and then over again...repeat and rinse

There have also been many other valuable lessons along the way. In short, much good has come from the many moves. However, we also long for:

Stability
More time with the fabulous people we meet
A break from the chaos and economic strains of annual moving
More opportunities to serve the communities where we live
A hiatus from rejection

When we moved to our current city less than ten-months ago, we felt as though we had finally landed in the spot where we would plant our roots and grow for at least a few years. Yet once again we are most likely facing another move to an unknown (to us) destination. That's another aspect of our moves... we rarely know where we will go next until a month or so before we have to move.

In December we learned that the position my husband had here would not turn into a tenure track job and that it would end in May (it has ended). Currently he and I are both on the job market. There is a slight chance we could stay here for another year or so, but it is looking more likely that we will move to either the Washington DC area or to a capital in a state where we have friends and family close by.

Right now there are many unanswered questions and I feel as though I have various full-time jobs. I am:

A Mother
Responsible for running my household
A PTO volunteer
Conducting a multi-state job search
Trying to establish an on-line presence, which is vital for my line of work (Public Relations, Writing,Social Media)
Preparing for a massive yard sale and probable relocation

Again, I write all this just to share my heart and to explain what is going on in my life. I am quite aware of my many blessings and my heart is full of joy...but I am also learning that joy and sadness can mingle...it does not mean that I am a weak or pathetic Christian because my heart is breaking...it means that I know I need comfort that comes only from my Saviour.

Without a doubt I am confident that God will make this good. I am convinced that these experiences will draw me and my family closer to Him. And I am certain that my Father knows best and that His best will prevail.

Am I feeling overwhelmed and frazzled?
Yes

Weary?
You bet

Slightly irritated with the situation?

AB. SO. LOOT. LEE!

Hopeless?
Not. A. Chance.

Thank you so very much for your love and concerned and for your willingness to keep stopping by this blog even though I rarely have something new to share. Please know that I am OK, but would appreciate your prayers.
I will keep you posted.

Cradled in His Palm,

Angela

This song by John Waller, "While I am Waiting" fills me with gratitude, hope and love.

Because of the Cross

2010-04-04T00:00:00.000-04:00

The cross was intended to stop him. The religious leaders wanted the man who threatened their grip on power eliminated. They wanted a Messiah who would quell the mighty Roman army with a single swipe, ending the oppression that had been known for nearly a century. They wanted their world to change dramatically for the better without altering their way of life. What they did not want was some poor carpenter from Galilee crashing their turf. They claimed to be righteous and holy men who lived to serve God, but they lived only for themselves; and Jesus was about to ruin everything.

Obsessed with silencing the voice of the man they labeled as a lunatic and blasphemer, they appealed to their governing authorities...with persistence. And when the decree sentencing Jesus to death by crucifixion was announced, they sighed with relief and smiled smugly. They got what they wanted. Finally, after of trying to get rid of the captivating teacher who spoke in parables, they won. Or so they thought. When I researched the meaning of the word Pharisee, I was stunned at the irony I found. Pharisee is derived from the Hebrewפרושים perushim from פרוש parush, which means separated. Those claiming to be men of God, could not have been farther from Him. They separated themselves from truth.

Jesus was captured, stripped of his clothing and his dignity. Spit from filthy mouths stained his holy face. Whips tore skin off his back and legs. Vicious, hateful words intended to break his heart were flung into the ears of God's son. Battered and bloodied beyond recognition, Jesus carried the heavy crossbeam until he broke underneath its weight.

When he arrived at the site of his execution, soldiers roughly restrained him and nailed his body to a cross. A cross that was most likely already stained by another's blood. To those carrying out the sentence, Jesus was just another criminal to use as an example. The cross was then erected. There Jesus hung until his lungs exhaled the last of their air. After Jesus uttered the words “it is finished,” those who had been waiting for that moment felt victorious. God's enemy, satan, probably cackled and howled with delight, because God's son who was sent to save the world was dead. The cross had changed everything. Evil triumphed, or at least it would seem that way until...

On the third day, Christ seized complete victory. His heart began beating again, his lungs took in air. He shook off the pounds of burial spices, unwrapped the linens from his once tattered body, moved the boulder that blocked entrance to his tomb, and walked out of that grave alive and whole. The cross could not silence the His voice.

My heart aches when I think about the suffering Christ endured on that brutal Friday. Yet my soul rejoices in the victory of Easter. I am a woman covered with flaws. Next to God, I would appear as grimy as an earth worm...because of the cross, I am forgiven.

Because of the cross, sin's curse has been crushed. Because of the cross, lies have been revealed and truth offered. Because of the cross, my puny existence has great purpose. Because of the cross, I can hold my children tight and assure them that no matter how ugly this world gets, there is hope. Because of the cross, I know that the most glorious moments I have been given in this lifetime will pale in comparison to what lays ahead for me in the next. Because of the cross, I can choose to have love, peace and joy present in my life every single day without exception. There is a second chance for each human being...all because of the cross.

"You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. In this way, he disarmed the spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross." (Col. 2:13-15-NLT)

Ugly Cross Beautiful Savior

2010-04-02T11:40:00.000-04:00

My grandparents once lived in the beautiful and historic Brandywine Valley. I enjoyed walking down Briton Bridge Road with my PapPap and marveling at the picturesque countryside complete with rolling green hills, sprawling estates, and inviting orchards. Even an old, dilapidated barn appeared lovely amidst the gorgeous landscape.

Once, after at least six months had passed since our last walk together, PapPap excitedly whispered, “Wait until you see what they did to that old barn.”

The revelation was jaw-dropping. The rundown, rustic, stone barn, had been converted into an elegant guest cottage. I still wish I could have had a peek at the splendor I'm sure existed on the other side its front door.

As Easter approaches, I reflect on the similarities between that once old, yet refurbished barn and the cross on which Christ died.

I consider how ugly and rough the old wood must have been, and how its image invoked feelings of terror, shame, and outrage. I tremble when I think that two bloodstained, repellent, accursed wooden beams, wore beauty on one dark Friday in Golgotha more than two thousand years ago. Yes, even though hatred swarmed rampant, teeth gnashed, voices growled, blood flowed, garments tattered, and anguished cries bellowed throughout Calvary, beauty was present. Beauty hung on that soiled cross in the form of the pure, sinless, lamb of God. The cross was hideous, but because of who it touched, it was lovely at the same time.

Even though the actual wooden cross on which Christ, and most likely other men died, is long gone, its meaning has been forever changed. What was once the harbinger of hate is now the symbol of love, hope, and peace. What once provoked shame, now promotes glory. And what was once a cruel agent of agony and death, is now the emblem of eternal life.

Oh, how beautiful Christ made the cross when He victoriously conquered death. How even more glorious is the transformation he can make in the lives of all trust and believe Him.

Managing Postpartum Mood Disorders - Not a One-Size-Fits-All Option

2010-03-25T00:08:00.001-04:00

I have a cute and comfortable nightshirt that my mom sent me. It is bright and pink and the tag on the back reads "one-size-fits-all." And, it is about two sizes too large for me. I still wear it...like I said, it's comfy, but despite the claims on its label...it is not for everyone.

When it comes to treating Postpartum Mood Disorders (and other types of mood disorders not related to pregnancy for that matter), there is not a simple one-cure-for-all option. Every person is different in both appearance and personality and everyone walks a different journey. What worked for me may not work for you. Or all of what worked for me, may work for you...or perhaps just some of it will work for you. Please keep this in mind when you read the list below of methods that helped me cope and heal from Postpartum Depression, Postpartum OCD, and Postpartum Anxiety Disorders.

Also note that I am a PPMD survivor, but I am not a medical professional or a clinical counselor. Please only take the following as an opinion.

Medication – At first I was resistant to the idea of taking medication. I nursed and was afraid it would hurt my baby; and the idea alone of medication made me feel like a weakling. But, the more I learned about the chemical causes and effects of PPMD, I realized that I needed the medication to help me during this period and I worked with. There are side effects to taking some medications. I worked with a psychiatrist to help me find the proper type and dosage for me. At one point, my dosage was actually too high. Once the medication was regulated, I began to feel better. Not cured. Just well enough to cope and take the next steps. The types of medication vary and I recommend that it is monitored by a psychiatrist. Last year with a doctor's supervision I weaned off my medication. All went well for quite some time, but I noticed that about a week before each of my menstrual cycles I felt as though I was having mini bouts of PPD. My anger and irritation was back at levels I only knew soon after my children were born. Under a doctor's counsel I opted to take an antidepressant just 15 days a month. It has helped tremendously.

Christian Counseling – If you read my earlier segments about PPMD, you know that medication alone did little to help me. I went that route with my first bout. Christian counseling had a tremendous impact on my life. Led by Biblical principles, my counselor never doubted my PPMD. In fact my first Christian counselor is the one who diagnosed me as suffering from a form of OCD brought on from pregnancy. She understood how the hormones wreaked havoc on my system. She also knew how to find some of the core issues that troubled me and we dealt with those issues. For me, guilt, feelings of inadequacy, my false perception of my value to Christ, perfectionism, and fear reigned supreme.

Diet/Lifestyle Changes – If you love your Starbucks like I do, I’m about to deal you a punch to the kisser. Or should I write pallet? Eliminating caffeine from my diet was crucial. Not all women have to do this, but as I kept my mood chart (see below), I noticed a direct correlation between agitation and caffeine. My demeanor changed for the better once I weaned myself from java and my beloved fountain Pepsi, which I didn't even consume all that often. Two years later, I do have 1-2 cups of coffee a day....but even now there are some days when that is too much.

Increasing my intake of Omega 3 fatty acids, and adding an additional vitamin supplement designed to help my body better absorb my antidepressant also added balance and relief. More sunshine and exercising helped me as well. Honestly, I’m not much for structured work outs. But the days I dance with my kids, go swimming, or take extra long walks are usually “good” days.

Support Groups – Talking to other women who were also experiencing PPD was medicine for my weary heart. A support group provided me a safe place to open up about my issues without anyone looking at me as if I grew an extra head out of my armpit.

Praying Scripture – There were so many days when I felt as though I just did not have enough of me to benefit anyone. I began the habit of praying scripture over my life and loved ones. A friend of mine sent me a few scripture cards from a Beth Moore Bible study. For example I prayed that the Lord would love my family through me (I Cor. 13). It not only deepened my relationship with God, but it helped sink in the point that I was not in control of my life. I was not responsible for the happiness of everyone else. I was to strive for excellence, but not perfection and lean on the understanding that God is more than enough for me and my family.

Keeping a Mood Chart –I chose to see a psychiatrist to manage my medicinal treatment because I felt it important to trust a biochemistry expert with my chemical imbalance. I wanted to get better and was willing to listen to his advice. However, I was not resigned to being a guinea pig. I knew that there could be side effects with medication and also knew that finding the right medications can be more of an art than a science. When my psychiatrist hypothesized that I could be bi-polar and suggested a few medications to try, I put on the breaks. I was not in denial. If I was bi-polar, I wanted to know about it and treat it. However, I wasn’t ready to try medications for a maybe diagnosis. My doctor suggested that I start a mood chart. My mood chart indicated that my mood swings at that period of time were situational. Once I kept track of what was causing me the most stress, I was able to work through those issues in therapy sessions. My honest assessments also gave my doctor the confidence to say “you are not bipolar.”

Listening to my Body -- My recovery pace quickened when I let go of misplaced feelings of guilt and shame and listened to what my body needed. In addition to suffering from PPMD, I have a condition known as Raynaud's Phenomenon. This condition made breast feeding my babies unbearably painful. I met with lactation specialists and even took prescription medicine, but the pain did not lessen. I decided to stop breastfeeding my son when he was six-months-old. And I struggled with that decision. I wanted to press onward and bare the pain so that he could consume the healthiest diet possible. But a mommy with PPMD and chronic pain is not a healthy mommy. And that is not the healthiest option for the baby. I know what I wrote is controversial, but it is a decision that I do not regret.

I also listened to other things my body was telling me. I rested when my children were resting, even if that meant leaving dirty dishes in my sink. During the worst of the OCD I could not do this, but as the medication kicked in I was able to force myself to rest. The benefits were staggering.

Support Plan – PPMD can overwhelm a life. I needed to get to a place where I could accept help not only from the medical community, but from my own family and friends. My doctor required me to make a plan to ease back into my life. My plan included my husband helping out with some additional chores, cleaning only one room a day, and having sometime to my self to read, pray, and write.

A Support System – I am so blessed to have had and still have wonderful people in my life who love me and helped me through this time. My family helped me tremendously when I went to stay with them, but since they live far from me, I also asked help from my friends. Asking for help was not and still is not easy for me, but help is something we all need from time to time. Whenever I asked for help, people came to my aid and often before I asked, they came to me. After my recovery, so many people actually thanked me for allowing the to assist my family during that time. Helping others is a blessing.

Finding a local MOPs group or MOMS club is a wonderful way to gain a support system. I had just moved to a new city and state while suffering with PPMD....women from the local MOPS group who barely knew me pitched in to help me complete daily tasks such as preparing meals, grocery shopping, and light housework. After I recovered, I was able to bless other women in this way.

The combination of elements listed above were invaluable to me. Again, what worked for me, may not work for you. And fighting PPMD takes time. However, it is a battle that can be won. And one in which there is more than a solo solider.

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God. He is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Selah. Psalm 62:5-8 (NIV)

Not Alone

2010-03-24T00:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I shared my experiences with Postpartum Mood Disorders at (In)Courage.

It is so important to understand that not every woman is the same....not everyone suffers the same symptoms...or for the same amount of time...or in the same manner. We are all different.

It is also important to understand that while there is not a mass-produced one-size-fits all enchanted antidote for Postpartum Mood Disorders
(oh wouldn't the big pharmaceutical companies love that?), there is HOPE. Those who suffer are not alone and need not anguish silently. Here are my two favorite resources that I recommend you check out if you or anyone you know may be experiencing a Perinatal/Postpartum Mood Disorder. There is also a resource link on my blog header. I chose to highlight only two for this post because I remember how easily overwhelmed I was during my battle.

Postpartum Progress - Postpartum Progress is the most widely-read in the US regarding Perinatal Mood Disorders. And for good reason. Katherine Stone keeps her finger firmly attached to the pulse of issues, treatments, and legislation surrounding depression and anxiety during and after pregnancy. This site is a wealth of knowledge and I highly recommend it for health care professionals as well as those experiencing a Perinatal Mood Disorder. Four very important articles are located under the "Six Things" section of Postpartum Progress that can be found on the top left area of the blog.

Out of the Valley Ministries, Inc. - I am blessed to be the real life friend of PPD survivor and Out of the Valley Ministries founder, Tara Mock. Out of the Valley Ministries, Inc. is a non-denominational Christian ministry designed to lovingly support women and their families experiencing perinatal (pregnancy and postpartum) mood disorders.

Postpartum Mood Disorders - My Story

2010-03-23T09:27:00.000-04:00

I survived terrifying struggles with Postpartum OCD, Postpartum Depression, and Postpartum Anxiety Disorder. I have written about my here before...recently I wrote a consolidated version of my stories for (In) Courage. You can read it here. Throughout this week I will be posting more information about Postpartum/Perinatal Mood Disorders. Please be encouraged to know that there is HOPE.

A Little Nervous

2010-03-22T16:53:00.000-04:00

Sharing about my battles with Postpartum Mood Disorders felt like the natural thing to do right after my recovery two years ago. A passion for instilling hope in others who suffered compelled me to share my message without giving much thought to how others may have perceived me.

Now that those days seem far behind me (even though, it was not that long ago) sharing my story has become more challenging, and I cannot pin point the reason why.

I think one reason is fear.
When I shared my story in the past it was either with people who already knew me before or during my battles started, or it was with members of the blogging community. But as my family and I continue to move from city to city and state to state (as it seems will be a continued pattern for us) and I meet people for the first time, I tend to shy away from having them know that part of me.

Introducing myself as "Angela, the woman who suffered such a severe case of PPMD that her psychiatrist seriously considered committing her to mental health hospital" isn't necessarily a healthy conversation starter. And then I too worry about being labeled as unstable...of having my present condition judged by my past.

Another reason is the temptation to bury that part of me.
Stating that I was "not myself" during my seasons with PPMD would be a monumental understatement. It was a time filled with pain, irrational choices, confusion, anger, and frustration. Revisiting that place feels somewhat similar to visiting a loved ones grave. I know that when I go there....something...someone is missing. And a dull sensation of agony covers me.

Yet even though sharing my story now makes me nervous, I still think it is important to tell others about my difficult journey because...

I was not alone

PPMD is a real medical condition that is often misunderstood

and

There is HOPE for those who suffer from PPMD

In order for me to share the hope I know and to help others learn more about PPMD, I need to share my story. So this week, I will be sharing more resources about PPMD here and my full story will be posted on (In)Courage tomorrow morning.

Jagged Edges

2010-03-18T13:24:00.001-04:00

The top of his head does not reach the kitchen sink, but he has a good arm and is determined to put his dirty dishes where they belong. As I watched him heave his hard plastic bowl into the sink, I saw the impending disaster, but did not have enough time to stop it.

Crash!

The bowl chiseled a crescent shaped chunk off of the glass during the instant of contact.

Clink.

The crescent of glass snapped backward hitting what remained of its broken form causing yet another break, which then resulted in several hairline cracks. As I removed the shards of glass from my sink I thought about the sight I witnessed and what humans have in common with the broken object.

I remembered times in my life when an outside force took a piece of me clean off. I'm not writing about broken bones or torn flesh...emotional breaks is the pain to which I infer.

Hurled insults. Crash!

Failed attempts. Crash!

Unrequited love. Crash!

Promises pulverized. Crash!

Honesty hidden. Crash!

Trust snapped. Crash!

Security betrayed. Crash!

When a person suffers a break in her spirit or heart, the jagged edges left from the initial blow often become agents of additional damage. It is human nature to want to either fight back or build a protective covering to decrease the chance of subsequent attacks. Sometimes both. And sometimes....most times, these instinctual human reactions cut deeper than what was first dealt.

Lies believed. Clink.

Revenge plotted. Clink.

Walls erected. Clink

Slanders spread. Clink

Self-hatred permeated. Clink.

How easily damage begets damage. Brokenness begets brokenness. Pain begets pains.

As I look back on my life experiences two feelings overflow from the container that was once broken: Compassion. Gratitude.

Compassion for broken. Compassion toward those whose wounds were self inflicted. Compassion for those whose jagged edges are causing hurt to others. Not excuses. Not a free pass. Not an endorsement. Not inaction. But compassion.

Gratitude to the One who heals. To the One who seeks to restore the shattered. Gratitude to a loving and just God who is the only one with enough power to repair the damaged vessel. Gratitude to Jesus who allowed the outside world to break Him but did not allow those breaks to undermine His power, love, and authority.

Gratitude to He who smooths the ugly jagged edges into beauty.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.” Psalm 147: 3-5 NIV

She Sees Beauty

2010-01-25T00:13:00.004-05:00

She sees beauty in this world and in the worlds her mind begets.
Her eyes spot gems among a driveway of gravel. To her, holey leaves are amazing…not damaged. If you ask her why, she’ll say it is because those are the leaves that shared with the caterpillars. When it rains, she pulls on her pink and leopard printed boots and dances through puddles. Should a ray of sun cut into a cloud, she searches for a rainbow… if we find one, she is the first to proclaim it beautiful.

She sees beauty in people.
Everyone she encounters is, in her eyes, a new friend. Age, gender, cultural differences and physical maladies are not discriminating factors she employs. Instead, she chooses her friends based on their smile…or sometimes their lack of a smile. She climbs up her great-grandfather’s lap and envelops his neck in her arms. His wheelchair does not bother her…nor does his paralysis, or lack of speech. She sees him with the eyes of her heart. She sees that he is beautiful.

She sees beauty in her flawed mother.
I love her. I have always loved her. I wanted her before she was made and I wanted her even more when I watched the image of her peanut-sized body fluttering on a monitor. When her first cries rang louder than my tired moans and her pink and perfect body squirmed in my arms, I felt as though my heart would expire from sheer exhilaration. I love her…yet sometimes I fail her. But when I ask for her forgiveness, she never hesitates. Instead, she hugs me. She says that she has the best mommy in the world. She tells me I am beautiful.

She sees beauty in giving.
Money slipped out from the birthday cards that arrived in the mail. With excitement she gasped, “This is so wonderful! I can use this money to help others…maybe I can buy food or toys for children who do not have anything.” Sometimes, the simplest gifts from others bring her the most joy…a drawing from a friend, a paper star from her teacher, and a “moon rock” she found with a classmate are among her most cherished possessions because they are from people she loves. They mean something. She thinks they are beautiful.

She sees beauty, because she is beautiful.

Today marks the beginning of the sixth year that I am invited to revel in her beauty. Happy Birthday to my daughter…the owner of a most beautiful soul.

"How beautiful on the mountains

are the feet of those who bring good news,

who proclaim peace,

who bring good tidings,

who proclaim salvation,

who say to Zion,

'Your God reigns!'"

-Isaiah 52:7 NIV-

I Want Less

2010-01-22T14:55:00.003-05:00

It's a new decade, but I've been thinking a lot about the previous one...mostly the beginning of the previous one. Ten years ago I was a new wife with a list of wants larger than Manute Bol's wingspan. *

Whenever I looked down at the three sparkling, yet small by my standards at that time, diamonds on my engagement ring I thought about how I'd like an upgrade by my tenth anniversary. I was ready to trade in my white gold for platinum and more than double my caret weight.

I loved every minute of our Jamaica honeymoon, but kept thinking about the luxurious accommodations we would occupy once we returned.

Instead of fostering a heart of thankfulness for shelter, clothing, and modern conveniences, I wanted more. I sighed disgruntled when I walked into my small apartment in an old run down building. I wanted a house...a large house adorned with beautiful furniture, no more hand-me-downs. I also tired of counting pennies at the grocery store and dreamed that one day I would fill my kitchen with fine wines, cheeses, and gourmet ingredients. Only the best.

My wants numbered many and each one labeled justified. I rationalized that a large home with fine foods would enable me to demonstrate hospitality toward others. It wasn't just a want, it was a need. As far as that extravagant anniversary trip and two-caret princess cut ring...those were items that I deserved. After all, financially and emotionally supporting one's spouse as he earns his PhD is not for the faint of heart.

Ten years ago, I wanted more. Today, I want less.

Less stuff. Less to trip over, less to manage, less to fret about, less to want...less to waste time wanting.

Less drama. Less conflict. Less schedule management. Less stress.

Less of me. Less insecurities. Less worrying about whether or not I measure up to the standards of others. Less time spent agonizing over how others (ahem) *make* me feel.

Less wanting. Less of trying to have the perfect life. Less of trying to make the perfect impression. Less conforming. Less wondering how to get more from others.

Less. I want less so that I can be more...be whole..be active in living...in giving...in loving.

I want less.

*For those of you unfamiliar with basketball trivia, Manute Bol was a former NBA center with an 8ft 6in wing span, the largest in NBA history

Ryann Watters Winner Announced

2010-01-15T17:06:00.002-05:00

This seldom happens...in fact, it has never happened before in one of my blog contests. Random Number Generator picked #1. So Congratulations Megan, mommy of voracious reader Morgan! Please contact me and I'll get the books to you soon.

If you are not Megan, don't feel too bad...you can buy both books for $20 as long as you act today!

Ryann Watters Double Book Give-Away

2010-01-13T09:02:00.003-05:00

When my daughter asks me to make up a special story to tell her before bedtime, my tale usually involves a princess of noble character and a silly prince. I weave in some mild mayhem, a moral, and end on a happy note about five minutes later.

When Eric Reinhold's children asked him for original bedtime stories, he created multidimensional characters, an alternate universe, and a magnificent adventure based on the armor of God. Oh, and a few years later...he turned those stories into a book series geared toward youth and landed a publishing contract for said books all while running his own company and remaining a devoted family man. Impressed? Me too.

The story behind the story is one of the things I love best about Reinhold's Ryann Watters series. Here are a few more things I love about Ryann Watters and the King's Sword (part one of the trilogy) and Ryann Watters and the Shield of Faith (part two).

It's geared toward kids 8-13 but lends itself to an enjoyable reading experience for adults.

The non-fantasy segments take place in the real town of Mount Dora, FL.

The stories come with a moral compass and promote spiritual growth.

Scripture references are used appropriately throughout the books.

The four main characters are every day kids who encounter real obstacles and struggle to make the best decisions.

Family values are accentuated as Ryann Watter's parents play a role in the story.

The fantasy world of Aeliana and its mythical inhabitants are created with beautiful and vivid finess.

New blog rules regarding reviews require me to mention a few items I did not love about the books (Forgive me, Eric).

I was disappointed that Drake, the bully in Ryann Watters and the King's Sword, was written as though he was a lost cause because of his horrible home life. I think there are some beautiful redemption tales that could be told based on Drake. Hmmm...perhaps a sequel?

At first I was turned off by the fact that Carwyn, the heroic unicorn in Ryann Watters and the Shield of Faith, closely resembled Aslyn from the C.S. Lewis masterpiece The Chronicals of Narnia. However, that fact no longer annoyed me when I gave the matter more thought. Both Aslyn and Carwyn are based on Jesus, so it would make sense that their story arcs are similar.

Obviously, my lists of likes greatly outnumbers my grievances. I would recommend this series to parents and children. It's gripping, imaginative, and filled with lessons that will help kids better handle issues like bullying, peer pressure, self discipline, and self esteem.

Now, for the fun part. I have an auographed copy of book one and book two in the Ryann Watters series that I will give to one lucky reader who leaves a comment on this post.

If you don't win...don't worry. You can purchase both books online for $20. This special sale ends on Friday, January 15th. Visit www.shop.ryannwatters.com for more details. (Sorry for not linking directly...I'm having some Blogger issues) Even if you do not have children, these books would make a fantastic gift to your local library.

Becoming Me on Facebook

2010-01-03T23:10:00.002-05:00

I created a special Becoming Me page on Facebook. I hope to be able to use this page to start more discussions and to get to know my readers better. If you are interesting in joining, the link is to the right.

Returning Gifts From Jesus - At (in) Courage.

2010-01-03T09:06:00.002-05:00

I'm at (in) Courage today with a story that I started writing last January. I had every intention of finishing it months ago, but could never find the right direction to take it...until I received some bad news...then it was as if God was whispering to my heart and saying, "That lessen you wanted to share with others...it's for you too."

Two days after Christmas I stood in line behind 19 people. We all fidgeted and sighed as two clerks slowly helped customers exchange unwanted merchandise for store credit.

“It's the wrong size,” I said when asked for a reason why I was returning a blouse. “And my son already has this toy truck” I offered when placing the next item on the counter.

I flashed a sympathetic smile to a woman returning a pair of dark red high heels. “My daughter keeps telling me that I need to stop wearing frumpy shoes, but these are not going to work for me,” she said while handing over the box of good intentions.

Click here to read the full story.

A Baby Changed Everything

2009-12-16T16:32:00.004-05:00

One month shy of six years ago, my life was forever altered by a bitsy baby girl. Exhausted, yet exhilarated, I clutched her tender body...pink and squirmy...and kissed the top of her forehead.

"You were so worth it," I panted.

That sweet baby girl changed everything.

More than 20 centuries ago, another baby changed everything...for His earthly parents, several shepherds and scholars, and some others the change was immediate. However, most of the world would not know the significance of the divine descendant of David until about 30 years after He was placed in a bed of hay.

He was the only baby who changed everything for everybody...and who still can change everything for all who believe.

For it was not the first robust cries of this precious baby born in Bethlehem that brought light to a dark world. Instead, it was His last cry...the enervated, convulsive wail of a dying man hanging from a blood-drenched cross on Calvary... that changed everything...and in the most beautiful way imaginable.

I wonder if, as He drew His final breath, Jesus murmured, "You were worth it." Because, had He not felt that, we would still be in the dark.

Instead, Jesus was born, sacrificed, and resurrected so that we too can one day live with Him in paradise. May this gift forever be your hope...your peace...your joy...and your love.

Hallelujah!

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” Luke 2: 11-14 NIV

(This piece was originally posted on December 24, 2008)

(Disclaimer: The baby pictured above is my newborn niece, and not my daughter.)

Happy Birthday Jesus Give-Away

2009-12-03T20:18:00.007-05:00

Last week my family watched a movie about adorable puppies on a mission to save Christmas. If people and animals alike did not grasp the true meaning of the holiday before Santa's magical icicle melted...Christmas would be lost forever. What a task for six young Golden Retrievers and Santa's fluffy white pup. The movie, of course, ended on a happy note when the townsfolk and townsfur understood that Christmas is all about being kind to others.

I was not surprised that the movie took this slant...nor am I blasting the picture...it depicted many positive values. But I did find it ironic that a film about helping others learn the true meaning of Christmas never explored the heart of the holiday: Jesus.

Yes, it is true that some of our current Christmas customs derived from ancient Pagan practices. And it is also unlikely that Christ our Saviour was born on December 25th...But the holiday of Christmas that we celebrate today was established as a commemoration of Jesus' birth. And that is why I celebrate.

The beautiful truth that radiates throughout the Christmas season is that God, the infinitive king of the universe, became a tiny and poor baby in order to live amongst His creation and save them from death...from themselves.

That is a lot to explain to young children, so for the past four years we have adopted the tradition of hosting a Birthday Party for Jesus. This year, DaySpring is providing me with lots of cute and fun party supplies from their Really Woolly collection. They also agreed to provide one of my readers with the same party kit along with two adorable plush lambs and a Christmas DVD.

The kit includes:

9 Online Event Access Tickets

1 Scripture-Based Celebration Guidebook

3 Candles

8 Plates

8 Napkins

8 Noisemakers

6 Balloons

1 Banner

To be eligible to win this prize pack, please leave a comment at the end of this post before 3pm EST on Tuesday, December 9. If you have a suggestion of a game or two that the kids and their friends can play a our special birthday party, please feel free to share your ideas in the comment section as well.

The winner will be randomly drawn during my party on Tuesday, December 9 and announced later that evening.

Pictures of Christmas

2009-12-01T13:15:00.016-05:00

Last year I did not send out Christmas cards. I couldn't get them together in time and honestly didn't think anyone would miss receiving a card from the us. After all, I had posted so many pictures of the kids on my family blog that I didn't think a formal holiday greeting was necessary.

Many of our dear friends and family members who rarely see us in person disagreed. Some were sad...some were angry...and they let me know it. This year I decided that sending out a few cards would be worthwhile because I now understand the joy it brings to many.

(Remember, I have a guilt-free reading policy on this blog, so if you have chosen not to send out Christmas cards, do not feel pressure to conform - *big smile*--however, if you are planning to send cards this year, keep reading because I have a special offer for you at the end of this post)

This is the card I will be sending:
Except that instead of Stacey and Kyle (or is that Chad and Lauren?) the featured photo will be this one:

(Hmmm, I wonder if Chad/Kyle was ever photographed with a bruised noggin, since he's a boy, my guess is yes.)

I designed my card at Studio DaySpring. Designing the card was fun and easy. Picking the template was also fun, but not at all easy...I mean really how can choosing one design out of myriad fabulous ones be a cake walk? I almost chose this design:

And I thought about this one too:

I could also post other beautiful and inspiring choices, but I don't want to spoil your fun. Oh and I have a special gift for you...Studio DaySpring is offering Becoming Me readers a coupon for 15% off purchases. Just be sure to place your order by December 7, 2009 and enter this code: CHILDREN15.

Here is the best part about purchasing photo Christmas cards from Studio DaySpring: 6% percent of the sales from each order is automatically sent to Compassion International. I love that!

I hope you are having a blessed start to the Christmas season.

Angela

A Block of Bird Seed

2009-11-29T16:46:00.003-05:00

Birds make me nervous. The seeds of apprehension were planted during my girlhood. I think it began with Felix, my uncle's mean-spirited Cockatiel, who on occasion perched himself on my shoulder just long enough to snip my earlobe. Or perhaps the Seagulls at the beach that swooped low to grab picnic lunches and later dropped an unwelcome surprise on my head first garnered my disdain. Wait. There was also an Emu that hissed at me and would have removed my right index finger had I been standing just an inch closer to him. It is a sordid history... the one I share with birds.

Although I am not sure of the exact time and place I began distrusting birds, the solidifying moment remains clear in my memories. It was a domesticated Amazon Parrot named Romeo who elevated the tension between me and all feather donning species.

Romeo, the beloved pet of a former employer, showed off a few tricks during an office party. He talked, danced, and clasped his claws in prayer formation before flying over to where I stood. Before his pointed beak tore open the skin on my exposed nape, I knew his sinister intentions. I remain clueless about the impetus of Romeo's attack, but nonetheless, the sound of rapidly flapping wings still freezes me with terror.

I never flippantly decided to dislike birds. I remained guarded around them for good reason; after all, it was the birds who had a vendetta against me. After the Romeo incident, I would not even go into a house of a friend who owned a bird unless the pet was securely locked in its cage. And although I never tried to harm birds, I also didn't care much about promoting their survival.

Owning a birdhouse, bath or feeder held no interest for me. I appreciated their songs, but certainly did not want to attract those chirping creatures to nesting anywhere near my home. When my five-year-old daughter first asked me to purchase a bird feeder, I balked. Not wanting to transfer my fears on to her I simply replied, “not now...maybe later.”

A few weeks after Pumpkindoodle's initial request for us to buy bird seed, I read an article about wild birds starving during winter months. My heart softened and there began a deeper desire to cultivate my daughter's love of nature and her interest in caring for God's creatures. Putting my reservations aside, Pumpkindoodle and I went shopping for some bird seed blocks and dispensers. We hung up the feeders and then waited for our feathered friends to arrive.

Birds didn't instantly flock to the new dining establishment. In fact, I wondered if they would ever arrive. And then one morning, while Pumpkindoodle was at school and I was washing breakfast dishes, I heard a few dull taps outside my window. A regal looking red chested bird sat atop one of the feeders. A short distance from him were two smaller birds pecking away at a bell shaped clump of seed hanging from a tree.

I returned to that window several times during the morning and throughout that entire day. Instead of seeing what I once classified as ill-mannered scavengers, I saw sweet and resourceful creatures beautifully dressed by the hand of God. Joy permeated my soul as I recounted scriptural references about birds...about His eye being on the sparrow and about the swallow who nests near His glorious alter. My judgment on an entire species based on a few shady fellows shed. After feeding a few birds, I delighted in their appearing, I appreciated their attributes, and I felt blessed by offering them sustenance.

Sometimes, I look at people in the manner I once regarded birds. I harbor mistrust, fear and, ashamedly, animosity toward individuals who remotely remind me of others who caused me pain.

If I notice a father who appears stressed and despondent toward his children my first reaction is to feel annoyed with him rather than wonder whether or not he is hurting. When I see a well tailored and confident woman around my age I think about my own insecurities before pursuing friendship. If the tone of a customer service representative sounds tight or weary, my patience is likely to unravel before I consider the possibility that the individual on the other line has had a bad day.

Quick assumptions are often easier dispersed than compassion and understanding. Yet I have found that joy and blessing do not live among bricks of judgment or walls of protection. Instead, they rest in the place where vulnerability is unveiled, service is offered and love is lavished.

Cough...Sneeze...Oink

2009-11-04T20:09:00.002-05:00

The H1N1 virus ( aka swine flu...or better yet as my sweet Pumpkindoodle mispronounced it "slime flu") has hit my home.

I'm either immune or am surviving on extra doses of grace and adrenaline. It's a good thing because my husband, son and daughter are not fairing well...however, they are not showing scary signs of complications either and I pray that they will not.

Pumpkindoodle has been fighting high fever for more than 72 hours...Z-man and The Professor have been suffering for little more than 24 hours...

I am very grateful for things I normally take for granted...things like extra blankets, grocery stores, enough money to buy necessary food items, apple sauce, shelter, a community of friends, accessible doctors, modern medicine, crayons, Netflix and of course the intangibles. Intangibles like the gratitude in the eyes of my family members, extra cuddles and snuggles from my kids, and the realization of how very blessed I am to have the priviledge to serve those I most love when they are most in need.

Walking Down the Lane - He Held My Hand

2009-10-31T09:33:00.000-04:00

(I am starting a new series called "Walking Down The Lane" Posting will be sporadic, but the purpose will be to share memories... I almost didn't finish writing this, but have been inspired by my friend Marilyn to "Write it Anyway" -- The first installment posted below is an 11 year-old memory that took place when The Professor and I were in that stage between dating and hanging out.)

Although we met in May, The Professor (then a grad student) and I did not become fast friends. Our first official date didn't occur until October 26, 1998, but we were getting to know each other via swing dancing, which was all the rage in Orlando during the late 90's.

One night, while The (future) Professor was walking me to my car from a dance club, I was almost too engaged in conversation to notice that we were approaching a haunted attraction located near the iconic Church Street Station (this attraction is now closed). This was one of those places that hired costumed actors to stand outside the building and spook passersby.

Before I can continue with the memory, there is something you need to know. When it comes to fright, I'm a lightweight. I cower under blankets, clutch my knees, and cover my eyes while watching horror movies (during the span of my life I have not watched more than eight and I consider The Sixth Sense, Jaws, and Silence of the Lambs horror flicks.) I also steer clear of scary and gory Halloween costumes and decorations. And I Do. Not. Do. Haunted Houses. Except for two ride on ones...one on which I close my eyes the entire time and fake calmness; the other one is Disney World's "Haunted Mansion." I'm also not too proud to admit that my heart raced rapidly as I waited in line for my first visit to Disney's favorite creepy house.

Now that you know that I am easily terrorized, you should also know that those costumed actors I referred to earlier were well-trained to sense fear. I know this because I was frequently stalked and touched by Dracula and some lady of the dead woman when I walked by the building. And by frequently, I mean twice, because after the second time I refused to walk on the same side of the street...until that night with The (future) Professor.

While we were talking and laughing, I glanced up and noticed that we were just one block away from "Terror on Church Street." Not wanting to appear a wimp in front of a man I fancied, I nonchalantly suggested we cross the street. Being oriented toward logic and efficiency, The (future) Professor nixed that idea because that would be walking in the opposite direction of where our cars were parked.

"But the other side of the street is nicer," I said, "and it is a great night for a longer walk."

I thought he would take the bait, and perhaps he would have if my posture and voice had not betrayed me with stiffness.

"Angela?"

"Yes."

"Are you scared?"

He caught me. I bit my lip and lightly stomped my high-heeled-shoe on the sidewalk.

"Yes. Those things don't like me. They follow me and won't leave me alone."

He smiled and refrained from laughing, although I knew he wanted to laugh.

"It's because they know you are scared of them. You make it too easy for them to do their job. C'mon."

Part of me was annoyed. I couldn't believe he was going to make me walk past the undead when he knew I was scared. I wanted him to humor me and cross the street. I wanted him to make me feel safe and as irrational as I knew it was, I could not fathom feeling secure walking by that haunted house.

I continued walking, but my pace was snail slow.

This time, he let out a little laugh and said, "Come on, it is going to be OK, just hold your head up straight and don't let them know that you're scared." And then he did something wonderful...something simple, but something that swept me with feelings of safety...he held my hand. He held my hand and he did not let go of it until we passed the haunted building. And then we both laughed. And then I knew that I really liked him.

When I first began writing down this memory I had no intentions of turning it into a devotion...I really didn't see how it could tie into one. But now that I wrote the memory something sticks in my mind and it is quite obvious, yet still I feel compelled to share.

There are times when I foresee a situation that scares me and I want to turn away and run...but know that running is not an option. Sometimes I know I need to keep walking...not on another street...not in another direction...but straight ahead. I need to keep moving, even when I don't want to move...even when I feel frozen with fear...even when I am stubbornly unwilling to take another step...I need to keep going.

Those are the times when God gently turns up my chin, steadies my shaking spirit, and says, "Come on, Angela, it is going to be OK." Then He holds my hand and walks with me; and even if it is a path I do not want to take, with Him by my side, I know I am safe.

At (In)Courage with The Doubting Self

2009-10-30T10:32:00.000-04:00

I'm at (In) Courage today with a post to which I think many can relate. Here's a sneak peek:

This post is for the woman who walks silently into a crowded room and stands alone hoping that someone will notice her.

This post is for the woman who sits quietly with her lips curved into a polite smile as she listens to small talk, but seldom joins the conversation.

This post is for the woman who walks up to a group of co-workers or moms at a PTO meeting and suddenly feels as though she's been transported back to high school. Although the other women are courteous and do not ignore her presence or respond with icy stares, she still feels out of place.

This post is for the woman who feels intimidated by her polar opposite...the woman who smiles eagerly, jumps readily into conversations with strangers, makes new friends with ease, and seems capable of swapping recipes with a door knob.

To read the entire post, please click here.

Not That Wife

2009-10-23T11:31:00.003-04:00

(This post was published on March 19, 2008, so the mentioned events are not recent...my husband's back surgery happened nearly 2 years ago. Still, this has always been one of my favorite posts even though my weaknesses are accented. --My apologies to those of you who have read this more than once...I normally don't repost things more than once, but today, I needed to reread this one.)

Earlier this week, during a phone conversation with my soul sister Jaime, I giddily recounted several falling in love with The Professor stories. The backdrop for the tales was painted more than nine years ago. Colors representing excitement, adventure, love, passion, yearning, searching, and expectation splattered the canvass of our love story adding texture to the abstract illustration.

While enrolled in premarital counseling class a pastor shared a story about a young couple struck by tragedy only weeks after their “I do’s” were spoken. A car accident rendered the husband paralyzed from waist to toe. The resolve of the young wife to honor and love the man she married never wavered. She nurtured him without complaint and worked both inside and outside their home. The pastor smiled as he announced that the couple would soon be celebrating 35 years of marriage and that the husband tirelessly bestowed praise on the wife of his youth who was a living example of platinum strength agape love. After hearing that touching tribute I thought “I will be that wife.”

Fast-forward nine years. I am not that wife. Boy those are tough words to type.

Tears swamped my jaded eyes only 12 hours after Jaime and I talked. My tears were not watery symbols of anger or displeasure with The Professor. Instead they were tears of self disappointment and failure. Three weeks ago the professor underwent extensive back surgery. The healing process crawls forward at a leisurely pace and although physical nerves are repaired emotional ones are, at best, frayed. I’m not that wife.

My exhaustion gets the best of me and ignoring James 5:9 I sometimes grumble. Sometimes I search for accolades. Sometimes I pout. And to make it worse my grumbling, pouting, and self-praise digging are not kept private. I flaunt them in front of The Professor, because I’m not that wife.

I’ve been a resident in my own “Perfectionists Anonymous” rehab center long enough to know that this thought process can be the first falling domino in a long line of self destructive behavior. Lamenting that I am not that wife, who by the way happens to be a women whom I have never met, hinders me from being the wife that God intends me to be to my husband.

I’m blessed that a forgiving heart beats in the chest of my Professor because I’m not perfect. Nor will I be. I’m the wife who makes mistakes that surpass burning toast and losing car keys. I’m the wife who gets angry, tired, and lonely.

I am also the wife who learns, albeit slowly, from her mistakes. I am the wife with a repentant heart. A heart that yearns to love as Christ loves and to forgive as Christ forgave. I am the wife who knows that her marriage is worth fighting for even if it means pummeling her own selfishness. I am the wife who is humbled so that her Father can be glorified. I am the wife who keeps trying, the wife who is driven to her knees beseeching assistance from the Perfect One. I am the wife who knows that only Christ can give her that platinum strength agape love she desires to give to the man who taught her that love is a choice.

"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." Colossians 3:12-14, NIV.

The Pleated Poppy Winner

2009-10-20T20:22:00.002-04:00

Congratulations to Ashley Johnson from the blog Shady Grove Creations. Ashley left comment #21 for the Posey Pin give away and that was the number generated at Random.org

A big thank you to Lindsey from the Pleated Poppy for sponsoring the give away and to all who entered.

This Week's Featured Blog Comes with A Give Away

2009-10-18T05:27:00.000-04:00

The Pleated Poppy is both an inspiring blog and a sweet online boutique crafted by the lovely Lindsey Cheney. I seriously do not know how Lindsey keeps it all together. She is a homeschooling mom of three, writer, amateur photographer, and (in)courage contributor who also runs a business stocked with delightful products that she makes.

Here is a small sampling of her enormous talent.

She makes these crayon rolls...an essential for budding artists...

and these whimsical tea towels...

and these super sweet and soft headbands that look great on bald heads as well as noggins with lots of hair...

and my personal favorite, the posey pin.

Those are just a few samples of the posey pins, which come in sets of three and look fabulous on shirts, jackets, cardigans, purses, backpacks, scarves, belts and belt loops, gift bags/boxes, hats, and probably about 50 other places that those of you much more creative than me can think up.

For hosting this give-away as a part of Blog of the Week, Lindsey gifted me with a set of blue and white posey pins. I love mine and so does my daughter. In fact, we're sharing them. She wore one today on her top. It served two purposes...it looked great and hid a stain. I plan to use at least one to dress up a white turtleneck. I'd include personal photos, but my camera battery charger is MIA.

However, here is a picture from Lindsey who used some posey pins to dress up a hat. How gorgeous is this?

Here is your chance to win a set of three posey pins.

1) Visit the Pleated Poppy Shop and make a note of your favorite item

2) Come back here and leave a comment on this post (if for some reason you try to leave a comment but are unable, send me a personal e-mail...my comment section has been having issues lately)

3) In the comment be sure to include your favorite item from the Pleated Poppy *AND* how you think you may use the posey pins should you win the random drawing. The contest will be open until 8 pm EST on Tuesday, 20.

So...I'm just gonna write about stuff...maybe

2009-10-17T13:00:00.002-04:00

Have you noticed that there can exist both a positive and negative component in just about every personality trait? For instance, friendliness is a lovely attribute to possess, but problems can ensue if one is overly friendly...add naivety into the overly friendly batter and you have a dangerous concoction in the making.

A characteristic belonging to me that has brought forth both triumph and woe is my competitive spirit. I push myself hard. My adrenaline levels climb at Cheetah racing speeds when I'm presented with a challenge. When I commit to a project I strive to achieve the best results. And, I don't rig games of Candy Land just because my opponent is five.* Yep, I'm competitive alright.

When properly harnessed, my competitiveness can propel me toward great accomplishments like:

Winning seven out of ten available scholarships that helped me pay for my college education

Moving to Orlando, FL two weeks after college graduation with two suitcases, $500, and no job

Remaining in Orlando after I lost my first job and lived on blueberry muffins and Cream of Wheat hot cereal for nine days when my checking account boasted only $1.27

Walking up and down two flights of stairs (repeatedly) while 9 cm dilated in order to avoid a C-section

Winning public relations awards within my first year in the field

I'm not bragging, just setting the stage.

On the flip side of my competitive coinage lies some not so pretty events:

My husband refused to play Scrabble with me for five solid years because I got too nasty whenever his wooden letters landed on the triple word score square...especially when one or (shudder) more of those letters was worth 8 points. Hell hath no fury like a wordsmith outsmarted by her left-brained, former math majoring husband.

On more than one occasion I disregarded the feelings of colleagues and dominated work and school projects to ensure that my ideas were implemented and praised.

I once stayed up until 3:00 a.m. baking and decorating Christmas cookies so that everyone would oooh and ahh over my creations at a church social.

There are more examples...some much uglier than what I shared. I'll spare you.

My competitive edge also has advantages and disadvantages when it comes to my writing. Throughout the past decade the quality of my writing has improved. That is a plus.

On the minus column is the fact that when it comes to blogging I have hit a wall built by my drive to out do myself each time I post. Yes, it is my heart's desire to write for God's glory and not my own...yet still I sometimes allow my perfectionistic tendencies grip control.

In an effort to break free from the rut I am currently in, I have decided to write more...yes, I still want to go for quality and of course I want to continue to grow closer to Christ and help others who share that journey, but not every post will be devotional in nature...not every post will have a lesson.

Every post will still be honest, transparent, and a documentation of my becoming.

I hope that you will keep reading.

Blessings, Angela

* I am not always mean...I have allowed my kids to beat me at board games ocassionally.

Giving Up on Perfect-Blog of the Week

2009-10-04T22:11:00.004-04:00

This week's highlighted blog is Giving Up On Perfect written by Mary, a mom of a two-year-old daughter and a woman who now knows that the quest for perfection is futile this side of heaven. Mary's posts speak right to my recovering people pleasing heart...I am blessed when I read her stories about how she is relying Jesus and not on aspirations of being superwoman.

Here is my short interview with Mary.

How long have you been blogging?
I started blogging in April 2008.

Why did you start blogging?
I started partly because I was bored and lonely (my husband works evenings, and with a newborn, I was pretty much trapped in the house after work). I also love to write and share my opinions, and blogging seemed like a good way to do both.

What motivates you to continue blogging?
My writing continues to improve and I actually learn a lot about myself through blogging. But the best part is the people.

Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it?
I don’t really have a mission statement for my blog. I should; I know I should. Perhaps I should just say my lack of one is all part of my attempt to give up on perfect?

What is your favorite verse from the Bible?
One of my favorite passages of Scripture is Lamentations 3, especially verses 22-23: "Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

DISQUS

2009-10-01T10:55:00.001-04:00

Hi all!

Just a note to let you know that I am trying something new with my comment section to help me better organize and respond to comments. I have installed DISQUS.

Let me know what you think of the change.

Blessings, Angela

Broken Crayons and A Broken Heart

2009-09-18T18:58:00.005-04:00

Photo by Tatyna Chernyak / Dreamstime.com

Not all adults treat children kindly. I learned this cheerless nugget of information before I mastered tying my shoes. The event took place during a play date at my neighbor’s home. The Dijon shag carpet scratched my knees as I leaned over and enthusiastically accepted Adam’s invitation to a coloring show down. With a carnation pink crayon clutched in my fist, I pressed the dyed wax against paper and vigorously shook my writs. Snap. The crayon didn’t bode well against my childish fervor. The green crayon snapped next, and then the orange. Adam’s father was incensed.

“Those are Adam’s new crayons,” he barked. “If you break one more I’m going to spank you.”

Before he finished his sentence the metallic crayon buckled under the pressure of my chubby four-year-old grip. The next sound I heard was the hollow thud of a strong hand connecting with the small of my back. Air escaped my lungs and failed to be replaced for what seemed like minutes, but was seconds in reality.

Funny thing, I remember so much about that day, but not a smudge of the physical pain. I’m sure it hurt. There was a large raspberry red palm imprinted on my back for at least an hour (He was a large man, I was a preschooler, I could have been seriously injured).

I remember the smell and color of the crayons, and the genuine laughter and enjoyment of playing with my friend. I also remember the breathlessness I felt after the strike, and the horror of being struck. Shame presented itself as well. Breaking the crayons was not an act of willful disobedience, rather a childish blunder, yet still, I felt like a bad, bad girl. I broke some crayons, that neighbor broke my tender heart.

Tears streamed my face as Mrs. P gently gathered my belongings, brushed strands of my butter blond hair away from my eyes, and instructed Adam to walk me home. An event created in five minutes will never be forgotten.

My sweet daughter is a year older than I was when what I now refer to as the awful crayon incident took place. She’s a social gal like her mama and her friends visit often. All of her friends are loved and welcomed in our home. Some children require a wee bit more patience than others. I can say that without guilt because I am sure that there are several parents who share that sentiment when it comes to my kids.

It’s my heartfelt prayer that our home be one of hospitality... not only to our adult friends, but to the friends of our children, even...especially, the ones who sometimes try my resolve. I pray that the words I speak to those precious ones be edifying; words that drip with kindness, love, and cheer. I pray that I will take the time necessary to get to know these little beings and be another encourager in their courts, because this world and its inhabitants sling some harsh blows. I pray that our home will be a safe haven amidst this blistering society, and that my children will know how to love because they see love in action every day.

"Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.' When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there." Matthew 13-15

Blog of the Week - Annie Blogs

2009-09-13T13:37:00.002-04:00

The author of this week's blog of the week is a true delight. She's a young gal with the wisdom, love, and grace of an older soul...her blog posts have made me think, smile, cry, stamp my feet along with her regarding certain frustrations, and laugh heartily. And sometimes I do all of those things while reading a solitary post. Please take some time to meet the bubbly Annie from Annie Blogs...seriously folks, she's going to be famous one day so here is your chance to at the opportunity to one day say "I knew Annie when..."

Here is my interview with Annie. Oh, and if you are a single Christian man or know of a good one, pay close attention to the first question...(winks and smiles)

Are you a mom? Nope- single. But always open to being set up. :)

How long have you been blogging? Since Nov. 2006

Why did you start blogging? My sister started a blog first, and I thought, "if she's doing it, so can I." About ten of our friends all started blogs at the same time and just tried to entertain each other. It was hilarious.

What motivates you to continue blogging? I'm a writer- it's my full time job. So blogging is great practice in discipline and writing in general. But more than that, I absolutely love the community that blogging creates. I love having a place to write every day, knowing that a few of my friends read it and can keep up with me. My sister says I will write more things on my blog than I would call and tell her anyways, so maybe it's a good way to keep up with my family as well? :) Or maybe I should just call my sister more often.

Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it? Annie Blogs. For you. For her. For them. For Him.

What is your favorite verse from the Bible?
Psalm 73:25-26
Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Distilling Love

2009-09-09T16:05:00.002-04:00

As I headed out of the kitchen, trash bag in hand, my load suddenly felt lighter and my feet felt wet and sticky. Jabs of pain radiated down my thigh.

Earlier that day I had hastily tossed a broken wire hanger into the trash can. I didn't think it was a big deal, but apparently the metal stick landed in just the right spot to tear open the bag and simultaneously gash my leg.

I stood surveying the stinky mess that blanketed the floor I had scrubbed two hours prior. What was once pristine was covered in filth.

In that moment I did a lot of futile wishing.

I wished that I had never thrown that hanger away.

I wished that my leg wasn't throbbing.

I even wished that my name was Carol Brady and that a trusty housekeeper named Alice would clean up the mess for me.

But none of my wishing altered my reality. There was a big ugly mess on my kitchen floor and I was responsible for cleaning it up.

As I examine my life, I can recall many messes made in the corridors of my heart, spirit, and mind. Like the gunky monstrosity caused by the broken trash bag, some of my messes were created by my negligence, sins, and mistakes.

-----Please visit me here to finish reading this story and to learn more about the hope that exists for cleaning up life's ugliest messes.

Blog of the Week Returns: The Mom Creative

2009-09-02T22:29:00.005-04:00

OK, Ya'll I have moved into my new home in Ohio. You should know that I began this sentence with ya'll to prove (to myself I guess) that even though I am back in the north, there are three habits I learned during my 15 years down south that I'll never give up.

1) Saying Ya'll, because it is such a great word.

2) Two, using the phrase "Bless your/his/her little heart" when offering sympathy;

3) Sweet Tea.

I'm also trying to get back into the good habit of writing more often and keeping up with the blog world. The beginning of September seems like a great time to reintroduce "Blog of the Week."

Posted below is a short interview with the fabulous Jessica Turner who blogs at The Mom Creative. Enjoy!

Are you a mom? Yes, I am mommy to Elias, who is 12 months and into everything.

How long have you been blogging? Three years

Why did you start blogging? To share scrapbooking projects and other happenings with out of state loved ones.

What motivates you to continue blogging? I love the community of readers. I also love documenting part of my story through blogging.

Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it? no, but I should come up with one!

What is your favorite verse from the Bible? Phil 4:13- I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. This verse has been such an encouragement to me during many seasons of my life.

Questions, Questions, Questions

2009-08-28T17:11:00.002-04:00

I have been under-the-weather today and am just now getting to let you know that today is the day I debut at (in)courage. Those of you who have been hanging around here for a long time will recognize the post. And some fact have changed...my daughter is now 5 and my son is two. Guess what hasn't changed? Well, I never found that box of Cheerios and I still have questions.

Before you head on over there, I have one question for you. Are you having trouble commenting here? I ask only because about five people have contacted me to tell me that they can no longer comment on my blog. Odd...and I have no clue as to why, but I am looking into it.

Hope you all have a great weekend and please visit me here.

Committed to Marriage #4

2009-08-27T03:14:00.000-04:00

Hanging on

2009-08-24T14:31:00.005-04:00

I did not notice the intricate web or its creator until I had driven a few blocks from my house. After spotting the spider grasping the home it wove on my side view mirror, I pushed down slightly harder on the accelerator with the intent of blowing away the insect and its sticky silk.

Upon stopping at a red light, I glanced over at the web expecting the spider to be long gone. But it wasn't. Some of the web had disappeared, but the eight-legged Anthropod remained. I sighed and thought for sure that he'd be a goner once I reached the highway.

At the next red light I stole another peek. The spider remained. And he was there at the following light as well, somewhat frantic and urgent in his weaving, but he held on.

It was at that third light that my attitude toward the creepy bug changed. I began rooting for the spider and wishing that he would make it until I pulled into the grocery store parking lot. I wanted the spider to hold firm. I wanted him to survive, and I wanted to see him place his spindly legs on safer ground.

I wanted that for him because I had been there...to that place of barely hanging on. I am not there now, but the memories are not dull either. Circumstances of life have at times left me feeling as though there were just a few fragile strings standing between me and emotional and spiritual desolation.

Windblown. Disorientated. Battered. Frightened. Counted out. Unwanted. But not about to give up.

I have been there.

When I parked my car, I found a stick that enabled me to transfer the spider to the bark of a tree. And for probably the last time in my life, I related to a spider.

Because, I have been there too...at that place of second chances.

Resting in the nook of peace. Embracing hope. Dancing in the light of restoration. Delighting in the rescue.

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds."

Hebrews 10:19-24 (New International Version)

Video Thursday - Committed to Marriage #3

2009-08-20T04:11:00.001-04:00

Video Thursday - Committed to Marriage #2

2009-08-13T05:08:00.001-04:00

The Sandbar: Courage Required

2009-08-09T20:05:00.003-04:00

(Speaking of courage---the new site, (in)co urage, is now live. I hope you'll check it out after you finish reading this.)

She stood inches from the breaking waves using her big toe to write her name in the sand. Occasionally she dipped her feet into salty water, but it was rare for even her ankles to get wet. My five-year-old daughter, Pumpkindoodle, who errs on the side of caution, had no interest in exploring the ocean during our recent trip to the beach. My gentle coaxing did little to ignite her dormant adventurous spark until two of her friends, along with their mommy, decided to swim out to a sandbar about 20 feet away.

“Where did that island come from Mommy,” she asked.

“The sea level dropped in that spot and our friends are going to investigate it. It won't be there for long...would you like to check it out?”

“Um...I don't think so...wait...yes...yes, I'm going to go for it,” she squealed with a newfound resolve and firmly gripped my hand.

Her bravado waned when the waves thrashed against her waist. Sensing her fear, I picked her up, rested her against my hip, and reassured her with words of comfort.

“I won't make you keep going if you don't want to go, but if you still want to explore the island, I promise to hold you tight. I'll keep you safe and make sure your head does not go under water. What would you like to do?”

Pressing her forehead against mine she smiled then panted, “I am going to be brave. Let's do this together.”

Her feet danced before reaching the sand as we stepped onto the island. Exhilaration exuded as she gleefully jumped up and down exclaiming, “I did it!”

My daughter learned some lessons about true courage that day although it will be a few years before she can understand those nuggets of wisdom. While I permitted her to bask in the glory of her accomplishment, I knew that her newly garnered courage did not come from believing in herself. In fact, if that were the case, she would have demonstrated a reckless foolishness and rushed into the water unassisted. Instead, she realized her limits and placed her little life literally into the arms of someone reliable. Someone whom she knew would never sacrifice her safety.

By providing my daughter security as we ventured to the sand bar, I also subtly instilled in her a fundamental element of courage...trust.

Living in a crazy misguided world requires courage. Taking a stand for truth requires courage. Stepping over the invisible line that marks our zones of comfort requires courage. Obedience to God's calling in our lives requires courage. But true courage is not blind, nor is it rash. Courage comes from knowing that the ultimate outcome will be good. And not always in how we humans define good (i.e. getting our own way and being happy), but how God defines good (Romans 8 has some great examples of this).

“In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified. What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?” Romans 8: 26-32, NASB.

Courage is derived from trust. Sometimes trust comes easily. Pumpkindoodle's willingness to venture to the sandbar in the face of fear was inspired by her wanting to explore with her friends. Trusting me, made it easier to do something that she wanted to do in the first place.

I find that trusting God sometimes means doing things that I do not want to do. Such as moving across the country seven times in ten years. Or, as was the case after The Professor and I first married, accepting a job that was levels lower than the position I previously had simply because it was the only offer I had at the time. Often times trusting God and responding with courageous obedience means taking the emphasis off of myself, focusing my gaze on Him, tightly grabbing His hand and saying “I'm going to be brave, let's do this together.”

“The Lord will hand over to you the people who live there, and you must deal with them as I have commanded you. So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before them. For the Lord your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you. Then Moses called for Joshua, and as all Israel watched, he said to him, 'Be strong and courageous! For you will lead these people into the land that the Lord swore to their ancestors he would give them. You are the one who will divide it among them as their grants of land.'” Deuteronomy 31:5-7 NLT

It's Never Been Fair - Anniversary Repost

2009-08-07T00:34:00.001-04:00

(This was originally posted one year ago today as a 9th anniversary gift to my husband. I changed the nine to a ten in paragraph six for the repost.)

All is fair in love and war…or so goes the old saying that traces back to John Lyly's Euphues written in 1578. For centuries, the adage has granted individuals the right to cheat on the battlefields of both ground and heart.

Ironically, any solider who has fought for his country will tell you that there is nothing fair about war. No matter the reasons for entering a fight, terror and ugliness abound savagely. But I’ll leave the subject of war for other writers to discuss. Love is the impetus of my current thoughts.

Contrary to Lyly’s famous line, the only commonality that I know exist between love and war is that neither is fair. Yet, unlike war, it is the unfairness component of love that can add unfathomable beauty.

Love, in its purist, sacrificial form has never been fair. As God sculpted Adam from the fresh earth, He knew that His most glorious creation would break His heart. Yet still, God breathed man to life. It was not fair, but the beauty cannot be denied.

When the world knew only darkness and despair, God sent hope in the form of His son, Jesus Christ. The sinless man and true embodiment of love was scorned, spat upon, rejected, beaten, and killed by a method that glorified cruelty as sport. The image of my sweet Savior nailed to a brutal cross swells a lump in my throat. It was the greatest atrocity committed by mankind, one in which I bear some of the blame. It. Was. Not. Fair. But the beauty, the stunning, breath stealing beauty, cannot be denied.

Ten years ago today, my mother and sisters helped me step into a white gown and placed a bouquet of pink roses into my unsteady hands. Pachabel’s Cannon played as my dad and PapPap guided me down the aisle to my Professor. As we exchanged vows, pieces of cake, and many kisses, delusions of fairness occupied space in my mind.

It took me less than two weeks to learn that our marriage was not going to be fair. Fifty-fifty? Equal give-and-take? Those are just good-intentioned, but flawed concepts. Our marriage experienced illnesses that rattled our faith, emotional pain that rammed us to our knees, and losses that ransacked our haven. Our marriage is not fair, but its beauty cannot be denied.

Arms open to embrace one in need of forgiveness…beautiful. Fingers entwined as a new life swallows her first gulps of air…beautiful. Tears cried for the one who aches…beautiful. Hands steadying the one whose body is ravaged my pain…beautiful. Laughter echoing throughout corridors…beautiful. Feet that stumble as they walk a rugged path, but also glide as they dance…beautiful. Lips that touch softly as evidence to both passion and commitment...beautiful.

Love. Unbridled, agape love, a love that is taught by its Creator, is not fair. I don’t think it was designed to be fair. But its glorious beauty cannot be denied.

Happy anniversary my Professor. Thank you for choosing to love this flawed, undeserving woman. Your face is handsome, but your heart is beautiful.

"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. I Corinthians 13:4-7 (New American Standard Bible)."

Opportunity Knocked on the Door of Chaos

2009-08-06T00:30:00.000-04:00

When Holley Gerth, Senior Editorial Designer and Writer for Day Spring invited me to join her and more than twenty other amazing women for a new project called (in) courage, I froze with shock...and a little bit of fear. I could not erase a single word question from my mind. Now?

Had the offer come several months earlier excitement would have trumped doubt, but chaos and uncertainty loomed the day I received Holley's e-mail. The Professor's contract was not renewed at the end of the semester and very few job prospects were present. A move (and most likely an out-of-state move) was inevitable. And I was in the middle of a personal writing slump.

I wanted to say yes and I wanted to say no. So, I said maybe. And I prayed. And prayed. And prayed. After a few weeks of praying, I knew that I needed to accept the offer to join the (in) courage team. I think you'll understand more about why after the site officially launches on August 10th.

This week, the team of women I mentioned earlier is being unveiled one woman at a time. Some of you may be visiting me today because of Mary's link at Giving Up On Perfect. If you are not a regular reader of Mary's blog and enjoy a refreshingly honest writing style from a woman who desires more of God, then please head on over to her site. You will be blessed.

Another member of the (in) courage team is someone whom I wish was with me right now as I unpack boxes and settle into my new home in Ohio.

Melissa from The Inspired Room is an interior decorator, wife of a pastor, and mother of three children. She is passionate about what she has dubbed Authentic Living. Because Melissa is as talented at writing as she is in interior design, I will use her words to describe authentic living.

"By my loose definition, authentic living is living a life that works for you, instead of struggling against the one you have been given. It is finding satisfaction, contentment and fulfillment in the present. It is living on purpose and with purpose. And, perhaps more importantly, it is a life where we are useful to people around us because we are able to give of ourselves in the way we want to. It can be a life filled with dreams, hard work and determination, but at its foundation is authenticity to both who we are and what is appropriate for us at any given point in life. It is like a compass, it helps us to determine if we are spending our time and money appropriately. It is living well within our means not only financially, but emotionally, physically, time-wise, and in other ways as well."

Don't forget to stop by www.incourage.me today for a sneak preview of what is to come and then visit again on August 10.

Video Thursday - Committed to Marriage #1

2009-08-06T00:04:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago this month, The Professor and I became husband and wife. With our vows we made a commitment to each other and to God...we made a commitment to marriage.

The Video Thursday Posts for this month will all be dedicated to marriage.

Video Thursday - Mere Christianity

2009-07-30T03:37:00.000-04:00

Video Thursday - Chick-Fil-A

2009-07-23T05:25:00.001-04:00

Sometimes we all need a good laugh. This gave my belly a work out.

What's Goin' On

2009-07-17T22:51:00.004-04:00

Today, I'm just going to talk to you. I'm not going to get out my thesaurus, I'm not going to spend hours searching for the best adjectives, alliteration and phrasing....I'm just going to type with my fingers the words that are circulating in my mind almost in the fashion of a face-to-face conversation, albeit a one-sided conversation.

When I started Becoming Me about 18-months-ago I implemented a few self-imposed rules.

Rule # 1 - It would consist mostly of devotional posts

Rule #2 - Only serious and well written material would be published

Rule #3 - Each post, even the non devotional ones would include a Scripture verse.

Rule #4 - I would not obsess about growing my readership

Rule #5 - My posts would showcase my imperfections and be honest, sometimes even raw, so that whoever stopped by to read would know that through Christ there is hope for all human weaknesses and struggles.

Rule #6 - I would personally respond to every comment left on my blog

Rule #7 - I would update my blog regularly as well as visit and comment on other blogs often.

There were other rules too. Some I kept, some I modified, and others I threw out. But when began this journey I felt that I needed hard and fast guidelines. I tend to live my life that way. I like rules, they make me feel safe. And I like to follow rules, because doing so makes me feel as if I'm a good person and pleasing to others. If there was a course called "People Pleasing 101" not only could I teach it, but I would have a special segment about rules.

In an early post I labeled my self a "recovering perfectionist and people pleaser." Extreme rule making and following can certainly be a symptom of such. And there is another to this...one that does not seem to fit.

When I become overwhelmed by to-do lists, projects, rules, and such, I tend to shut down and let it all slide away. I've done that with Becoming Me recently.

When I found out that we would have to move once again (our 7th major move in 10 years), I became weary. Not only were we having to move, we were having to move because my husband's job had been discontinued. (I think that's what is called a "double whammy"). And let's make it a triple whammy...he was having a difficult time securing a new job. Even though I honestly was not fretting about the situation because I knew with all my heart that God would make it good in time, I was annoyed with the situation. Moving yearly can be taxing both physically and emotionally. The thought of packing boxes, leaving friends, driving across country, unpacking boxes, making new friends, etc. invoked frustration. No, that's too mild...it made me angry. Really angry. Not with God. Not with my husband, but with life, with the situation.

Although writing has always packed therapeutic value, I had trouble thinking, writing, even praying. I felt overloaded. I'm still feeling a wee bit overloaded.

I'm not weeping. I'm not feeling depressed. I'm not even enraged. I'm just tired and mildly drained.

The good news is that my husband has found another job. We will be moving again...this time to a small town in Ohio. And the move will be soon. The Professor accepted the job offer on Monday, drove to Ohio on Tuesday to find a place to live, signed a lease on Wednesday, and then returned home last night. And guess what? We're moving in two weeks!

I promise you, I'm not complaining...I'm actually quite excited about the move...mildly daunted, but mostly excited. I know that we are not moving alone and that this is just a new chapter in the story God is writing for us. That does make my heart joyful.

I'm not going to give up on writing. But I am going to ease up on some of my self made rules...I may not post something new for another few weeks or even months...or I may be inspired and write something new tomorrow. But that's OK.

(I do promise to reinstate Blog of the Week sometime in the Fall)

Video Thursday - It's About Life

2009-07-16T02:51:00.000-04:00

Video Thursday - Do You love Gay People?

2009-07-09T00:47:00.000-04:00

I am going to allow this video to speak for itself...I'm still processing...

Video Thursday - The Doctor with the Rose

2009-07-02T01:40:00.000-04:00

I hesitated to post this video because it is a book promotion for a Max Lucado book that I have not read. However, the story he tells is so beautiful and Lucado's work so consistent, that I thought this was worth sharing. You may want to grab a tissue.

Hold

2009-06-29T06:47:00.001-04:00

Beads of sweat lined up across her forehead causing wayward strands of hair to matte her cherry red cheeks. With her fists balled, her eyes shooting darts of fury, and her nostrils flaring, my daughter released a deep rage through piercing screams. Still a toddler, she had mastered the skill of tantrum throwing several months before her third birthday.

Standing in front of my little girl at that moment I inwardly wrestled with my own sadness and anger, which were mixed with feelings of inadequacy. I felt clueless, helpless, and useless. My child had been lingering in that state of wrath for more than thirty minutes...nothing I tried diffused the situation. Ignoring the fit proved futile as did sending her to her room until she calmed down. Issuing consequences only intensified her wails.

I tried every iota of parenting advice I had ever read or heard. It was time to listen to my heart.

Without a word I sat on the floor just inches from my daughter. Firmly gripping her shoulders I pulled her into my arms and I held her tightly while rocking back and forth.

At first, she flailed forcefully trying to escape my embrace.

“No Mommy,” she yelled. “No! I'm mad, mad, mad! I don't want to hug you Mommy. I'm mad. I'm mad. I'm mad!” In another attempt to break free she bent her knees and with all the might encompassed in her thirty pound body, she pushed her hands against my stomach and, for good measure, bellowed, “Let go of me right now!”

I didn't let go. Steadied by a calm I am certain was a grace gifted by God, I held my daughter close and gently pressed my lips on her wet head. Then I whispered into her ear.

“Shhhh. Get control. I know you can do it. I know you are angry, but I know you can get control. Shhhh. Mommy loves you. Let me help you. Let me love you.”

After another minute of squirming, she stopped screaming. She stopped fighting me. Her body went limp from exhaustion and her breathing was loud and heavy. Still, I kept her in my arms and continued giving her gentle kisses until she fell asleep.

At least two years have passed. Thankfully, my sweet Pumpkindoodle no longer throws temper tantrums of such caliber. But that memory remains fresh. Honestly...I hope it never fades away.

It isn't because I want to hold on to a memory that is often missing from baby books. It isn't to garner praise for my mothering technique that saved the day and my sanity. What I never want to forget is recognizing a bit of myself in that raging toddler.

Sometimes the injustices of this world overwhelm me. Times when I rebel. Times when I vent my frustration and rail in anger. Times when I grit my teeth and think "I'm so mad, mad, mad I could spit!" There are times when I cannot see past what I want and what I cannot have.

There are times when my Father enters to comfort me and I push Him away. There are times when I refuse to open my Bible. There are times when I lose my breath , choke on my sobs, and scream “No!”

During those times, even when I'm at my ugliest, God doesn't let go. He stays close, and He teaches me how to regain control...how to be still...and how to allow myself to be loved.

Video Thursday - Tim Tebow

2009-06-25T00:15:00.002-04:00

I'm sure you have heard the term "related by marriage." I have taken some liberties with that statement and often say, "I'm a Gator by marriage."

The Professor received both his undergraduate and doctorate degrees from the University of Florida. He bleeds orange and blue. Since I went to a small Christian college that does not have a world famous mascot, I too claim the Gators as my own...just for fun.

Whether you love or loathe the Florida Gators...or have never even heard of them and could not care less about collegiate sports, I am fairly certain you would become a fan of Gator QB and former Heisman Trophy winner Tim Tebow.

Tim Tebow is more than a stellar athlete. He's a young man who loves and serves Jesus.

For today's video Thursday I am going to share a segment on Tim doing some missionary work in the Philippines.

A Recognizable Voice

2009-06-22T05:06:00.000-04:00

“Ma-ma-mama-maaah! Bhooo! BHOOOO!”

I didn’t need to lift my eyes toward the floating Mylar ball resting near the produce section of the grocery store to know that it was the object enticing my one-year-old son. Pickle loves balloons. During his first birthday party, while tugging the string attached to a gigantic helium-filled frog, my little man added the word balloon…rather bhoo to his vocabulary. A passerby might think he was trying to scare me. But as his mommy, there was no mistaking his intent. “Bhoo” was easily translated to balloon.

I know my boy, and more often than not, I know the messages he attempts to communicate. I know the difference between his “I’m scared” scream, and his “I cannot wait another millisecond for the next bite of yogurt” scream. He says bah when he wants to take a bath, when he wants to play ball, and when he sees a sheep, and with my eyes closed I could pin-point the difference each time. It’s not rocket science. It’s mommy-knows-her-baby science. When other little ones who don’t share my last name express their thoughts to me, I often find myself looking up at their mommies and mouthing “what?” But when it comes to my kids, even my baby Pickle, it doesn’t take long before I crack the toddler code and decipher their language.

My son knows my voice too. I’m convinced that all babies are born with super powers. Deep within each infant lies “Mommy Radar.” Whenever his mommy is within fifteen feet, Pickle’s super hearing is triggered and “Mommy Radar” kicks in. I’m not kidding. I can be standing outside the closed door of the church nursery whispering to a friend and hear my little guy wail “Mamamamamaaaaaaaaaah.”

I love that aspect of motherhood. That special communicative bond between parent and child. Priceless. It’s a bond not limited to children and their earthly parents. This I know because there is another voice I recognize; a silent voice stirring my spirit and awakening mind. It’s softer than a whisper yet can cause mountains to tremble. The same voice that spoke the solar-system into existence, speaks to my conscious. He never talked to me through a burning bush or with a thunderous boom, yet when He speaks, I don’t doubt His voice. As a baby kitten recognizes her mother, I recognize when my Father composes a special message just for me.

He also recognizes my voice. When my heart throbs, and the only sounds that escape my mouth are whimpers and groans, my Father deciphers each thought, every plea. When elation overthrows all semblance of decorum and a mighty uproarious Woooo-hooo leaps out of my chest, God hears an entire sonnet. Others may think me a silly fool or a weak and sorry excuse of a human being. But not my Father. He makes sense from my confused ramblings. He hears poetry when others hear gibberish. Because He knows me like no other could ever know me. My creator knows my voice.

"I tell you the truth, the man who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger's voice." John 10:1-5 (NIV)

(Originally published May 2008)

Video Thursday - Psalm 139

2009-06-18T00:51:00.000-04:00

I love Tangle. I like finding videos on YouTube as well, but I now like Tangle better because Tangle does not permit vulgar comments. There have been times in the past when I've found a beautiful video with a powerful Christian message, but didn't post it because some comments attached to it were so vile and foul.

Recently, I discovered so many amazing videos that I thought of starting a new series here on Becoming Me. It's an easy one and hopefully one that will provoke good and loving discussions.

For now, I am calling the series Video Thursday---remember Fizzle?

If you have a jazzy title, I'd love to read your suggestion.

Today, I selected this piece by Igniter Media. It is a beautiful reading of Psalm 139 set to soft music and video.

Never Means Never

2009-06-16T05:00:00.000-04:00

A fender bender between a white Ford Explorer and a tan Honda Accord turned a three minute drive to Pumpkindoodle’s preschool into a 20 minute anxiety laden excursion. I was going to be very late picking up my daughter and I worried that she was feeling sad and scared as she waited for me.With hurried strides I entered the classroom to find my four-year-old sitting alone at her table. She was wearing her pink coat with a matching hat; her princess themed back pack was resting over her slumped shoulders. When I called out her name, her little head popped up and reminded me of a gopher emerging from its tunnel.

“Mommy,” she exclaimed!

Reaching out for my embrace, she turned her head slightly toward her teacher and confidently said, “I just knowed my mommy would never leave me.”

Do you hold such confidence in your heavenly Father? Do you know that He’ll never leave you? I ask because deep down in my soul, I didn’t always believe this truth….parts of it, yes, but the whole truth…no.

I believed that God, the creator of the universe, was always present in His creation. And, I believed that if I were oppressed, victimized, or sick, He would be with me in those dark hours.

What I had trouble believing is that God would stay by my side during the times I failed. When circumstances were tough, promises broken, and insults hurled, I found my strength in knowing that I was a child of God and that He would not forsake me. Yet, when I was the promise-breaker, insulter, liar, and the selfish hoarder, I felt not only shame and sorrow for my actions, I felt alone. And that perceived desolation, which was stationed on a lie and wrapped with guilt, often kept me from crying out to my Savior.

The portion of truth that seeped into my heart after years of resting on the surface is that with God, never means never. Scripture does not read, He will never leave you or forsake you unless you take the Lord’s name in vain, or unless you commit adultery, or unless you covet your neighbor’s house.”

Yes, my actions have consequences. No, He’s not always pleased with my choices. He knows I’ve made some bad ones. But still, He never leaves me alone…He never longs for me to self destruct. Instead, He hears my cry and rushes by my side …arms wide open.

“The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.”
Deuteronomy 31:6 (New International Version)

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."
1 John 1:9 (New International Version)

(Originally published in January 2009 by Angela Nazworth)

Lord, Lord - A Lesson In Obedience

2009-06-11T00:24:00.002-04:00

This is the final One Time Blind skit I am planning to share...this one also struck a personal chord with me. Blessings, Angela

The Stool - One Time Blind

2009-06-10T00:21:00.000-04:00

This One Time Blind skit was a little too close for comfort for me...ouch! Anyone else relate?

The Red Balloon

2009-06-09T00:16:00.000-04:00

This is a video clip from the drama group One Time Blind. I like their style and artistic approach. I will post a few more of their clips this week. Blessings, Angela

A Mother's Paycheck - Guest Post

2009-06-08T00:00:00.004-04:00

(About two months ago, I won a bloggy contest. My prize was a delightful set of note cards called "A Mother's Paycheck," and created by author, speaker, and blogger Sandra Joseph. Sandra blogs at Recognize and Remember and has a special mission to encourage the spiritual growth of mothers of young children. In her guest post for us, she writes about how she got the idea for A Mother's Paycheck.)

A Mother's Paycheck

Recently I was with my oldest daughter as she bought her first car. We sat across the desk as the office manager completed the paper work needed for ownership. Since I was there only as the driver to and from, I was looking at the personal items this woman had on her desk - family photos, drawings and notes from her daughters. I noticed a specific note she had on her adding machine that was written in colored pencil and read "Mommy - I love you Cassidy.

As I asked her about this note, she immediately lit up and shared that her daughter had written that note years ago when she had visited her Mom at the office. She is now a teenager, but this Mom could not bring herself to remove that note from her adding machine. It was her paycheck, "A Mother's Paycheck.

As moms, we all have them - notes, artwork, small gifts and memories that our children have given us, items that end up on the refrigerator or gifts that decorate our homes. These are our paychecks, our Mother’s Paychecks. For the job of mother, there are no applications, no job descriptions and no promotions. There is no work schedule, no 401K or paid time off. Our paychecks come in the special notes, sticky hugs, and irreplaceable gifts of recognizable moments.

These treasured memories are a mother's paycheck for the hard work of mothering. Moms are encouraged
to bank each recognizable memory, just as Jesus' mother Mary treasured these things in her heart found in Luke 2:19 & 51.

Every mother I know thinks that she will never forget a special moment such as the cute sayings of a preschooler, the meaning behind an artistic masterpiece, or her tweenager telling her that she is a "cool mom. But the days go by fast and we stress over messy rooms, piles of laundry, carpooling and life events. We forget that we have been paid. We tell ourselves that we are bad mothers and that our children do not appreciate all that we do. We need to remember our treasured memories that our mother's paychecks" have provided us.

A Mother's Paychecks are 4x6 note cards that come on a ring that help you to record the special mothering moments with your children. These paychecks were designed to hang on your refrigerator or put someplace where you can easily find them so you can write down the recognizable moment when it happens. You can then put A Mother's Paychecks in a photo album, journal, scrapbook or just leave them on the ring. Then when you wonder if this mothering journey is really worth all the work you will be able to easily remember these moments. The Mother's Paychecks come in sets of 25 in pink, blue or beige with a ribbon. We always think we will never forget but unless we record the memories in some manner, it is easily forgotten and gone! A Mother's Paychecks make it easy to record, remember and review all those special moments mothers treasure.

God calls us to remember because He knows that we will become discouraged in our mothering and spiritual journey. My daughters are mostly grown at this point, and my home is filled with Mother's Paychecks artwork, notes, and photos reminders of those precious days of intense mothering. Just like Mary treasured all these things in her heart I too treasure my Mother's Paychecks, and I encourage you to do the same.

(I have created a website called A Mother's Paycheck www.amotherspaycheck.com , which is in its infancy please visit and consider submitting your Mother's Paycheck story so we can encourage each other to recognize, record and remember our treasured Mothering Moments. )

Overwhelming Peace

2009-06-05T05:48:00.000-04:00

The blue cloudless sky touched the indigo ocean. White capped waves gently rolled to meet the shell-laden sand. Pumpkindoodle helped her daddy build a fort to protect them from the fierce dragon named Z-man, a rather content prisoner.

Lulled into serenity by the water's song and the warm salty breeze caressing my skin, I closed my eyes and began to pray. The tender moment was laced with an oxymoron...overwhelming peace. My talk with God included two words repeated innumerable times..."Thank you."

And then I listened.

Pressure Washing - Guest Post

2009-06-04T00:00:00.000-04:00

(Today I welcome the lovely Dee-Dee Warren from the blog, DeeDee's: I Have no Greater Joy. Her post below is an excellent example of how a little bit of sin can add up to a whole lot of ugly.)

Pressure Washing

My husband and son have recently pressured-washed our home. It is a white vinyl house with green shudders. Because of the water-restrictions in our city for the last year and half (or so), and because we needed to clean it before the restrictions, the white house was GREEN. I forgot to take pictures. That probably is a good thing. I do not think I really would want proof of how bad it looked.

But can I just tell you how good it looks now? Clean. White. Fresh. Washed.

So, how did they clean it? First, they used bleach. Lots of it. Then they used the pressure-washers to wash off all of the mold/mildew/green stuff. On one side of our house, it is actually three stories high. The son climbed that ladder. He is a trooper and has no fear. It was good that I was not home that day. I am not sure I could have watched him on that high ladder, OR the husband on the roof of the front porch washing the front of the house. They did such a good job. Bleach, high pressure with water, and lots of hard work. Wonderful results.

So, how does it get there? How does it get that bad? Negligence. Just a little bit at a time. Over an extended period of time. Not really noticeable for a while. And then all of a sudden – it is real bad. Really obvious.

Just like we are.

Little sins are usually not very noticeable. And then one day you see the results. How did it get this bad? Just a little “yes” that should have been a “no” – one at a time – over an extended period of time. All of a sudden it is a REAL problem.

Now, it (our sin) is easier to take care of on an on-going basis. But I am afraid that does not always happen. And if neglected – then it is time for a ‘pressure-washing’ of our own.

Apply the Word. Lots of it. Dive in and stay there till you have answers. Acknowledge the sin for what it is. Then allow the power of the Holy Spirit to help you cleanse the whole being.

"Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (Ps 139:23-24)

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (I John 1:9)

"Come now, and let us reason together, saith Jehovah: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. " (Isaiah 1:18)

Confession is good for the soul.

Cleansing is good. For the outside of a home. For the inside of the soul.

Blessings,
DeeDee

I Love My Family - A Special Guest Post

2009-06-03T00:28:00.000-04:00

(Today I'd like to introduce a guest poster who is the most precious girl in my life---my five year old daughter who is known on this blog as Pumpkindoodle. A recent Pre-K graduate, Pumpkindoodle is just learning how to read and spell, so I typed her words verbatim. Yes...she really does use the word appropriate--it's one of her favorites. Enjoy!)

I Love My Family

I love my family! I love my mommy and daddy because they take care of me. And I love to take care of my brother because he is a baby. Well, he is a big baby. He's two now, but still like a baby.

When I was little I liked to feed my brother Z-man a bottle and hold him. But I really liked when he got older and can play with me. But he does scream a lot now instead of using his words and I do not like that.

I love my mommy because she makes dinner all the time except the sometimes my daddy does. I love watching game shows with mommy at night time. We watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. I really like Vanna White. My mommy reads books to me at night too and I love that and love when she tells stories from her mouth and not just from books.

I also like when mommy prays with me and gives me lots of hugs and kisses and teaches me about animals.

I really love my daddy too. I love him because he plays with me a lot and loves me very much. And when he picks me up from school he always gives me snacks. My daddy likes to sleep a lot, but he likes to play a lot too. He is a real good tickle person.

Daddy helps me count and is teaching me how to count to 60. He tells me what a lot of words mean. And sometimes he lets me watch some of the news with him so I can learn things. But just some it because not all news is appropriate for me. And sometimes daddy and I watch Basketball together. Sometimes he measures me to see if I growed. And I am growing healthy and strong because I eat lots of fruits and vegetables and healthy things.

The best part of daddy that I love is when he hugs me.

I really love my family. And I really love God and Jesus and am glad God gave me to my family. Amen. Oh I mean the end, i sometimes get them confused. It is so confusing. Giggle.

I Hope I'm Not Being Too Forward...

2009-06-02T00:16:00.003-04:00

I'm going to ask a favor from you. If you are familiar with my Guilt-Free Reading Promise, you know I don't ask for many favors. And, you also know that you are under no obligation to comply with my request.

Here is request. If a particular Becoming Me post blesses you, would you please share it with others? I added this great little button to the bottom of each post that allows readers to quickly and easily share blog posts via e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, and other venues. There is also a Technorati button on the bottom of my left sidebar. You can add Becoming Me as a Technorati favorite with just a few clicks.

Again, no pressure.

Blessings, Angela

The Bedroom and The Bible

2009-06-01T00:00:00.000-04:00

White sand. Florida Sunshine. Ocean breeze. I (hopefully) am enjoying all three of those luxuries today and for the rest of the week. While I'm away, I lined up a few guest writers.

Today's special guest is Wifey from Ask Wifey. I wish I could have seen her face when she first read my request asking her to write a guest blog post about sex.
I asked her to write about sex for two reasons. (1) She writes a weekly column about sex, so I knew she wouldn't be shy. (2) Sex is a beautiful part of a healthy Christian marriage.

I hope you enjoy her perspective. Angela

(P.S. I promise you I did not pay her to write all those nice things about me)

Marriage: The Bedroom and The Bible

When Angela asked me to write a guest post for Becoming Me I was thrilled as it’s one of my favorite reads, but when I saw the topic she wanted me to write about I must say I was a little shocked.

Sex.

Gasp!

That’s right; one of my favorite Christian bloggers asked me to write a sex post. Hmm. Not being a Christian blogger myself (I am a Christian, my blog is just not religious themed) you might see how this made me a little uneasy. She anticipated my initial reaction and assured me that it was appropriate and that she would like for me to share my thoughts on sex in marriage and how God intended it to be wonderful, not a thing of shame.

That’s why Angela is who she is – insightful, inspiring, thought-provoking, and forward-thinking. And that’s why I continually read Becoming Me, because her posts give me a daily dose of spiritual juice and help me look at things through a new lens.

And, of course, she is right; sex in marriage was intended to be wonderful and not a thing of shame. A few years ago I wrote an article for Upscale magazine (Feb 2007) titled, “Sex in the Scriptures: Does the Bible Belong in a Married Couple’s Bedroom?” While researching the piece I spoke to several clergy members and professors about their thoughts on sex and marriage and questioned if it was purely for procreation. I gladly received a resounding “no.”

In the article Father Ricardo Bailey, Parochial Vicar at Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Atlanta explained, “Sex in and of its self is intended to be a gift that each person brings to the conjugal act of marriage, but sex is also God’s gift to us to express our love to one another. When it’s done in the way that God intended it, which is from what the church teaches us in and through the sacrament of matrimony, then it can be a source of pleasure and enjoyment.”

Sex is such a touchy subject – literally – however it’s such an important part of a healthy marriage. Understanding and embracing that, and nurturing your sex life is critical to your relationship with your spouse. Sex should not be forgotten, forbidden or taken for granted.

1 Corinthians 7:4-5 says “For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.”

When you can allow yourself to enjoy the pleasure, passion and intimacy of sex with your partner – guilt free – it truly is a wonderful thing.

Winks & Smiles,
Wifey

You can find Wifey at AskWifey.com and at TheBlogRollers.com. She is the author of “Help! I’m a Newlywed…What Do I Do Now? Wife-Saving Advice Every New Bride Must Know to Survive the First Year of Marriage.”

Blog of the Week - Little People Wealth

2009-05-31T00:00:00.000-04:00

1. What is your name?

Heidi

2.Are you a mom?

Yep, I have one son, 19 months.

3. How long have you been blogging?

For about 6 months

4. Why did you start blogging?

I started so I could make myself more accountable to what I was spending and so I could share deals that I found with my friends and family. Before that I was always calling people and posting on forums whenever I found something, which was more time consuming and the deals were harder to explain.

5. What motivates you to continue blogging?

It turned out that I love blogging! I continue because it not only accomplished what I first set out to do, but I also realized how many people I can help. I love getting emails and comments from people who have used my deals and posts. It makes me feel great that I can reach such a large audience and really help people out!

6. Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it?

Little People Wealth simplifies deals in order to save it's readers money on gifts, food, household necessities, and other purchases as well as exposing them to alternate methods of earning money. Ultimately I hope that my readers can use this information to have more money for the things that are important to them, things like charity, paying down debt, retiring early, vacation, or whatever else they are trying to accomplish.

7. Choose one question out of the 5 below to answer.

This is a hard one, they are such good questions! I have always wished that I could have met Mother Teresa. She was such a beautiful and inspirational person. I think that would be where my vacation would take me, although it would have to be in a time machine! I would take my family with me because I don't want to do anything without them.

If Momma Ain't Happy: Part 2

2009-05-29T18:17:00.000-04:00

Today's post is part 2 from my real life friend Jean Strating. Jean and her husband Jack have been married for 41 years and have three grown children. Jean is not a blogger, but she does have a passion for studying and sharing God's word. Here are some more of her thoughts on marriage. She picks up right where she left off yesterday, so you may want to read that post before diving into this one.

If Momma Ain’t Happy Nobody’s Happy - Part 2:

So you think you are a team, a partnership, one in Christ, but there are pitfalls that can destroy a family. Those pitfalls can be caused by extended families, different opinions on how to do anything from raising children to how to put away the dishes, choosing a vocation, or even choosing what church to attend.

Talking out problems and coming to a decision, or a compromise, takes work but well worth the effort. Most of the time my husband and I have been able to talk out issues that come up as equal partners, but there have been a very few times in 41 years of marriage has he had to exercise his role as head of our home when decision making came to an impasse. There have also been a few times when he has come to my defense to protect me from people that he knew would hurt me. Thankfully, that has not happened very often but sadly it was with family (in-law) issues. Just as a man is expected to leave his family and cleave to his wife so should a woman cleave to her husband.

As our marriage grew so did we. Not always at the same rate, but always growing in our relationship with each other and with God. We also encourage and protect each other. Not long ago a family member was lashing out at me on the phone when my husband took the phone and said from then on they go through him instead of hurting me. Parent can be some of the worst manipulators, especially when there are children in a family. Maybe there is a good reason for missing Christmas one year but you are afraid if you don’t go there will be unpleasant consequences. What do you do? Cave in or stand up for your decision?

Sometimes with decisions there are hard choices. When a couple marries how do they decide what church to go to or where to live? What if she likes a church because her friends are there and they have lots of activities, but he is looking for a church where there are people that will teach and disciple them? Does he keep mamma happy and stay where she is comfortable? What if your in-laws are always critical of you? Do you avoid hurting their feelings and act like nothing is wrong around them or ask them to please stop. Then there is how many kids do we have; as many as God gives you or maybe none at all? Be sure there will be lots of people that will give you their opinions, wanted or not.

If your marriage is centered in Christ and you are partners as well as individuals that seek what is best for each other, rather than yourself, the issue of headship and being subject to your husband should rarely come up. When it does, ask yourself if your husband is lovingly protecting you or are you being selfish and not wanting to give in? Marriage doesn’t operate well in a vacuum either. Titus 2 tells us how we should act and how older men and women should mentor, and be an example to, younger men and women. Seek wisdom and advice from others and ask them to pray for you.

If Momma Ain't Happy Nobody's Happy: Part 1

2009-05-28T00:08:00.000-04:00

Today's guest post is from my real life friend Jean Strating. Jean and her husband Jack have been married for 41 years and have three grown children. Jean is not a blogger, but she does have a passion for studying and sharing God's word. Here are some of her thoughts about Biblical submission, a topic that is so often misunderstood.

If Momma Ain’t Happy Nobody’s Happy - Part 1:

How many times have we heard, “If momma ain’t happy nobody’s happy”? I even have a friend who wrote a song with that as the title. But why isn’t momma happy? Is she sad or is she not getting her way in the relationship with her husband?

Marriage is a covenant made with God and a partnership between two people. What does God expect of us in this covenant partnership? In Genesis 2:24 we are told and man shall leave his father and mother and cleave (hold fast) to his wife: and they shall be one flesh. In Hebrews 13:4 we are told to let marriage be held in honor by all. Sounds easy enough, right? Get engaged, have a nice wedding, move into your own home and become a family. Then why do so many of us feel we are not doing a good job as a spouse or are not happy in marriage?

The Apostle Paul writes about marriage in his letter to the Ephesians. What would a single man living in New Testament times know about marriage? It seems he knew to compare marriage to the relationship between Christ and the Church (Ephesians 5:22 – 33). The relationship of the wife to her husband is to be “subject” to him as the Church is subject to Christ. The Greek word for “subject” (adj.) means in submission to or in control of.

You may be thinking, “Whoa! I’m not under the control of any man, including my husband!” But look deeper into the Ephesians passage where it talks about love and respect. If I don’t love and respect my husband how should I expect him to love and respect me? If I am my husbands’ partner and want my own way it would be like two horses harnessed together, each pulling in a different direction, and getting nowhere.

Likewise, if my husband wanted his way it would be the same thing. When two become one it is not only a sexual reference but could also be looked at like that team of horses; separately they may have the freedom to go their own way, but when they are harnessed together they become one team and so it should be with us.

If a man loves his wife as he loves himself and the wife, in turn, respects her husband then the issue of control should rarely come into the relationship. I believe in the spiritual headship of a husband, but that does not mean he has been given the right to use a heavy hand to make his wife submit to anything he wants. Rather it gives the husband the opportunity to grow in Christ with his wife and demonstrate his love of Christ by the way he loves his wife. He should not only love her romantically (Greek = eros) but also rationally seeking the welfare of others (Greek = agape). Even if the romance dwindles with time and/or children the rational love must be sustained.

(To be continued)

Can Christians Do That????

2009-05-27T16:28:00.003-04:00

My life may be a bit too chaotic for me to sit down and write intelligibly at the present time, but I do still possess enough Bloggity Mojo** to encourage discussion.

(** I may or may not have invented that term...but I'm guessing I saw it elsewhere and forgot where, I'm not that witty...if I stole it from you, please forgive my unintentional plagiarism)

These are a few light videos that I think hit home some excellent points. I'd love to read your thoughts. Each video is about 30 seconds long.

Blessings to you, and if you think about it...I'd welcome prayers for me and my family as we begin our travels tomorrow morning.

- Angela

Fizzle

2009-05-26T13:49:00.004-04:00

Fasten your seat belts, keep your hands inside the trolley car, and hang on tight. I am about to break a cardinal rule of blogging. If you are a reader of Leo Babuata's blog, Write to Done and filed to memory the Nov.12, 2008 blog post 10 Mistakes That Could Be Killing Your Blog, you will note that I will be committing blog sin # 3: "Writing About Infrequent Posting."

In case you are wondering about the predecessor to menace #3, it is "Infrequent Posting."

Yep. Guilty as charged.

And while I do respect the advice from Leo Babuata (he's a fabulous professional writer/blogger and knows his stuff), I am choosing not to apply it to Becoming Me at this stage of the game. Why? Because in the growing world of blogging, I reside in the sprawling community of mommy bloggers. And, I think, rest, work, play, and pray in a smaller neighborhood within that mommy blogging community. And in this neighborhood, we know and care about one another.

If my real life neighbor went missing for several weeks, I would feel concern. And then if she reappeared and seemed a bit different than her usual chipper self, my apprehensions may rise.

So what has been keeping me from blogging? Several factors, but please know I am not closing down this blog.

1) Some Personal Chaos: Nothing terribly traumatic in the long scheme of life, but enough to keep me busy. Due to budget cuts, The Professor's job contract has not been renewed. This means we will be moving again (our fifth major move in a five-year period).

To where will we be moving you ask? We have no clue. But God does, and that is a beautiful and bankable truth. At this point, The Professor is on the job market looking for either another college level teaching position or a job in the field of political science.

I will also be going back on the job market and have taken on a few freelance projects. Revamping my resume, job searching, and freelance work has required time that I previously devoted to writing blog posts.

2) Technical Issues: I have been plagued with various technical difficulties from blog posts to Internet connections. Not fun.

3) Too Many Commitments: I'll keep this one simple. I say yes more than I say no.

4) Brain Fizzle: I bet you didn't know that Brain Fizzle is a technical term. OK, it's not. But I have a definition for it anyway.

Brain Fizzle is a cousin of Writer's Block. Unlike its cousin, Brain Fizzle victims easily find topic ideas and the words necessary to discuss them. However, those with brain fizzle think of so many items at one time that the ideas stop bubbling and fizzle out.

Those are my dilemmas. But like I wrote above, I'm not planning to bow out of blogging. I will post when I can. I also have some great guest posts coming up for you next week.

Blog of the Week - Chatty Kelly

2009-05-24T00:12:00.000-04:00

Today I am pleased to introduce you to one of my favorite bloggers and writers, Chatty Kelly.

1. What is your name (choose whatever name you go by on your blog)? Chatty Kelly

2. What is the name of your blog and it's url? Chatty Kelly www.chattykelly.blogspot.com

3. Are you a mom? yes, 2 daughters ages 5 and 9

4. How long have you been blogging? 1 year in April

5. Why did you start blogging? To get into the habit of writing regularly on my pathway to publication

6. What motivates you to continue blogging? The community of like minded women. It's so encouraging to be hear & understood!

7. Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it? Yes, "The goal of my blog is to share God's love in a fun and sometimes funny way, that is easy to relate to and, if you're not careful, you just might learn something...and I usually do too!"

8. What is your favorite verse from the Bible? Philippians 4:4 "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" It reminds me that even when things go wrong or not how I had planned, that there is still a reason to praise God. There is always a reason for that!

So...About Fasting...

2009-05-17T15:08:00.007-04:00

I am not a Theologian. I have never studied at a seminary and I only took one apologetics class in college. I do own a few Bibles. I do love Jesus. And I do have an intense desire to study and understand God's Word and serve Him accordingly. Thanks to the Internet, I can type Bible verses into my computer and read twenty different translations of those same verses (and that is just in English). My fingertips also have quick access to examine words in Hebrew and Greek.

Modern technology has made Bible study easier and more exciting for me, but even with the above-mentioned tools, I lack answers to many questions. After all, my brain is not only "mommied-out" most days, but it is also incredibly fallible...incredibly human. Still, I seek more knowledge so that I can experience God's love more fully and in doing so learn how to better love Him and others.

After a previous post on fasting, I began more research on the subject matter. It started when someone I respect sent me an e-mail stating that a fast is only a fast when it involves not eating and that it always includes prayer. She went on to express that under that definition, the term Daniel Fast is inaccurate. She made a good point; and since she and her husband are scholars of the Bible I knew that she had sufficient grounds on which to stake that claim.

Soon after I received her message, another friend cautioned me against writing about my fast on Becoming Me. She didn't tell me not to write about it, but mentioned that Scripture is clear that one should fast in secret and not like the Pharisees who fasted for recognition. (Matthew 6:16-19 is a good example ).

After receiving those bits of feedback I felt mildly discouraged. I had not intended to write about the fast to draw attention to myself, but rather to share my experiences to help others. The fact that I did such a terrible job on my own with the fast made me think that was justified...and sharing after the fact may be. But in hindsight, I probably should not have shared with a large group of people about my intent to fast. At this point, I do feel comfortable with relaying more of information about my fasting experience, but will continue to pray before I write each post to make sure that I am doing so for God's glory and not because I want props.

However, I am still left with the questions, "What is a fast?" And, can there really be such a thing as a Daniel Fast because he just changed his diet for three weeks during a time of mourning?"

Friends, I am not going to answer that question for you. I do not feel I can. However, I will write down some information that I gathered during my research time.

What does the word "Fast" mean?

In Hebrew, the word Tsoon is used for fasting and it means "To cover the mouth."

In New Testament Greek, Asitia means fasting (the state) abstinence; Asitos means without (taking) food; and Nestis means not eating, abstaining from food.

With respect to those definitions, it appears that in the Bible fasting meant not eating. As far as for how long? It does not specify. In my research, I read that examples cover everything from one meal to 40 days. So, I guess I could make the case that I completed 21 mini-fasts since I skipped a meal a day...but that is not my point for this post.

There are also some Biblical scholars who maintain that what Daniel did during a time of mourning (eating on mainly fruits and vegetables) was indeed a type of fast because in that culture fasting and mourning went together.

I do not know the answer.

I am going to complicate things even more: The unabridged Random House dictionary defines fasting as either abstaining from all food or some foods.

Now, I know that there is a chasm of difference between the the authority of the Word of God and the authority of a man made dictionary. But our culture today does have some impact on meaning is assigned to words and the process for such is a lengthy one.

All that to come to this conclusion: I still do not know the answer. And that is not a cop out.

What I do know is that God, whose vocabulary spans every language ever spoken, peers into the heart of every human being. He sees all motives...all intentions...all desires.

For the purpose of my future posts about fasting, I will refer to my 21 day fasting period as a "modified fast inspired by Daniel."

For more information about fasting you may consider reading the books A Hunger for God by John Piper and A Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster.
You may also find this short synopsis written by Richard Foster to be of value. (In the attached link, Foster surmises that one can fast from more things than just food...I agree with him that this can be very healthy...whether or not one can really call it a fast I think is semantics. But again, please don't just take my word for it.)

As I often encourage my readers, please do not let me or any other person be your only source for Biblical knowledge.

I know this post was very different from my usual style, but I thought it remiss to not address the noted concerns.

Update: Originally I had pasted scripture below, but it did something funky to the coding and I had to remove it. I recommend reading Romans 14:1-8. While Paul is not speaking of just fasting, I think these verses fit nicely into this post.

Blog of the Week Returns! Refresh Moments

2009-05-17T09:11:00.003-04:00

It appears that the technical issues I have faced are now resolved and I should have some new posts up this week. Thank you for your patience and well wishes. Before I introduce you to the next "Blog of the Week," I have an announcement to make.

During the time period of June 1-10, I plan to feature guest posts on my blog. If you are interested in this opportunity, please send inquiries via e-mail to becomingme@live.com.

Now on to my Interview with Mary Hampton, the author of this week's featured blog, Refresh Moments.

1) Why do you blog?

I blog because it helps me keep track of those little moments that otherwise get lost in the endlessness of ordinary days. The moments where I see my children change and grow right before my eyes; where I see myself change and grow; where I see that the world around me is filled with God's presence. I want to take those moments and share them with others who have probably had the same experience. Those are my selfish reasons for blogging.

I want my blog to to encourage and uplift my visitors. I hope to give them something to think about or make them laugh. I want it to be a place that in just a few minutes makes them feel like they get a little break from their day that makes it better to get back to their regular stuff.

2) What's your niche?

Mostly Christian Woman blog. My posts do typically have a devotional flavor to them, with a dash of "mommy-ness" thrown in.

Votes and More Technical Woes--But at Least You Can Read This

2009-05-08T21:08:00.004-04:00

Our Internet Service Provider (ISP) is having some connection issues, which means that I too am having some technical issues. Since I'm not skilled in techno speak, the best explanation I have to offer is that there is a problem with a line and until the ISP can fix that line, I won't have service at home. so not only will I not be able to post much, but I also will not be able to read blogs or respond quicly to any e-mails.

Currently, I'm sitting at a local coffee shop drinking a lowfat decaf Turtle Mocha (love in a cup), listening to Tiffany sing "I Think We Are Alone Now," and attempting to answer e-mails, etc. Since I am the type who likes to write in quiet atmospheres, I won't be posting much until my service at home is restored. My ISP said that the problem may not be resolved for several days...no, I'm not joking.

On a happy note, Amanda from I Am Mommy informed me that Becoming Me has been nominated for an "Awesomest Blog Award." Voting takes place on Monday May 11 from 12:01am - 10:30pm. I feel funny asking people to vote for me...but I would like to encourage you to check out Amanda's blog and the contest. It is a great way to support and encourage other bloggers. While you are there on the 11th, if you truly feel that reading Becoming Me has blessed you, then I would be honored to receive your vote.

A Word of Advice

2009-05-06T11:12:00.005-04:00

Just between you and me...I think Blogger, Internet Explorer, and Word all have a few control issues and perfectionist tendencies. And if anyone is qualified to make such a diagnosis...it's me. Forget that I neither have a degree in psychology or more than 11 grams worth of technical prowess. I'm basing my pedigree on a well known fact I learned in the second grade: "It takes one to know one." I first heard that phrase from a little boy in a green and white striped Garanimal shirt, who was defending himself from an accusation coming from a little boy garbed in OshKosh overalls; but I'm sure Freud coined it first. Freud could probably also explain why such useless details such as the clothing choices of my grade school classmates remain in my mind today.

Through my technical trials I have learned that the only way that my posts on Becoming Me can be read by everyone, regardless of browser choice, is for me to write and publish them in only this font size and by using the blogger template (no cutting and pasting). This creates some editing challenges for me...I'm working on it. I promise.

However, other blogs seem to be able to post my writings using cut and paste techniques. Today you can read thoughts by me at both 5 Minutes for Faith and Ask Wifey.

When "Wifey" (AKA Lorraine Sanabira Robertson, a nationally published freelance writer, author, public relations consultant, blogger, and radio/television personality) asked me to participate in her blog advice series Wive's Words, I felt unqualified for the task.

I certainly did not want to tell her no. This is a woman whom I respect and consider a friend. Yet, I felt I owed her honesty, so I agreed to answer her interview questions, but sent her a disclaimer with my acceptance. I do not remember my exact phrasing, but I think the words "I'm not a very good wife" were included. Wifey responded to my disclaimer with words of encouragement.

If you are interested in some honest mariatal advice written by an imperfect wife who relies heavily upon her perfect Saviour, please visit Ask Wifey to read my thoughts. Wifey's blog has also been a part of my "must read" list since last March, so if you have room in your feeder, I definitely recommend that you add her blog to it.

Unscheduled

2009-05-02T23:23:00.003-04:00

Due to some technical woes...I'm taking an unscheduled...and hopefully very short blog break. I have so much to share, but my computer programs seem to be fighting with one another. So until they can play nicely ir until I can figure out another solution, I will be taking a breather. I hope to be posting again without issues by Wednesday May, 6. I will be at FaithLifts that day as well.

Book Review: The Secret HoloCaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister

2009-04-27T10:13:00.004-04:00

Everyone has a story to tell. Some stories spill out easily. Others lay buried under layers of fear, shame, and guilt deemed too ugly...too horrific to surface.

Everyone owns at least one hidden secret, whether it be a feeling, an act committed, or a tragedy suffered, there are parts in every soul known only to the bearer and to its Creator.

Nonna Lisowskaja Bannister hid scores of terrible secrets related of one of the most horrendous periods of unveiled history. Nonna Bannister survived the Holocaust and kept records of her sufferings locked in a trunk in her attic for half of a century. Not even her husband knew until a decade before her death in 2004.

The Secret Holocaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister, is a poignant, yet tough read, about the experiences of a young Russian, Christian girl (she began her diary at the age of 9) and her family who were among millions of people imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps throughout Europe.

The book consists of a compilation of diary entries from Nonna, many of which were written on sheets of yellow legal pads. The entries are woven together with commentary, translations, and other facts by Denise George and Carolyn Tomlin. The book is published by Tyndale House Publishers.

Although this is a story nearly impossible to read without releasing tears and a range of emotions from anger to deep heartache, it is also a story of hope and redemption where beauty surfaced from the ash heap.

Blog of The Week - Casual Friday Everyday

2009-04-26T00:29:00.000-04:00

1) What is the name an url of your blog?

Casual Friday Everyday http://www.casualfridayeveryday.com

2) What is your name?

Nell

3) Why do you blog?

Blogging for me is a great way to stay connected to the "outside" world. To still get my daily "chatting" with friends without going to work outside the home for it. I'm able to share my life, my struggles, my joys, my fun, my cute kids, my opinions with others everyday and be plugged into the blogging community for the interaction. I greatly enjoy sharing who I am and what I'm all about but at the same time reading who others are and what they're about. It's such a satisfying experience being a Mommy blogger.

4) What's your niche?

I would have to say hodge podge I guess. Since I'm just blogging my life in general and not a specific topic.

Updated: Lessons Learned From The Daniel Fast: Prologue

2009-04-23T20:23:00.000-04:00

(Update: This post is an intro to a series of sorts I will be doing about a fast that I actually completed 2 weeks ago. I learned so much that it will take a few blog posts to share my experiences. On 4/24/09 I will be having minor outpatient surgery and hope to continue this series next week. Blessings to you all, and many thanks for the sweet encouragement and feedback. Angela)

Less than four weeks before this past Easter, I began contemplating the idea of fasting. I researched different types of fasts. One modeled after Daniel's diet (Daniel 1: 8-14 and 10: 2,3), aptly titled The Daniel Fast, struck me as both doable and meaningful. After spending some time in prayer, I felt it best to proceed, but I was still timid about the process and wanted a partner.

Since The Professor was not interested in fasting with me, I sent out some feelers via Facebook. I think I wrote something along these lines: “I'm considering a Daniel Fast, please tell me I am crazy and should put the thought out of my mind!” Just kidding. I actually mentioned the idea and that was all...but deep in my heart I had hoped that someone would write me and ask if I wanted a partner. And someone did.

Mrs. Sidney from Mommy Accountability, whom I have never met in person yet still consider a friend, told me that she was on board to fast along with me (God had already been prompting her about fasting). It was at that time when I slammed on the brakes and politely brought the words I. am. considering. to the forefront. I took three more days to pray about it because limiting my food intake is a huge deal for me, and you'll understand why shortly in the next installment.

Once I felt that God was directing this step in my life, I wrote down my reasons for fasting and my plan of action.

Reasons to Fast

Obedience to God
Empathy for those with far less
Spiritual Growth

Areas of Concern

Pride
Allowing weight loss to creep in as a motivator

Food & Time Frame

Abstain from all sweets/junk food, bread, and dairy products
Drink only water
Eat only fresh fruit, vegetables, whole grains and oats.
Small portions (about 800- 500 calories a day)
Continue the fast for 21 days.

I then received some helpful ideas and encouragement from Mrs. Sidney and eagerly began my journey to what I was certain was going be a mountaintop experience of growth and renewal. Although I learned a lot during the twenty-one days that followed, the lessons were not easy.

I'll be sharing them soon.

Contest for Moms

2009-04-22T14:52:00.002-04:00

Five Minutes for Mom is hosting a Fabulous contest with incredible give prizes. Want to win one? The fun starts today, so click here to find out more.

Loved (Reposted)

2009-04-20T18:18:00.001-04:00

(I wrote this post for my son's second birthday and many had problems viewing it, so I am reposting. Thank you.)

Sweet Z-man,

I do not know when you will first read this love letter. If you grow into a young man who treasures sentiment, then I suppose you will find this while you are still a boy. If you become a young man more grounded in logic, then perhaps I will wait until you leave home before sharing this...it is too soon to tell. Regardless of the ifs and whens, I want you to know this one absolute truth.

You have always been loved. ALWAYS.

When you measured less than an inch in length and weighed just .04 ounces, you were loved.

When a flickering image of your sprinkle-sized heart appeared on a monitor, you were loved.

When Supreme court justices, lawmakers, and the opinions of many deemed you as nothing more than a blob of tissue, you were loved.

When you somersaulted and danced inside my belly, you were loved.

When you tossed my plans aside to arrive more than three-weeks early to meet me, I was overjoyed because, you were loved.

When you cried each time I gently placed you down in your bassinet, you were loved.

When I felt overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood, you were loved.

When you gulped my milk and nestled your head against my collarbone, you were loved.

When you woke me up from sleep two or more times a night, you were loved.

When I stole your first kiss, you were loved.

When you bit my shoulder has hard as your teeth could clamp closed, you were loved.

When you took your first steps, you were loved.

When I said the words, “shake your booty” and with a smile, you complied, you were loved.

When you inhaled bites of your first birthday cake, you were loved.

When I raised my voice in anger, you were loved.

When you learned how to tickle, you were loved.

When you narrowed your eyes, tightened your jaw, and adamantly shouted, “no” for the first time as well as time 3,000...you were loved.

When you cried out the words, “Mommy...I sick!” You were loved.

When you threw a ball toward me and said, “catch,” you were loved.

When you head butted my stomach in an attempt to wrestle, you were loved.

When you insisted on wearing your “ooo-ooo-uhh-uhh” (monkey) jammies, you were loved.

When you threw your dinner plate on the floor in protest because I would not allow you to eat a cupcake for dinner, you were loved.

When you writhed on the ground screaming because of an injury, you were loved.

When you squealed in laughter, you were loved.

When you sang opera with Elmo, made animal noises with Diego, and tried to sound out words with animated lions, you were loved.

As I write this letter just twelve hours before your second birthday I know with certainty that I have loved you...wholeheartedly, unabashedly, unapologetically, loved you...adored you...since the day I discovered your existence.

No matter what struggles lie ahead and regardless of what decisions you make, I will always love you. And, I will forever be thankful that God created you to be my son.

Happy Birthday my delightful Z-man.

To read Z-man's first birthday post, click here.

Where I ask you to do me a favor...

2009-04-20T14:26:00.003-04:00

As you know, two weeks ago, the talented Candace at Mommy Designs blogs, refashioned my blog into this sleek new design. I loved the design. Many of you loved the design. Many search engine browsers did not love the new design. And when my stat report came back that my hit count dropped from close to 500 a day down to 28, I knew something was awry.

In order to help with this problem, Candace has removed the Javascript, which has slightly altered my design.

Here is where the favor comes in...if you can read this post and others without problems, will you please leave me a comment so I know that. And if now is the first time in weeks that you can read this blog, please let me know that too. If you are reading this in a feeder because you still cannot read my blog, please send me an e-mail at becomingme@live.com and let me know what browser and edition of browser you use.

Many thanks,
Angela

Blog of the Week - i am mommy

2009-04-19T19:39:00.002-04:00

Who is behind this week's choice for Blog of the Week and what is she like? Keep reading to find out.

1. Amanda Rettke

2. i am mommy http://iammommy.typepad.com

3. I am definitely a mom!

4.I have been blogging about 3 years now

5. I started blogging as a personal journal... my first blog ever was private... then someone who knew me left me a comment and I have been hooked ever since.

6. My motivation to continue blogging is sometimes selfish, sometimes sacrifice. The selfish is, I love feedback from other blogging friends! The sacrifice is, for me, that blogging is often a lesson in humility and truth. I have to hold myself to a higher standard and be ready for public scrutiny of my thoughts and theology.

7. My blog does not have a mission statement... but my tagline is.."my life as a wife, mommy, and child of God" and I try to always represent that.

Bonus Question:

If you could take a vacation anywhere, where would you go and who would you take with you?

This is easy! I would take my family and my folks and sis to DISNEYWORLD!!! We LOVE Disney world and all the fun it holds... and now that I have three wonderful children, I get to experience the love and excitement through their eyes all over again!

Loved

2009-04-17T00:57:00.002-04:00

To my son on his second birthday.

Sweet Z-man,

I do not know when you will first read this love letter. If you grow into a young man who treasures sentiment, then I suppose you will find this while you are still a boy. If you become a young man more grounded in logic, then perhaps I will wait until you leave home before sharing this...it is too soon to tell. Regardless of the ifs and whens, I want you to know this one absolute truth.

You have always been loved. ALWAYS.

When you measured less than an inch in length and weighed just .04 ounces, you were loved.

When a flickering image of your sprinkle-sized heart appeared on a monitor, you were loved.

When Supreme court justices, lawmakers, and the opinions of many deemed you as nothing more than a blob of tissue, you were loved.

When you somersaulted and danced inside my belly, you were loved.

When you tossed my plans aside to arrive more than three-weeks early to meet me, I was overjoyed because, you were loved.

When you cried each time I gently placed you down in your bassinet, you were loved.

When I felt overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood, you were loved.

When you gulped my milk and nestled your head against my collarbone, you were loved.

When you woke me up from sleep two or more times a night, you were loved.

When I stole your first kiss, you were loved.

When you bit my shoulder has hard as your teeth could clamp closed, you were loved.

When you took your first steps, you were loved.

When I said the words, “shake your booty” and with a smile, you complied, you were loved.

When you inhaled bites of your first birthday cake, you were loved.

When I raised my voice in anger, you were loved.

When you learned how to tickle, you were loved.

When you narrowed your eyes, tightened your jaw, and adamantly shouted, “no” for the first time as well as time 3,000...you were loved.

When you cried out the words, “Mommy...I sick!” You were loved.

When you threw a ball toward me and said, “catch,” you were loved.

When you head butted my stomach in an attempt to wrestle, you were loved.

When you insisted on wearing your “ooo-ooo-uhh-uhh” (monkey) jammies, you were loved.

When you threw your dinner plate on the floor in protest because I would not allow you to eat a cupcake for dinner, you were loved.

When you writhed on the ground screaming because of an injury, you were loved.

When you squealed in laughter, you were loved.

When you sang opera with Elmo, made animal noises with Diego, and tried to sound out words with animated lions, you were loved.

As I write this letter just twelve hours before your second birthday I know with certainty that I have loved you...wholeheartedly, unabashedly, unapologetically, loved you...adored you...since the day I discovered your existence.

No matter what struggles lie ahead and regardless of what decisions you make, I will always love you. And, I will forever be thankful that God created you to be my son.

Happy Birthday my delightful Z-man.

To read Z-man's first birthday post, click here.

New Home

2009-04-15T19:25:00.001-04:00

I have a new Web Address:

http://www.Becomingme.net - Please update your feeders. Thank you!

WFMW - Updated Web Browsers

2009-04-15T00:08:00.000-04:00

(If you are reading this post in a feeder such as Bloglines or Google Reader because you can no longer view my posts from my blog, then please...I beg you...please read this to the end, because I miss you...a lot.)

I am not a forceful person. I do have opinions and when asked to share them, I am quite comfortable disseminating information about subject matters such as postpartum mood disorders, raising a strong-willed daughter who thinks a striped turtleneck sweater coordinates perfectly with heart-printed capri pants, and other hot topics like surviving motherhood, transparency, and increasing intimacy with Christ. Those are passions of mine.

I even know a thing or two about baking cupcakes, entertaining a five-year-old in the grocery store, teaching toddlers the second verse to “Ring-Around-The-Rosey,” and growing blog readership...and if you ask, I'll share. I don't like to keep secrets, that tends to go against the grain of transparency that I just confessed being so passionate about.

On the flip side of the coin, here are some subjects that you will not find me writing about.

Cars

How to potty-train a boy (even though I have a male child)

HTML code

Cake decorating tips

How to cut paper in a straight line with or without a ruler

How to be funny without being quirky

Technical Issues such as Updating Your Internet Browser

Except for today. Today, me and my technophobia self are going to discuss the importance of updating your Internet Browser. I have two reasons for reaching outside my comfort zone.

I care about you and do not want your computer to contact any nasty viruses.

I am selfish and want to win back my readers who have threatened to give up on me because they can no longer read my posts since my bloggy makeover last week.

Did I mention I'm big on transparency?

Web surfing with an outdated browser is comparable to trying to place a Frogger or Pitfall! cartridge made for Atari into your Wii. New technology and old technology do not always play well together. At first, it may not seem that using an out-of-date browser is that bad of an idea. After all, it does take a few minutes to update and although it isn't as complicated as open-heart surgery, it can be a slight inconvenience. But the benefits far outweigh the inconvenience.

Updating your browser is one of the best ways to protect your computer from some very intelligent hackers, spammers, malware distributors, and other evildoers in the realm of cyberspace. And that is worth five minutes of waiting and button pushing...take it from someone who thought her time was too valuable to waste on updates. Being without my computer for a few weeks reformed my attitude.

If you would like more information about updating your browser or about which browsers offer you the best protection, please check out the links below. The current buzz for PC users is that Google Chrome offers the best protection and that Internet Explorer and Netscape are riskier options. I know even less about MAC, but have heard that Apple Safari works well. And for more great tips, please visit Kristen at We Are That Family.

Helpful Links about Web Browsers

What is a Web Browser

Five Best Web Browsers by LifeHacker

Most Hacker Resistant Web Browser

An Exhaustive Look at Web Browsers by LifeHacker

How to Update Your Browser

Google Chrome

Mozilla Firefox

Internet Explorer 8

MAC - Apple Safari

MAC Compatible Browsers

The Ledge

2009-04-14T06:45:00.000-04:00

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem." Isaiah 66:13 NIV

He measures 14 inches shorter and weighs 12 pounds less than his sister who drew her first breath more than three years before air brushed against his round face. Those facts hold little significance in Z-man's toddler-sized mind. He is not easily daunted by his limitations...he rarely recognizes their existence. Often, he stretches himself toward risks in order to grasp opportunity. He desires what his big sister possesses. He wants his legs to move as quickly as hers can. He does not want to sit on the sidelines and watch. For my boy, learning comes by the result of doing, not from listening.

This past Easter Sunday, my daughter stood on the wooden ledge that borders a small hill in front of our home. The ledge, which separates the sidewalk from the lawn, stands about a foot high. After obtaining her balance, she slowly walked across the eroding beam. Not wanting to miss out on a thrill, Z-man, hoisted his frame on top of the ledge. My hands held a camera, so I asked my son to wait. I knew he needed my assistance to secure his balance before he could follow his sister.

True to his nature, he embraced his impulses and ignored his mother's advice. Just seconds after the soles of his shoes touched the wooden ledge, Z-man's tender forehead collided with the cement sidewalk. My fingers pressed against his collarbone as he tumbled, which lessened the the damage caused by the blow, but did not stop his fall.

A sorrowful wail burst from the depth of his lungs and his hot tears seeped through my blouse as I held him close to my chest offering him every ounce of love I owned as comfort. I could not undo the fall, nor could I instantly relieve him of the system shocking pain that seared through his head. I certainly did not lecture or scold him about his actions either...natural consequence took care of that. In that moment of temporary agony, I simply covered my child with myself...my time, my tender words, my kisses, my love.

Sometimes, I act a lot like my son. I covet the possessions of others. Occasionally this includes items with material value, but mostly I yearn for the intangible...talents, admiration, abilities, milestones, and recognition. More than once have I hopped on top of a ledge looking at those ahead of me and wanting to catch up...wanting to be anywhere but in the place in which I stood. More than once, my Father asked me to wait...to allow Him to steady my balance and direct me. More than once, I shook my head and mumbled I know what I want. I know that I want it now, and I am going after it. And more than once, I took off running only to slip, crash, and cry out for solace.

After each fall caused by my own haughtiness, my Father scooped me up into His arms, held me tight, and covered me with His love.

(This is my entry to Scribbits April Write-Away contest--the subject this month is "mom.")

Divinely Designed

2009-04-13T00:00:00.002-04:00

The next selection for Blog of the Week is Divinely Designed. Here is my interview with the author. The font went a little bit crazy, despite my best efforts.

What is your name (choose whatever name you go by on your blog)?

Mary Moss

What is the name of your blog and it's url?

Divinely Designed – http://divinelydesigned.blogspot.com

Are you a mom? (You do not have to be?)

Yes. I have a 24 year old daughter and (an almost) 21 year old son. My daughter was married in Sept. 2007 and we were thrilled to gain a second son.

How long have you been blogging?

Since 2004 – http://momprays.com was my first blog

Why did you start blogging?

I wanted to share the devotions I was writing with a large group of friends and make them available on the internet

What motivates you to continue blogging?

The amazing people I continue to “meet.” Also, I feel called to share hope and encouragement with others and blogging is a great way to do that.

Does you blog have a mission statement? If so, what is it?

This blog shares the mission of my website – and my life – really:

To help others discover how their story intersects with God’s

What is your favorite Bible Verse?

It would be impossible for me to pick ONE favorite, but if I had to narrow it down to one that has been great comfort and encouragement for me it would be:

John 16:33 - I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

The Most

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The short Czech film below is a beautiful allegory about God's sacrificial love for His most beloved creation---human beings. I saw this feature for the first time today and wanted to share it with all of you. Click here to read more.

Because of the Cross

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Obsessed with silencing the voice of the man they labeled as a lunatic and blasphemer, they appealed to their governing authorities...with persistence. And when the decree sentencing Jesus to death by crucifixion was announced, they sighed with relief and smiled smugly. They got what they wanted. Finally, after of trying to get rid of the captivating teacher who spoke in parables, they won. Or so they thought. When I researched the meaning of the word Pharisee, I was stunned at the irony I found. Pharisee is derived from the Hebrewפרושים perushim from פרוש parush, which means separated. Those claiming to be men of God, could not have been farther from Him. They separated themselves from truth.

Jesus was captured, stripped of his clothing and his dignity. Spit from filthy mouths stained his holy face. Whips tore skin off his back and legs. Vicious, hateful words intended to break his heart were flung into the ears of God's son. Battered and bloodied beyond recognition, Jesus carried the heavy crossbeam until he broke underneath its weight.

When he arrived at the site of his execution, soldiers roughly restrained him and nailed his body to a cross. A cross that was most likely already stained by another's blood. To those carrying out the sentence, Jesus was just another criminal to use as an example. The cross was then erected. There Jesus hung until his lungs exhaled the last of their air. After Jesus uttered the words “it is finished,” those who had been waiting for that moment felt victorious. God's enemy, satan, probably cackled and howled with delight, because God's son who was sent to save the world was dead. The cross had changed everything. Evil triumphed, or at least it would seem that way until...

On the third day, Christ seized complete victory. His heart began beating again, his lungs took in air. He shook off the pounds of burial spices, unwrapped the linens from his once tattered body, moved the boulder that blocked entrance to his tomb, and walked out of that grave alive and whole. The cross could not silence the His voice.

My heart aches when I think about the suffering Christ endured on that brutal Friday. Yet my soul rejoices in the victory of Easter. I am a woman covered with flaws. Next to God, I would appear as grimy as an earth worm...because of the cross, I am forgiven.

Because of the cross, sin's curse has been crushed. Because of the cross, lies have been revealed and truth offered. Because of the cross, my puny existence has great purpose. Because of the cross, I can hold my children tight and assure them that no matter how ugly this world gets, there is hope. Because of the cross, I know that the most glorious moments I have been given in this lifetime will pale in comparison to what lays ahead for me in the next. Because of the cross, I can choose to have love, peace and joy present in my life every single day without exception. There is a second chance for each human being...all because of the cross.

"You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. In this way, he disarmed the spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross." (Col. 2:13-15-NLT)

There are so many powerful songs of worship, but none affects me as deeply as the song In Christ Alone. I chose this version by Travis Cottrell to share with you. The rendition is lovely, but I also love the simplicity of the video...just the lyrics. I hope that you'll get an opportunity to listen and let the beauty of the words refresh your spirit.

If you have a post about the true meaning of Easter, please feel free to link it to the Mr. Linky (please ignore that it reads 9 on the 9th) below so that others can be blessed. I look forward to reading all of your posts this week. If you would kindly put a link to Becoming Me on your post, that would be much appreciated and enable more people to share their stories. However, I will not be stressing over it if you do not.

In the joy of knowing that He has Risen,

Angela