Nothing To Write

Remember me saying before that I would not write something just to write something? Remember me saying that I would only write as the Lord leads? Welp, I got nothing. I’ve tried to come up with some thought that lead to something productive.  I’ve tried to remember blog post ideas that I neglected to write down. Nothing.

So, I am writing to say, I have nothing to say.  Why? So I remain faithful in having something published every Monday.  I noticed just now that I missed last week (s0 s0rry). So, even if I have nothing to say, I will write that I have nothing to say.

‘Till next week 🙂

“I Want Hot Breakfast Mommy.”

I put the brakes on what type of Mom I was not going to be long ago.  One of those types was the fresh-breakfast-making type. I have a friend of mine who makes her children’s’ breakfast even now.  She has two high schoolers. She has been frying up bacon, sizzling sausage, scrambling eggs, and flipping pancakes for many a school day. Couldn’t be me.  That is what I said to myself.

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I have brought many brands of cereal, pop tarts, toasters strudel, cereal bars and the like to make the morning meal as easy and portable as possible.  As a preference, I don’t do mornings. It was a sad day for me when Jazmine was a baby and I could not longer offer her the breast as her pre-breakfast meal while I remained in the bed. I now had to get up and gather breakfast up! Baby Grace still takes her morning tata-meal and goes back to sleep for at least an hour before requiring that I get up and gather her breakfast.

My Jazmine is not a big breakfast eater. I usually have to force her to eat something.  She will eat a donut or pop tarts without hesitation though, but we can’t have that every morning.  (Her father’s preference, not mine…regarding the pop tarts).  However, recently, my husband has taken to making bacon in the morning. I bought orange juice to help my husband get over a cold. Since then, my Jazmine will get up, toast some cinnamon raisin bread, eat it with bacon, and drink orange juice. I asked what gives?

“I like hot breakfast Mommy,” she says. Truth be told, she has been saying it for years but this is the first time I heard it for what she was saying without trying to shortcut my way out of it.  I used to make pancakes in bulk and freeze them so she could have them every morning.  That worked for a time but one day she abruptly quit that. I asked why.  She said she prefers fresh pancakes.  I asked why.  She said because there is no love in frozen ones. I would make her bacon on occasion in the microwave.  She prefers pan-fried. I bought chocolate cereal. She stopped eating it after a while.

This is deeper then just breakfast.  My Jazmine likes to be pampered and catered to. It seems that one of her love languages is Acts of Service.  My primary love language is the same. I thought it would be easy to express this love language to her since we speak the same language.  I was wrong.  Her acts of service are different from mine.  I think that is because at her age, how many acts of service can she really receive as love? I can’t vacuum for her.  I can’t do her school work.  I can’t put her toys away.  I can do all of those things but those chores are her training for adulthood.  I can’t show her love in those things on a regular consistent basis and still expect to raise and adult who can take care of herself.

What I can do is make her hot breakfast every morning.

HE Catches Me Before I Fall

One sentence spoken from my daughter Jazmine.  One wishful thought that I can’t fathom how to accomplish. Either of these can send me down an unprofitable thought rabbit-hole.

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I recall a Gospel song There Is No Failure where one of the lines in the song is, catches you before you fall.  It is so very true.

I have often heard God’s voice speak to me as I am peering down the bad thought rabbit-hole.  I hear truth to my ears but because it wasn’t what I wanted and wasn’t a way to get what I desired, I often dismissed it with an excuse. I can clearly see now that was what I was doing.  Only after receiving truth was I able to detect the lie(s) I was choosing instead.

This really happened.

I was driving home with my girls in the car.  I had already been noodling how I was going to sign Jazmine up for all of these camps this summer and how I needed to keep my ear to the ground for when registration opened up so we wouldn’t miss out. At that point in the car, I wasn’t currently thinking about that but it was still on mental radar.  Jazmine says, “Mom, I want to do ballet, Karate, and soccer.  I already told you I wanted to do ballet.” And that she did. She has mentioned ballet on and off since she was three.  The first emotion I felt was guilt.  Why hadn’t I put her in a class yet? I couldn’t remember.  Because I was already working under my own pressure regarding camps, hearing my child restate a desire she had and adding that she wanted to try new things, I felt like a failure.  Summer isn’t here and I already felt like a slouch. I was trying to figure out how I would juggle getting her to karate, finding a ballet and soccer camp, and making sure Baby Grace had some semblance of a schedule during all of this.  Before I succumbed and really tried to piece this all together, I heard the Lord say, “Many adults try things for the first time in their adulthood.” And BOOM! Instant pressure relief.

I didn’t even try to preface God’s words with any ‘I will try Jaz’, ‘let me talk to Daddy and we will see what we can do’, or ‘it all depends on what we find’. NOTHING!  I said exactly what I heard.  Jazmine responded with, “Well I just want to try things in my childhood.” Masterful response but I was already free from any guilt threatening to overtake me.  Just a few weeks ago, I would have dismissed what God said with an excuse and try to make a way myself.

Praise God!

 

Did I Mention I Hate Being A Pastor’s Wife?

Of course, the title of this post is rhetorical.  I’ve answered it SEVERAL times in this blog. Just search the archives and you will see. 

 

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Let me clarify so assumptions are not made.

I love my husband who is a Pastor.  I love being his wife. I HATE being a Pastor’s wife.  How is that different? Let me explain.

I would remain married to my husband if he weren’t a Pastor. I don’t hate my husband. I’m not leaving my husband because he is a Pastor.  I love my husband. I enjoy being a wife.  I hate being a wife of a Pastor.

If you still don’t get it, that’s fine but please no comments on what you think I am feeling if you don’t understand my opening statement.

Our Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are for preparing a sermon.  Not that my husband only starts on it on Thursdays but that is the day it usually becomes more solidified. When are birthday parties, adult outings, and other social gatherings usually held? Fridays and Saturdays.  How many times do I show up looking like a single Mom with two children to events where there are whole families (moms and dads)?  Much more often than not.  Case in point. I rejoined a local MOPS group. They were having a fun pool event that I knew my Jazmine would love.  I was excited to see how Baby Grace would do in the pool.  I took my girls and went.  I wasn’t expecting to see so many dads. I assumed MOPS (mothers of preschoolers) and thought it would be a large playdate instead of a family outing. My mistake.  The pool event was titled a family outing but it my mind, I envisioned women and children.  With the exception of one other mom, I was the only one there unaccompanied by my husband.  The other mom’s husband stayed home with the infant while she came with the toddler.

I felt horrible.  I wanted to shout, I HAVE A HUSBAND WHO LOVES ME AND IS A GREAT FATHER TO OUR CHILDREN! I equally wanted to tell anyone who said hi to me that my husband is writing a sermon so he couldn’t come.  I felt the need to quantify why I was alone.

Being a Pastor’s wife is so lonely. There are few you can share your feelings with.  Even in a group of Pastor’s wives, you can be told to put your big-girl panties on and suck it up.  Well guess what?  I suck it up all the time!  Can’t I vent? Am I not allowed to be upset? Angry? Hurt? Can I not desire to have an entire weekend to myself? Can’t I desire to have our family hang out late on a Saturday night with friends and go to late service on Sunday? Why is it only a Pastor’s wife that can’t want anything?  Why is it a Pastor’s wife that is supposed to suck-it up and (this is the part that is never said but ALWAYS implied) like it?

I love my husband but I hate this role. There aren’t enough Pastor’s wives appreciations on the planet to make this job worth the sacrifice! I’m not dealing with all of the facets of being a Pastor’s wife in this post. This post is specifically about showing up unaccompanied by my husband to family events. Oh but trust, there are many more gripes that I am sure will come out in posts to come.

If you are a Pastor’s wife, you are not alone in feeling alone.  You are not alone in hating the role.  You are not alone in wanting more. You are not alone. I give you permission to feel, to desire, and to want. Talk about it. Not sweep it under a rug.  That is how resentment grows and resentment never grows into anything pleasant.

 

This Is Where I Meet Him

You can search this blog for the post about living in the ark.  God brought us out of the ark last year.  I always envisioned what my quiet time space would look like in my new home.  I would see me sitting at my kitchen table looking out a bay window.  Sitting in a Lazy-boy in my living room looking out the window.  I always imagined it being a peaceful place of solace.

Real life? I have two girls that love being near their Momma. I can’t even pee by myself!

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This is where I meet Him.

This is where I have those precious morning moments of quiet prayer with supplication, thanksgiving, and requests to God. I don’t always make it every morning. I desire to but sometimes my morning pee is so rushed, I forget to pray. Baby Grace is crying for her tata-meal, my husband needs the bathroom to get ready for work, or I forgot to grab my bag with my prayer journal in it from the bathtub before sitting on the toilet (the tub is out of reach from the toilet).

Oh but when there are those few moments in the morning that I remember to take, where I meet with the Master.  Oh how precious it is. I don’t have a window to stare out of. My “quiet” time is usually accented by an almost one-year old’s knock and whine on the other side of the bathroom door.  More often than not, my quiet time involves me praying aloud with my eyes closed while Baby Grace bangs on the bathtub and Jazmine holds me tight.

I hope they see their Mommy’s reliance on Christ and learn to rely on Him as well.

She Said I Was Beautiful

I clearly remember my father specifically, saying I was beautiful when I was growing up. He would tell me I was a “gorgeous hunk of female”.  Of course I enjoyed hearing that and that affirmation told me I wasn’t ugly or undesirable.  When I was becoming a young woman and was passed over by guys I liked, I looked for other reasons why they did that because I knew I wasn’t ugly.

When I got to college, things were different.  I started seeing beauty as defined by clothes, makeup, hairstyles, and mouth sassiness. Not an accurate description by far but I used it to form my opinions because those that had those things usually got the man. As I became a grown woman, and more spiritually mature, I learned beauty, of course, is measured from within. It is in how you treat people, what you value, who you serve. That being said, and if you caught what I didn’t say in my first paragraph, I didn’t think I was pretty. I knew I wasn’t ugly but I never considered myself as being beautiful.  I had good days yes but most of the time, I would think, out of the group of people I hang out with, I was not in the top ranking for looks.

That is truly a sad thought.

Today, as I was at church holding Baby Grace, one of the parishioners commented on how pretty my Gracie is.  I smiled and said thank you.  Shen she went on to say, ‘I mean it and I can see where she gets it from.  You are a very beautiful woman.’  Never. NEVER in all of my adult life has someone I was not related to call be beautiful. I think that is truly sad.

Her words gave me wings.  Her words caused me to look at myself in the mirror differently.  Her words freed this thirty-something year old woman to look at me as worthy.  Her words caused me to no longer shrink back because of negative self-image. Her words caused me to walk with a confidence and self-assurance that I often see in others but did not have.

I’m going to thank her next week. Oh I thanked her today but I will tell her just how touching her words were to me next week.

PS. My husband calls me beautiful all the time.  People you love are supposed to tell you that right?  Not that I don’t think he thinks I’m beautiful, but hearing it totally unprompted from an outside source was life changing. 

I Can Do All Things Through Christ

Some scripture become so familiar to me that I no longer experience the power of God’s word.  Philippians 4:13 was one such verse.

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Today started off pleasantly enough. I was able to go to the gym by myself (woohoo!) From there, the day took a turn to that which I did not plan.  Jazmine has been on antibiotics for a few days now and is happily on the mend however, Baby Grace woke up with a cough.  Oh I can not explain how sad that made me. So my day of finally getting out of the house turned into ‘what essential oils can I use to help her kick this cough/runny nose combo’?

I was handling things well until I got snappy.  (Praise God for the Holy Spirit showing me that I was being snappy.)  Baby Grace wasn’t sticking to her schedule.  She nursed a lot and barely ate her breakfast.  Did I mention she is teething too? Yeah, fun times.

Jaz and I are pushing through school and all Baby wanted to do was play with her sister. Fine with me.  I adjusted the order of our day (which is code for the order of which I wanted to get things done) so Baby and Jaz would play.  I took a shower. It wasn’t until Baby G FINALLY went down for her nap that I reflected on the day so far.

I couldn’t figure out where I had gotten off track.  I prayed first thing this morning so, I’m thinking, the day should not have gotten away from me like that.  Jazmine and I are in the habit of putting on the full armor of God each morning during devotionals or in the car before I start driving.  We didn’t put in on this morning. So, while nursing Baby Grace down, I did just that.  After putting on the armor, we also say an affirmation I got from Beth Moore’s Believing God when she talks of the Shield of Faith. Part of it says, I can do all things through Christ.  When I said it today, I paused.  It finally occurred to me the totality of this verse.  Not that I get it all but until then, I had only applied this verse for big things.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me to: talk to this person about Jesus, call someone I barely know to see how they are doing after they had surgery, asking a complete stranger if I can pray with them.  I never ever applied it to my little day-to-day needs. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me: to smile when I want to fuss, listen when I want to respond, exercise patience when I’d rather force my will.

In my glider, with my prayed, long-awaited, baby on my lap, I let the full power of this verse wash over me as I repeated it over and over. I really can do what is required of me because Christ strengthens me.

What Quiet Time Should Be…


I like spending time with Jesus by myself. All alone. Just me and Him. Bible open. Soaking it all up. 

I have recently gone through a biblical renovation as a mother and how I live with and in front of my children (more to come on that later). Those changes caused me to see this mornings quiet time differently.

Baby Grace had just completed her second round of breakfast and was playing nicely.  I took that time to catch up on my devotional.  I am trying to lose weight so I had taken a supplement a bit earlier and needed to eat something immediately. I got my cheese and crackers, opened my devotional and got ready to dive in.  Shortly thereafter, there was a whine and patting of my leg. I picked Baby Grace up and gave her her third round of breakfast.  Once I got her situated on my lap, I began to read scripture out loud. 

This was not the scene I had envisioned but God spoke to me just then. “What better way to have quiet time with Me then to share it with her?”  It was a very sweet and tender moment. Me, the baby I asked God, prayed, and fasted for, spending time with the One who brought us together. 

What an awesome way to begin a day. 

Happy New Year

Although I am pretty over it being a New Year, I thought I’d say it since I’d not written it here.

I was so excited. I was going to record my first video blog!  A few weeks ago, I logged into my YouTube account so all I had to do now was record something!  It should have been so easy. It’s been a few years since I attempted to video blog or vlog as its called, and a lot has changed since then. Apparently WordPress has caught on too.  In order for me to post a video on my site here, I have to purchase a premium package. I am not prepared to do that just yet.

Finding the time to do this blog isn’t the hardest part to overcome.  Finding the energy is. I was motivated by excitement tonight so my energy was high.  I thought I’d found an easier way to post that would allow me to post more frequently. Normally, my energy is so spent, I am too tired to wind down.  I just collapse in the bed.

I hope to get in my groove soon.  Until then, thank you for being supportive and patient.

Love, Xara

 

It’s Been A Long While

I am still here.

I feel like I’ve said that several times this year in several posts.  I hate abandoned blogs and I vowed not to be one of them.  If I quit a blog, I will write an I quit post so new readers know not to expect new content. I don’t foresee that happening but in the mean time, my writing frequency has slowed to an infrequent crawl.

There are a few things I look forward to getting back into a rhythm of doing in 2017. Going to the gym, taking exercise classes (Zumba specifically speaking), stretching more, and writing this blog on a weekly basis.  Those are a few of my Xara-centric goals.  I have Mommy goals, homeschooling, goals, and a few wife goals that I am sure to go into detail with at some point.  Until then, know that if you miss reading this blog, I hear you.  I miss writing it.