Love Requires Someone to Sacrifice

For the past week, I have been in Atlanta, GA, where I STILL have a house for sale? Tired of hearing that? You can't be more tired than I am of living it! Oh Lord, please let my house sell. . .

How's that for an entrance? :) tee hee

I will say, though, that I enjoyed the trip for the most part because I got to see some old friends and catch up, and because I got to spend over 20 hours in a car with one of my kids, and that kind of quality time doesn't grow on trees.

Zack and I had some pretty great talks along the road. He's quite the conversationalist when he chooses to be. I truthfully expected him to sleep the whole way, so I was very pleasantly surprised when he chose to stay awake and talk with me. We had some crazy conversations, including a lesson on how to talk in "CB LINGO." (Very funny). One particular conversation we had though was very impactful. I hope he won't mind that I share it with you.

We were talking about love because of something I had written a few weeks back. In the midst of the conversation Zack said, "But that's the thing about love. It requires someone to make a sacrifice." He went on to say some pretty wise things about love, being in love, and loving others. The gist of his words were this . . .
Everyday, when you love someone, you have to make some kind of sacrifice for the relationship. Maybe you sacrifice where you want to live (the city or the burbs, a house or a condo) or maybe you sacrifice how you want your bedroom decorated, or what kind of dog you want to have. Or maybe you sacrifice something big, like a dream, or a fear or a desire. But you do it because you love, not because you fear losing love if you don't. And though sacrifice is often hard, the decision to sacrifice is easy. You do it because you love.

Not to hyperspiritualize, but that sounds a lot like what Jesus would do.

All that to say, that zack.jones is wise.

Home Sweet Home?

This is a first for me today but I am blogging via my iPhone. I am in GA, and my neighbor, whose network I had planned to log onto is out of town and so I can't get his password. Thus, the iPhone blogging. Zack and I drove here yesterday bc he had some music stuff to do and I needed to check on the house. Originally I wasn't going to come bc we had just checked on the house 8 weeks ago, but I am glad I did!

We got here about ten last night. We could have gotten here sooner but didn't see the need to since we knew there was no tv or Internet at the house. But when we arrived, we arrived to no power! It was pitch black! But lucky for us we were armed with our iPhone flashlight apps so we headed down to the basement to check out the breaker box. I couldn't help but think as we were walking down into the black cold basement looking like nerds with our phone flashlights "isn't this what stupid people in horror movies do?"

But long story short, the power was off bc someone who shall remain nameless hasn't paid the bill in months! He said he didn't notice we haven't gotten one. I estimate the power got turned off about 30 days ago. One month with no power in a furnished but vacant home. . . Not so good. The refrigerators had all molded. And the ice in the ice maker had melted, so when I opened the freezer door (in the dark mind you) water went everywhere! The toilets also molded bc the water in the toilet bowls had almost totally evaporated and turned into a pink sludge. The insect population had risen dramatically so bugs were everywhere, many of them dead in the tubs and window sills.

In general, it is a disgusting mess. No outlet mall for me today! But I am glad I am here. And glad I didn't wait until the fourth of July to come and check on the house! And at the moment, I am sitting in my favorite chair blogging, sipping coffee, and getting ready to read my Bible. Some things don't change. And that's a good thing.

All that to say, I am thankful at this moment for the comfort of my chair and my coffee and my Bible. Bring on the day!

God Teaches Like a Preschool Teacher

I used to think that God spoke to me in puzzles and riddles, which seemed awfully unfair, because if His message was so important, why didn't He just come right out with it? Why didn't He "plain speak" it?

But recently I have come to notice that God teaches like a Preschool Teacher. He repeats the same message to me over and over and over and over and over, each time in a new and different way, so that at some point the message hits me and sinks in.

All that to say, repetition is a beautiful gift.

Purple Toes and Jesus

I think that as far as feet go, mine are really fairly normal. They aren't overly long, or overly skinny. My toes aren't terribly odd shaped (although I do have tiny baby toenails that some people laugh at!) My arches are high, but that's about the most noticeable thing about my feet. As far as I know, my feet don't send anyone screeching in horror.

I do have a few friends who have some, shall we say "unique" qualities to their feet. I have a friend with webbed toes. I have a friend who is missing a toenail on her big toe (like permanently doesn't grow . . . don't know why . . . never explored it with her) but for the most part, even my friends' feet are normal. So I don't think that I have ever really given great consideration to how awful it would be to be a pedicurist (don't know if that's a word).

Until yesterday. I was sitting at the nail salon, breathing fumes and reading all about Brad and Angie's marriage (they thought after 3+ kids together they should get married), getting my toenails done when I happened to look over at the person sitting two chairs down. Her feet were purple. I mean PURPLE. From the tips of her toes to as far up her leg as I could see, PURPLE. And her toes were all curly. Not her toe "nails," her toes. Curly. Or as Meredith Gray would say, "dark and twisty." And they were HUGE. Purple and curly and huge. And so I looked up to the woman who was attending to these feet. Her face didn't look twisted in horror at the feet she was washing. Truthfully, she looked happy. Honestly. She looked happy. And she just carried on the nicest conversation with the woman with the purple feet.

I must say, I was intrigued. Though I kept staring at the purple, curly-toed feet, I was way more intrigued by the nail technician and her happiness. I saw no judgment on her face. I saw no disdain. She actually seemed to enjoy the moment she was in and the person she was with. And I thought to myself, I wish I was like her. I wish I could look beyond what I can see and just truly love the people that God brings into my life.

All that to say, I saw the love of Christ lived out yesterday. But I saw it in a buddhist, vietnamese nail technician.

Voted Wicked, Counted Upright

I have a friend who is much older than me and very wise. She told me the other day that one of the things that she has always struggled with is trying to talk "her point" to death. (This is sooooo me!) She did it with her kids, her husband, her employees, her friends. I was not terribly surprised that she had faults, but I was surprised that she still struggles with them. Truthfully, I would not have thought that she struggled with anything!

This morning I was reading Proverbs Chapter 10, and I paused at verse 22. It says, "When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable, but he who restrains his lips is wise." True story. Perhaps someone should write a technologically advanced translation that would say "When there are many typed words, transgression is unavoidable, but he who restrains his fingers is wise." HA!

Proverbs 10-18 NINE CHAPTERS is a contrast of the upright and the wicked. God devoted 9 chapters of writing IN A ROW to contrast the upright and the wicked. Just in case you or I should read one chapter and vote ourselves upright, the Lord gives us 8 more chapters to understand that we, no matter how hard we try, will eventually find ourselves in the wicked column. At some point, we will read a scenario that helps us see that we, too, are wicked. But thank God for the blood of Christ that covers our wickedness and allows us to walk blameless before Him.

All that to say, I vote myself wicked, but am counted among the upright by the One who counts the votes. Thank you Jesus.

God on the FM Dial

If you have never listened to Tony Evans, then you are missing out. I remember the first time I heard Tony Evans on the radio, he said this, "If you let the devil ride in the backseat long enough, pretty soon, he's gonna wanna drive." He always has those kinds of little sound bites. They stick with you for a long time.

Today as I was riding home, he was talking about the goodness of God. He said, "We are so quick to dismiss the goodness of God. We can go for 10 years at a job we love, doing work we love, and we can just be so happy and in love with God and telling God how good He is. But if something happens to that job, if we go one day without that job, then all the sudden, God ain't so good no more." He went on to say that we are so used to measuring God by the good that happens in our life, that when something not so good happens, we are certain that God must not actually be good and that we must have somehow been mistaken. Our view of His goodness can change on a dime based on how we feel or how we perceive things.

He went on to talk about how we treat others that way as well. We can have people in our lives that we love and that we just enjoy our happy little relationships with (his words) but then something happens and we suddenly toss out every good thing that ever happened and determine the whole thing, the whole relationship was a farce and never was a good thing at all. He talked about friendships and marriages and parent-child relationships all being this way.

He talked about Colossians 3:13-14 (which was so weird because I had just talked about that this morning!) and how we should bear with one another and forgive one another and put love over everything (filter everything through love).

All that to say, I love how God speaks to us through His Word, and when we don't listen, He uses the radio! HA!

A Repost Worth ReReading

I wrote this several months back, but was reminded of it today and think it bears reposting. I have NUMEROUS friends and family members who are struggling in some relationships right now, and I thought this was worth rereading.

"Relationships are complicated. Every type of relationship is complicated. They are like a tricky dance that you keep trying to learn, but everytime you think you have mastered the steps you either step on your partner's feet or they step on yours, and you realize you have not mastered the dance at all.

Really, no matter the relationship. Husband to wife, parent to child, sibling relationships, romantic relationships, friendships, employment relationships, they are all tricky.

All that to say, that's really all I have to say. Relationships are tricky, and complicated, and messy, and sometimes not worth the mess. But usually, they are. And that's what makes the dance worth the risk."

A Little Humor for Today

This morning, as is my usual habit, I got dressed for work in a very routine fashion. My ritual looks the same every morning, which I suppose is why it is called a ritual. First I wake up, lay my hand on my husband's back and silently pray over him. Then I get up, turn on the shower (because it takes FOREVER for the water to get hot), go start the coffee and then come back and get in the shower.

Once I finish in the shower and dry off, etc., I go iron my clothes, put on my jeans (almost every day) and then pull on my undershirt. I don't put my regular shirt on until just right before I leave because I don't want it to get covered in hair when I blowdry my hair, and I don't want to get makeup powder on it. So it's the last thing that goes on. Stay with me here . . .

So, I accomplish all the regular details, shower, coffee, jeans, quiet time, hair, then make-up. Finally, just before I leave, I pull on my outer shirt. THIS morning, I did all of that and once I had put on my outer shirt, I realized that I hadn't yet brushed my teeth, so I walked into the bathroom.

When I looked into the mirror, I busted out laughing. I have a collar on the shirt that I am wearing today that is ruffled. Well, apparently the way that I ironed it caused it to stand straight up, so I looked like I had on a clown shirt! It was hysterical. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. Just think, if I hadn't gone back into the bathroom, I would have gone to work that way and would have had to walk around in my clown shirt all day! Plus, I would have NEVER lived it down.

All that to say, a last check in the mirror shall be added to my routine for sure!
As I am working through this "refining" that God is doing in me right now, I am really thinking about how easily we can live in bondage; maybe more even how we (I) can choose to live in bondage so easily. On my way to work, this song came on the radio.

Who are we that You would be mindful of us?
What do You see that's worth looking our way?
We are free in ways that we never should be.
Sweet release from the grip of these chains.

Like hinges straining from the weight,
my heart no longer can keep from singing,
All that is within me cries for You alone be glorified
Emmanuel God with us.

My heart sings a brand new song,
the debt is paid these chains are gone
Emmanuel God with us.

Lord You know our hearts don't deserve Your glory
Still You show a love we cannot afford

Certain words in this song just really weighed in, but most specifically "Sweet relief, from the grip of these chains."

All that to say, who am I that You, oh Lord, would be mindful of me? All that is within me cries for you alone to be glorified.

I Know Your Secret

One day a few years ago, I was driving down the road with my friend Vicky, when she said to me, "I know your secret." We had been having a conversation about how much she admired my confidence and my strength (I always love conversations like that!) when she busted out the "I know your secret" statement. I assumed that she meant the secret regarding strength and confidence, so I said, "Oh yeah, what's my secret?" She said, "There is a broken and hurting place very deep inside you. It's where you are most vulnerable. And you do a pretty good job keeping it hidden, but I can see it sometimes."

I wrote that down in my journal, and there are many times when I feel like I am supposed to pray over that statement. Nothing ever comes to me when I do. But I do it nonetheless, because I feel compelled. Like if I linger over the statement, the Lord will impart some incredible, supernatural wisdom. But He never does.

I have been thinking a lot about that statement the last few days. I have a broken and hurting place very deep inside me . . . It's where I am most vulnerable . . .

This morning as I prayed over that statement, I realized that Vicky is right. And I have filled that hurting place inside me with anything and everything I could to make me feel valued and worth something. Maybe this is too much information and more than anyone cares to know, but it's my blog, and I promised myself to be as honest and as real and as transparent as I could be if I was going to do this whole blog thing. So, I am processing this revelation (from Vicky and from God) and I don't like it. I feel nauseous and anxious and sick.

I picture this place that Vicky said she sees sometimes in me. And I see it as this open wound. A wound that would threaten to overtake me; so I have filled it with relationships and ministries and projects. But God has been slowly pulling out the packing that I have stuffed down into that wound. He started with my last job.

I used to find my worth in my job. But being excellent at my job had nothing to do with the Lord and everything to do with me. And then I lost my job. My job at which I was a very respected "expert." But the Lord filled in the void that was left there. And it was good for me. But extremely painful. It took me almost two full years to realize that losing my job was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. And when God restored me to that work, it was good, and wholesome, and His and for Him.

Today the Lord showed me that I have stuffed some other things into that hurting place. I have stuffed friendships in there that made me feel good about myself. And I have stuffed ministries into that place because my work with them made me feel good about myself. And as long as I could use people and relationships and serving to cover up my hurt, then I would never have to address the hurt.

But God says no to that. He's not content to let me continue to hold onto hurt. And try as I might, I can't hold onto it anymore. I've tried. Trust me, I have tried. Today I realized that this "unraveling" I feel is Him, pulling the packing out of the wound. I thought that people I loved were hurting me. But the reality is that the God that I love is hurting me. And He's doing it for my own good. He is teaching me to rely totally on Him. And He is teaching me to heal, truly heal, from the inside out.

All that to say, for all of you whom I love, and whom I know love me, I have much to be sorry for and much for which to seek forgiveness. I want to grow. I want to be all God wants me to be. And I want to be healed and whole.


Hi, I'm Carol, and I'm a control freak. Isn't admitting it like half the battle? If only that were true. I think I have known this about myself for quite some time now. Periodically I try to address it, but find that I am pretty good at seeing this as a strength and not a weakness.

But I am a control freak. I want everything to be great, at all times, and when things aren't great, I try to "fix" them, usually to my demise. You'd think my lack of success in this area would change me, but alas, I have been undaunted in my pursuit of controlling my life.

Yesterday, all throughout the day, really starting from early in the wee dark hours of the morning, this scripture started rolling through my mind. "It is for freedom that I have set you free."

I used to think this scripture meant that I have been freed from the wages of sin. And maybe it does. Maybe it does mean I have been freed from hell. And maybe it means I have been freed from the bondage of sin.

But yesterday, to me, it meant that I am free, and that if I can only release my control, my white-knuckled, tight-fisted control on my life and the details of it, I can walk in freedom. So I did. I released the things that were worrisome. I released the things that I can't control. I released the things I can control. And I felt free.

All that to say, it is indeed for freedom that we have been set free. Walking in freedom, unburdened by the events of yesterday or what tomorrow will bring, unburdened by what I think I have to control today . . . it feels good people.

Some Days Are Diamonds

As you could probably guess by my post, yesterday was a tough day. It doesn't matter why, it just was. Today isn't feeling much better. And whenever I am stressed beyond what my mind can take in, I go to the Psalms. I think that most of them were written when people were stressed, hurting, freaked out, or experiencing some other heightened emotion. And perhaps that is why when I feel like that, I find that they bring peace to my troubled heart.

Today I read Psalm 3. Starting in verse three it says, "But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory and the One who lifts my head. I was crying to the Lord with my voice, and He answered me from His holy mountain. I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the Lord sustains me."

I didn't sleep peacefully, or fitfully. I had trouble falling asleep, and even in my sleep, my thoughts invaded my dreams. But I lay down and slept, and I awoke, for the Lord sustains me. I went to bed. I slept. I survived the night. Life continues because the Lord ordained that it would. And with the morning comes perspective. Not total cleansing. Not total healing. But perspective. It is a new day. A new day to seek God for understanding. A new day to think my thoughts but through the filter of Christ's shed blood.

And though I still feel like an earthquake is going on inside my body, this is what the Lord says to me: (Psalm 4:4-5) "Tremble, and do not sin; Meditate in your heart upon your bed and be still. Offer the sacrifices of righteousness and trust in the Lord."

He knows the feelings that still seem crushing to my heart. He knows the anxiety that I feel, but he gives me both a warning and an assurance . . . "Tremble and do not sin, meditate in your heart, be still and trust me, Carol."

So maybe I should go back to bed. Because verse 8 says, "In peace, I will both lie down and sleep. For you alone, O Lord, make me to dwell in safety."

All that to say, some days are diamonds, and diamonds take time to form. But I like diamonds, so I am willing to wait.

Turtles are Smart

I have decided that I want to be a turtle. It's pretty hard to get hurt when you live in a shell.

All that to say, turtles are smart.

Who Gets To Decide

I was reading Psalm 1 this morning. It says, "How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers! But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in His law he meditates day and night."

And if I am honest, I would say that this strikes a chord in me, though I don't honestly know if it is a righteous chord. Because there is this piece of me that wants to use this passage to justify my thoughts and feelings and actions, but then I think, "who gets to decide who the wicked are?"

If I am not to walk in the counsel (seek the advice of, sit under the teaching of) the wicked, then how do I know who they are? Am I supposed to just decide that on my own? Because the reality is none of us can do that objectively. We are all going to filter our "judgment" of who is wicked based on how we feel about that person; by interactions we have had with that person; by interactions others have had with that person. And if we are judging them based on that, then how do we know we are coming up with the right (righteous) character interpretation of that person?

All that to say, who gets to decide? Lord, teach us your ways. Give us your wisdom. We lack understanding apart from your Word. Verse 6 says, "For the Lord knows the way of the righteous." It is for your knowledge that we pray Lord.

Is It Okay If I Like Wrinkles?

Yesterday, I took my camera and a couple of changes of clothes to work so that my assistant (well, she's not technically my assistant, but it would take too long and too many words to describe what she does do) could take my picture. I needed some headshots for a couple of things coming up, but didn't want to go get professional photos done because I have neither the time nor the money.

I figured between a decent camera and some decent editing programs, I should be able to come up with one good shot! We took like 150 photos and came up with about 6 that I considered to be decent.

As I was editing the photos, getting rid of zits and stray hairs, I "erased" my wrinkles. But when I looked at the photo, I thought, "I actually don't mind my wrinkles. They're me." So I hit "undo" and presto! my wrinkles were back on my face. It's funny to me that I can't handle having gray hair or flabby triceps, but I don't mind having wrinkles. Most of the ones I have are what people used to call "laugh lines." I like the idea of that. That my face is permanently marked from laughter. From joy. From the life I have lived. I have lived much and my face tells the story. Somehow, that's cool. And okay.

All that to say, I like my wrinkles. Not so sure about the double chin, but the wrinkles, I like.

Put Ya Hands Up in the Air!

This morning, after writing my blog about how nothing funny happens anymore, I headed off to work. And right as I was about to get into my "on ramp" lane, I realized that traffic was coming to a screeching halt. I mean a SCREECHING halt! As I looked at the traffic, I realized that if I quickly got over I could exit the interstate altogether, and possibly miss the accident that I could see up ahead (as well as the horrible wait in traffic that I was about to experience).

So, being the courteous driver that I am, I put on my turn signal and tried to get over. NO ONE would let me over. NO ONE. NO ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ever since I moved to Atlanta, I have had this terrible desire to honk and swear in traffic! I try to keep it at bay, but every now and then, it pops out. And situations like this one, where traffic is going like TWO miles an hour and no one will let me over, that is a pretty good trigger.

Just as I was about to get seriously ticked, this woman, too distracted by putting on her mascara, left me with an opening, so I pounced! So excited by my victory, I did the double-fist pump and shouted, Woo Hoo!

Quickly I took the exit, got on the feeder, and realized excitedly, that the accident I was avoiding was literally two feet past the exit I had just taken. If I hadn't taken the exit when I did, I would still be sitting in traffic. As I drove by the snarled up traffic, I smiled, happy with my decision to exit the interstate, but wondering how I would get back on it to get to work. Then all of a sudden there was an on-ramp, a little Gift-from-God on-ramp RIGHT THERE! I hopped back up on the interstate, laughed out loud, actually did a "raise the roof" movement and said, "What, what!"

Then, I noticed that the driver in the car next to me had witnessed my little "raise the roof" "what what" moment. And we both laughed. I am sure I made his day.

All that to say, I just put a "WoodsEdge Community Church" sticker on my car last night. I'm sure glad that the hand gesture I used in traffic was one of celebration!


I'm not funny lately. I have no humorous stories to tell. No one yells at me in the parking lot. No one bumps me with their cart in line. I haven't gotten a weird tan line. Nothing. Of course, I could make endless jokes about my butt, there's always fodder for humor there, but even self-deprecating humor is not funny right now.

Blah. That's what comes out of my brain. Blah, blah, blah.

Last night Zack and I were sitting at Sonic, talking about the swine flu (you would think I could be funny about the swine flu) and he was relaying this story to me about how he had cracked a joke while leading worship that morning. He has a bit of a cold, so he was saying, "Sorry my voice is a little crackly this morning. I think I might have the hamthrax." But apparently, because his nose was stuffy, it just sounded like he said he had anthrax, and no one laughed.

So, I tried to encourage him by writing a rap song called, "I got the hamthrax." But after several attempts, I could not come up with any other lines besides, "I got the hamthrax." Apparently song writing is not my gift.

All that to say, I am hoping to find something humorous today about which I can entertain the masses. I am sure you are all tired of my tireless moaning about life and love. I know I'm tired of it!

Leaving the Lifeboat

Last night was the first "official" meeting of our new small group. It has taken us a while to take the plunge here at our new church. I can't even really say why. I could give you a bunch of really great excuses, like how I was waiting for Mike to move here, but he's been here a year now. Or how we wanted to wait until we had a home here, but we could have just as easily met in someone else's home (which is what we are doing).

I mostly think we have been reluctant because joining a small group is equivalent to joining arms with a bunch of strangers and jumping out of your lifeboat together. Because, if you do it right, a small group, the community that you build there, those people become your lifeboat. And that is a risky venture, to say the least.

Over the years we have had the privilege (notice how I spelled that right, Becky?) of being in two wonderful small groups (home groups, growth groups, whatever you call them at your place of worship). But we have also been a part of one seriously dysfunctional one, and one so-so one.
So there is no guarantee in small group land.

And the especially scary part for us is that our last small group was amazing and life changing. They are people that we will spend the rest of our lives loving. People that spoke hard truths into our life. People that loved us unconditionally. People who challenged us about how we treated our spouses or our children or one another. People who deeply desired for us to know Christ in a deeper way. And the thought that we might never find a group like that again . . . well, it scares me a little.

But, we can't exist outside of community just because we fear we will never find community again. That's illogical.

All that to say, we've locked arms and jumped out of the lifeboat. And in the distance we see a few swimmers who are afraid of joining us because they almost drowned trusting their last group. But community is a risky venture. I hope they swim over and give it another shot.

A Lot about Love

I've been thinking lately a lot about love. My thinking has been prompted by some pretty specific events, which are way too private for even me to write about, but nonetheless, it has made me think about what I think about love. Metacognating . . . don't you love it? (that's for you Doug Jackson)

I have seen some very incredible pictures of love in my life. The most recent was when I was in Colorado with my friends, the Tarbuttons, and every morning when she would come downstairs, and he would see her, he looked at her with the most incredible look, and she would look back at him the same way, and they would walk so quickly toward one another and then hug for the longest time, like they couldn't bear to break away. And he is 70 and she is close to that, and they have been married a long, long time.

Another love I have had the pleasure to witness was the love of my husband's parents, and his grandparents. When they lost their lifemates, I was almost certain they would die of a broken heart.

So often though, I hear people say they love each other, but I wonder . . . And I wonder that about myself sometimes. I might say, "I love you" but would people see me interact with those I love and believe it was true, even if they never heard me utter the words?

A very sweet and dear friend said to me once, this is how you know you love, if the pain of loss is so great that it feels like it might crush you or suffocate you. And yet, the pain of that loss is completely outweighed by the hope that love carries. I don't think I really understood that until recently.

God said this about love, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast. It is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

So I read that passage in I Corinthians, and I think, well if all of that is true, then I have never loved, nor have I ever been loved. Because the love I know doesn't act like this all the time. And the love I give doesn't act like this. So does that mean I don't love at all, or that I am not loved?

But the Bible also says that "GOD is love." And I am not God, so my love isn't going to look like this all the time. But it's a picture of love He gave to us to know how we should love. And He also gave us Jesus so that we would understand forgiveness and grace when the love we give and receive isn't perfect.

All that to say, life isn't perfect. Love isn't perfect. We are not perfect. Sometimes we just don't get it right. And sometimes we get hurt. And our choice is to stop loving, to say we were never loved, or to believe in the hope of love.


Do you ever just get bored with life? It isn't that I don't have things to do. I do. I have a crap ton of things to do. And it isn't that I don't like my life or my job or my family or my friends. I like all of the above.

But I feel, . . . oh, what is the word . . . . Restless. I feel restless. Like I am waiting for something to happen, but I don't know what it is, and I'm kind of tired of waiting on it. Does that make sense at all?

So I find myself sitting aimlessly playing solitaire, or facebook stalking, or blogging about inane things. Or I find myself driving and so lost in my own thoughts that I pass my turnoff on the interstate. Or I switch the radio station over and over and over and over. Or I go into the kitchen and open the pantry, and stare at the shelves, and then sigh and close the door, because nothing in there intrigues or interests me.

Where is my zeal? Where is my zest? Where is my sense of humor? Aargh!!!

I need a project or a purpose or a shopping spree.

All that to say, "I Am BORED!"