When things aren't "just right. . ."

Wow, it’s been over ten months since our awesome son came into our lives, and it has been the most enriching, rewarding, and joyful experience.

But, on top of all of the usual blessings of parenthood, I think the biggest blessing has been the way that God has worked in my heart during these last ten months. . .

"it was then that I carried you"

You see, I am a perfectionist at heart.  You may not know it to look at me, because my house if often messy, and my clothing and makeup not always done, but deep down I have an awful desire for everything to be just right.  I can’t stand conflict.  If I find something wrong on my phone bill on a Saturday night and I can’t fix it until Monday morning, watch out, because I can’t stand to have something out of place for two whole days.  Before I can begin writing I feel I need to have a space to write that is just right.  Of course, I don’t have time to remodel and design a space like this, so I put off writing.  Before I can buy new clothes my body has to be just right.  Before I can have people over I want my house to be just right.  It never is.  I have people over and buy new clothes (rarely, but it does happen) anyway, but sometimes this gnawing thing inside me says the experience would be so much better if I could just have everything the way I want it: Perfect. . .or at least, what I think is perfect.

Where am I heading?  Well, as all new parents know, when you have a baby sleep pretty much goes out the window.  You expect this, at least for a few months, but as most experts say, by 6 months most babies are only getting up once a night.  Not mine.  No sir.  Our little lovebug slept pretty well from about 1-3 months, then, around Thanksgiving, he decided that he wanted to wake up at 9, then at 12, then at 2, then at 5.  I’m not kidding.  I was just starting to get over the initial newborn sleep deprivation, and then it happened all over again.  I needed sleep.  I started to worry about what the lack of it would do to my brain.  Would I go crazy?  Don’t they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture?

Needless to say, when you’re physically and mentally exhausted all day, things do not feel just right.  But this was my lesson, and I needed to learn it.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God wanted to teach me to rely on Him for strength, and above all, to be able to find joy when things were not just right.  How do you find joy, how do you become content despite your physical and emotional state?  A hard lesson for someone like me, but He knew the way to teach me.

Even on the few nights when our son would sleep well, something would wake me up.  The dog would want to go out.  It would thunder and I would wake.  On top of that, it took me at least an hour to fall asleep at bedtime and after I’d wake to feed Sam or let the dog out or whatever.  For nearly six months I lived on 1-2 (3 if I was lucky) hour chunks of sleep at a time.  There were days when I was angry. . . “Okay God, I get it.  I need you.  I need you for energy. . .now help me sleep!”  It became the proverbial thorn in my side.  As Beth Moore says, sometimes God wants to show us his sovereignty, and we pray, and God yanks out whatever thorn is in our side to show us His power; but, sometimes His goal is different.  Sometimes He just wants to teach us that His grace is enough.  “My grace is sufficient for you.”  He whispers it to me every day.  “You can do all things through me.  I will strengthen you.”

 After a while, I let go.  Granted, there were still moments of anger.  Moments when, like a stubborn child, I would cross my arms and furrow my brow and whine for my way.  There were moments that I would cry because all I wanted was to sleep.  But I learned.  I learned that He would help.  I began to trust that He wouldn’t let my mind unravel.  He would sustain me.  He would give me energy, He would give me JOY.  He would help me to be a good mother and give me what I needed to make it through each day. . .not as a zombie but as a person who was finding out that life could be beautiful even when everything is not just the way I want it to be.

Paul wrote in Philippians that he’d learned the secret to being content in every situation.  He suffered beatings, imprisonment, shipwrecks, sleepless nights.  He was near death countless times.  His circumstances were FAR from being just right.  But he’d learned. . .God had taught Him through these hardships, through thorns, through lessons that would be impossible to forget, that the goal of this life isn’t to live as comfortably as we can.  The goal isn’t to amass wealth and sleep well and have the “perfect” house, car, body.  The goal is to know Him who sacrificed everything out of love.  The goal is to be like Him, to realize how He loves us and to let Him teach us.  Even when it hurts.  Even when things aren’t just right.  He is there, working it all out for our good when we truly love Him.  When we let go.

And wouldn’t you know, He finally took the thorn out. . .for now.  My son and I are finally sleeping, and it’s not because of anything I did.  Believe me, I tried every method of getting my baby to sleep, and I tried tons of ways to get myself to be able to fall asleep.  Nothing worked but God. . .He knew just when I’d learned, truly, that His grace was enough.  He knew when it was written on my heart so that I wouldn’t forget it. . .so that when the next trial comes, I can look back and see His work and know that He will sustain me through it all!

Becoming the Von Trapps

Wow!  Our son is 5 months old today.  What?!  People always say how quickly children grow up.  I realize that 5 months is still pretty young, but not when it feels like just yesterday that I first laid eyes on him.  That said, I've forgotten the first weeks of no sleep and constant crying.  I'm living in the bliss of spending my days with the most awesome human being God has ever made.  He's all smiles, laughs, and he is picking up new skills almost constantly.  One of the best things:  he LOVES to hear me sing.  If he's crying, I can sing "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" like I'm in the broadway rendition of Cinderella, complete with a gigantic smile and broad hand gestures, and my baby thinks it's the best thing in the world!  Why does this mean so much?  Well, when I do this in the car, my husband tells me I'm trying to sing badly.  Um, no!  That's my best voice!  The one I reserve for when I imagine myself auditioning for a musical.  So, since I seem to have Sam's approval, I'm now looking to have six more babies and start my own Sound of Music.  My hubby fits the role of the reluctant captain to a T.  He does not like to sing.  I tell him he's missing out on most of life's joy by not dancing around and singing his heart out.  I know I just have to draw it out of him.  In all seriousness though, I love being a mom.  I love it so much that right now I really can envision a house full of kids.  

Talk to me at 3 am when I'm feeding my babe or when the house is a mess and I can't catch up on laundry and maybe I'll be singing a different tune, but for right now, in this moment, I'm basking in the wonderful privilege that it is to be a mom.  

(notso) Great Expectations...part 2: the aftermath

You might think it's harsh to refer to the first few days/weeks after having a baby as an "aftermath."  After-all, babies are sweet, perfect, beautiful blessings, but to be real, "aftermath" is the best word I can think of.  One of my favorite authors, Jennifer Weiner, has a book called "Little Earthquakes".  It's about four women and their different experiences having kids.  I have to say that when I read the book several years ago, I thought I understood the title.  Yeah, I get it, babies are life-changing. . .like an earthquake.  Now though, after going through it myself, I really get it.  They are life-changing. . .like an earthquake.  They shake you up; they upheave your entire world.  They turn it all upside down but in a good way. . .only, it's kind of tough to see this all as blissful wonderfulness when you have just pushed a human being out of your body.  You're still in physical pain, your hormones are immediately going haywire, and you haven't slept and probably will not sleep for several more days.

That's why I wanted to continue to talk about expectations, only this time in reference to what I thought having a newborn would be like vs. what it actually was like.  I'm going to be completely honest and blunt here, so I want to say right off the bat that I'm not complaining.  I simply want to share my experience in hopes that other moms who have gone or will go through the same thing may find some comfort, maybe a little humor, and some hope that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  So here it is, Sam's homecoming (along with some tips for bringing home baby):

People kept telling me that once I had a baby I would rarely get to sleep.  I don't know why, but I must've been filing this in the back of my brain in the same space where I had the information:  "labor hurts."  The file is labeled "things that are true but too difficult for me to believe so I'm going to pretend it won't apply to me."  I put A LOT of things in that file.  I like to tell myself that I am some kind of exception. . .um, I'm slowly learning that isn't the case.  For some reason, I envisioned bringing home my newborn baby and even though I knew I would have to wake up every few hours or so to feed him, it would be just like when I had to get up to pee when I was pregnant.  Wake up, get out of bed, get the job done, go back to sleep.  I figured I'd get about eight hours of sleep per night.  Sure it would be broken sleep, but that would be okay.  I pictured my baby sleeping blissfully in my arms or in the swing during the day.  While in his swing, I would have coffee with friends, keep my house spotless, sew all sorts of cool projects I'd found on Pinterest, and probably cook dinner and bake some pastries.  When Paul would get home from work we'd go for a walk while our baby slept in the stroller.  We'd stare lovingly at our little one and life would be just like it was before, only with an extra, wonderful family member.

The reality:  life is nothing like it was before.  It's better, but entirely different.  I'm going to talk about "mourning" my old life later in this post, but let me start out by saying:  neither of us slept in the hospital.  Our amazing little piglet wanted to eat every hour.  I kept falling asleep in the bed with him attached to me.  I'd startle awake and feel like the worst mom ever for falling asleep with him in my arms, but the nurses had inferred that I shouldn't send him to the nursery to get some rest.  "We recommend he stay in the room with you," they'd said.  This is my first tip:

1.  Don't feel guilty about letting them take baby to the nursery for a few hours.  If you need it, take advantage of that service.  He or she will not starve.  It doesn't make you a bad mom.  Back in the day ALL babies went to the nursery and for good reason:  so mom could recover from the very physical ordeal that is labor and reserve some energy for when she's at home and there aren't Dr.s and nurses to help out!  I know that all (or most) of the books say that it's so important to "room-in" with baby.  Yes, it's important to spend time with him/her, and you WANT to; however, I believe that severe sleep deprivation can affect the "bonding" process just as much if not more than sending baby to the nursery for a couple of hours here and there.  Sadly, I was still striving for perfection, so I refused to ask them to take him there (though if they'd offered I probably would have said "yes")!

When we got home (after the most nerve-wracking two mile drive ever), I remembered that I had dogs and was suddenly worried about dog hair getting on my little baby.  I was overwhelmed that my house was not perfectly clean, and I was suddenly aware that I knew nothing about being a parent!  I hadn't read any of the parenting books I'd bought.  I had to have Paul show me how to give Sam a bath, which, let me tell you, was quite unpleasant.  That first bath.  You'd have thought we were performing some sort of midieval torture routine the way that he screamed.  Oh yes, the screaming.  In my fantasies, my baby didn't cry, and I was quite unprepared for the volume and frequency of Sam's cries.  Now I don't say this to scare anyone.  In fact, I know that some people have "easy" babies.  I didn't.  Though I don't think I'd classify it as colic, Sam cried A LOT.  Those blissful walks in the stroller?  I think it took eight weeks to even get him into the infant seat without blood-curdling howls.  All of my plans for socializing, cleaning, cooking. . .essentially being the perfect wife, mother, friend, the perfect woman, went out the window (not that I could ever be perfect anyway but that struggle is another blog for another day).  It hurt to sit down, it hurt to stand up, and oh, babies like to eat every two hours!  I didn't sleep.  Both my husband and I experienced moments where we were at our wits' end.  We loved our little one in this totally indescribable way, but at the same time we wondered how in the world we were going to DO this thing!  When it's 1 am and you haven't slept for more than 45 minutes at a time for 6 days, you begin to wonder what you were thinking becoming a parent. . . sleep deprivation is a very powerful enemy (in fact, I haven't looked this up but I'd be willing to bet that you can actually go crazy from it), which leads me to my second tip (one I know you've heard):

2.  Sleep when baby sleeps.  Really.  Even if you got a bunch of sleep in the hospital, or if you've adopted a newborn, your world has been rocked and only a very small percentage of babies sleep through the night early on.  Though we did not have an "easy" baby, there were times that he would sleep during the day in the beginning.  My mother, my mother-in-law, my husband.  They all told me to take a nap, but I just couldn't.  There were people at my house.  There were things to do.  I had to read the baby books.  I needed to call back friends who wanted to visit.  I had to shower.  I really really wish I'd listened to their advice.  I think that if I'd gotten even a little bit of sleep in the first week being home, I might have felt a lot better about my new life.  I know it is hard but my advice is to do what you need to do to sleep.  If you can't sleep with people over, kindly ask them if they wouldn't mind coming at another time.  Friends will understand if you take a few days to call back.  Housework can wait (which will lead me to another point later).  The most important thing in your life after having a baby is loving and caring for him/her.  The second most important thing is sleep.  Even 10 minutes here and there is better than none.

As it was, I tried to make some of my "perfect wife/mother/woman" fantasy happen, and about five days after bringing Sam home, there I was with a vacuum in my hand, hobbling around, straining to bend down to get under the furniture.  I have this weird thing where I think I can't do anything else until the house is clean.  Foolishness.  I shouldn't have been cleaning.  Despite the fact that I should have been sleeping, I probably could have hurt myself as I was still healing from labor.  Tip number three:

3.  Housework can wait (or be delegated).  If you're blessed like me, you probably have family and friends that would be more than willing to help you out with the dishes, the vacuuming, the laundry.  LET THEM!  Your job is to rest and enjoy your new baby.  Take whatever awake time you have to bond with him/her and to enjoy the fleeting few weeks when your little one is so little.  There is a poem by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton called "Song for a Fifth Child," and the last few lines go...

How true :-/.  My little lovemuffin is already three months old and it feels like just yesterday that we brought him home.  If you don't have anyone to help out, just take it slow and remember that "babies don't keep."  Sure, you'll need to clean eventually, but it can wait a couple of weeks while you snuggle with your baby!

I can't read that poem without it bringing me to the brink of tears.  And speaking of tears. . .

4.  Expect some "baby blues."  I really didn't.  I didn't expect that I would be "sad" after having a baby, but there were times when I was.  After-all, having a child is supposed to be the most joyous event in a person's life...and it was!  That said, you still have to remember that your body has just been through the gauntlet of labor.  If you've adopted, you are still adjusting to a completely new life.  Gone are the eight hours of sleep you used to get each night.  Gone are the days of just jaunting out the door without a care in the world.  Getting out of the house now takes at least 20 minutes of preparation.  With an achy body and hormones that make a roller coaster look tame, with all of the expectations and joy mixed with severe sleep deprivation, feeling a little down is perfectly normal.  In fact, some experts say that around 70% of women experience the "baby blues."  This passes.  It really does.  In fact, you'll be surprised how much better you feel once baby sleeps for a four or five hour stretch (and you do too); however, in the midst of it all it can be easy to forget that you will sleep again, so take my last tip to heart and. . .

5.  Give yourself a break!  Don't feel bad for feeling bad.  Don't feel bad for missing your old life.  It's okay.  While you've just added a precious member to your family, in a way you're also experiencing a loss.  Life will never be the way it was.  Your old life is gone.  It's okay to mourn it, but just remember the joy that your "new" life will be filled with!  

The moment I saw Sam, I was filled with a love that I stated before as 'indescribable.'  He was perfect.  He was more than I could have wished for.  But I have to say that every day the love I have for him grows.  It becomes deeper and deeper, more profound.  I never thought I could love someone so much on the day he was born.  Now, three months later, I've realized that it keeps growing.  My heart keeps filling.  Bringing home a new baby was overwhelming, but time went on.  We got the hang of things.  My cup truly does overflow. . .so much that I would definitely do it all over again even if I forget to follow my own "tips!"

(notso) Great Expectations...part 1: Labor

Life is full of expectations, large and small.  We expect certain things from ourselves, from others.  I think that a lot of our heartache and conflict can be a result of these expectations.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying that we should lower our expectations.  Not at all.  I'm simply pointing out a fact.  Even when our expectations are just what they should be, when they're not met, it is disappointing.  It hurts.

And then there are times when our expectations are WAY off.  And that is where I begin the story of my beautiful son's entrance into the world.

There was a time when I was afraid of labor. . .the first, oh, maybe four months of my pregnancy to be exact.  I'd watched a video on natural childbirth.  You could just see the pain on the woman's face.  It scared me.  I'd also watched a video of a woman giving birth with medication, an epidural, and though her labor seemed much less painful, I wasn't going to do that.  Oh no.  I was going the all natural route. I would just grit my teeth and bear it (though I was thinking this through tears of fear)!

Well, I switched from an OB to a midwife (since I figured midwives were more supportive of my drug-free labor decision), and the midwife suggested a water birth.  I liked water.  I was a swimmer in high school, and water has always had a calming effect on me.  That said, I agreed to the extra lab tests necessary to be able to do the water birth and went home and watched this video.  Watch it, or you won't know why I was suddenly unafraid of childbirth!  Seriously, my fears were "washed" away (sorry I couldn't resist the play on words), as I watched this woman, so calm and relaxed, deliver her child naturally in a tub.  From that day on, I imagined my labor and delivery was going to be the same.  I figured that all of the stories about excruciating pain were just exaggerations.  I had a high pain tolerance, and I envisioned myself as some kind of amazon woman who could handle anything.  When people would exclaim things like "Wow, it looks like you might have an 8 pound baby," I was not worried.  My body was meant to do this.  My baby was just going to slip out (okay, maybe with a little pushing, but nothing too exhausting).  I remained in this blissful state until July 7th, 2012, and so begins my labor story.  I'll keep it as short and as sweet as possible:

I went to see a midwife on my due date, July 6th.  I was soooo ready to meet my son!  I did not want to go past my due date.  I'd been seriously nesting (including laying laminate floor by myself in our upstairs bedroom the week before), and I had to be ready to go any day!  I was seriously disappointed when she told me I was only about a centimeter dilated; however, she offered to "strip my membranes" (sounds harsh...it was), and since I was so anxious to meet baby, I said "OK!"  She said it might not work but that it was possible I could go into labor that evening.  Well, I started having contractions about an hour later at 4 pm.  They hurt, but they weren't so bad that I became nervous or anything. They just felt like period cramps, times 10!  They were only coming about 7-8 minutes apart, and I was in denial that I was actually in labor.  We decided to go out to dinner with friends, during which I kept having to close my eyes and breath through these "mild" contractions.  I felt bad that I couldn't pay attention to the conversation, but I remember telling everyone that "if this really is labor then I don't think it will be so bad!"

Fast forward about six hours.  I'm in bed, trying to sleep, but these contractions keep coming every seven minutes on the dot!  They were starting to get more painful.  I couldn't sleep.  AT ALL.  I was awake all night timing these things, still telling myself that this wasn't labor.  When my hubby woke up the next morning, we decided to kill time and go get some coffee at Barnes and Noble.  I don't know why, but I was still in denial.  I still didn't think that I was in labor, even though now they were coming every five minutes.  I had no idea that this would be my last child-free latte.  If I'd known I might have savored it a bit longer ;-)  When we got home they were hurting pretty bad.  We called our friends to borrow an exercise ball, hoping it would help with the pain.  It didn't really.

Finally, we decided to call the hospital, though I was sure they would tell me to wait.  Surprisingly, they said to come in.  "Really?"  I thought.  I almost didn't pack a bag.  I figured they'd send us home once we got there.  We walked in and they asked if I still wanted to do the water birth.  I enthusiastically said that I did so they ushered us into the room with the big tub.  Sadly though, I was still only 1-2 centimeters dilated.  Now I was really convinced I'd be sent home, but since my contractions were so close together, they decided I should stay for a couple of hours to see if any progress would be made.  Those two hours were an eye opener.

For some reason, during those two hours, my "period cramp" contractions turned into something else altogether. . .something more along the lines of knives shredding the inside of my body to pieces.  Loud, moaning sounds were emanating from me even though I swore to myself I wouldn't cry, scream, or moan.  I think I eventually probably screamed, I'm not sure.  After two hours the midwife checked again...only two centimeters!  What!?  At this point a nurse suggested I get in the tub to see if it would help to relax me.  She was so nice, not like the other nurse who told me to "stop fighting it" and "all women have to do this."  That nurse left me with an enormous bruise on my arm that lasted three weeks (from the IV), and thankfully she was only there for a few minutes.  They must have sensed that I wasn't in the mood to be told to "stop fighting it."  Anyway, poor Bri, the nice nurse.  By the time I got in the tub I was asking for pain meds.  Now, you can't do a water birth if you have an epidural, so after about an hour they came back with some IV meds.  Sure they relaxed me...in between contractions.  They really did nothing during them.  Not too long after that I was in so much pain that, in my delirium, I was asking to be "put to sleep."  My dear husband, who knows me so well, understood that I meant "put me to sleep" in the what-they-do-to-sick-pets way and not the what-they-do-in-surgery way.  Sure I laugh at it now. . .

I needed the epidural.  I wasn't going to make it and after being at the hospital for seven hours and in labor for 29 hours, they finally stuck the needle in my back and boy did it feel good!  Despite the fact that part of me felt like I was failing for not doing it the "natural" way and whatever, I was so relieved to get some relief.  To make a long story short, things progressed pretty quickly after that and I needed another "boost" of medicine because after two more hours I was at 8 centimeters and the drugs were wearing off!  By the time they came back to give me another jolt, I was at 10 and ready to start pushing.  They said I might not be able to feel the contractions if they gave me more juice, but I said "give it to me!"  They did.  I could still feel the contractions and 45 minutes later, at 1 a.m on July 8th, 2012 after somewhere around 33 hours total, Samuel was born (on dry land)!

Things didn't go the way I had planned.  Labor was definitely not what I'd expected.  I hadn't met my own expectations.  But the love and joy and amazement that I felt when I saw my son for the first time exceeded anything I could have ever imagined or expected!  That moment is indescribable, so I'm not going to even attempt to convey its awesomeness!  I knew then that it didn't matter how Sam got here.  It didn't matter if it was all natural, if I'd had all the drugs they could offer, or if I'd had to have a C-section.  All that mattered was that he was here.  He was perfect, and, like everyone tells you, you forget all about the pain the moment your baby is finally in your arms.

stay tuned for part 2:  I'm thinking of calling it "new mom or walking zombie."

Spring has sprung!

Well, not really if you live in the midwest!  It snowed all day yesterday.  Last week, we'd gotten a little preview of spring with warmer temperatures and the winter's snow melting.  But, here in the heartland, spring usually doesn't come for good until April...no matter what the calendar says.  The snow from yesterday still hasn't melted, but today is nevertheless a beautiful day.  The sky is crystal clear, and if you ignore the white stuff on the ground, you'd think it was 60 degrees outside.  The sunshine is making me eager to garden.  Usually we plant various vegetables outside in our yard...lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, and green beans.  If it doesn't warm up soon, though, I'm going to have to start an indoor garden!  

 I do plan on growing some herbs indoors, but I don't always like the looks of typical terra-cotta pots.  So, I decided to spruce one up!  

I started out with a pot, some ribbon, a hot glue gun, and a scissors.

Next, I glued my larger ribbon around the rim of the pot.  Why the rim?  Well, it is the flattest part of the pot, and without some intricate adjustments to the ribbon, this was the easiest spot to place my ribbon.  Then I added my second, smaller ribbon on top of the first ribbon.

I decided to cover up my back seams by adding a bow.  To make the bow, I started by creating the tails on one piece of ribbon, and then folding a smaller piece and gluing it together for the "bunny ears."

Then, I added a tiny pice to cover up where the bunny ears were glued in half.

I then glued the "ear" piece on top of the tails.

I finished up by gluing the completed bow on top of the seam to hide it.  Now I've got a pretty pot to plant some herbs in!

You could also do this with an old coffee-can to rePurpose something you'd normally recycle or throw away!

mmm...peamutt butter!

Well, in my neck of the woods, today was a dreary day.  It rained pretty much all day, and the sky was so gray and cloudy it felt like living in a pot...(my description is not nearly as poetic as Mr. Steinbeck's).

Anyway, I wanted to blog about rePurposing plant potters, or at least sprucing them up...but it just wasn't the day for that.  Instead, I decided I'd write a bit about peamutt butter!


That's right PeaMUTT butter bones are dog treats that I make from The Doggy Bone Cookbook!

I really love my dogs...maybe too much, and I like the idea of knowing what's in their treats.  Plus, it's a huge money saver, and that's always good!


Now, I struggled with this post because I can't really put the recipe right here online, but I can tell you that you can make your own dog treats from simple ingredients that are probably already in your cupboard.  To make these particular treats, all you need is:

 Peanut butter
 Oatmeal
 Whole Wheat Flour
 Vegetable Oil
 and...Water


I won't give you the measurements, since I didn't come up with the recipe, but I would definitely recommend that anyone who has a dog check out this book!  There are over a dozen other recipes and my pups have loved every batch I've made.  Plus, the book comes with the dog bone cutout, so no extra purchases there :-)


Enjoy, and hopefully soon the weather here improves and I can share some fun outdoor projects!

What is the point?

In my first post, I wrote about how I wanted this blog to not only show people how they can simplify their lives and re-purpose common household items, but that it was also a journey to meaning and fulfillment...and who doesn't want that?


Well, I've decided that on Sundays I'm going to post something along the lines of the latter.

One of the greatest, wealthiest kings to ever live was king Solomon. Even if you're not a bible reader, history tells us that he amassed wealth far above anything that most of us could ever imagine. Look at Versailles...the gilded mirrors, chandeliers of pure gold, expensive paintings...and multiply that wealth by 20 (probably more)! So, given what we're raised to believe in America, shouldn't Solomon have been one of the happiest people on earth? Even if he realized that "things" don't bring happiness, wouldn't just the security of NEVER having to worry about money bring peace? It didn't.

In Ecclisiastes Solomon wrote, "Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless!" The wealthy king was having a moment. If you've never had this moment, just wait...you will. It's the moment where you realize that even though you may have everything you want, eventually, you'll die...and what will have been the point of it all?


I've had these moments. Usually, they come when I'm extremely happy about something. I'm not saying that God is a kill-joy. Actually, I'd say the opposite. He wants us to live a life of abundant joy. But, I think He uses these moments to keep me in check. To remind me of where I'm finding my happiness. I'll give you an example. I bought this book a couple of days ago at Borders. They're going out of business...it was $14.00. I was super excited because this book contained all of these great IDEAS about redecorating and throwing brunches and whatnot (I told you all how I love ideas)! Anyway, we were driving back to our hotel from the book store and the thought just struck me..."what's the point? Who cares if I redecorate my house? Who cares if I live in the most beautiful house ever? Who cares if I throw a great dinner party? None of it really matters in the grand scheme of things..."


That might sound depressing...but really, it's not. It's not depressing because, as king Solomon eventually concluded, everything isn't completely meaningless. There are things that DO matter.


As a Christian, my life has been rePurposed. The whole point of my life isn't to accumulate things, or to get married, or to have kids. Don't get me wrong. Family is very important to me. I happen to be married, and I would like to have kids someday. But, ultimately, the purpose of my life is to know God and to make Him known. It would take a lot of typing and several posts to get into what I think that looks like, and I'm not a theologian. If you want to email me, I'd be glad to go further into my story, and tell you how real God has been to me, and how he literally has saved me...but for now, I want to stick to my main point. How I do have a purpose, how life is not meaningless.


The things that will remain long after we're gone have to do with other people and with God. Not with things we buy, or the house we live in, or what we do for a career. I'm still excited about my book! Only, as I said before, I think that these thoughts keep me in check. They remind me to find my true happiness in my relationship with Christ, and in knowing that yes, someday I will die, but that won't be the end. There are things I will have done in this life, good and bad, that will echo in eternity...only I have this great hope that "as far as the east is from the west, so far He has removed my transgressions." I can live with the purpose of getting to know God more every day, and also enjoying the relationships he's given me here on earth...and little things like books about redecorating ;-)


So, like I said...Sundays you may find posts along this line, a rePurposed life...but I'm still going to be posting throughout the week about rePurposing "items." Since I'm a fitness instructor, I have a passion for helping others live well, so I may throw in a few posts about health as well. Hope you'll stop back soon :-)