I was walking into the locker room at the gym the other day when a woman passed me, smiled, and said out of the blue,
“You’re pretty.”
I did sort of a double take, thinking she was talking to someone behind me, but there was nobody there.
By the time I realized she was talking to me, she’d turned the corner and disappeared.
There I was, in all my post-workout glory–sweaty, messy pony tail,
very less than pretty–
and yet,
that’s exactly what she said I was.
Those words from a total stranger made me smile (especially because I felt so un-pretty at the moment she said them).
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I am pretty much one of those people whose energy levels stay depleted. I run on fumes about 85% of the times, and the other 15% I spend doing my best trying to just stay afloat when I am awake. I haven’t always been this way, and I thought for some time that I might just be sick or something. It wasn’t until I readIf You Have a Craving, I Have a Cureby Sheri Rose Shepherd that I realized my energy levels were like they were because I was not taking care of myself in a Godly way.
Sheri shares throughout this book, some very thought provoking things, but this chapter on energy is the one that really struck a chord with me and made me stop and think about what I am doing to my body.
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“Relax, everything’s going to be all right; rest, everything’s coming together; open your hearts, love is on the way.” (Jude vs2 -The Message)
I love that! I stumbled upon that in the beginning of the new year and it is still calling to me today! In the introduction to the book of Jude in The Message Bible, Eugene Peterson writes that when we are sick physically, the pain draws our attention and we do what it takes to get well – but spiritually, we can be sick and unaware for a long time.
In our family, we are normally blessed with good health and a strong immune system, but over the holidays our little household was hit fast and hard with the flu bug.
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“A wise woman builds her home, but a foolish woman tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1
Heat flooded my face. To say I felt angry would have been an understatement. The hard closing of the bedroom door, a firm period on the end of a statement, declared my stance -“I am right and you are wrong.”
An overwhelming need to get away pulsed through me. I wanted to grab my keys, hop in our van, and drive away. No real destination. Just somewhere that was not my house – a house suddenly filled with tension and hasty words.
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Gratitude is the word I’ve chosen for 2013.
My goal is to carefully add one area of life each week until I have added intentional gratitude to every part of my life.
Great idea, right?
Until January started with an attack on my mood and my attitude. I plodded through days marked with sad anniversaries. I was anxious about aches and pains, and well it’s January in the Midwest. Gray and cold. Yuck.
My state of mind definitely did not match my good intentions.
But intentional gratitude is not about my mood or emotions. My circumstances or memories.
Intentional gratitude is:
- Thanking God in all things – not just the good and happy, but also the hard and sad.
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Written on
January 20, 2013 by
Kris in
Blog
“Come messy”, That’s what I read right before I closed the book for the night. I took a photo of the words and tweeted them out to anyone who might need encouragement like that–because honestly, more than I care to admit, I do. I seem to need constant reassurance that my cluttered heart, and my messy emotions are ok to bring before God.
I remind my children all of the time, that God sees everything–that there’s no place they can hide from Him and how that fact shouldn’t be scary, but instead ought to be a comfort. But when it comes to my own messy parts, well, suddenly, I’m not so sure anymore.
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I didn’t really want a dog.
I’m not a pet person. But something about the floppy ears and the big brown eyes even melted this always-sanitize-after-petting girl. Don’t buy me an “I love my Lab” t-shirt yet, but I will admit I strongly like my dog – most of the time.
My husband recently installed an underground electric fence. Our poor pooch, Comet, gets a little jolt any time she comes near the gates of our wooden fence. That Houdini of a dog has escaped the backyard more times than I can count and once was caught by animal control. So we had to do something to keep her safe.
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My three year old struggled tonight.
Tired, but full of excuses why he couldn’t get into bed yet. He kicked and screamed, back arched, yelling “don’t talk to me!” He didn’t want me to hold him. Didn’t want me to sing. Didn’t want me to do anything.
I sat on the bathroom floor next to him while he flailed, wailing. And I waited.
He eventually calmed down and climbed into my lap, resting his head on my shoulder. I said, “do you want me to sing to you?”
His whispered “yes” put a lump in my throat. I sang “Jesus Loves the Little Children”, “God is so Good”, “My God Loves Me” and “Amazing Grace”.
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