Confession

Hi all!  The title of today's blog post actually sounds much more sordid than it is.  However, while this isn't a dirty confession, it is a very serious one.

I have a secret...it's one very few people know, probably due to the issues I discussed in this blog.

Ready?

I've been "called," for lack of a better term.

This is really difficult for me.  Not because I feel God wants something specific from me.  God wants something specific for us all; we all have a calling.  I just feel like I'm being called toward some sort of public ministry.

No, this is difficult because of my totally unholy fear of what others think of me.  It's like I can hear a choir of voices yelling "Why would YOU be called?  What makes you think you're special?"

The short answers to those questions: No clue, and I don't.

I AM going to tell you my "getting called" story today though because I feel like it's going to become a huge part of my testimony in the future.

Wanna hear it?  Here it go. (I'll give a $5 Starbucks gift card to the first person who can tell me that reference LOL).

As you all know, I went to the Women of Faith conference in Washington, D.C. with my church last year.  Josiah and I had only been married a few months, but I was already a couple months pregnant, and leading up to the conference I'd experienced some pretty severe morning sickness.  For the conference, however, God gave me a reprieve.  I wasn't sick at all the whole weekend, although I was sick the day before I left and immediately upon returning.  He gave me that time to focus on Him...and I would need it.

On the second day of the conference...in the midst of Sandi Patty, I believe...I had the most overwhelming feeling I've ever experienced.  I felt God telling me something BIG would be expected of me at some point, like the women speaking at the conference...and I needed to get ready.

The feeling had...weight.  I don't know how else to describe it.  It was crushing.  It pushed on me from all sides.  I couldn't sing anymore.  I couldn't breathe.  I just sat down.

I've never felt more lonely in entire life.

I was with thousands of women, and yet, I was alone...with God.

You'd think it would be something phenomenal and I'd want to rejoice and SHOUT IT from the rooftops, but in grand biblical form, I shirked it.  I tried to get away from it.  I looked out at the crowd and wondered if anyone else was feeling that same feeling.  I wondered if I was just letting the experience and the music get to me.

I ran from it.

I thought if I could just get out of that environment for a moment, then it would go away and I could laugh at myself for being so hormonal and silly...so I went to the restroom.  If any of you have been to an amphitheater restroom, you know that's not somewhere you typically feel close to God...unless you're praying not to catch something.  Blech.

But God followed me into the restroom.

I know...I kind of just made God sound like a creeper, but He followed me.  The feeling followed me.

After sitting in the stall for a few moments trying to escape God like a middle school nerd hides from the class bully, I gave up and went to wash my hands, staring wild-eyed into the mirror, my hands gripping the sink.  Why me, and why now?

I still have no idea.

As God would have it (because I believe in Him, not luck), I had just read The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis to Ryan.  In it, Aslan gives Jill some very special instructions and he makes her repeat them over and over to him until she has them down because he knows as soon as she leaves his presence she'll start to forget.

And I couldn't get that out of my head.

I felt God telling me to remember that feeling.  Remember the weight pressing down on me because once I left his presence...once I stepped out into the sunlight and left this giant worship experience, the whole thing would feel like a dream, and unless I committed it to memory, I would forget it.

And He was insistent I not forget.

So, I did just that and, much as I suspected, once I stepped into the light of day, the weight gradually lifted.  I ate Chipotle and was distracted by our cacophonous exit from the labyrinth that is D.C.  How many women with GPS on their phones does it take to exit D.C.?  Three and a phone call, it seems.

We chatted and laughed, and I forced the whole thing to the back of my mind.  I didn't dare tell the women I was with.  I love them all, but I was still kind of new to many of them, and just to let you know...getting a calling from God makes you feel just a little like a loony.  Just sayin'.

After we reached our cars in the church parking lot, said our goodbyes, and I climbed into the solitude of my van for the drive to the house, God pounced me once again (and now I've made God sound like Tigger...but it's the truth).  By the time I pulled up to the house tears streamed down my face, and I ran inside to my husband's arms and sobbed.  Despite it being late, I told him the whole story, and luckily, instead of thinking his wife needed to head to the nuthouse, he affirmed my feeling 100%.  He told me he understood.  He told me he thought I was right.

And I felt a little less crazy.

In the weeks that followed I told a few people...a very mature Christian woman whom I greatly admire, the pastor, and a couple others.  They were very helpful and reassuring, all of them saying they understood and felt I was on the right track.  But that was it.  The major issue for me is that I had no clue what the calling meant.

Guess what?  I still don't!!

I don't know what He wants me to do.  I don't know what the next step is.

I pray about it every day...God's will for our lives...my life.

After all this prayer and consulting with Josiah, I can't help but feel like this blog is part of the plan...not necessarily the plan itself, but a start to it...a step, so to speak.

I feel like writing and speaking will be part of it...but I don't know how, when, or where.

I'm thinking when He's ready for me to know, He'll tell me.

Until then, I'll continue praying and waiting patiently.  If I've learned anything in the last few years it's that His timing is indeed perfect...

and anything He has in store for me is worth the wait.

Linking up with Time Warp Wife for Titus Tuesday!

Super-Christian in Disguise?

I have like 8 million (okay, maybe three) different blog ideas rolling around in my head at the moment, but this one seems to be the most pressing.

I was talking with my friend Julie today about how hard it is for me to get my NYR Organic business off the ground because I'm terrified one of my friends is going to think I'm being pushy or feel uncomfortable or pressured.

Terrified.

I'm positive this is related to the fact that I'm a people-pleaser.  If you've studied the enneagram, I'm a 6 with a strong seven wing...a "social six."  What this means, for those of you who have NO CLUE what I'm talking about, is that I am often motivated by the fear of not being liked.

So, I'm afraid to promote my business because I am scared it will make people not like me.

You know what else I realized in thinking about this?  Sometimes, I'm scared to be "too Christian" around people because I'm scared of what they'll think of me, or that I'll make them uncomfortable.

Ewww...that just wreaks of spineless and two-faced doesn't it?

I am getting much closer to God, and it makes me SO happy, but in everyday conversations with people I often find myself being embarrassed by it.

Think that doesn't make sense?  Try imaging me explaining to a non-Christian that I've quit my job and don't know how we're going to make "ends meet" yet because I feel absolutely sure that's what God wants for my life...that it's His will, and I'm positive He's communicated that to me through many different avenues.

Yeah...to a non-Christian (or heck, just a Christian who isn't strong in their walk) that can sound like a lot of hullaballoo.  That's some Bible-thumping, crazy, "God's going to make money rain from the sky" talk, right there.

So, I try to refrain from saying it.  Or when I DO say it, I kind of rush through it, or WORSE, apologize for it.  Like, "I'm a Christian, so that's what I believe, but I know you might not believe it" with an apologetic tone and this horrifying wince on my face (those of you who know me are familiar with my endless array of facial contortions).

At church or here on my blog, I can totally be SUPER CHRISTIAN GIRL!!  Leaping idols in a single bound!

But in mixed company, the glasses go on, the Scripture gets put up, and I'm people-pleasing Alissa Shea.  No controversy here!

Know what the Bible says about that?

Whoever is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. (Luke 9:26)

Well...that makes me feel like crap, which is probably good if it results in repentance.

Do I honestly care about other people's opinions more than I care about Jesus?  He died on the cross and suffered gruesome torture so that I could be counted among God's children and have a relationship with Him, and I'm going to be ashamed and embarrassed?  That's just not okay.

People pleasing = idol if I put it before my love for God.  End of story.

This is something I feel really convicted about, so I hope you'll all hold me to it.  I need some accountability, people.

What about you?  Do you struggle with sharing your faith with people or talking about it in conversations?

Pray about it.  Maybe it's time to ditch the disguise, rip off the layer of duplicity, and proudly share the cross emblazoned on your heart.

Do you think what I'm talking about is a bunch of bunk?  Or maybe you just don't know what to think?  Give me a chance.

Let's sit down over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.  I'll share my story, and if you want, you can share yours, and I'll show you how fallible, honest, silly, and sincere a super-Christian girl can be. <3 p="">

Preparing for Rain

Josiah is just gonna kill me one of these days...not literally, but ya know...get really mad.

I have a tendency to tell a lot of personal things on this blog.  I don't air dirty laundry, but I do get pretty real with what's going on in our lives sometimes.

Today...not any different.  It's story time, folks.

Once upon a time (last night), Alissa came home and found her husband distraught. 

*Don't worry, here ends the third person narrative*

I asked him what was wrong, and he said he had just been doing some heavy praying.  Ummm...I think that's totally awesome, but isn't really an answer to the question.  After a little more questioning from me I got my answer.  He looked at his direct deposit, and it was WAY lower than it had been previously...about $100 lower.  He looked at last week's deposit as well...and that was way lower, too.  It seems the deduction for my health insurance started and cut his take home pay significantly.  $400 per month is giant for us right now...a deal breaker for our budget.  Neither of us could remember exactly how much was supposed to be deducted per week, but we didn't think it was that much.  We have some in savings, but at this rate, it will be gone by the end of next month.

Both of us tried to make the other feel better.  Josiah said he was sure God is just making it blatantly obvious that we can't make it on our own...we need Him and whatever blessings He is about to provide.  I agreed, but told him not to worry.  No matter what we'll be fine.  I stopped working, but if I need to, I can always find another job.  Maybe I can work part time waitressing at night or something, right?  Or maybe I can even get another full-time desk job, and we'll just pay for childcare.

However, inside, I think we were both screaming "WHAAAAAAAAT?!?!"

We prayed so hard about me quitting work.  Seriously.  Remember all those blogs about that?  We waited patiently to make a decision on that until we really felt it was God's will.  I followed all the rules on seeking His will.  I prayed.  I read  His word.  I sought counsel.  I paid attention to the things believers in my life were saying.  

How could I have made this much of a mistake?  I'm normally a budgeting pro (not that I stick with it, but maaaaan, I can totally crunch some numbers).  Why didn't I see this coming?  Why didn't I know exactly how much we were going to be making WITH my insurance taken out.  Hello?  It's cash flow.  I'm majoring (partially) in Business and worked in an accounting office for almost 5 years, for crying out loud!!  Where are my spreadsheets and charts?!

First, I kind of forgot about Josiah's insurance amount changing when he added me.  He's been carrying the kids since the beginning of the year, but it changes from an employee + kids plan to a family plan when you add the spouse.  Once again, I am well versed in benefits.  I know this stuff.  Why didn't I think of it?

Because I took it for granted.

I took it for granted that if it was God's will, then it would work out.  Thus far, I've been absolutely correct.  Just as we were looking at how tight our budget was going to be a few weeks ago, Josiah got a call from his brother saying that he had too much work, and he asked if Josiah would be willing to learn his job so he can work part time for him.  Blessing!!

But now there's this.  I held my chin up for a little bit, but after a while, I started to slump.  I felt so stupid for quitting my job.  What if?  What if I had prepared better?  What if I had seen this coming and hadn't quit?  I was making pretty decent money!  Then there's the fact that poor Josiah is working two jobs to try to support my kids and I.  I went back to the "bad place," the place in my head and my heart where I just know Josiah would have been better off if he'd never met me...that we're a burden to him, and he would have been so much better off if he'd fallen in love with a girl with less...well, just less (except money, more money probably would have been good).  We were now both distraught.

In the end, it occurred to me that they started taking insurance out on May 1, but my coverage started on April 1.  Therefore, there's a very good possibility that they were doubling up on the deductions for me until that gets caught up. When we went online to look at his benefits info it and looked at the amount per year that should be deducted for a family plan, it looks like this is a very likely possibility.  We would have more solid information, but the benefits site is really quirky and shut down in the middle of our search.  It still makes our budget unbelievably tight, though.

It was time to pray...good, old fashioned, on-our-knees prayer.  Which we did...and will continue to do.  Josiah also decided he was going to fast for 24 hours.  I would have joined him, but that isn't wise while breastfeeding.  Ironically, however, every time I ate today I thought of him not eating and I prayed.  Is that vicarious fasting?  Normally, you're not supposed to announce that you're fasting (Matthew 6:16-18), but he didn't announce it to everyone, I am...and only because honestly, that would never have occurred to me.  I don't think of fasting, and I don't hear people talk about it much, but it's a strong partner to prayer in the Bible.  It wasn't required of the early Christians, but it's mentioned that they did it in quite a few places in Acts.

Josiah also noted that, no matter what, he was glad I wasn't at PMI anymore.  I hated my job.  The people were awesome (I still miss them!), but my job?  I had gotten to the point where I just couldn't stand my job, and honestly, I don't think I was really doing my best.  They deserve better than that.  He said I would have been crying and dreading going back from the minute Phinehas was born, and he was right.  I would have been miserable.  Tomorrow, Phinehas will be 6 weeks old, and I would be a depressed, crying, snotty mess thinking about going back to work on Monday morning.

Today I think I've developed even more perspective on the situation, and I'm amazed by how God works in every situation...how he indeed goes before us.  

First, we started to watch Dave Ramsey's "Financial Peace University" DVD's again on Sunday, I just finished reading his book, and printed out the quickie budget for us to work on earlier in the day yesterday.  

Second, while normally the "nerd," the cruncher of all numbers, I think God kept me from doing that this time...because I wouldn't have quit my job.  I just wouldn't.  If the cold numbers had stared me in the face when I was trying to make this decision, I don't think I would have stepped out in faith.  

Third, I can't get the last couple scenes in "Facing the Giants" out of my head.  All I keep hearing is "What is impossible with God?" and the obvious answer is "absolutely nothing."  I'm also reminded of the scene where an elderly gentleman gives the struggling coach the following scenario:

Two farmers are in the midst of a drought.

Both farmers pray for rain, 

but only one goes out and prepares his fields to receive it.

Which one had more faith?

Josiah and I are praying for rain...we just need to prepare our fields to receive it.  Quitting my job to stay at home was part of that.  

Good Lord in Heaven, we are praying for your blessings.  We can't do this without you.  We know you've been telling us this is the way to go, so Lord, we have faith you will provide.  Lord you know we're willing to work hard on the other side of any door you open for us, and we're willing to work hard in the hallway while we wait for your open doors.  And like the father in Mark who needed his son to be healed, we say we do believe, help our unbelief.  We have faith, but we're praying for more...praying that the Holy Spirit will give us the peace that passes all understanding in Christ Jesus because we have presented our worries to You.  We praise your holy name!!!

So now it's public.  You all know we're broke and struggling, but you also know how God is moving our lives.  

I'll look forward to telling you all about the rain. :)

To be continued....

Failure to Thrive

Those are three disturbing words aren't they?

Failure. To. Thrive.

In my breastfeeding saga and subsequent application of my ninja google skills, I've come across those words countless times.

When the baby won't gain weight like he's supposed to or grow like he's supposed to, it's "failure to thrive."

On Monday, I had a breakdown because after doing so well last week, Phinehas only gained a half ounce over the weekend.  I was devastated.  I cried all afternoon and evening.  Every time I took him in my arms to feed him I bawled because my poor little baby is the same size he was when we brought him home from the hospital.

I'm trying so hard.  I'm dedicating my entire life to feeding this little being, but still there's failure...failure to thrive.

I regained my sanity a bit yesterday, and today I was very happy to see that, once again, he's back to gaining a half ounce per day.  Yay.

The whole thing made me think, though....

Josiah recently came up with an excellent analogy about how Christians are born again, and just like other newborns, we cry out to be changed and we cry out because we're hungry...to be changed by the Holy Spirit and hungry for the Word.

I thought it was a great analogy, and today, I thought about our situation with Phinehas: failure to thrive.  I thought about how that fits in with Josiah's analogy, as well.

When we don't grow as Christians and we don't get adequate amounts of His Word into our souls, we too will fail to thrive as His disciples.

The Bible says in John that Jesus is the vine,God is the gardener, and we are the branches.  Those branches that bear no fruit will be cut off, but those who bear fruit will be pruned so that they will produce more plentifully (John 15: 1-2).

This makes my heart hurt.

I know for a long time I wasn't thriving as a Christian.  I wasn't taking in adequate heavenly nutrition, and therefore, my fruit bearing was pitiful.  I wonder how many other people I influenced then.

I wonder if my impact is any better now.  I know I've grown in Christ Jesus over the last couple years.  I've felt his presence moving in my life, and I still feel it now...even more so. But I also know that the devil takes strongholds, and I know there are areas in my life that still aren't producing the fruit they should.

*sigh*

Nevertheless, I suppose just like with little Phinehas, I need to take things day by day, one feeding at a time, and patiently wait for fruit to grow (or ounces to accumulate).  God has this under control.  He's growing me.  He's growing me in the experiences and people he puts in my path, and through the food I take in when I read his word and fellowship with other believers.

He's growing Phinehas, too.  I have to believe that, although honestly, that's been difficult for me over the past few weeks.  I know God can help him grow, but it's hard not to continuously feel that my failure will get in the way.  I think that might be an extension of the analogy, as well, but I don't have time to analyze it at the moment....

I have to go grow the baby. :)

Breastfeeding Mommy SOS

***Disclaimer: This blog is about exactly what it looks like it's about.  Thus, there will be talk about breasts, feeding, and other general woman junk.  If you're generally a "TMI!!" kind of person, you may want to turn back now.***

So, here's the thing, I can't make my baby grow.

That's about it.  I am super frustrated, a little depressed, feeding him half my life right now...but I can't make him grow.

When he was born, he was 8 lbs. 8.8 oz.  When we left the hospital, he was 7 lbs. 14 oz.  All that is completely normal.

When we went in for his appointment a couple days after we got home, he was 7 lbs. 11 oz.  That was to be expected though.  My milk came in the day before the appointment, and he hadn't had time to gain yet.

When we went in 8 days later (last Wednesday) for his two week appointment (2 days before he was actually 2 weeks old), he weighed 7 lbs. 12 oz.  A weight gain of 1 oz.  Huh.

I wigged out a little, but the doctor assured me that he felt everything was fine.  The baby is eating every 2-2.5 hours on the nose during the day and will go 3-4 hours at night.  Unless he has gas, he isn't excessively fussy.  He definitely lets you know when he's hungry (he's vocal like his momma), so if he was starving he would let us know.  Plus, he had grown a 1/4" and his head gained a little circumference, as well.

So, the doctor said to just continue what we're doing and come back in a week for an appointment to weigh him again.  But, with the way our insurance works currently, I would have to PAY for that appointment.  Hmmm...pay for an appointment to weigh a baby...I don't really want to do that.  A friend at church currently has a baby scale she's been using to see if her baby is gaining weight, so we went by yesterday.  I just KNEW  he had gained weight...at least a little.  But, no.  No weight gain.  No weight loss, but no weight gain.

I cannot describe to all of you how depressing this is.  My entire life is dedicated to feeding this little life right now.  24 hours a day it's what I'm centered on.  I get anxiety if I have to go anywhere that might run over the 1.5 hours I have between feedings.

I'm exhausted.  My boobs are sore.  I don't want to leave the house.  I look like hell.  I'm still ten lbs. over my pre-baby weight, nothing fits, and I have raccoon eyes thanks to the dark circles.  It's lovely.

All in all, I'm not handling all this remarkably well.  Mind you, I'm not handling it quite as badly as it probably sounds either.  I have my good moments.

I guess what I'm saying is...neither one of us is really thriving.

I don't want to supplement, though.  That's such a slippery slope.  You start to supplement and then your supply goes down...and then, before you know it, it's all formula.

I've scoured the internet, but I'm scared to do that now because there seems to be a plethora of conflicting information.  Last week I searched for what to do if you have a sleepy eater. I found something that suggested switching sides multiple times to keep them awake, so I started doing that last Friday (I think).  Yesterday, I searched for information on breastfed babies not growing, and those sites recommended against switching sides because then the baby is filling up on foremilk and not getting the higher calorie hindmilk.

Well, crap.

So maybe that's why he hasn't gained weight since last week!  Maybe.

Another friend suggested pumping for a feeding so I can see how much milk I'm actually supplying.  That seemed like a good idea.  I tried that last night at 8:30...I was able to pump an ounce.  That's it...a measly bluish ounce.  Almost all foremilk.  Great.

So, we combined that ounce with some other milk I had pumped last week to try to get my supply up, and it made up a total of 2.5 ounces altogether...and Josiah fed the baby, and when I handed him over I cried.

I do that a lot lately.

But then it occurred to me that I didn't feel my milk let down when I pumped.  Maybe that was the problem.

I also found out the baby wasn't gaining weight yesterday afternoon, got the kids off the bus, helped with homework and studying, and made dinner...and fed the baby 3 times in between all that.  So, maybe my supply was just low because I was stressed and exhausted?

Or, maybe I didn't take in enough fluids.

Maybe...so many maybes.  There are just too many variables to consider all at once, and not enough constants.  Part of that is me.  In my desperate attempt to make sure he's getting what he needs, I'm researching and changing feeding methods every 5 seconds.  I'm changing holds sometimes now during feedings, but he's staying at one breast until that sucker feels absolutely empty, and THEN we switch.

Yeesh.  I could use some help here, friends.  I know people have done this for centuries, but this is my first real attempt and I am failing.

Any of you breastfeeding divas have any good advice?  I definitely need it.

Panic and Peace

I had a thought in the shower this morning.  Come to think of it, I do a lot of thinking in the shower.  That may be because it's some of the only time I get alone to think.  Anyway...

I thought about the movie we went to see last night ("Oz the Great and Powerful"), and I sort of sighed to myself, "I guess that's the last movie I'll see for a while."

And for just a moment, I freaked out a little bit about having a newborn again.

What else wouldn't I be able to do?  Have I forgotten how much work infants are?  It will be forever before I have time away again!

And then I thought about my gorgeous kids.

How beautiful Destiny gets every day.  She'll be 15 tomorrow.  Wasn't it just yesterday she was a baby sleeping on my chest?

My girls with their Nana.  This picture was in the Lynchburg newspaper today because my mom wrote and published a children's e-book and my girls illustrated it.

And little Emily...she's not so little anymore.  She's 10 now, and I feel like I can almost SEE her growing, and she's becoming a gorgeous young lady.

And my Ryan.  When did we stop calling him "the baby"?  I know just yesterday or the day before someone told me we'd have to stop calling him that eventually...but no...that was a few years ago.  He's 6 now.

I realized in those few short moments that the teeny weeny bit of time we get to be tied to them, when they need us for everything, is a blessing, not a burden.

I'm so excited to meet our new addition.  I can't wait to hold that precious little creature in my arms. It's going to be wonderful to share the experience with Josiah, too.   God gave me the best person I could possibly imagine, and He allowed us to create a new, little life.

I am blessed.

And I am grateful.

Pet Peeves

"Do you have any pet peeves about me?  Other than the whole scratching my feet thing?"

That was the question that was presented to me by my husband the night before last.  My first thought was that we were about to go into dangerous territory, and my next thought I posed to him audibly:

"Why do ask?  Do you have pet peeves about me?"

He said he didn't, and that wasn't why he was asking the question...he just wanted to know.

Well...in that case....

I started to think about whether I had any "pet peeves" and what they were.  I even got ready to name some...

"Ugh..when we put plastic containers away, is it absolutely necessary to just pile them willy-nilly?"

"Dishes - it grosses me out SO much when you leave the washcloth in the sink...just sitting there...producing mildew and nastiness."

"Everything is kind of half done...painting, the burner things on the stove, the stuff on the side porch getting cleaned out...it's all just kind of half done."

I could probably think of other things, but I never said them; something stopped me.

Initially, the only thing that stood in the way of my nag list was the fact that he may indeed have things that bother him about me, and I may open Pandora's box...yikes.  I mean, if something I do really bothers him, then I'd like for him to tell me, but starting a "I hate when you do this..." war didn't sound like a good idea.

I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.

When I was up in the middle of the night last night, I had some time to think about the subject, and I was able to grasp a little clarity.

This is deep...ya'll ready?

The things we call pet peeves are actually just things

we're letting the devil use to destroy our contentment.

Yup...I even brought Satan into it.  In all reality, it's debatable whether it's actually Satan because, unlike our God, Satan is not omnipotent, nor is he omnipresent.  Therefore, the actual culprit is probably just our sinful nature...but that came into play because of the fall of man, which Satan had a good part in, so we'll just go with that and leave the formal theological discussion for another day, m'kay?

Back to the statement though.  Is that accurate?  It kinda stings a little, right?  Because we all have those things about other people that drive us a little nuts, right?  It's completely normal, and I refuse to give up my little idiosyncrasies.  I refuse...even if they get in the way of me being the Christian God wants me to be...even if it means I'm not loving people the way I should.  This is me...get over it.

What's that sound like folks?  Ding, ding, ding!!  Survey says??  

IDOLATRY

Yes, sirs and madams, it would seem as though these little things we call "pet peeves" are our idols.  The little things that we allow to get between us and the love we should have for others.

For example, every single thing I listed about Josiah above can be countered with something positive...and infinitely more important (and honey, I sincerely hope you don't mind me using you as an example.  I love you).

• You scratch at your feet when they're flaky, and it grosses me out.  But your feet are like that because you work hard every day.  You stand on them all day long working to support our family.  Moreover, when was the last time I stopped thinking about my pregnancy swelling and whining about my feet and did something for you?  It's been a while hasn't it.  Convicted.
• You totally turn the storage containers into an inevitable plastic avalanche, and you do have a tendency to let the dish rag lay about...but unlike many husbands, you're helping me in the kitchen.  You've taken my working and being pregnant very seriously, and you are there working for us at every turn.  How many wives wouldn't give their right arms to have their husbands help in the kitchen? You cook quite frequently AND you end up doing the dishes a lot and cleaning up after us.  Convicted.
• Yes, there are things around here that are half done...but the reason they're only half done is because you're often too busy helping us do other things and spending quality time with us.  You're constantly shuttling kids places or doing things with and for me.  Do I expect you to work every second of your day?  When you have Sundays off, you could be getting stuff done around here, but nooooo, instead you're with us...in church...being and becoming a strong spiritual leader for our family, which is so much more important than whether things are half done in the house.  Convicted.

There isn't one thing I can list, not one "pet peeve," that doesn't have a much weightier counterpart...and I am  choosing to focus on the latter.

Further, I would hope he would extend the same grace to me.  I hope the little things I do that annoy him are drastically outweighed by the things he loves about me, and I hope he chooses to see the positive instead.

Would our marriages, and honestly, our relationships with others in general, be much healthier if we chose to concentrate on the positive instead of allowing our minds to be continually drawn toward the negative?

This is something I am going to pray about often...and with fervor.  Will you do the same?

(Listed below are scriptures I wanted to list with this, but I didn't want to lose the continuity of though.  Always important to link it back to the Word though!)

"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength."  Philippians 4:11-13

"Those who pay regard to vain idols forsake their hope of steadfast love."  

Jonah 2:8

"Little children, keep yourselves from idols."

1John 5:21

"A quarrelsome wife is like the dripping of a leaky roof in a rainstorm"

Proverbs 27:15

"Better to live on a corner of the roof
    than share a house with a quarrelsome wife."

Proverbs 21:9

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Matthew 22:36-40