Prelude.

Before we go an further, I have to say good-bye to the lies and belief systems that were created in my two worlds, that held this narrative captive in my mind instead of letting it settle on written page for fear of what others would think. I have hand-written this letter, but it is import to add these words to the chronicles given this letter was my own permission slip to write, to speak, to open myself, love myself, and to allow you to peak in.

Dear Old Thought Patterns, Lies, and Systems,

I have to say good-bye to you. Today is the day I regain my identity, uniqueness in character, and drop the lies of my past. Goodbye to the feelings of inadequacy and hello to knowing I am ENOUGH. Goodbye to performing, to earning the love of those around me, to the fear that I would never FIT IN. I, today, say hello to rest, to loving myself, to understanding that people love me just because they do, not because I made them. Goodbye to caring about what other’s think, goodbye TO EXPLAINING MYSELF and APOLOGIZING FOR WHO I AM. Hello to knowing God intended for me to be exactly as I am. No. More. Apologizing. No. More. Explaining. Goodbye to believing I am not enough and sometimes too much. Goodbye to the lie that I don’t or never will “FIT” into Christianity. I do FIT. Perfectly, in the skin God gave me, in my skin. I do fit. Hello to actually believing that. Goodbye to the sadness and guilt over strained and tough moments with my parents. Hello to loving and honest relationships with them that continue to grow. Goodbye to the untrue messages I picked up about God, and I welcome a new relationship with Him, one that I feel safe and loved in. Goodbye to negative self-talk, to shame responses, to holding my head low, to my racism, to earning admiration through deed and accomplishment, to the never-ending chase of the next high. Hello to the high coming from within.

Goodbye to being afraid to speak, of being quiet, of cowering and hiding. HELLO TO FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION. HELLO TO WRITING UNHINGED AND ROWDY. Hello to knowing the message inside of me is GOOD. Hello to writing for myself. Goodbye to believing I am programmed from creation damned, rotten, wretched, and a screw-up. Hello to believing, and knowing, I am created in the image of a good, good father, which means there is good inside of me, from creation. I am not wired to mess-up. I am wired for love, joy, peace, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. Goodbye to teaching my children out of fear. Hello to teaching out of love.

Goodbye to thinking Josh will fill my void of happiness. Goodbye to the marriage I dream about. Goodbye to expectation and bitterness. Hello to letting him be exactly who he is. Goodbye to thinking Josh deserves a better, more spiritual, quieter wife. Goodbye to believing I broke our marriage. Hello to forgiveness, to healing and to HOPE. Hello to our marriage being a healthy version of what it is. Hello to knowing I am exactly who he needs.  Goodbye to blocking love. Goodbye to being closed off to other people, and new relationships. Hello to letting people know me.

Goodbye to you, Captain Morgan. Goodbye to being afraid to feel the low hum of anxiety, to ignoring sadness, of pretending pain doesn’t exist. Goodbye my old friend, goodbye to you helping me numb and not feel. Hello to feeling IT ALL. Hello to feeling all there is to feel and understanding it is a gift to be aware of what is going on inside. Hello to understanding that my emotions are invitations from myself to take care of myself, especially on the low days. Hello to knowing my tears are information watchtowers and messengers.

Goodbye to the thinking I suck as a mother and hello to creating a different and healthy way to be a mother. Hello to believing I am a WONDERFUL mother. Hello to three boys being raised by a mother who is giving them her very best shot. Hello to knowing they love me.

Goodbye, to all of it. Goodbye. I am laying you down. Hello to inhaling and exhaling, to filling my lungs full with air, and to knowing that I AM OKAY. Hello to breathing. Hello to being alive.

-Chele

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Hello! Have you ever wanted to write yourself a goodbye letter? This letter came at the end of an intense, 12 week course called the Ultimate Journey. I would recommend this class to EVERYONE. All people. If you are interested check out the link below to fill out a registration form. I will contact you when our next session starts!

http://www.houseofhopecr.org/classes/

Registration form under the tab labeled Ultimate Journey Phase 1-Ongoing.

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Hello to you! If you would like to Chronicle with us, follow the blog,  find me on FB @facebook.com/cmmisener or Instagram @cmisener! You are welcome here always friend!

 

When You Are The Other Girl

Hey sister. Let’s get this one thing out of the way. I need you to lock this truth deep down in your heart. Tuck this one in tight. Put it in the spot you return to when you need to remind yourself that you are okay, magnificent in fact. Here it is-

YOU ARE NO-ONE’S ‘OTHER’.

I can vaguely remember the butterflies that flipped and flopped in my stomach riding in his car. He a senior, I a sophomore, everything about him was exciting. It was also equally terrifying. I had no idea how to BE around a boy. My nerves reminded me of the awkwardness of my body, and my know-how. I knew nothing. As many young crushes do, we drove up and down the strip of my hometown. Up and down, and with each pass of the red-light that marked the spot to turn around, I felt more comfortable. Sometime in that car ride he reached over to hold my hand and I knew it then; I knew I HAD ARRIVED.

The trouble with my arrival was that this boy of excitement and mystery had an on-again, off-again girlfriend. They were more on than off, but this night, I was the girl. I WAS ON. For like five minutes.

So began my first role call as “the other girl.” I knew when he and she were having problems, because I would get a phone call. I had been waiting for the phone call, waiting for her to exit stage left and my lines to begin. Waiting for the seat I sat in on those drives up and down the strip to once again be mine. Waiting to catch his gaze in the hallway at school. Waiting for him to choose me as the leading role. Waiting. Always waiting. That was one of the first times I remember letting a guy define my lovability. Even though I didn’t know I was giving him that power. It wouldn’t be the last.

He was such a good guy. That is the problem sometimes with the guys. Some really are good guys. He graduated, and moved on, and the years to follow I had two other significant relationships before meeting my husband.

In between those relationships, I took the belief that I was loved when (enter name) loved me. I believed that my value, my worth, my happiness was directly linked to the tenacity and certainty in which those guys wanted and loved me. I positioned myself in ways to win their affections over other girls. Girls who were just like me. Girls that I hated. Girls that in another situation, would probably be my good friends. Girls, like me. During those days I figured out how to start pretending to be what someone wanted me to be in order to win their love. And when I didn’t succeed, my identity would fall apart. Crisis after crisis. Again and again. I was loosely held together by lies and make-believe, so my constant unraveling was par for the course.

And then, there was my husband. I was not the ‘other’ girl for him, but one of many girls trying to lock-him up. I followed suit however with my old patterns. Be what he wants. Compete. Out perform the other girls. Get what you want.

It worked. So I thought. Until during our first year of marriage, when he knew with clarity that the girl he dated was not the chic he married. For the past 10 years, we have been undoing the damage of those early days.

So here is the thing, beautiful girl, you are no one’s ‘other’ girl. If you are pining away waiting for a text or phone call so you can breathe and know you are okay, stop waiting. If you are pulling out your psycho, (cause every girl can dig it up) to be seen or noticed by a guy who isn’t feeling it, stop trying. If he is a smooth talking, woman loving, romeo-rico-suave-bruno-mars-sweet talking piece of something else that is talking up and whispering in the ears of a group of girls, step yourself out of the group. If you are strictly the ‘other’ girl, the side piece, the back-up plan, and all the other degrading and repulsive names for that role, YOU-YOU PICK ANOTHER NAME FOR YOURSELF.

Here are a few to choose from to get you started. Mighty. Talented. Eccentric. Funny. SMART. BEAUTIFUL. WANTED. LOVED. OKAY. CONFIDENT. SEEN. VALUABLE.

You are not someone’s other choice. You make your own choices. You love yourself. You value yourself. You create your own happiness. You know your worth. You re-write the story-line that girls have been chained in for centuries, the story that we matter when someone says we matter. That we are as good as those who choose us.

YOU, AMAZING GIRL, ARE MADE IN THE IMAGE OF GOD. Let that sink in.

When you get a hold of this, and know this, the love you want will find you. You will be irresistible. You will give other people permission to be free in their skin. You will no longer be waiting to be found, you will be expectant and excited to love from a place of already being found.

And that seat, in his car, well, it stays open.

And your marriage, one day, starts from a place of honesty.

And you know, you have always been, good enough.

You are love. You are good enough. You are enough.

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When Your Wife Needs To Go….Let Her Go

Husbands, Spouses, Daddies..this one is for you.

I’ve got a favor to ask, a petition, a battle cry, on behalf of the lady in your life. This is me, sitting with you, looking you in the eye and calmly getting to the point, because hallelujah I know you don’t want details, you want the big picture in one simple point.

So-here it is. If, and more commonly, WHEN, your wife or the one you love needs to go, then you gotta let her go.

Where you ask? It could be anywhere really. Target. The front seat of her car. Down the street. A coffee shop. A weekend getaway with the girls. It doesn’t matter, the location always has the same purpose…to GET OUT OF DODGE.

Now, this next stuff is important.  The above was getting to the point. The following is why the point is needed so hang in there with me. If that lady of yours is herding smallish people all day, or if she works and comes home to herd until the night, then when she looks at you and says “babe, I need a break”- then those are your cue words. You are now cued in to the oncoming of her crazy-she is letting you in-asking for help-this is your chance.

It is in this moment, this balance, that you have to encourage or at the very least agree that a break is needed. This is a vulnerable place. A testy place. If your face reads resentment, if your words fly off handles and walls, then she will retreat inward, or volcano outward, with you in the line of fire.

And this is why. Your wife, the one you loved or love, she changes. The woman that met you at the end of an aisle will change as you walk back down the aisle together. No longer single that woman, now a wife. A new role. A new skin. And so the change comes; homemaker, career chaser and holder, and maybe the one that rocks the insides, mother. All that change.

In all this you have probably thought your wife was loosing it. Emotional. Sensitive. Irrational. Cold. You were right. Sorry for that, because we can be nuts and you have to deal with it. Our crazy can run deep and true. But often it is found in all of the change and all of the new skins. So we try to remember who we were before, and try to wiggle and fit into who we are now, and try and shape who we want to become.

If your woman is a momma, well, all of this gets mixed up. Because momma can move itself to the top, and all of the other ‘hers’ will fall to the side. She will feel that. And so, will probably ask you for a break. Without the kids. Let her go without the kids. For the love, without the KIDS! (I just raised my voice at you, apologies)

Mommas need to know who they are without their children. This is healthy and good, because one day they will be women without their children. One day they will be women who no longer ask permission to be away from their kids, but ask permission to be with their kids. One day their house will shift quietly, the rooms will be empty and they will be holding their momma skin in their hands trying to understand how it fits again. How will they, we, know if we don’t see who we are away from them in the littlish years? How could we transition from someone always needing us to only you wanting us? How can all this stretching and changing not rattle even the most sane of mothers?

With your help, that’s how. See, I told you this was very important. With you letting us go…when we need to go.

This time-out, this place of solidarity, this weekend with her friends, this conference she has asked to go to or this trip home to see her family, it will allow her brain the opportunity to gather all of the ‘hers’, look at them, breathe, and regroup. It is a precious, holy even, time for her.

Careful, however, to use your “let” purely and honestly, not as leverage or a wager. This is not a one for one, this is a one for her. Back to the crazy feelings-she will know, feel, when guilt is tied to your “let”. If she takes your guilt with her, she won’t get down to the work, or the relaxing, that needs to be done.  Plus, she will be fighting the guilt she will take along anyway.

While she is away you will survive! Yes you will! And it may be hard. And you may (should) call your mother for help. Or a friend. And she will have slaved away before leaving to make it as easy as possible for you and yet still…it could be a disaster. Really your goal is to keep everyone alive. You can do this. All of this is ok…because you love her. Or you did at one time. And when she comes back, that is what she will feel. Loved. Unless, of course, you are dramatic about how bad it sucked. At this point, it is also beneficial to only give information that she needs. Having been away, she will surprise you with what she can handle. She will love you more.

So, that’s it. You really do matter. We know you work hard. We know you love the kids. Some days we even know, or remember, that you love us. You are appreciated. Still, when your woman has got to go….then let her go. Want her to go.

And ladies-if you get the opportunity…..no looking back! YOU GOTTA GO!

P.S. Single mommas..parents..I just respect you-mad respect. 

momma

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If I Want A Man, Then I’m Gonna Get A Man

“My name is no, my sign is no, my number is no..you need to let it go” (this song is so catchy. You are welcome for it being stuck in your head)

My children were playing after school on the playground yesterday. It didn’t take long for a game of tag to begin, little ones dodging and lunging around the kid that was ‘it’. My second-born was ‘it’ for awhile. Awhile considering he was the youngest in the bunch and his older brother and his friends were naturally quicker.

Soon he grew tired of the game and walked away to find my youngest son. The dreaded role of ‘it’ was now open. I thought the game would disperse, but just as it was ending someone decided that a little girl who had just joined to play would now commence as the one chasing everyone else. She was noticeably smaller than the boys she was chasing, four or five by my guess, giving it all she could to catch the boys giggling, yelling, and running away from her.

I watched for awhile, then decided to call my oldest over to give him the “let her tag you” speech. His friend came along and I told them there was no way she could catch any of the boys, and to give her reprieve if only for a minute. He listened and said “but mom, she wants to be it.” His friend agreed. “No one wants to be it” I said, to which they both shook their heads and repeated that she indeed wanted to be it, and when she caught one of them THEN they had to be her husband.

“I don’t want to be her husband mom” Beckett said. “Guess what, I’m not dressed for a wedding and she has to ask my permission anyway, so don’t worry you won’t be her husband today.” I said. And off they ran to re-join the game.

I don’t have a daughter, but as I watched I wondered if it really did start that early, the chasing of a man. I watched her run around the huddled up laughing boys. Watched her flail her arms at each one, almost reaching them, almost tagging them. I couldn’t remember if I chased boys at that age. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s what we do as women. Chase things.

The when, then stuck with me though.

‘WHEN she catches us, THEN we have to be her husband.’

That is what we are chasing as women, as anyone I guess, the WHEN, THEN. When I catch the thing I am flailing around trying to catch, then I will make it have value. Then I will have value. 

I thought about my own when, then(S) in my life, thought about why they mattered. Thought about the lies I believe in my when, then(s).

When the kids are all in school, then I can really focus on my mental health and career.

When Josh and I are out of debt, then we can give like I want to.

When Josh and I make more money, then of course we can give like we want to.

When I am older, and more experienced, then I can be a writer.

When I have more time, then I can exercise.

When Josh changes, then I will change. 

When we sale our house, then we can have a competitive down payment on the house I really want. (yeah, so that’s not a lie. I need to sale our current house, come look at it.-you feel me?)

Thought about other when, then(s) that people I love deal with …..

When we have a baby, then our marriage will be okay.

When we get through this or that or whatever then I will love my spouse.

When I find a man, then I will have purpose. Value. Self-respect. I will be fulfilled. Same as for when I find a woman. 

When I loose weight, then I will love my body.

When I get the promotion, or title, then I will be respected.

When we deal with our major family issues, then we will have peace. 

When I stop drinking, then I will start dealing with the reasons why I drink.

When, then, when, then, when, then….

I feel winded.

So I had to check myself. Because what about NOW? Because now I have issues that need to be dealt with. Now I need to wake up and choose my husband. Now I need to – above all things – take care of my mental health. Now I need to focus on my small business. Now I need to write. Now I need to give. Today. Right now. Not when, then.

But I stall. It is scary on the other side of the cliff. Our when, then(s) partner with fear, because ain’t nobody got time to dig in and do the work required on themselves. It is so vulnerable there. And if we are attaching self-worth, respect, ownership, dreams, goals, healing, to the other side of our when, then(s)-then we gotta get to the other side.

Friends, your marriage will not get better when kids come along. Your marriage will get better with tried and true hard work and change. You will not truly love the skin the good Lord gave you when you start eating healthy and exercising if you don’t first love it enough to take care of it now. Your spouse, man, woman, will never fill the void you want them to fill if you first don’t explore the space yourself. No promotion, title, pay raise, or recognition will hold the respect you need if you first don’t understand the importance of respecting yourself as is. Today. You won’t give more when you have more, because you didn’t give little when you had little. And peace…peace in families comes from those who are peacemakers. Not side-line observers.

All this NOW stuff is big heart issue stuff. It’s looking in the mirror stuff. It’s pulling back the rug stuff. It’s white elephant in the room asked to take a bow stuff. Sweet Jesus it is hard, brutal emotional stuff. Uncomfortable stuff.

But I know, after watching that sweet girl chase and chase today, that their is no peace in when, then(s). Only exhaustion and frustration.

NOW-we figure out what we are chasing.


I’m digging in with you, trying to figure out what I am chasing that will satisfy this longing for success and respect. Why is it so important? Why do other people’s opinions matter?

I know to whom I belong , and by whom I am loved. Both here and in Heaven. Why is this not enough?

I hope you ask yourself some questions. I hope you find a safe person to talk to. I hope you stop flailing. I hope you rest your weary legs and stop chasing worth in something or someone.

I am pretty tired myself.

And ladies, “If I want a man, then I’m gonna get a man. But it’s never my priority.” Head down, only running in your lane, not worried about what other people have going on. Check off your bucket list, and know who you are. I promise the man you are looking for will find you when you are looking away. And he will LOVE how much you LOVE and RESPECT yourself. It is so very attractive.

If he doesn’t, run away as fast as you can. Just run. But don’t be the girl who is “it”. You are swatting at emptiness.

Strength to rest and re-evaluate what we are chasing. Strength to identify our when, then(s) that are shutting us down. Strength for it all. Carpe Diem.

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So if you have followed the blog long, you know I am a Christ-follower. Can I tell you something great? There is no when,then with Jesus. It’s a when-right now. When you choose Jesus-he chooses you. Right away. He chooses you. He’s been waiting for you. No when you choose me, then you get your life together, then I choose you. No when you love me, then you stop sinning, then I love you. He is a present lover of you. Sometimes he is too big for me to think about, his love too wide open, his mercy too freely given, his forgiveness too unending. Sometimes He is overwhelming. But even still, He doesn’t put me in a situation that I need to perform to understand how He works. And HE still came for us, for me,-when we were sinners-and ended all the rat racing with his death on the cross. He came for you.

~We love, because HE first loved us.~ I love, because He showed me what love is.

Romans 5:8, 1st John 4:19.

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Loving this little blog?? Follow Courtney Misener on FB to catch the going ons and other goofy things-or on Instagram @cmisener. You are welcome here always!

Above is a nod to Meghan Trainor’s NO-but video not ok for little eyes- Song is groovy though! Plus I found a reason to name this post something goofy…

Joining up with other amazing writers at #TellHisStory. Join us!

I Don’t Want To Go Home

So…this was different for me.  My husband had some thoughts. So he put them down in writing. And it was so interesting, and kinda sad, but mostly nice to read this. This is his story-about my story. I cried reading it, which is no news there.  I love him.

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“Help me help you.”

This is a phrase my wife is very familiar with. It is common language really, having frequently exited my mouth for the last 3.5 years.

My wife somehow fell over backwards into post partum depression and still struggles with the trigger-happy illness today. I’m not sure, however, if we can still call it postpartum considering our youngest is three.  But nonetheless she still fights some days-with something.

Before I realized it was an illness, I simply believed Courtney could choose to be happy, but instead was unexplainably choosing it’s counterpart, sadness. But I was wrong. It’s an epidemic that took her mind into submission and created choas.

I first saw depression take its form when Courtney was pregnant with our 3rd son Jude. She was still fighting the residual pregnancy hormones from just giving birth to our 2nd son and recovering from that pregnancy. Hormones and a rollercoaster of emotions took over her mind. She wanted to abort Jude. A phrase I would have never imagined hearing from the lips of a mother who was (is) madly in love with her children. Through a lot of listening and little talking, we hurdled the evil and she gave birth to Jude. God changed her heart. But her depression would then take a different form. Something in her drastically changed.

Court-at the beginning of all this. Pregnant with Jude here.

Court and I at the beginning of all this. Pregnant with Jude here.

Coming home from work was like walking into the eye of the storm. Especially when it was her eyes that read anger and resentment. Always anger. Seldom any talking. I used to ask myself WHY? After awhile, I stopped asking.

I understood that she was annoyed that I had the “luxury” of working all day while she was home with the kids, but often there would be no reason for her sudden, very sudden, change in emotions. The thing with my wife is that she is a mover and a shaker-but being home with the kids wasn’t her idea of moving and shaking.

I learned many things during this time. Her depression made simple tasks unbearable to handle, for example, springing things on her like, “Hey, let’s go to breakfast in 10 minutes” or “is it ok if so and so comes over?….in 20 minutes?” In these situations I could feel the anxiety and fear well up in Courtney. She would say “I just need time to think about it first.”

Another symptom she was trying to navigate was extreme insecurity. Her insecurity was debilitating, she always needed time to evaluate her outfit so it fit properly on a body that she swore was getting bigger by the day. Nothing ever fit right. She hated the way she looked in pictures. We only have a few of her with Liam and Jude when they were babies.

Courtney lost interest for certain hobbies, (sex) became a master “Jedi” pessimist and Oh,  the TV volume….that was an unexpected side-effect. She couldn’t be in the room with a loud TV and people trying to talk over it. I actually saw her fangs come out from this one. And tears, always tears.

And then there was the sleeping. All she wanted to do was sleep. I knew it was a way of escape. Some days I let her. Others I forced her to get up.

Many times I felt helpless and the times I felt like I could help, she didn’t want it. The few times my help was welcomed, I ruined it by telling her to “get ahold of yourself” or suggesting she just “pray about it” or “you’ll feel better if you get out of the house”  and even worse, I would make her feel guilty for the negative impact she was putting on the family by placing blame. Fail, fail fail and….fail.

Sometimes though, I still feel alone. But then again, I feel like I am one in a million husbands that get it. But don’t talk about it.

That’s another thing about depression. No one wants to talk about it. Especially not the people living it. Maybe everyone thinks it will just go away. I did.

I think the light bulb has finally turned on for me though. I didn’t read a manual or catch the Post Partum Depression episode on Dr. Phil (they should have a PPD for dummies book out there…) but I think my experience in this might have kicked in.

I won’t bow to the depression that sneaks up on her, but I can make adjustments that will help see her through this trench, for as long as it takes for her to get to the other side.

I’m realizing that I need to try and make decisions with her instead of springing plans on her.I understand that I need to help around the house more, listen, just sit with her (iPhone, Mac, Netflix disengage) pray, listen, put her concerns in front of mine…(ouch), listen, pursue sitters and maintain date nights, pray, listen. Lots of listening.

family court

Guys, if you are in this with me, let your wives (or woman) know that It’s ok to be an incredible mother and wife, but also feel extreme sadness . It really is ok!

Oh! and..it’s almost impossible for me to bring Courtney “up.” What happens is that she just ends up going down. I can’t cure her depression. I do know that in those severe moments of anxiety, all I have to do is hug her. Boom. Reset. Then we can attempt to move forward again. Telling her to snap out of it has never worked. I don’t think it ever will.

She read this to me the other day- “They (women suffering from depression) don’t need someone to tell them to get a grip. They need someone to walk them through the valley so they don’t stay there.” -Micah Maddox

Gentlemen, we’ve got to walk through the valley with our wives. Yup, Not enticing or easy, but come on,

Every night we’re the ones allowed to fall asleep next to them. Bargain.

One of the kids in my youth group is a Rubik’s Cube wizard. I love watching him turn the cube over and over until he solves it. Her depression reminds me of a Rubik’s Cube. We keep turning the cube, hopeful that one day the colors will align.  And then, I guess, we will just move on to the next cube we need to work on.

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Cube after cube. Valley after valley. Holding her hand.

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As a follower of Jesus I did a lot of praying, yet sometimes I felt my requests were in vain and let’s be honest, some days I didn’t feel like praying anymore.  If you’re suffering from depression or living with someone who is and don’t know what to pray, maybe this scripture can help. This is more like a mantra-than a prayer. But saying it helps.

Romans 8:38-39 (NLT)

38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[a] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(P.S.- this is a peek at an almost three year journey.  Courtney is doing so much better.)

Dear Husbands And Fathers, Find The Small Thing.

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Dear Husbands and Fathers, (or anyone loving a mother this Mother’s Day) Mother’s Day is on your doorstep. Flowers are beautiful, and will make the mothers in your lives feel beautiful and loved. Cards are special because they include words, … Continue reading