Dec 6, 2017

When you don't feel significant...

Commit your work to the Lord,  and your plans will be established. Proverbs 16:3

This time of year always gets my stomach in knots. I get a little anxious about the new year coming up.

I reflect on the past year, and I have that gnawing feeling, again, that my life just doesn't seem significant. 

Ever feel this way?

As I was mopping my floors today, my left side started to ache from bending over with the mop.

My mind was suddenly filled with this scripture, "Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."1 Corinthians 10:31

I smiled and said to the Lord audibly, "Okay, God, I am mopping these floors for you."

I was reminded in that moment that what I was doing was significant. It mattered.

The world would never know that I took so much care and time to mop my floor for my family, but God knew.

I don't clean and mop because I am a neat freak. I do it because I want my family to feel loved. And welcomed. And warm when they walk through the door each day.

To be honest, most days they have no idea the things I have done each day to try to make this home a place of calm and comfort for them, And, that's okay.

God knows.

One of the biggest struggles I have is feeling like my life matters. Is important. Is significant.

Often, I get my significance tangled up with the world's view of significance.

I forget that in God's eyes...

I am significant.

And so are the things that I do.

All of it.

The tiniest details of my day matter to Him.

Do I honor Him with these details, or am I constantly trying to drum up greater significance for my own pride?

As I was mopping today, side aching,  I heard a whisper in my soul..."They will remember. Your family will remember how well you loved them. "

I almost slipped on my wet floor.

My throat started to close, and tears welled up in my eyes.

Oh, Father. Let it be so. 

When I start to feel insignificant...when I compare my accomplishments to others...

I go back to this memory....


Of being a little girl. Dreaming of the day I could have a family of my own. Driving my children to school each day. Packing their little lunches. Going home to prepare for their return...

God answered those child sized prayers. More than I could ever imagine.

It's not what we do that makes us significant...

It's Whose we are.

It's Who we belong to.

If we submit our work, toilet scrubbing and all, to the Lord...

He will make it matter. He will give us a return greater than we can imagine.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Ephesians 3:20

His Kingdom will be expanded here on Earth because we chose to give our work to Him.

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. Philippians 1:6

You are worthy.

You are significant.

You matter.


back to the mop,

jill





Dec 5, 2017

When you don't fit in....

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. Hebrews 13:14

As I sit here on my couch, blanket wrapped around my legs, I gaze at our Christmas tree. It's not the prettiest tree, by far.

It has colored lights. Mismatched ornaments. In fact, you will not find any matching ornaments on this tree. It's a jumble of color.

And I love it.

I feel a lot like this tree most days. Not the prettiest, not the neatest, and completely full of  random.

I see this big green tree dressed up in lights and crazy things hanging from it. Trying its best to fit in. To look like the other pretty Christmas trees in the windows.

Surely this tree feels out of place. This is not really this tree's home.

Have you ever felt this way?

We put on our make-up and our clothes, and our best selves. We go out into the world trying our best to just fit in. To not rock the boat. To not be too much.

When our insides are crying out to fit in. To be wanted. To be noticed. To be loved.

There is a man in our town. He's homeless. He lives in his van.

I wasn't sure for a while if he was homeless because he wore nicer clothes. Sometimes even his shirt was tucked in. His body and hair clean and no sign of dirty.

Perhaps, like us, he wants to fit in too.

My husband and I started up a conversation with him one day. He told us he lived in his van. Our suspicions were confirmed. But, I was still confused. He looked so.....normal.

When he told me his name, I almost fell to my knees. His name is David.

Of course, David is my all time favorite Old Testament man. David stole my heart in
2012.

If his name had been anything other than David, I may have easily forgotten it.

I have talked to him several times since that day we met, and something he told me recently has been weighing so heavy on my heart.

I asked him how his Thanksgiving was. He replied: "Just another day."

I had to choke back tears.

This man had no big lunch or dinner with family. He did the same thing he does every day. He sat in his van. He walked around town. Then, went back to his van to sleep for the night.

Just another day...

Have you ever felt that way?

Like, each day is just another day. Just another dish to wash. Just another bill to pay. Just another diaper to change. Just another day without a significant other. Just another day of being unnoticed. Just another day of a job that wears you slap out. Just another day at the hospital begging God to heal your loved one.

Just another day.

I remember a few years ago, some friends and I served dinner at a homeless shelter. That night, I went back home and told my husband, "I feel so at home among the homeless."

He looked at me like I was crazy. Perhaps, I was.

But, I think deep down....we can all relate at times to the feeling of being homeless. Lonely. Outcast. Forgotten. Left out. Misfit. Longing for home.

There's no need for show when you are around the homeless. No need for prettying up, or shining your shoes. You can be yourself and fit right in with the homeless. Perhaps that's why I like it.

I imagine this is how the Disciples felt around Jesus. They could be themselves. Jesus loved them anyway. They could take off their masks and fall to His feet breathing a sigh of relief. They knew Jesus loved them despite their countless flaws.

As I read the book of Matthew, again...

I imagine how Jesus must have longed for His Heavenly home.

This Earth was not His home.

Nor, is it ours.

There will be a day...

Oh, one sweet day...

When we can rest our weary heads in the Mansion of our Father.

We will fit in. All of us.

No one will be homeless. No one will be lonely. No one will be cast out.

There is more than enough room in my Father's home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? John 14:2


come as you are,


jill


























Dec 4, 2017

Hello Matthew...


All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:  “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). Matthew 1:22-23

Every December, I read through the book of Matthew again. Slowly. Taking it all in.

From the birth of Jesus,  to the death of Jesus on the Cross.

I soak in the words. The story. The miracles.

So often, I get entangled with "religion" and "religious jargon", that I forget the simplicity of The Gospel. The simplicity of Jesus.

I make everything so complex with my over analyzing and over thinking every little thing. I ponder, I judge, I point out the speck in another's eye--as I have a log in my own eye.

Matthew brings me back down.

Back down to a lowly stable. In a deserted place. In a dingy and dirty manger.

Back to The Savior of the world.

Jesus.

As I read through Matthew Chapter One, I studied the genealogy of Jesus. The 14 generations from Abraham to David. The 14 generations from David to the exile of Babylon, and the 14 generations from the exile to the Messiah.

The names in that genealogy.

The imperfect people that led to a perfect Savior.

Only God.

I am relieved as I read the names. My heart floods with joy.

I see names of people who messed up. Over an over.

I see a prostitute's name.

I see an adulter's name.

I see a murderer's name.

You don't know how badly I needed to read this today.

My mouth got away from me yesterday. Again.

Just when I have been reading the book of James with my prayer group, and learning about the evils of the tongue.

Yep.

The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell. James 3:6

I can vouch for this truth. My tongue was on fire yesterday. Just ask my husband.

Why is it that my tongue usually gets set on fire before church? Huh?

It was so bad that my daughter asked me, "Do you even like Dad?'

I hesitated.

No, just kidding.

I told her I did like him. Sometimes.

But sometimes I didn't.

But, I still loved him.

Still not sure if that was the correct answer to give. But, hey, I am trying.

I do like him. I do.

But, yesterday, I didn't. Ok?

Ok.

So, of course the pastor preaches on the miracle of forgiveness.

Half way through the sermon, I leaned over and whispered to my husband, "I forgive you."

He choked back a laugh.

I was serious.

He didn't see things my way, so I was forgiving him.

He leaned back over and said, "No, sweetie, I forgive YOU."

I rolled my eyes at him and asked God to forgive me for not liking my husband that day. Especially while sitting in church. [eye roll]

We got back home and I was busy picking up things off of the floor, putting up dishes, and just doing my little chores when I remembered something.

I remembered how flawed I was. I remembered how dirty I was. I remember how unclean I was.

I remembered that I would not always get it right. I would have times of failure and fall into sin with my mouth...again.

The Lord reminded me of my posture  when this happens. I hit my knees. I draw near to Him and beg Him for His Love, His Mercy, His Grace. I just cannot muster up this kind of living.

I can only get it from Him.

My kids may see me spout off from time to time at my sweet husband, and I will roll around in regret for a day or two.

But, what do they see after? Do they see a heart of repentance or a heart of rebellion?

I hope it is repentance.

That's what I see as I read these names in Matthew.

Yes, they were not perfect people.

Yes, they were majorly flawed.

Yes, they did not always get it right.

But....

These generations of sinful mistakes....

Brought forth the Son of God.

How would we know we needed a Savior unless we needed saving?

Oh, y'all. I need a Savior.

I need Jesus.

I crave Him.

My flesh wants to run away with sin--especially my mouth.

But, my soul longs for Jesus.

His Power is made Perfect in our weakness. [2 Corinthians 12:9]

God longs to bring forth fruit from even our most heinous sins.

Yet, we often cower and hover in a corner licking our sinful wounds.

We forget....

We forget of His Simplicity. His Peace. His Mercy. His Covering.

His love covers our sins. Not just covers them, but washes them away.

Make room for Him. Invite Him in to even the fleshiest parts of your day.

Fall to your knees and draw near when you mess up...again.

He will always be there to catch you.

still taming my tongue,


jill















Nov 27, 2017

Before you shop....

 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

Today is Cyber Monday.

Online shopping will be crazy today. Deals, low prices, and sales.

Today begins the mad rush before Christmas giving.

Well, actually, Friday began the mad rush. Possibly even Thursday....for some of us.

Listen here, though.

Lean in close...

Don't get sucked into the world's version of christmas. [yes, with a lower case c]

The world will never celebrate Christ. The world's version of Christmas will fill us with debt, overspending, indulgence, guilt, regret.

Since when did we make Christmas into something other than Holy?

Since when did the size of our checking accounts determine the size of our "merry" at Christmas?'

Yes, giving is a part of Christmas.

But, not when it becomes a debt we cannot afford to pay.

A debt that takes our eyes off of Christ, and on anxiety and worry over bill paying.

Let's determine to be a joy to be around this Christmas instead of a big spender.

Let's determine to love those around us by being present, instead of feeling the need to buy an overabundance of presents we cannot afford.

Let's determine to show Jesus in how we love instead of how much we spend.

Let's determine to be still. To rest in Christ. To rest in contentment.

Joy is contagious.

Joy does not come from the world, but from Jesus.

Joy saturates our hearts when we seek to celebrate Jesus instead of the world's artificial form of Christmas.

Let's make our lists...

But, let's include the gifts that only come from Jesus..

Love, JOY, Gentleness, Patience, Self-control, Peace, Forgiveness.

Let's let it be our mission to represent Christ this Christmas. Not in how much we spend, but in how much we love.

For ever dollar we spend on gifts, let's spend an hour with a loved one. Being present. Listening. Looking them in their precious eyes.

Inhale the Joy of Jesus this Christmas.

Exhale anything that is NOT.

Sometimes the best gifts are the ones that don't cost a penny.

joy finding,


jill







Nov 9, 2017

Shut my mouth....

How do I even begin? I am not even sure when it started.

It is so much easier to tell stories of my kids, or loved ones. The stories about what God is doing in my heart are harder to tell. They go deep into the crevices of my soul and often I have a hard time putting the experiences into words.

Alas, I will try.

A few months ago I felt the gentle pull of the Lord away from things that I enjoyed doing. Really good things.

I didn't understand it and even felt selfish for pulling away. I felt a lack of peace regarding things that I had so peacefully enjoyed before.

I questioned my heart. I questioned God's leading. Or was it God's leading?

At the time, I didn't know for sure. I just knew that I didn't feel the ease of peace.

It didn't make sense. I felt I had grown a lot in the past year and had much to share regarding experiences. I wanted to surround myself with people to be able to share what my heart was overflowing with.

But, the Lord asked me to stop. To be still. To be quiet.

Uh, what?

It was an odd thing. Aren't we supposed to live out loud our faith? Aren't we supposed to go out and make disciples?

I was confused. But, I knew that God was not the author of confusion, but of Peace. [1 Corinthians 14:33]

My mouth suddenly felt like it was taped shut. I felt the pull to be quiet, and to pray. And pray. And pray.

My fingers didn't even feel the pull to write. I had no idea what was happening in my heart, so I had nothing to write about. I had plenty of stories to tell, but my heart was drawn like a magnet to quietness and prayer.

I began to discipline myself in prayer. Prayer does not come easy. It just doesn't. It often feels pointless if I am being honest.

We are more prone to "do", and  to "talk" it out.

Or, at least I am.

I would discipline myself in prayer by making it a practice to pray over every single person I came into contact each day. EVERY one.

This led little time for me to talk about myself, or to talk about anything really.

It also led to a lot of listening.

Listening to my children more.

Listening to my husband more.

Listening to the lady that rings up my groceries every Monday morning.

We learn a lot by listening. A whole lot.

I can pray as I listen. It's much easier to do this than pray as I talk.

I thought so much about Mary, the Mother of Jesus, how the Bible said, "she pondered all these things in her heart."[Luke 2:19]

As I listened more intently to the spoken and the unspoken cues of people, I began to feel the deep pull for them to feel the warmth of Jesus. Without me saying a word.

This is hard for a wordy girl.

I mean, how would they know I was praying for them unless I told them? How would they know about all the great things Jesus was doing if I didn't tell them?

Oh, I shudder as I type.

It was all about me. Me, me, me, me.

Did I not think that God could speak to them apart from me?

I liked the feeling of leading someone to Christ. To pointing the way and being the "one" with scripture at the perfect time.

Oh, y'all...

God was [and is] working on my heart.

I began to see the working of God all around me as I sat back, listened more, talked less, and prayed more.

Recently, the most incredible thing happened.

I had been praying for a young mother that I see each week. Every day I would see her, I felt the urge to pray for her. I felt she had lost her way somehow and needed Jesus.  This lasted for several weeks.

Last week, she approached my friend and me. She asked my friend about what church she attended. My friend proceeded to tell her, and then an entire conversation pursued, between the two of them, about faith.

I sat there dumbfounded. And, like a third wheel.

I wanted to jump in so badly and say, "Hey!! Let ME talk to to you! Come and visit MY church! I have what you need! I have been praying for you!!"

So embarrassing to admit my true thoughts.

They continued in conversation, and I quietly walked away.

"God, what are you doing? I have been praying for her! Why did you use my friend to talk to her and not me?"

Slowly, my vision became focused. I saw so clear what God was doing in my heart.

Did it matter who led her to Christ? Did it matter which church she attended?

What mattered is that God heard my prayers, and He answered them.

And guess what? I got no credit. From anyone. NOT ONE PERSON.

But, God knew.

Was that not enough for me?

Oh, the pride. Oh, the stinking pride.

Are we willing to go behind closed doors, to be anonymous....and seek the face of God on behalf of those around us? Are we willing to step back and let God get the Glory?

Or, are we getting in His way. Is our pride keeping Him from answering our prayers.

Are our mouths bigger than our ears? Do we talk more than we listen?

Lord, change us.

Let us be willing to have hearts on fire with prayer, without one person knowing it.

There is a time to pray out loud, and a time to pray in secret.

But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. Matthew 6:6

How quickly we say YES when asked if we will pray about something for someone. And, just as quickly we forget.

Are we so busy portraying our wisdom and Christianity that we forget what is needed most?

1I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people- 2for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 1 Timothy 2:1-2

So often, in church and in the world, we are urged to be vocal. To let our intentions and our desires be known. To speak!

Could it be that our loud words are getting in the way of the gentle whispers of God?

In all of our efforts to be great missionaries, are our mouths drowning out our prayers and hushing the Holy Spirit?

Oh, Lord, change us.

Is it possible to lead obscure, quiet, prayerful lives?

Jesus sure did.

He made no commotion about Himself. He often was drawn to quiet places. Seeking the face of God. Often when everyone else was sleeping.

Lord, help us to be like Jesus.

Hearts bent on You and not ourselves.

Help us to be okay with not being in the spotlight. To live obscure lives. In Your Mighty Shadow.


shutting my mouth and opening my ears,


jill












Oct 24, 2017

Overcommitted....

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Yesterday I was in Walmart and ran into a precious friend.

We chatted for about 2 seconds and her eyes welled up with tears. She suddenly lost her voice as the tears came pouring down her cheeks.

She leaned over to hug me.

I had no idea what was wrong except that my dear friend was hurting and seemed to need a big fat hug.

When she could speak clearly without tear lumps in her throat, she began to tell me how her life was just overwhelming.

She had recently bit off way more than she could do in this season of her life.

My heart immediately knew that feeling.

The feeling of nausea. Another day. Another commitment.

The feeling of the walls closing in on you because of a deadline and people's expectations.

The feeling of feeling like a failure as a wife, as a mom, as a friend, as a volunteer...

Because it was all just.....too much.

Oh, how I knew.

I clumsily recited the verse, "let your yes be yes, and your no be no."  Matthew 5:37.

I reminded her that saying no is not a bad thing, in fact it leads to the better things that God has for us.

Her words to follow I will not soon forget...

She said, "Just because I can do something...doesn't mean I should, right?"
Right.

That was it.

She knew the answer to her dilemma.

It was implementing it that would be the hard part.

Raise your hand if you have been in this place?

Now, raise your hand if you LIVE in this place?

Ok, so I can't see you, but I bet you have your hand up.

Why do we do this? Why do we overcommit?

I think of Jesus and all He had to do. People pulling at Him from every direction

He had one goal. One focus.

The will of His Father.

Jesus often stopped...and prayed.

He got up early so that He knew exactly where His feet needed to walk that day. He needed directions from His Father.

Oh, y'all.

Why can't we stop, pause, and ask for directions?

How about the next time something is asked of us, we stop, pause, and pray about it.

I have seen the faces of my children when I overcommit. I have seen the annoyance on my husband's face when I spread myself too thin and neglect my duties at home. When I choose to not let someone down and commit to something I have not prayed about, something or someone will always suffer.

Usually, it is our families.

This world has made us believe that we do not have an identity unless we are involved in EVERYTHING. We must go to every function, every bible study, every party, every event, every whatever....

Maybe we are afraid of being forgotten?

We want to prove to others and ourselves that we can do it all. With a cute lipglossy smile on our lips.

Meanwhile, our hearts are shattered with guilt and regret of saying "yes" once again.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.. Ecclesiastes 3:1

For each and every season of life there is a purpose. Let's ask the Father for our purpose here and now. Let's be present and not spread ourselves so thin that we miss the season we are in.

There will be someone else that can help. Or fill in. Or volunteer. Or take the position.

In fact, if we do things that are out of our assigned place, we deprive someone else of the opportunity to fill that spot.

We don't have to be overcommitted.

We can stop, pause, and ask God for directions.

The seasons will be fuller, more enjoyable if we do this. We will soak in the joy of each opportunity, knowing that this is our assignment for such a time.

"Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup, You have made my lot secure." Psalm 16:5


over being over committed,

jill















Oct 19, 2017

There goes my heart.....

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So, I thought I would post this while it is still raw. If I wait too long the words will fall flat. [Just like my hair mid-July.]

Today my son drove to school for the first time. He turned 16 in August.

If you would have told me 3 years ago that I would not be a basket case all day, I would have laughed in your cute face.

Well, I was not a basket case.

Let me rephrase, I was not a basket case all day.

When I saw his red tail lights pull out something inside of me went numb.

Like, a weird heart stopping surreal moment.

It would be the first time in 12 years that I have not driven this kid to school.

The first time I had not prayed for him in the car on the way.

The first time my daughter got to ride shot gun the whole entire way to her school.

Yesterday, I did not realize it would be officially the last time I would drive him. Why didn't someone tell me?

Like, when my daughter stopped taking baths. Why didn't someone tell me that the last time I would run the water over her little blonde head would be that day?

Or, when my son stopped wanting to sleep on the floor in our room. I don't remember how it stopped, it just did.

Motherhood is hard.

It's about letting go.

Over and over and over.

I don't want to let go though.

I want to hang on white knuckled to these days. These moments. These seconds.

However, I know they will change yet again.

There will be more change. More loss. More seasons of hard.

We toughen up somewhat through the seasons. We adapt a little better each time. We feel the same pain of letting go, but we know there is good on the other side.

We just have to get used to the new normal of change.

Mom's of teenagers, you know what I mean.

You know this new normal.

It's a terrifying season in so many ways.

Yet, who do I trust?

Do I trust that I can protect my son and guard him 24/7?

Or do I put my trust in the One who knitted that boy together in this womb of mine 16 years ago.

The One who knows the very number of hairs on his sandy blonde head.

The One who put the sparkle in his light green eyes.

The One, the only One, who sees the length and breadth of my boy's days here on Earth.

I will trust Him.

He loves this boy of mine more than I do.

Impossible to fathom, but I know it to be true.

As I watched him walk out the door, I realized....

I had to believe what I had taught him all those years.

All of those scriptures about God's love for us. God's protection over us. God's sovereignty. God's peace. God's will to be done....

The rubber met the road in those moments.

Do I trust Him with my boy?

Or, do I take back everything I have ever impressed on this boy's heart and fall apart in front of him begging him to stay and to never leave this place.

From the moment those babies of ours leave the safe haven of our womb, we begin the letting go process.

Our Father knows how we feel.

He sent His Son to Earth to be beaten, scoffed at, abused, spat upon, murdered on a bloody Cross.

He knew these things had to happen in order for His perfect plan to be accomplished.

I believe it is the same with our children.

God has a perfect plan for their lives.

We are a big part of it...

But, we have to trust God with His plan for them. His will for their lives.

We plant the seeds....

God makes them grow.

If we hover over our children, they don't get the chance to grow. Just like a seed with shadows instead of sunlight.

The seeds need the light of day, the space to grow, to flourish.

So do our children.

God hears our prayers over their lives.

Before Joseph walked out the door this morning,  I read this passage in 2 Peter.

It gripped my heart and reminded me of my calling as a mother.

I prayed it as a letter to my son.

Dear Joseph,

12So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. 13I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body, 14because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our LORD Jesus Christ has made clear to me. 15And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things [2 Peter 1:12-15]


Momma's, keep refreshing their memories. Remind them of what you have taught them.

Make every effort.


letting Jesus take the wheel,


jill



















Oct 17, 2017

Please stop talking...

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My morning routine consists of coffee, bible reading, and then consciousness. It takes coffee and Jesus to get me conscious. Obviously. 

Lately,  I've been reading a chapter of the New Testament, a Proverb, and a Psalm.

The Proverb that I read each day never EVER fails to convict me. Did I say EVER?

Like, today.

Proverbs 17:28, "Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, discerning if they hold their tongues."

Crickets.

Hello out there?

You still with me?

I had the same response after I read it too.

I mean, what do you say to that little dagger? Definitely nothing to say.

It actually makes me not want to talk at all. Maybe we could learn sign language and the world may be a much more peaceful place?

Seriously. It's something to think about.

My mind swirls to the many, many times I have talked too long. Said too much.

Each time I do, it is followed by a knot in my stomach. My mind repeats the words over and over in my little blonde head. I want to rewind time like I used to rewind my blockbuster videos before turning them in.

Women like to talk. Well most women anyway. If you don't you're just weird.

Totally kidding. Actually, if you don't like to talk I admire you and envy your wise self.

But, for talkers like myself, we can get ourselves into deep manure if we are not careful.

We can talk too long and we can talk too much.

Scripture proves that we need to heed some discipline with our word count. Take a look at this little doozie..

Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut. Proverbs 10:19

As I begin to ponder [and be convicted] by this scripture, I thought of some reasons why I tend to talk too much at times.

-pride
-insecurity
-proving my point -i.e. pride
-uncertain of what to say, so I just said anything...i.e insecurity.

I could go on, but for the sake of your precious time and my precious ego, we will stop here.

Bottom line, ladies...

Let's think before we speak.

Let's pray before we respond.

Let's be okay with awkward silence as opposed to foolish words.

So, on that note, I will end with few words as to not look foolish...


 goodbye in sign language.


jill