5 More Movie Scenes Which Made Me Cry

Here are my first five (way back in 2010):

1. Philomena
Philomena's son Anthony is taken away from her.

Image from here

2. Pollyanna (1960 version)
The whole town comes to see Pollyanna after her accident.

Image from here

3. Marley and Me
Marley dies.




4. The Neverending Story
Artax sinks into the swamp of sadness.




5. Bambi
Bambi's mother is shot.

Clumsy

Well, the bike riding is off to a great start....not!

This whopper of a bruise is on the inside of my left thigh. How did I do it? I was coasting along on my bike...that's right...coasting...not riding, more like scooting. I stopped and tried to get off, and my dress must have got caught on the seat (I know, riding a bike, wearing a dress...stupid) and over the bike and I went. Duncan rushed over and managed to sort of catch me before I toppled over completely. I think my leg banged into the seat.

I will keep trying.

Sometimes You Just Have To Cry

Sometimes crying makes you feel better.

On Friday, I ended up in the emergency department in Albany hospital. The boys and I had been staying with my parents for a few days in the school holidays.  I woke up with shocking abdominal pain.  It started between my chest and my belly button, went through to my back, and then up to my chest, and I started wondering if I was having a heart attack.  The pain was second only to my labour with Flynn.  I couldn't keep still and couldn't stop crying out in agony. 

What really distressed me was not the pain...it was the reaction of my own parents.  They literally didn't care.  My dad yelled at me to stop disturbing everyone.  He told me to take Panadol, put a heat pack on and be quiet.  My mum told me I was scaring the kids (I wasn't; they were totally distracted by the TV) and that I need to learn self-control and be quiet in pain.  I yelled at her furiously, asking if she'd been quiet when she'd hurt her back nine years ago and ended up in hospital for a week.  My dad told me he'd take me to the hospital as long as it didn't make him late for work.

What the heck?!?  They are not usually this horrible and I'm still hurting from it.  I confronted them later, telling them how much their attitude hurt me, that I was in a lot of pain and couldn't just be quiet because it was inconvenient for them.  But they still don't get it.

Then today I was in tears because a friend of mine unfriended me on Facebook.  If it was someone from high school that I hadn't seen since then, and had no 'real life' relationship with, I wouldn't care.  But this friend is someone I see regularly, am on good terms with (or so I thought), can talk about all sorts of stuff with, and Rory is best friends with her son.  I asked her, via private message, why she unfriended me and said I was sorry if I'd inadvertently hurt her.  She said she didn't agree with some of the stuff I posted on Facebook, but that we could still be friends in real life.  I asked her if she could clarify what sort of things she disagreed with and she said she'd tell me in person sometime (I saw that she'd also unfriended Duncan and another mutual friend).  Then, she messaged me this evening, explaining that she finds it too overwhelming reading about friends suffering (like when I posted about my abdominal pain).  I'm glad we have sorted it out, but the whole afternoon has left me somewhat drained and emotionally fragile. (I will do another post on the nature of real life/online friendships later, as it is a subject that has often fascinated and perplexed me.)

Just when I thought I'd been doing so well recently, too.

Side note: I am fine, physically.  The hospital did tests and an ultrasound, but all were clear.  It is not related to my recent surgery.  They thought it might be my gallbladder, but it doesn't seem to be.  After some heavy duty painkillers, which left me very drowsy, I was home a few hours later, and the pain has not returned since.

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Quote of the Day

When you say, "There's too much evil in this world," you assume there's 'good'.  When you assume there's good, you assume there's such a thing as a 'moral law' on the basis of which to differentiate between good and evil. But if you assume a moral law, you must posit a 'Moral Law-Giver', but that's who you're trying to disprove and not prove. Because if there's no Moral Law-Giver, there's no moral law. If there's no moral law, there's no good. If there's no good, there's no evil.
What is your question?
- Ravi Zacharias

Post-Surgery Worst Nightmare

My worst nightmare post-surgery nightmare was getting gastro. A friend visited me in Perth while I was recovering, and told me how gastro had ripped through her family recently. I thought that if I were to get gastro now, it'd be beyond horrible. Throwing up with a painful stomach...gah!

Of course, that's exactly what happened.

Late Friday afternoon, I went to have a shower in preparation for going out for dinner at a friend's house in celebration of another friend's birthday. I had had my dressings changed twice by a nurse, but this was to be the first time I'd done it myself. He nurse had recommended I do it in the shower. It was a bit painful and, while I was in the shower still, my vision started to go and I felt very faint. I called out to Duncan and he caught me before I fainted. I came to on the shower floor, dressings half off, wondering what had happened. Duncan said I'd been out of it for about 20 seconds. He helped me out of the shower and onto a chair. After a little while, I felt well enough to complete the dressing change, put on my pyjamas (having decided that as much as I was looking forward to the dinner, it was just a no-go after what had happened) and sat on the couch before going to bed. I just didn't feel well.

Then the vomiting started. It finally finished at around 1am.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt my stomach. Coughing, sneezing and laughing had been much worse. Duncan called our local hospital to check whether he should bring me in, but they said, unless I was in pain, or the vomiting was going on and on, I should be ok.

Of course, I was completely wiped out he following day and my mum arrived to help.

Then on Sunday, Flynn got it.
My mum went home on Monday morning and Bethany from our church, who's been helping me at home arrived.
In the early hours of this morning, Rory got it.
We heard from my dad that my mum had it, too.
Now, Duncan, the man with the immune system of a mallee bull when it comes to gastro, has even succumbed.

We've all been knocked over like dominoes.

May this bug leave my family and never return!

Me Before You

I finished this book during my 'sabbatical after surgery' in Perth.  With euthanasia still a much-debated subject, this book is very relevant.  I'd also heard a review of it and thought it sounded very interesting.

The plot centres around Will, who is 35 and has been a quadriplegic for two years after being hit by a motorbike.  Feeling very depressed about all he has lost, he tries to take his own life before asking his parents to take him to a clinic in Switzerland where he can end it.  Devastated, his parents hire Lou, a 26-year-old woman, to be his personal carer and companion, with the hope she can cheer him up and show him life is still worth living (I will not reveal the ending).

While I am a Christian and strongly against euthanasia, this book helped me see just how difficult life is for people like Will, or those who are in chronic pain and terminally ill.  The last few years have been so dreadfully difficult with my mental health that I have longed to end it all on numerous occasions.  On of the upsides of my suffering is that I have become more compassionate and able to see other's viewpoints in these matters.  I agree that the argument to let someone 'die with dignity' makes sense in a worldly point of view.  To be honest, if I was in Will's situation, I would struggle to want to live, too, and I'm a Christian with the tremendous hope that Jesus brings.  Will doesn't have that hope, so I can see that his life looks bleak to him.

This book led to some...ummm....'interesting' discussions with my mum after I told her what the book was about (she is reading it now).  She is not Christian and said that if she was dying and in pain, she would ask me to take her to an overseas clinic, too.  I told her that although it would devastate me to see her suffering, her life is not mine to take, or to assist in taking.  She said, "Fine, I'll ask Tim, then."

I'm hoping to read Joni Eareckson Tada's biography to hear about how a Christian person has dealt with becoming a quadriplegic and how the hope they have in Christ has made a difference.

Ultimately I'm still very opposed to euthanasia...but I think Christians can be so and still understand why people like Will would consider it.

Recovery and Results

I'm now two weeks and three days post-surgery, and I'm pleased to report that everything went well.

My abdominal muscles were repaired and I had to have mesh inserted to hold them together.  The hernia has been repaired.  It's frustrating not being able to do a lot of things, but I am so, so thankful it's done.

I spent three nights in hospital in a shared room.  The first lady I shared with was lovely, although we had to talk to each other from opposite sides of a curtain for a while.  It was nice to finally put a face to the voice.  Then she was discharged and I had a room to myself for just over a day before another lady came in.  On the morning I was getting ready to be discharged, this lady was getting ready to go in for surgery.  Suddenly, she started vomiting everywhere and hearing it just made me want to be sick, too.  I felt very sorry for her, but watching/hearing other people being sick is one thing I struggle with.  This surgery was my first with wound drains.  Duncan was grossed out when I told him I had two tubes coming out of me, and blood and gunk was dripping into two containers.  It sure was awkward walking to the bathroom, having to carry them all the time.

I stayed in Perth for five days after discharge, returning to the hospital once to have my dressings changed.  My mum took care of me and it was a very peaceful week, just watching TV, resting, reading and colouring my adult colouring book - a very strange experience without the little fellows, although I talked to them every day via FaceTime.  I think Duncan has a new respect for stay-at-home mums after he took a week of personal leave to care for the boys while I was away.

Now I've been home for nine days and my peace has been shattered.  Since we couldn't find an au pair, my mum has been staying with us as I can't lift or drive for six weeks.  We managed the school/daycare routine without killing each other.  I was especially nervous about the arrangement as when the fellows were born, things did not go well between us.  But, praise God, we have a young girl from our church coming a few days a week to help me, which is a massive blessing.  It's tempting to do more than I'm supposed to, but then I remember what this surgery cost us financially and I'm determined to do what the surgeon said.  There's no way I want to have it done again.

I'm in a bit of pain and discomfort and I'm still walking a bit hunched, like a little old lady.  Thankfully I have a support garment I wear around my abdomen and it stops me feeling like my stomach is going to fall apart.

Under the Knife

In 11 days I'll finally be having surgery to repair my abdominal diastatis.

Unfortunately, although I fought hard, we will still be forking out $15,000 we don't have, thanks to my family.

I ended up getting a referral for an ultrasound and they found a small hernia near my belly button.  However, since it is only small and the main surgery is the abdominoplasty, I'll be getting peanuts back from Medicare.

Despite all of this, I'm beyond excited to finally be getting some of my life back.  I'll be able to exercise, lift heavy things, be free of abdominal discomfort and pain, be able to fit into my old clothes once I've healed and the swelling has gone down.  I'm actually looking forward to the little 'break' I'll get in hospital.  I just hope they give me good drugs!

Duncan will be taking a couple of weeks off work to care for the boys while I'm away and after I get home.  My mum will be accompanying me to Perth since I won't be able to drive for at least a few weeks after the surgery.

Now we just need to find an au pair from the end of July until the end of August as I won't be able to lift Flynn or do much at all really.  All of our attempts have been fruitless so far.  We've spoken to four different ladies and they've all decided against it (although one we're still chasing up).

Please pray we will find someone soon.

Quote of the Day

Your wound, your weakness can become your strength.

- Turia Pitt 

The Shack

When I first finished it, I honestly don't know what to make of this book.

Like no other Christian fiction book I've ever read (although I haven't read many), it's interesting, but not the amazing work so many Christians rave about.  I've had friends say it's the first book they'd recommend to non-Christian friends wanting to find out more about Jesus, particularly if their objections to Christianity centre on the issue of why God allows suffering.  Personally, there are many other books on Christianity and suffering I'd recommend before this one.

The Shack tells the story of a man called Mack whose youngest daughter, Missy, is abducted and brutally murdered.  Mack has had some experience with church etc., but was largely doing his own thing, while being consumed with his grief, when he receives a note, supposedly from God.  The note told him to go to the shack in the middle of the wilderness where some of Missy's belongings had been found stained with blood and God would meet him there.

One of the things that I felt most uncomfortable about was how God the Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit were portrayed.  God is represented as a jovial African-American woman called Papa, Jesus is a carpenter (which is the truest to Scripture out of the three), and the Holy Spirit is an Asian woman called Sarayu.  The issue I have with these representations of the Trinity is that not once in the Bible are they described in this way.  Why is God depicted as a woman?  Is it to make a particular point?  To be controversial?  It's easy to say that it's just fiction and it doesn't matter, and that The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe portrays God as Aslan the lion, so what's the difference?  But the difference is that Scripture does describe God as like a lion (and many other things).

I think the book does a reasonable job of portraying the close relationship between the three beings of the Trinity.  The three in one concept is not easy for any human mind to grasp, but it does display the distinctiveness, yet the unity of Father, Son and Spirit quite well.

While the book is sad, given the deep pain Mack is dealing with, I didn't find myself feeling overly emotional while reading it.  Some people have told me they were moved to tears.  Maybe I am just an unfeeling sort of person, or maybe it was because I was focused on analysing it for its biblical faithfulness and theology.

I think the main flaw of the book is that it focuses on Jesus coming to end our pain, rather than Him coming to save us from our sin.  We are not innocent victims of sin, we ALL are sinners in need of a Saviour.  Our suffering may not be the direct result of our own sin or someone else's, but the state of the world is a result of all of us having turned away from God to rule our own lives.  The book does address Mack's own need for a Saviour towards the end and his need to forgive the man who murdered his daughter, but it should have been a more central theme as that is the gospel - a God, who came to earth Himself to die and rise again to reconcile us to Himself.

It's not enough to just say that The Shack is fiction and it is not intended to replace or sit alongside Scripture.  That may be true, but the writers of Christian fiction have a responsibility to ensure their theology is grounded in Scripture.  The Shack is enormously popular and now there is a movie version.  As I intend to write Christian fiction, I would hope that people would be wise and discerning in reading my stuff, not just swallow it blindly because it's what their itching ears want to hear.  I think The Shack shows the intimacy of the relationship with God we all crave and it is by no means evil.  It's not my book of choice.

The Tale of Two Mother's Days

Mother's Day, Sunday 14th May 1995:
The day of the inaugural Western Derby between the Eagles and the Dockers.  This became known as the 'Mother's Day Massacre' as the reigning premiers, the Eagles, taught the young upstarts a lesson, belting them by 85 points.

What a glorious day that was!

Mother's Day, Sunday 14th May 2017:
Exactly 22 years to the day.  This one was not glorious, but it had nothing to do with football.

We were on our way home from church when we received a call saying that a fire was threatening our house.  Apparently the neighbours had been burning off, but it was a windy day and the fire spread to the bush behind our house, where our rubbish tip was.

I dropped Duncan home, so he could join the local fire brigade (made up of farmers) to help fight the fire.  The boys and I escaped to a friend's house, 10 minutes away.  She was with her husband, helping to fight the fire and their two boys were with a friend, so we had the house to ourselves.  At this stage, I didn't realise just how close the fire was to our house.  When our friend, Mel, returned, she told me to brace myself for the worst, but that they were doing everything possible to save the house.

I'm terrified of fire.  I don't know where this strong fear comes from, but I hate lighting fires.  I let the house go cold in winter if Duncan's not home, rather than put more logs on the fire.

A range of emotions engulfed me - panic, fear, uncertainty....anger.  How could the neighbours burn off on such a windy day?  Why didn't they keep an eye on things?  Yes, rain was forecast (but it hadn't come), but didn't they check the wind forecast?  I'd always thought that if there was a fire, that I'd be happy to escape with our lives, that 'stuff' didn't matter.  And it wasn't the actual stuff I was fretting about; it was the ardurous task of starting over.  Where would we live?  The farm had insurance, but how long would we have to wait?  I had no idea about any of that.  I didn't want to have to deal with people offloading piles of their old junk onto us, thinking they were being generous, but really just cleaning out their cupboards.  No, I don't want 50 smelly blankets and old high heels, thank you very much.

I worried about my animals.  I began to brace myself for the fact that they could already be dead.

But I was also freaking out because the very night before, I'd dreamed that our house was burning down.  Now it was coming true!  What was I supposed to make of that?

Mel returned to the fire, rescued our dogs and took them to a neighbour's place.  The neighbours across the road were told to evacuate.

The boys and I stayed at Mel's house and gradually we were joined by all of the farm wives and their kids.  On one hand, I was grateful for the company.  On the other hand, I just wanted to be alone.  I was numb.  I didn't want to listen to laughing and joking people, chatting cheerily around me.

Finally, I heard the news that the fire had been contained and it was safe to go home. 

Miraculously the house wasn't even smoke damaged, it just smelt horrid, like we were smokers and had smoked inside for years with the windows shut.

My animals were all safe and well.

Although I am so thankful to God for granting my anguished requests to save our house, I am ashamed to say that, once again, I was angry.  How could God let this happen?  I was challenged to think about whether He is a good God if our house had burned to the ground.

The answer: Yes, He is.

They backburned this paddock next to our house to contain the fire.

When I Survey The Wondrous Cross by Isaac Watts

My reminder to myself to refocus...
 

When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Lyrics from here.

Hoodwinked

A friend lent me this book a few months back and, in true Sarah style, I've only just finished reading it.  She thought I could use some encouragement in this season of parenting small children...and she was right!

And this book IS very encouraging!  Although nauseatingly American at times (there are only so many times this Aussie can read 'momma' and 'kiddos'), it's a great read.  Here's are the motherhood 'myths' they attempt to debunk:

Myth #1: Motherhood is natural, easy and instinctive
Myth #2: The way I mother is the right (and only) way
Myth #3: I am 'just' a mom
Myth #4: Motherhood is all-consuming and all-fulfilling
Myth #5: A good mother can do it all, all at once
Myth #6: Motherhood is a rat race
Myth #7: Motherhood is the luck of the draw
Myth #8: Everything depends on me
Myth #9: I have to do it all right, or my child will turn out wrong
Myth #10: My child's bad choice means I'm a bad mom

My issue is not so much that I believe these myths, but I grow weary when encountering other mums who do.  I don't believe that if my child turns out to be a serial killer that it's because I did something 'wrong' in raising them, but there are plenty of other mothers who will think that.  I've heard older Christian women bitching about other Christian parents whose adult children aren't following the Lord, criticising their parenting, that they MUST be to blame for the children's poor choices.  This really makes my blood boil.  I was very encouraged by Karen Ehman's (one of the authors) honesty in sharing how her son ended up in trouble with the law as a teenager.  Yes, he came from a 'good Christian home'.  It's tempting to believe that other mothers aren't really judging you, and it's true that they often aren't, but the reality is that sometimes they really are.  Ehman shares openly and honestly how when she was pregnant with her first child she had very strong views on how to parent and how she and other women at her church would say nasty things behind the backs of other women who went back to work or didn't breastfeed.  She also shares how a difficult experience with one of her own babies humbled and changed her.

This is a great book for mums under the pump.  It also contains prayer points and Bible verse cards which can be photocopied and printed.

Quote of the Day

Successful mothers are not the ones who have never struggled; they are the ones who never give up, despite the struggles.
- Sharon Jaynes

The Suffering Competition

What's one of the worst things a friend can say to you when you're finding life hard?

"You're not the only one."

What? I hear you say.  Surely they're being empathetic, they're being....nice.

You see, it all depends on the tone.

They could mean, Don't feel alone.  I understand what you're going through, because I'm going through it, too.  That's being nice.

Then there's, You're not the only one with a hard life.  Mine is harder.  My husband works longer hours, my kids' behaviour is more challenging, I don't have supportive family, I'm in worse health, I have less friends.  So, don't you dare complain, because my life's WORSE.

I've had people do the latter to me and it really hurts.  I'm in no way implying that my life is the HARDEST there EVER is.  I'm saying that I'M finding life hard right now.  I'm struggling to cope with what's on my plate.

You see, when women make life into a kind of suffering competition it makes it more intimidating for other women to open up and be authentic.

Remember, your friend is is finding life is hard for THEM.

Quote of the Day

As a therapist, lemme just say: almost every trauma survivor I've ever had has, at some point, said, "But I didn't have it as bad as some people," and then talked about how some types of trauma are worse.  Even my most traumatised, most abused, most psychologically-injured clients say this.

The ones who were cheated on, abandoned and neglected say this.  The ones who were in dangerous accidents/disasters say this.  The ones who were horrifyingly sexually abused say this.  The ones who were brutally beaten say this.  The ones who were psychologically tortured for decades say this.  What does that tell you?  That one of the typical side-effects of trauma is to make you believe that you are unworthy of care.

Don't buy into it, because it's nonsense.  It doesn't matter if someone else had it 'worse'.  Every person who experiences a trauma deserves to get the attention and care they need to heal from it.
- Unknown

via http://stimmyabby.tumblr.com

The Alcoholic Prayer for Christians

When I get discouraged by the sin in my life, I look back at how God has grown and changed me over the years. In this way, every Christian has something in common with alcoholics wanting to be rid of addiction. I'm not there yet, I won't be until I'm with Him...but I'm closer than I was yesterday.

I am not the man I ought to be,
I am not the man I wish to be,
and I am not the man I hope to be.
But by the grace of God, I'm not the man I used to be.

The First Day of School Post Nobody Writes

Today was Rory's first day of kindergarten. I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but I haven't had high hopes for a smooth start since he attended orientation late last year.  During both orientation sessions he clung to me, didn't want to play with other kids, and didn't want to do any of the activities.  We've been trying to talk positively about school over the past few months, but he hasn't been very enthusiastic.  He's been going to daycare one day a week since he was four months old, and since around the time he turned one, drop-offs are painful more often than not.  But he ALWAYS has a good time there and plays with other kids, so I don't know what his problem is.

Even though I know him better than anyone but God, I struggle with knowing the right approach in parenting him.  There's no doubt he has issues with anxiety, but he's also lazy (just calling a spade a spade).  If he had his way, he'd still be in nappies and I'd still be spoon-feeding him!  I still have daily battles with getting him to do tasks I know he can do - eating, putting his shoes on etc. ("I caaaaan't do it!  It's too hard for me," is the common whine).  Due to this I swing between being too tough and unsympathetic to just doing things for him, or not forcing him to do things because I've just had enough.  There have been times where I've really done my block and regretted it afterwards.  Sometimes I feel distant from him, because I just don't know how to help him.  I know too well from personal experience at a young age that kids can be cruel.  I don't want him to have to endure what I did.  I want to help him overcome his fears NOW, so he doesn't have to face the ridicule.  At times I feel like I'm reliving my own childhood through his anxiety.  You'd think I'd be able to relate to how he feels, but sometimes I just can't.

So, today resulted in a meltdown when it came to putting on his school uniform and getting on the bus.  I thought the bus ride would be ok since his best friend was already on the bus (his best friend is going to the Catholic school unfortunately, while Rory is at the public school), but nope.  Duncan had to ride on the bus with him to calm him down.  I drove into town with Flynn and Rory's big bag of stationery and met them both at the classroom.  There were more tears when it was time to leave.

I spent the day sobbing...not because I'm one of those parents who can't let go, but because I felt so drained.  I cancelled swimming lessons for him, since I just can't deal with the way he screams throughout every lesson.  Dealing with school is enough for now.

Thankfully, he got off the bus this afternoon all smiles, and the comment from his teacher in his communication book said he'd cheered up after we left, played with other kids, did everything he was asked to do, and generally had a great day.

I'm grateful for other parents who have shared their own struggles with me.  My Facebook newsfeed has been littered with photos of happy kids in uniforms and comments from parents, such as, "Jimmy has been looking forward to school for months," or "Sally had a great day, no tears, and actually told me to leave."  It's a kick to the guts reading that and I've struggled with jealousy, raging at God about why, after everything I've been through, He has to give me difficult kids on top of that.

I love my kids more than all the hairs on all the bears, but parenting a sensitive, anxious child is just really hard work.  There are people who'll imply that you're too harsh, and others will think you're too soft, and somehow you've got to ignore them all, and figure out what's best for your child when you don't even know what that is.

Somehow we'll get through this together, my boy.

2016 Hopes: How I Went

Well....2016 wasn't a very productive year AT ALL!

1.  RECOVER!  I have a myriad of appointments to arrange and attend this year to aid my recovery - physiotherapy, chiropractic, counselling, hospital follow-ups, blood tests.  It's doing my head in already.
I don't think I recovered much at all.  There were so many moments during 2016 where I should have returned to hospital.  I enjoyed counselling (I found a Christian counsellor in Perth that did appointments via Skype), but I'm not sure it's really had much of an impact.  I guess it's just an ongoing and LONG process.  I had physio regularly, but will need surgery to repair my abdominal diastasis. 

2.  Send my book to more literary agents and publishers.
I got my submission to Fremantle Press ready with just weeks remaining in 2016.  Now, I just actually have to print and post the thing.

3.  Have regular quiet times.  We're only 15 days into the new year and I feel like I'm failing already.  But maybe if I was succeeding I'd be tempted to become proud.  Thank the Lord it's all about His grace.
My friend Amanda sent me a devotional for my birthday, which I found very helpful.  If I wasn't part of a KYB Bible study, which required weekly preparation, I think I would have sadly neglected my Bible altogether.  I think it shows where my heart is, that I don't see reading God's Word and praying enough of a priority.  It's the being still part that I find hard, just enjoying God's presence without thinking about the next thing on my to-do list.

4.  Declutter and sell things to raise money for missions or whoever the Lord places across my path in need of money.  As soon as Flynn outgrows the baby stuff, IT'S OUTTA HERE.
I've sold a fair bit of the baby stuff so far and donated some to our biannual church missions stall.  It breaks my heart to know there will be no more bubbas for us, so I try to list the stuff for sale quickly, so I don't think about it too much.

5.  Read and comment on other blogs more.  I failed dismally at this last year as I was too preoccupied in keeping my own blog afloat. 
Sorry, I don't think I did very well at this at all.

Oh well, onwards and upwards....
Stay tuned for my 2017 hopes.

Quote of the Day

God will not protect you from anything that will make you more like Jesus.
 - Elisabeth Elliot

Related posts:
Jim Elliot