Want Less Friction In Your Relationships? Two Nonsense Words Will Help!

We were preparing our family to go skiing for the first time this year.

Only two people had mini meltdowns. Yes, one of them was an adult. Frustration levels were rising as we tried to find all our stuff.

We THOUGHT we had checked our daughter’s gear to make sure it fit from last year, but we forgot that she grew like a troll, and her skis were now only about half the correct size.

The only helmet we could find for one daughter was so big that she needed several thick toques under it for her to see when she was skiing.

We made do.

When we arrived at the hill (yes, I’m just venting now- who says writing isn’t cathartic?), one daughter snapped her boot into her ski. Snap. It fit.

The other boot wouldn’t snap into the bindings, and on closer inspection, we realized that although we paid a LOT of money for the guy at the hill to turn the screw so that the bindings fit the correct size of her foot, apparently, he only did this for ONE of her boots. Not for the other. Did I mention that our province recently legalized pot and that everyone seems to smoke it?

Enough said.

So we were frustrated.

And yes, marriage is just like that. It’s a lot like preparing to go skiing on the first day of the year. A lot can go wrong!

Thankfully, we have the following two nonsense words to share with you to save* your marriage:

1. sorryf’r – A contraction from the full “I’m sorry for . . . ” The details of what exactly we are sorry for are unspecified and undescribed. This word is used a lot in our marriage.

Like, every day.

By both of us.

An example would be “sorryf’r” after I accidentally kicked you while trying to get my ski boots on because I (honestly) didn’t see you walking past me. Or “sorryf’r” drinking the rest of the coffee cream because I didn’t want to share. I felt bad afterwards, though, if that counts.

It means that I know that I am an idiot – a lot.

And I know that you are an idiot, too.

We don’t overanalyze or even discuss details to describe WHAT exactly we are apologizing for. We don’t have to. The beauty of this phrase is as long as BOTH people remember that we have married dorks and that we each do dorky things ALL the time, well, we don’t dwell on that.

We move on.

And now I will teach you the correct response to sorryf’r.

2. yaIknow – A contraction from the full “Yeah, I know.” This means, as per sorryf’r, that I KNOW I’m an idiot a lot of the time, and I know that I mess up, and let’s move on, okay? Yes, you also are an idiot!

Can we change the subject yet?

And then we move on.

What’s for lunch? We forget about all the “stuff” and “incidents” and “offenses” and “infractions” that occurred before and after and around those words. Having low expectations for each other saves a LOT of grief.

Give it a try!

Have low expectations for your spouse!

Oh, and for you, too.

In another blogpost, we continue the skiing metaphor, discussing two acronyms for moderate and expert skiers only. Have you mastered the groomed ski runs of the sorryf’r and the yaIknow? If so, move on to the next post.

“. . . we’ve compiled this long and sorry record as sinners . . . and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us”

The Message

In (some) seriousness, God, help us to have the humility to know we need to forgive and to be forgiven a LOT. And in (less) seriousness, help us to take ourselves and our spouses a LOT less seriously. Thank you for your continual spirit of forgiveness towards us, should we turn towards you to receive this from your outstretched hand.

The song below is about an ancient king named Manasseh. He needed forgiveness for being a jack(what?) at a 100% level, but God extended this grace to him, too! As the song below plays, let’s consider asking God where WE (not our spouses) consistently trip up in our marriages.

And let’s reach out to receive Jesus’ hand of forgiveness to wash our lives so we each can smell a bit sweeter to our partner.

Blogpost Footnotes

* Or destroy. Results not guaranteed.


This post is part of our Say-It-Again On Friday series, where we say it again, on Fridays!

Anyone Else Want To Dance In February Instead Of Sit In Despair?

As mentioned last time, my head was in my hands, a cloud of despair surrounding me, weighing me down.

Regardless of how I was feeling, I had to make a choice. Do I take another fun pill, declare another ski day, to distract from this swirling pit beneath me, my life, that threatened to consume me?

Or did I put on my work pants, and get busy constructing a new life for myself and for my homeschooling family, one that we would have the strength to complete all the way from September to June?

And you? Is anyone else feeling the February pull into that familiar black hole of despair?

How do we dance in joy through the dark month of winter?

1. We lift our despair, scoop as much as we can in our hands, and we lift this offering to God.

2. We listen. We reattach our ears. We practice the habits that are the glue helping our ears to stay stuck.

3. We tell others in our trusted community what we think the spirit of God is whispering. The sounds are muffled and garbled, and the sound waves pass through our hearts mixed with wrong motives, so we have trouble understanding.

4. We look for our dancing shoes. Where are they again? Where are those dreams? Where did we last leave them? Who did God say I am, again?

5. We gingerly take His hand and step onto the dance floor of our lives. He is in the lead, not us. Will we humbly let him lead our lives? Will we give up our right to drive our own car and our accompanying future car wrecks to learn how to dance?

The choice is yours. The choice is mine.

Come on, friend! The adventure of a lifetime awaits us! Get up off that couch!

God, all of us long for a good father who holds out a hand to help us up when we fall. The one who has everything we need to open the right door of opportunity for our future lives.

You are that Father.

Open our eyes to see this.

May we trust You more deeply. Help us get off the couch to escape from the lies we believe about ourselves and our lives.

You alone offer us genuine hope for our futures.

May we have the courage to step onto the dance floor with You.

Teach us to dance.


As you meditate on the words below and listen to the song below, take deep breaths and practice quieting your heart before God.

You did it: you changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
I can’t thank you enough.

The Message

Cry out to Him. What gift do you imagine He is giving you?

Quiet your heart again, and then ask God how He sees you. What do you feel? What does your mind imagine?

Is it time to look for some dancing shoes?

Don’t Despair! The Monster Scaring You Is Only February!

Head in hands again. Trying to shut out the noise. The kids with their needs swirling around me.

We are homeschooling in February.

I sat on the couch, overwhelm consuming me. Do I declare (another) fun day and take the kids cross-country skiing?

Should we call all our homeschooling friends and organize (another) hockey party on the free outdoor ice rink?

Do I give them as much “independent work” as I can and try to tackle the mess of stuff in the basement, the pile that seems to have acquired a life of its own and that roars at me as I pass like a Yeti in the basement?

Or do I confront the emotions in my heart that are spilling out onto the couch next to me, a mess I am trying to hide but that is emerging despite my best efforts to pretend I am confidently steering this homeschooling ship?

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide behind the fun. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that our home is so disorganized that we can no longer find pencils to do our math. Or that no one cares. “I like using a green pencil crayon for math, Mommy!” she asserts.

She is not trying to make me feel better. She is genuinely happy. Her needs are met.

And mine?

“I’m not worried about the kids,” my husband would assert. “I’m worried about you.”


So I offer you tea and a listening ear, dear homeschooling Mom and Dad, and ask:

How are you?

Not how are your kids?

Not how is the state of your home (We know it’s a disaster. You homeschool!)

How are you?

People who suppress feelings experience less positive and more negative emotions.

APA PsycNet

And then your tears, and your head in hands, and I put my arm around you to comfort you.


Husbands, put on a helmet first and then TRY asking your wives if PMS is real.

You know the answer, or you will find out soon enough.

Similarly, the homeschooling in February blues is real.

I want to propose (shout out to Mystie Winckler for the essence of this paragraph’s wisdom!) that the path we walk through the regular monthly cycling of our emotions gives us a hint for how we walk through the annual cycling of our feelings during the homeschooling year.

And February is hard.


Now, I know that you don’t have time for a dissertation. Your child is pulling your arm already, something is burning on the stove, and you have dog vomit to clean up, but you need some help. Now.

Don’t quit homeschooling in February.

If you take the advice of the sentence above, then go! Go and get through the day! Well done, Mom and Dad!

If you have another 5 minutes, here is an explanation for the statement above.


When sailors would navigate using the stars, how would they do it? They would choose their course on a cloudless, moonlit night. “I am heading north-east,” they would assert, and set their hearts and sails in that direction.

On a cloudy night, when the stars were invisible, and they didn’t know which way to go, what did they do?

They kept sailing in the same direction.

February, head in our hands month, is a cloudy night, desolation.

Ignatius describes desolation as “. . . darkness of soul, . . . the unquiet of different agitations and temptations, . . . when one finds oneself . . . as if separated from his Creator and Lord.” . . .

Ignatius warns us that someone in desolation should never change an important decision . . . made when they were in a state of consolation.

The Jesuit Post

Keep sailing in the same direction.

How do you do it? How do you survive one more day, you ask desperately? I’ll give you some tips, held like cherished gems in my pocket from long years on the sea, at another time, friend, because our time together has ended for today.

But oh, desolation is an opportunity for our growth.

May you reach your destination.

However, you may not end up where you thought you were sailing.

That is His way.

It’s The Women Who Suffer In A Culture That Promotes Abortion

We don’t see them, the women, head in hands, often alone in their apartments, suffering.

They suffer through the choice of, the procedure of, and the after-effects of their abortions. We don’t see them for a few days, but that is nothing new. We don’t see many friends or family members for a few days.

We didn’t notice.

We don’t hear them either, crying into their pillows, muffling their grief.

We don’t know their stories because it is not easy for them to speak about. The pain lies hidden deep in their hearts, placated by medication in the terrible times. Who wants to dive into the depths of the human heart and open Pandora’s box of pain that lies within?

We didn’t notice their cries because much pain emerges silently.

What TRULY is best for the woman?

What if we set aside the unwanted child within her womb, the man who is in or out of her life, societal expectations – everything? Let’s set everything aside and focus on the woman.

On her.

On you.

I see you. I feel your pain, though I may not know you. I hear you crying, though I have never met you.

I have an inkling of the pain that you feel because I feel it, too, in a different sort of way.

I am an adoptive parent.

I also, like you, have cried the anguished tears of a woman who is not in control of the timing of when a child enters her life. I too have shed tears for the unfulfilled longings of my heart, though different from yours.

I, too, have suffered grief because of the child.

But this is not about me.

This is about you.

Should you be the one to pay for the abortion procedure, handing over your savings to get it done?

What about the man?

Would a sperm say to a father, ‘Who gave you permission to use me to make a baby?’

The Message

He pockets his savings, perhaps buying more beers for his friends. He is still drinking, having fun, eyeing up the next woman at the bar while you are at home, alone, suffering through the painful side effects of aborting his child.

Is this the best we can do for women’s rights?

In ancient Greek culture, women were considered more powerful than men.

Some were worshipped as Greek goddesses. Temple prostitution was an honored position within Greek society, unlike cultural stigmas towards prostitution today. The cultural mindset was that women can control their sex drives more successfully than men.

Women have control over something men desperately want.

When sex is withheld for a season, the power balance shifts to favor women.

What if, and I am only asking the question, withholding sex from a man until he promises to be by her side if a baby comes is the best way to honor women?*

Here’s another thing we know. . . . Sexual activity is not a life-threatening proposition for guys. Neither are the consequences. We won’t die if we get our partner pregnant. We don’t lactate once she gives birth. Males are really off the hook. We engage in the same reproductive activity [as females] but there are great differences in what each has to lose when they engage in it.

Your Best Brain by John J. Medina – Lecture 18: Sex And Your Brain

Women, are we ready to assert our power?

Then let’s say “no” except to the honorable man who has already asked us to marry him*.

This is the first step towards truly honoring, valuing, and assuring women’s rights.

Use your superpower! Assert your strength and the dignity, rights, and freedom of women. Don’t hand him your future suffering, both physically and emotionally, for free.

Value the woman.

Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for?

The Message

Lord, raise women who are okay with standing alone. Thank You for restoring us to wholeness, no matter where we have travelled, Jesus. After a moment of quiet, consider asking Holy Spirit, “How do you see me?”

Blogpost Footnotes

*And no, I am not referring to the teen boy who buys $20 cubic zirconia “Promise Rings” in bulk from Walmart and hands them out to myriad teen girls, seeking his reward. The promise rests on the character of the promise-er.


This post is part of our Say-It-Again On Friday series.

The Despair Of February Is Our Ticket To True Homeschooling Freedom

I was slipping into the dark abyss.

My fingernails scratched the side of the dark tube I was falling. I was trying to hold on, to stop myself from falling. Nothing worked.

I fell faster and further and landed with a painful thump. Sitting in the dirt, I tried to take stock of my situation to figure out what to do next.

I couldn’t climb my way out of this pit. Bits of dirt fell out of the walls when I tried to pull myself up with my own strength,

I sat down again, discouraged.

What do I do next?


I sat on the couch, the kids running in circles around me. The dog followed them, stopping to eat a puzzle piece that had fallen on the ground.

“He’ll throw that up later,” I thought, but I stayed where I was, slouched on the couch, watching the commotion.

How had homeschooling become so complicated?

Welcome to February.


And it is to you, dear homeschooling parent, that I send out a blimp in the sky, something that you will notice amidst the noise. “What is that?” you wonder, looking up, up at some shape you can barely recognize high up in the sky.

The dishes have piled up again, and secretly, you find yourself wondering more and more often what it would feel like to don work clothes and to wave “Goodbye!” to the kids each morning with a smile and a wave. Next year? (The rest of THIS homeschooling year . . . ? What WOULD that be like . . . ) You are lost in a daydream again.

We try to shake ourselves awake. We walk to the next room in a half-hearted effort to clean up. The piles of half used, forgotten curriculum mocks you from every room you pass. “Ha! You didn’t finish me either!” it yells at you.

The kids are happy, delighted. They kiss you as they soar past, trying out a new paper airplane they designed, as they throw it, again, from the top of the stairs, laughing.

They stop to offer you a kiss. “Do you want a cup of water?” they ask sweetly, wanting, in their limited way, to help you. They have a look of concern in their eyes. They know that mommy doesn’t feel “regular” today. These are good kids.

But even they can’t help you climb out of your pit.

The pull of February drowns out their voices. Their words sound muffled, far away.

The martini that you have never actually drunk but that entices you as a far-off reward for someday doesn’t cut it today.

Dirt falls from the side of the walls and won’t hold your weight when you try pulling yourself out of this pit with a promised martini.

Maybe you can wait here, sit in your despair until spring, you wonder?

You look up at the top of the pit. “How can the light reach way, way down here?” you wonder.


I will be writing a series of posts, dear homeschooling parent, to help you through the February blues.

In February, the long winter stretches out with no Christmas in sight. The rest of the school year seems long, long away.

If you haven’t felt discouraged yet, you probably will.

(Shh… God is holding a ticket out of here for you. Do you see Him? But the only way out of this pit is if He transforms you so you have wings. Are you ready to fly?)

Stay tuned to this series of posts to help you:

(1) Not be surprised at the February homeschooling blues when they knock at your door and come in uninvited,

(2) Allow God to transform YOU (not your kids), and

(3) Better align with a way to homeschool that puts a smile back on your face.

Are you ready to soar?

He energizes those who get tired,
gives fresh strength to dropouts.

The Message

The “Unwanted” Baby Is Wanted By All?

I’m wiping the tears from my eyes again.

It was movie and popcorn night. We watched UnPlanned, the astonishing, true story of Planned Parenthood Director Abby Johnson’s journey across the line from Choice to Life.

We were all undone.

As my tiny and insignificant contribution to this whirlwind topic of our day, like a feather battling a windstorm, I include below a poem I wrote.

May our prayers reach the ear of God, that the prevailing cultural winds would change direction and blow the feather toward God again and again and again . . . we pray.

Lord, have mercy on us, all of us, for we are a sinful people.

And may we pause to consider the following:

Simon Peter [who] . . . fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.”

The Message

and

If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.

The Message

They Say She’s Not Wanted

They say she’s not wanted in this world.

Yet I’ve seen her mom, belly swelled in mystical expectation, nervously meeting prospective adoptive parents for the first time. Tears flowed on all sides at the first introduction, bonded somehow at the initial meeting. I’ve chatted with her mom many times while she lay curled up in the womb.

My heart broke for her mom because she could not raise her now.

I met her birth grandma and cried with her over the expectation of the first grandchild in the family.

The fulfillment of a grandmother’s dreams was not that the child would be whisked from her arms before they would know each other well. “You take good care of her,” the grandmother whispered to the adoptive mother through tears.

I’ve met her birth father.

A boy-man, wearing the tough guy mask in front of his friends and family. I sat with him while he, head in hand, sobbed a mountain of anguished tears, knowing that her birth mom could not stay with him forever and be the family unit that he dreamed of.

I’ve cried with him too.

I’ve also met them – the crowds of families, with polished faces and pages full of dreams in shiny dossiers, cartwheeling over each other in efforts to impress. They plead, “Please pick us. We want her. We want to be her family. Oh, won’t you please pick us?”

I know them because I was also a member of one of those families. And our family was chosen. And oh, how the aching in our hearts was finally filled with love and gratitude for this cherished life.

Thank you, birth mothers, birth fathers, and birth grandparents, for standing firm in love and truth, regardless of the shifting sand of popular opinions.

We honor you, and we love you.

Thank you for placing your child in the arms of a family who will love and care for her.

Thank you for allowing this child to thrive in the healing love of all of us in her extended birth families and her extended adoptive family.

And we share a secret, don’t we?

Even if they don’t know it, we know these children are wanted by MORE people than can be counted.

To Lose Weight, DON’T Focus On Food – Focus On Identity (Healthy Habits Post 10)

I threw away the diet books in a fit of frustration.

I failed.

Again.

HOW is it possible that EVERY time I start to diet, I GAIN weight?

True story.

I don’t even lose weight for a while and THEN gain weight.

My body pushes the pedal to the floor, green light ahead, and helps me put on the pounds without meandering through the territory of “thinner me” first.

“Thanks a lot”, I thought. My body is too smart for me. I had to find another angle.

HOW can I win this battle of the bulge with a body that bulges whenever I FOCUS on my food, I wondered?

I was focusing on the wrong thing.

That’s when I learned about “identity.”

“Identity” and related terms were some of the most frequently Googled words in 2023. Yet I think it’s safe to say that few of us clearly understand what EXACTLY identity IS or HOW it applies to ME.

IDENTITY was the smoking gun that allowed me to keep wrestling (granted, I am still in the ring) with the battle of the bulge in my own life.

Here’s the secret. Lean in close.

Is no one looking? Ok . . . (shh… what will it take for us to BELIEVE ourselves that we are the KIND OF PERSON WHO IS FIT?).

Then we do that – end of discussion.

I’ll explain to you the FORM of what exactly this looks like in my own life. Then, if you’re still interested, I can explain WHY this works.

I will first discuss a CAR (the FORM) and then an ENGINE (the WHY) to convert the above paragraph to an analogy.

The CAR I drive is reliable and gets me where I need to go. These are the actions I take to stay fit. The ENGINE of the car, the fire and the pistons that make the wheels go around are found in digging into beliefs about identity.

In the analogy above, I drive a 20-year-old Toyota. In real life, this is the car my Grandpa gave me when he could no longer drive. He scratched and bashed this car from headlights to tail lights from failing vision and judgment, but it was a VERY reliable car because he didn’t have far to go each day.

This Toyota is kind of like me. I care that I can get from here to there and reliably do my errands. My goal, as much as I can control, is to be fit enough to have a reliable body that gets me where I need to go.

Being a healthy weight is not about image but about avoiding pain associated with obesity, if possible, in other words.

So how do we do that?

I focus on what I must do to TRICK MYSELF INTO BELIEVING I AM A FIT PERSON.

Sometimes I do a Triathlon. Sometimes, I complete P90X, and related challenging workout programs. Once, I bought equipment and lessons to learn to skate ski.

I did THE KIND OF THINGS THAT FIT PEOPLE do.

I pretended to be someone else, in other words.

And then I thought, “Fit people eat green smoothies in the morning, so BECAUSE I AM A FIT PERSON, I will do that too.”

And so now we’re talking about the engine of the car.

I naturally ate MORE OFTEN like a fit person because I BELIEVED that I was a fit person.

It was all about identity.

Something else about identity?

Jesus cared a lot about identity.

We have a record of six times that Jesus asked something along the lines of, “Who do (the people/ the crowds/ you) say I am?“

Identity is the A-Z of what drives your car in life.

What we believe about the identity of Jesus is the steering wheel in the car He is riding.

What we believe about His identity determines whether the car of God is coming toward us, bearing the overwhelming love of the Spirit and all of the inheritance that adoption by a King offers. Or whether we are hitchhiking and miss the car of God again.

‘May it be the real I who speaks. May it be the real Thou that I speak to.’

C. S. Lewis – Letters to Malcolm

God, help us to see ourselves using the glasses You use to look at us. And may we, by Your Spirit, grow into Your best vision for us and for our lives, we pray.

How To Get God to Like You

He looked at me intently, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you think I am going to hell?”

His question was honest, open, curious. This wasn’t a loaded question, as if he had a pile of ready-made snowballs next to him, ready to fire, whatever the response.

He just wanted to know what I thought.

Our mutual friend jumped between us, trying to get his attention. His eyes remained fixed in my direction while she spoke.

She confidently asserted her opinion.

He was half listening, and when she finished, he re-directed his question, quietly, back in my direction.

“But what do you think?”

“I think that God considers the revelation that we have received, compared to the revelation that we currently hold.”

His eyebrows furrowed further.

Let me explain.

Some of us have received more revelation, truth, or light -we’ll use the term revelation – of God than others. The child of the pastor for example, who has been raised in an atmosphere of grace and forgiveness will have more revelation than the child who was tossed aside by his parents for another cocaine hit.

However, if that same child who was born into a Christian family had parents who secretly abused him emotionally, spiritually, or physically, that child might have even less revelation than the child of the cocaine addict.

So this revelation is not something that we can see or measure in others. Only God knows the amount of true revelation that each one has received in our lifetimes.

And- how much of this revelation that we have received, are we still carrying? This is the second question that is equally important.

Have we held this revelation like water held in a hand with fingers spread apart? Has the revelation dripped away? Did we toss aside what we have received, including the spiritual encounters of others that we have heard about?

Or have we treasured in our hearts, like Mary the mother of Jesus, the wondrous revelation that we have received?

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself.

The Message

We are not to sit on our revelation from God like a bird, sitting on a clutch of eggs, waiting for a God moment to hatch. We are to hold up each egg, talk about it with others, and examine it in the light.

Is this egg, this revelation, a rotten egg? Is this an experience true to the person of Jesus, or did another spew the words of Jesus while manipulating me for their own advantage?

And then, the biggest test of all, can we try a bite of the egg? We risk. We read a book. We go to breakfast at the church with a friend who seems genuine in her faith. We ask a question, openly, honestly, and genuinely curious about the other’s response, like my friend did.

What did the food taste like at the church breakfast? Do we feel sick after eating it? Maybe that egg was rotten.

But the point is, that we DID something. We went out on a limb and took a risk to discover truth about the revelation that we have received.

What is the next step in your spiritual journey? Is it time to stop sitting and start tasting?

Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see – how good God is.

The Message

Oh, and if you taste and see, and are walking, in your abilities, in faithfulness, along the journey that God has given to you, following the clues as they come, then yes, you can be confidently assured that God likes you.

And I like you too.

And if we like you, why wouldn’t you like yourself?


This post is part of our Say-It-Again On Friday series, where we say it again, on Fridays!

We’re Overweight Because We Lack Organization Not Self-Control (Healthy Habits Post 8)

Hopefully, I’m organized enough to remember that I was writing a series of posts on a particular topic and then if I get distracted, come back at a later date and finish the series.

It happens more than I’d like to admit that I write a post, announce something I’ll talk about later and then completely forget that I ever wrote that.

In the last few posts, I took a break from my blogpost series about healthy habits. But today I remembered to . . . I mean . . . I AM writing about healthy habits.

It’s not that I didn’t WANT to finish the series of posts I am writing about healthy habits.

It’s just that I’m highly distractible.

What was I saying?

Anyway, this post is about how to be more organized and focused, so let’s get started!

I proved definitely in previous posts that we ACTUALLY:

  1. LOVE practicing annoying healthy habits
  2. LOVE drinking nothing but water
  3. LOVE becoming exhausted exercising
  4. LOVE eating green food
  5. LOVE starving ourselves
  6. LOVE to avoid dessert (future blog post, if I remember)

So by now, we have finally figured out (or tricked ourselves into believing) that these healthy habits are awesome.

How we DO these habits, the hard work of rolling up our sleeves and getting them done is the next part.

But that’s not as hard now, because if we WANT to do something, then getting up enough willpower to prep and do the work so we can DO these habits is the easy part. 

Being successful in life is kind of like being successful in homeschooling our kids, I think.

The main goal of a homeschooling parent is to structure school in such a way that the kid enjoys learning as much as possible. If a kid WANTS to do something we can stand back, and yeah, maybe even drink a martini by the pool for once, for real. (For about an hour, tops, but this time I’m telling the truth about martinis).

And it’s the same with motivating us. When we WANT to do something we can make it happen.

Sometimes we beat ourselves up for all the wrong reasons. We are annoyed at ourselves for having an unhealthy lunch, and we assume it must have something to do with self-control.

Organization is the real culprit.

Try spending two hours on the weekend preparing healthy food to make these healthy habits easier during the week.

Here is an example to get you started. Her methods have been transformational for me.

I’ve learned that if we put in that extra bit of effort to buy proper running shoes, it’s a lot easier to run the race. Similarly, if we put that little bit of effort into preparing healthy foods then success is inevitable.

We won’t go from couch potatoes to famous triathletes in one week, of course, but we will make progress, and progress is enough.

Jesus told them a story showing that it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit.

The Message

We can find a way, and we’re proud of ourselves, and we can give ourselves a little sticker on the wall or whatever it is that motivates us, particularly.

Yes! I do have a LOT of stickers! Why do you ask?

And whatever it takes, right?

When The Gift Box Opened On Christmas Day Is Empty

Who isn’t excited to open a present?

Even for the most hardened of hearts, a brush with hope in an unopened present makes the soil of our hearts ready for the seed.

And what happens when we open the box and find nothing inside? We turn it over and examine it from another angle. Did we miss something? We take the box apart before finally setting it aside.

Disappointment.

Even for the happiest house with the most joyous children and (reasonably) healthy relationships, the best we can hope for on earth, this unrest arrives.

In the quiet, when the kids have disappeared upstairs to play, when the guests are quietly conversing, the emptiness arrives.

It appears as an ache, a heaviness that weighs us down a little. We mindlessly pick up the wrapping papers strewn around the room, our thoughts following us.

And then after we’ve had our fill of chocolate, and coffee, and cinnamon buns, and laughter, the sadness reawakens, the one that was slumbering within.

And so we pick up our sadness, gently. We scoop it up with our hands and lift our hands to God.

And this is our present, cherished as a pile of diamonds, that we offer our Father.

The tears in His eyes mirror our own, and His fingertips brush ours as He gently takes this gift from us.

Come, come, child. Come away with me, He beckons our heart.

We follow Him, the tears not yet erupted from the geyser within as we smile at the others and follow Him to a lonely place.

And in that place, perhaps the quiet of a room downstairs, by ourselves, He holds us as we cry. He dances with us as we celebrate. He comforts us as we plead with Him for His kingdom to come over some area of brokenness in our lives or our loved one’s lives.

And when the tears have been shed, and the comfort received, we return to them, to the family and friends.

And our gift has been opened, the one we were waiting for, the one that fills our hearts.

The gift of Him.

Merry Christmas, He says to you.

Did you open your gift this Christmas?

Jesus, teach us to pour out our heart as a gift to You.

As you listen to this song, consider talking to Holy Spirit, like talking to a friend over coffee. What do you most long to ask Jesus?

Ask Him.

And wait in the quiet stillness for a bit.

And may Your life be touched by a glimmer of the divine, which is a gift that when opened, contains everything you’ve been longing for.

Merry Christmas.