Good Monday morning.

It is good, right?
I woke up.
The sun will rise soon.
I’m still a child of God.
No matter what happens around me, or to me, my identity in Christ remains the same.
I have a Savior, a Redeemer.
The Holy Spirit abiding in me brings me joy and peace.
Do I still worry?
I would be lying if I said no.
I am a work in progress.

I can only see things with my human eye, hear with my human ears, and think with my human mind.

I can’t see the big picture, and sometimes the bits and pieces that I can see don’t make any sense.

That can be a little scary.
I am not invincible.
I don’t hold the power of life and death.
Even so,
I know the One who does.
The Giver of Life.
The Creator of all things.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
1 Corinthians 13:12-13.

From Heaven’s side, my life is a beautiful tapestry.
From here below, all I see are the threads, and they don’t make a pretty picture. In fact, they are a jumbled mess.

Today the desire of my heart is to trust God in all things.
To remember that this life is not all there is.
To be of courage, and to encourage others.
Above all, to love.

Originally published in January 2021, today’s post is about how God hears and understands my thoughts even when they are a bit muddled.

I’ve been told that I’m a low talker. Because of this, I’m sometimes hard to understand. I have to speak up, and enunciate more clearly, if I want to be heard. My kids get embarrassed when we are in a drive thru because I talk extra loud to make sure I’m understood. I also do the same thing when I am on a speaker phone. It’s as if because I can’t see the person, and they can’t see me, I have to speak louder to make myself heard.

When it comes to writing, however, I’m able to make myself clear with words. I use my desktop computer for most of my writing. I like to watch the words appear on the screen as I type out my thoughts. It seems to be the only way I can keep up with what I’m thinking. The faster a story flows out of me, the faster I type.

It’s a lot different from when I took typing class in high school. “Eyes on copy” were the words that started each practice session. I was supposed to look at the letter I was typing instead of watching where my fingers were on the keyboard. Because I wanted to both look at the paper and watch myself type, I was very slow. I was also not very accurate. I think my fastest timed writing test, without errors, was 21 words per minute.

It’s funny how with such a bad beginning, I became one of the fastest typists in an office where I later worked. Fifteen years after high school, my timed typing test was 90 words a minute.

Being able to type that fast allows my fingers to keep up with my thoughts. There are times, though, when my hands and wrists get tired after typing for several hours.

I thought the answer to that problem was to buy a dictation program. I’d thought about getting one for a long time. I was excited to finally purchase it last year. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was not going to work for me.

Apparently, my computer can’t understand me, either. The words that I dictated came up all wrong in the document. I spent hours editing the few paragraphs I managed to write. It didn’t take too long for me to quit using the program.

I’m glad that praying isn’t like that computer program. Whether I speak the words out loud, or say them in my mind, God hears and understands me perfectly.

You have searched me, Lord and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.

Lately, I admit that my prayers are a bit of a jumbled mess. I don’t own a TV, so I haven’t been watching the news, but I hear enough conversations and Facebook posts to know that our nation is in turmoil. I don’t know how this will affect me personally, or what it means for my children’s future. So when I try to pray, I don’t know what to say.

I’m thankful that God is unlike my dictation program. He can take my tangled up thoughts, and understand my prayers. And He will answer them, in His own way, and in His time.

Good Monday Morning 1-3-22.

Whew!

The holidays are behind us.

Shopping and baking and wrapping gifts (although I cheat and use gift bags mostly).

Decorating and undecorating (my decorations are still up. Maybe I’ll get them down and put away this week).

Overeating……(Enough said about that. It’s back to “regular food” this week).

I still have one more Christmas celebration this coming weekend, the gathering of my siblings and their families.

We won’t all be together. As our kids have grown up, some have to work on that weekend; others have moved away.

But I will see my sisters and brother and their spouses. I love to spend time with my siblings.

We always find things to laugh about, even when we are going through tough circumstances.

I remember when we were at the funeral home, after my dad passed away, making final arrangements (my mom had died a few months prior to that). It was definitely a time of grief. But we didn’t see any casket that we liked that really said “dad.” The funeral director said he had one that just came back and brought it in to show it to us. It made us chuckle to think that a casket had returned empty to the funeral home. (I understand why that happens, and it’s really nothing to joke about. But at that moment, it struck us as funny).

Right after my husband passed away, we were sitting in the hospital waiting for the final paperwork. It was not a time for laughing. But I stuck my foot in my mouth when I said something negative about a person who was standing right next to me. I nudged my brother-in-law and said, “You should have stopped me from saying that.” He said, “There wasn’t time.” (I still chuckle when I remember that moment, in spite of being embarrassed).

Those moments of levity during difficult times are part and parcel of being in my large family. My dad could always see the humor in everything. My mom loved to joke around and laugh.

I’m so thankful that my parents taught us how to laugh, even if the laughter is at our own expense.

In December I lost a beloved aunt and one of my good friends passed away from Covid. Other families have lost loved ones as well. I don’t find anything funny in either of their deaths. Those times of levity during my times of grief were to help me get through it. I would never laugh at someone else’s grief.

These two deaths bring back memories of my own days of living in a fog from grief. It took several months for me to begin to live “normally” again after my husband passed away. Of course I had to get up every morning and feed the kids and get them off to school, but for a long time I felt like I was just going through the motions.

That first holiday without him was so hard to get through. It didn’t get any easier the following year when we again celebrated without him.

Eleven years have passed since then. My kids have grown up and are independent adults. I know they still grieve their father. But we have enjoyed our time together the past few holidays.

This year we celebrated on Christmas Eve as is our tradition, with a nice dinner. Then we opened our presents and watched Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. It is my favorite holiday movie. While parts of it are crass, it is so over-the-top ridiculous that I laugh all the way through it.

I thank God for the gift of laughter.

As I said, my parents were a good example at how to get through the dark times while keeping their sense of humor. My siblings and I enjoy our time together and laugh so much over the silliest of things.

For a long time, when my kids were younger, I forgot how to laugh. I dealt with depression for most of my life and as a mom overwhelmed by the stresses of life, I didn’t find much to laugh about. I remember attending a bridal shower and my aunts were joking around so much that my face hurt from smiling. There are times when it’s like that with my siblings, also.

I hope that I have passed on that gift of humor to my children. They saw me angry and depressed in their younger years, then navigate the ups and downs of life after I received the diagnosis for bipolar disorder. Medication and counseling helped take away the anger, although I still struggle with depression at times.

During the past 11 years, they’ve watched me grieve their and come through the Valley of the Shadow of their father’s death. I hope they realize that I am a survivor and see me thriving in life despite hard circumstances we’ve all been through.

My parents left a legacy of the gift of humor. I hope that when my kids look back on my life one day, they will remember that I laughed often.

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Cozy up this New Year’s Eve with a warm holiday novella.

Author’s inspiration:

When I wrote the first book, Angelica’s Christmas Wish, I was reluctant to end the story. Mark and Serena had connected with one another and fallen in love, as they returned to their faith on Christmas Eve. I decided to write a sequel because I wanted to know what happened to Mark and Serena next. Their story continues in this novella, Serena’s New Year’s Wish.

About the book:

When Serena Cole came to Chicago for a fresh start, she never imagined she’d save a little girl from getting hit by a car, or that her new boss would turn out to be the little girl’s father. Now, Serena must decide if she can work for the man she’s quickly falling in love with. Her heart has plenty of room for Mark and his daughter, but she wants more than he’s willing to give, and that could very well be a dealbreaker for her.

Mark Harper never wanted a second chance at love—until Serena came into his life. He’s certain she’s the one, but when she asks for the one thing he can’t give her, he’s not so certain of their future. Can he let go of his fear and give Serena the one thing she wants above all else, or will his inability to budge drive her away forever?

Excerpt:

On Christmas morning, Serena Cole sat on the sofa in the home where she’d spent the last two nights. When she’d woken up in the hospital three days ago, she hadn’t remembered where she was, or her own name. She’d been told that she’d run out in front of a car to push a little girl to safety, ending up with a broken collarbone and amnesia. When she was released from the hospital the next morning, Mark, the child’s widowed father, had brought her here to his home that he shared with his former mother-in-law.

Fortunately, the amnesia had been temporary. Last night, on Christmas Eve, Serena had remembered her name and the circumstances that had brought her from North Carolina to Chicago. She’d come to start a new job, escaping her sorrowful past and starting over fresh. They were all surprised to find out that Mark was the lawyer she’d been hired to work for. At one time, she would have thought meeting Mark and his family was a coincidence. Now, she believed God had brought her here.

She stole a glimpse at Mark, who was looking back at her. The tenderness in his smile caused a flutter in her heart that she hadn’t experienced since becoming a widow three years earlier. She glanced back toward the little girl she’d saved. Angelica had broken her arm, but that was her only injury. Angelica was playing with her new doll. Watching Angelica open her gifts this morning had brought back memories of Serena’s daughter, Maggie. She’d bought Maggie a farm set for her beloved horses. Maggie had squealed with delight, much as Angelica had this morning when she opened her doll. Serena hadn’t known that would be the last Christmas she’d have with her daughter.

She sighed and felt a warm hand wrap around hers. “Are you feeling okay?” Mark asked. “You look sad.”

“I was remembering my daughter. Angelica reminds me so much of her.”

Download it today on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited and enjoy this holiday romance.

It is also available in paperback.