So I'm getting married. Wahoooooo! There it is in print. This will be my last blog on this site, I'm going to start using mrandmrsellis.com.... Crazy :) Thanks for reading my little journey here, I hope you will follow our new one!!
Last blog finished and new journey beginning...
I need to clean my room. It's a good way to show God I appreciate what He gives me and a good way to show my children that the rules of our house are for our whole family.
Not fun.
I told some of my best girls that I feel like I only write mopey stuff. I'm so totally tortured or whatever.
This isn't going to be mopey although it might be a little challenging to write...
I like to be the boss. I like answering to myself. I like control. Learning to give Jesus control is still a daily struggle for me even though I deeply believe His Way is better.
They say there are spenders and there are savers. I am a spender. Big time. I've pretty much been employed since I was 18 and on my own a good chunk of that time. So I've spent alot, for like a decade. Without caring about consequence until the last couple of years. Even then, I despise budgeting. And it ain't like I'm rolling in cash. Hello, I'm a single working mom with a mortgage. Not a huge mortgage, but still.
I like to be the one that pays the bill at dinner. I like to be the one that has a gift for my girlfriend on her birthday. I don't like for my kids to go without things. The last couple of men I have dated have not been men that take finances or jobs seriously. I mean them no offense. I like paying anyway, I certainly wasn't encouraging them to be responsible. At least not seriously.
Because I like being the boss. Oh man, do I like being the boss.
But.
I'm learning.
I was completely honest with Jeremiah a few months ago about my finances. He sat down with me and helped me figure out a real budget. On Google Docs. (I have also learned I adore dating a geek.) That was very scary for me but also incredibly freeing. He even told me he had expected much worse :) And here is what I want to remember later, the whole point:
Jeremiah wanted to buy me a mini-spa day this weekend. And let me tell you, these eyebrowz iz craaaa-zay. Gracie really wants to do swim lessons and the last day to sign up is tomorrow and I can't really make it work at this point of the month. I told my boyfriend this (Eeek! Scary!) earlier today.
And he gave me money for both. And then some. I did not want to take it. Not at all. I pay for things. I hand out money. That is not me getting to be the boss, the provider. Thats not only me but also my child being provided for.
He is such a lovely person. I think that's an acceptable word for a man. He has this beautiful heart and the kindest spirit. And he wants to take care of me, and in so much more than just finances. And I want to let him. I think (I hope) I took the money graciously enough.
Blog #6, finished. And I am feeling grateful.
A lil something extra: I re-read this for spelling errors and I hope this didn't come off as money hungry... I just really like my boyfriend ;)
I don't know how to start writing about what's in my heart or on my mind right now. So I'm just going to start tapping away on my little phone screen, we'll see what happens and here we go.
I can't get away from the parable about the soil. As in its been in two of the last books I have read, it was preached about the last Sunday I was in service and it came up in a discussion just last week. You can find it in the Bible in Mark 4, here's brief synopsis: A sower (Jesus) throws seeds (The Word) onto four different types of soil (hearts) and all to different ends. I grew up in church and have intellectually understood that story for a long time.
Here's the rub. The reason I can't just chalk it up to coincidence: I'm less than confident I am the good soil that multiples its fruit.
Why?
Because I'm sure having a hard time convincing myself that I look, sound or act much like the Jesus I say I love. Like ever. The fruit of my life is... lacking.
If I love Jesus, I will keep his commands. He said that. And not like cutesy, animated, feel good, Sunday school cartoon Jesus. Real, breathing, flesh and blood soon-to-be-shed-on-my-behalf Jesus. I am to lose my life to gain it. Pick up my cross. Love others as myself. Give out of sacrifice, not just abundance. I am a sheep among wolves where the harvest is many and the workers are few. I am to count the cost. Him and Him alone.
I have "known" this my whole life. But just over 3.5 years ago it became real. I read a book written by a man such wiser than me that said it is good to be cautious when people toss around the phrase "God spoke to me" too lightly. It's not something I commonly use. But the week after Easter, God spoke into my heart as I was walking out to the parking lot.
"Are you in? It is time to follow Me. There are no other choices but My way. Come beloved child."
And I followed. Eyes ahead, pressing forward, knowing there would be a cost. I desperately wanted Jesus. I became a part of deepened friendships, learned to really study the Bible, worshipped like I never had, began to understand what service looks like and began to learn His voice. I read parts of the Old Testament I ignored as a kid, determined to be wiser than the Israelites. I was on this path and nothing was getting in my way.
For quite awhile.
But wouldn't you know it? I still had the seeds and roots of thorny sin down deep in my heart. And as deeply as I wanted Jesus, those roots were there. Sure, I started to weed and work but it got hard, and I became afraid. Being comfortable in church attendance, having at arms length relationships and slowly starting to take back over my life was much, much easier than dealing with that ugliness and hurt. I got better at hiding.
For a little awhile.
Hiding is miserable.
And now here I am. Reading Crazy Love for the second time but with a much harder, distant heart. A heart I certainly didn't desire just over a year ago. A heart that is burdened by a need for control and safety and not the things of Christ. There is no escaping the fact that Francis Chan could have added my name to the line "Do not assume you are good soil. [Yea, I'm writing about you Meghan R. Poulos]"
Can thorny, choked out soil become good soil? Can Jesus take the mess I re-created and use it to His Glory? Does He even want to? How many times do I get to come back?
I don't seem to write very happy things. I'm kinda tired of being a grouch.
Blog #6, lingering.
We are somewhere north of the Oregon border and I'm consumed with the feeling that we are never going to get home. But I'm the grown up now, so I don't say it. We can leave that up to Nathanboy.
I had such a wonderful weekend. It's so precious to watch my kids with my grandparents. To see Nathan sitting in my Grandpa Jim's lap, watching him laugh at his jokes brings tears to my eyes. When the majority of the table shuffles their seats so Gracie may sit by my Grandma Ida, it warms my heart and is only SLIGHTLY exasperating.
I know Melissa isn't my actual sister but I agree with my mom, she belongs as a part of our family. Watching her jump and run and splash in the ocean in the gray, misty weather with my kids while I took pictures, I thanked God for the blessing she is in our lives. So often, I feel more like a father to them. Leader, financial provider, the last word in discipline. I tell myself its okay to be exhausted after work, I am still nurturing enough. But I'm not. And my compassionate, patient friend stands in the gap. She serves my little family and is helping me to raise my children. I could never thank her enough or repay her. Not that she would ask or expect it. Everyone should be so blessed to have an Aunty Melissa, even if its undeserved.
I drove all of 45 minutes on the way up. Thanks to a tricky speed trap in Medford and a less then amiable sheriff, I now have a $190 speeding ticket in my purse. I pulled off at the next exit and threw quite the childish little tantrum... not in front of the kids at least. Man, I'm glad Jeremiah loves me because when I angrily through the keys on the ground and stomped my foot, I looked and sounded about as mature as Nate. And Mocha just rolled his eyes and picked up the keys and graciously accepted my mumbled apology a little while later. It's been a long time since I have brought someone around my family, and even longer since its been someone they liked. And they sure do like him. My grandma smiles at him, Nate hugs him when nobody is looking and my sister and him have quite the hilarious shtick about music tastes. Team Shannoodles on that one.... before my eyes, the man that wasn't interested in dating a woman with kids is becoming a man leading a family.
Oh Jesus, you give me more than my stubborn, hardened heart deserves. I hope that somewhere in my actions this weekend You were glorified, that You came through.
California border approaching and fifth blog complete.
I spent the long weekend with my little family in the woods. Pampered
and provided for by Grandma. It took me back to my own childhood, watching Gracie learn to paint the same way my sisters and I learned. My son got to help build a burn pile, which is pretty exciting for a 4 year old city boy. And in her infinite knowledge of small children, Aunty Melissa had the foresight to limit the number of pine cones returning to Manteca BEFORE they were collected.
I needed a break, I needed a change in scenery. I needed to clear my head and calm my emotions. I needed to hear Jesus and be refreshed for everyday life. I think that happened.
I had dinner with Jeremiah last night. My sweet friend and her husband prayed diligently for us through our meal. We talked and talked and talked and talked and talked... and not just me. For once. ;) And not just two each other. We prayed. Earnest, heartfelt, recognizing God for who He is prayer.
No more flip-flopping.
I love Jesus.
I love my children.
I love my Melissa.
I love my dear friends.
I love the Body I am a part of.
And I love Jeremiah.
God has a plan. We know we must follow it. We are united and we are ready.
Third blog, over.
It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to....
When any type of relationship ends or closes in my life, regardless of the level of drama (which I def bring) I tend to think of things in term of "who's fault?". I typically blame myself for lots of things. For being high maintenance. For being unnecessarily sarcastic. For being too emotional. Too dramatic. Too needy. Too demanding. Too selfish... and so on.
I'm not going to do that today. I'm just going to be sad. Sad about broken trust. Sad about deal breakers. Sad about an evaporated future. Sad about loss and emptiness. Sad about the collateral damage. Sad about sin and selfish choices.
But I won't be this sad forever. Jesus still has a plan. All good things come from the Father of heavenly lights. And no matter how heartsick I feel, that is still true.
Second blog, finished.
