God Hears Your Petty Prayers

Earlier this week, I laid on my stomach in our bed in complete despair. I was budgeting, and we couldn’t make it on what we had. There was no way to meet all of our needs. I was going to have to get a job and leave my sweet little girls in daycare, or Patrick was going to have to get something soul-sucking somehow. It was going to be so stressful. I couldn’t believe it had gotten this bad. I really believed that we were doing what we were meant to be, so why was everything falling apart?

About an hour later, I felt a certainty in my gut that we would figure something out. “We are meant to be exactly where we are,” said to my husband, “Something is going to work out.”

It did. We realized I could do some food delivery when things got really bad. If his paycheck was as low as it was this week, I would deliver groceries for as many hours as it took to meet the need. Then, I did it! In 2 days of delivering, and a miraculous $45 order, I met what we needed, and our paycheck transformed from a desperate, we aren’t going to make it, to we will make it, all the way to we will be good!

Then, last night, I was curled into a ball crying about how I can’t afford to provide for my girls. It was a seemingly petty mental breakdown over my oldest girl’s 2 year old birthday. I had only been able to get her one gift, and it was one with hard memories attached. What I was really upset about is all of the years of fear about money that I have felt, and the hopelessness I sometimes feel about it getting better(even though we are working really hard on it,) but one of the things that hurts the most, as petty as it may seem, is that every day I am losing the baby years, and I missed out on a lot of fun, happy things about babyhood, and every day there’s a new thing I’ll never get back. Things like designing their first nursery, or buying their baptism dresses, or Christmas presents, or just toys that I like for them. Anyway, I was consumed by guilt for how petty all of this is. I was taught that materialism is wrong, and I was so ashamed of myself, but at the same time I was feeling so much grief about the joy I couldn’t get myself to experience. I prayed so hard, “God I know this is so stupid, and I should be better, but I just want to be able to do her birthday.”

This morning, I awoke to notes from a Facebook group of mine encouraging me, and uplifting me in my struggles, and a fellow foodie group member complementing my birthday dinner idea. Because of the Facebook comments, I was inspired to go shopping. Whoever is reading this, you would not believe the shopping trip I had. I knew in my gut exactly what to get her, which stores to go to, and when. I got done with exactly 5 minutes left until the party, and spent almost exactly what I had left of my Christmas money.

When it came time for the gift opening, I caught myself wondering, did I get enough? Was it the right stuff? She had to go through the gifts so quickly, but a voice in my head said, “it’s not about this moment, it’s about forever-it’s about watching her play with these years from now,” and I calmed my worry.

After the party, I was able to be truly gracious and grateful for the gifts I was given, because I wasn’t desperately hoping that they would miraculously be what I wanted to get her. Anything at all would have been amazing. I have really struggled with gratitude for a long time, because I have felt grateful and angry at the same time and it has made me so confused. Every time I got gifts I would end up in tears beating myself up over how ungrateful I was. But I realize now, I wasn’t ungrateful, I just wasnt meeting my own needs, so the wants that were getting met weren’t enough to fill me. I was angry because I was feeling empty, and the gifts couldn’t touch what I was needing.

It was incredible to be able to appreciate the gifts she was given(let me note here that since I am a stay at home mom, anything she gets is what I am surrounded with all day every day, so it’s my life too! Lol), because I had provided for her too. I could enjoy the playdough she got, because I bought her mess free markers. I could love the pajamas she got, because I bought her tutus. I could enjoy the baby bottles someone else got her, even though I meant to get them for her, because I got her other things instead, so it was amazing that she still got them!

All of this is to say that God hears your petty prayers. Nothing is too small for Him to hear you. I read a meditation just after the birthday party about how we think that God needs to help someone else whose needs are worse instead of us, and I realized I always feel that way, but that’s not what He wants. He is able to be present for anyone. He can help the woman who just lost her husband, and the one whose makeup got screwed up on the way to work. He hears the woman with cancer and the one who is mad at her boyfriend. He was there with me when I lost my first baby, and He was with me when I wanted to get my two year old a mermaid.

Don’t underestimate Him. He is more than any of us know. His answer may not always be yes, but He will bring you comfort, even if it’s not as soon as you would like. There will be evil, but He hates every time you suffer as much as you do. He is there in the big things and the small. Let Him love you no matter where you are. Be His whole entire world. ♥️♥️♥️ Then, love Him back.

♥️♥️♥️

PS I was watching The Bachelor a couple weeks ago, and Colton got Caelynn bags and bags of fun stuff. I asked God to do that for me-He’s been spoiling me rotten lately with miracles. ♥️

The Art of Hating and Loving: A Defense of Dan Humphrey

At the end of Gossip Girl, there is a moment when Dan must decide whether to satirize Serena or to write an ode to her. He publishes the satirical denouncement of her character, while he gives the ode to her. She is mystified by how he could be so hateful if he loved her. Throughout the show, he deals with the same problem over and over again with other friends and family members.

I have watched Gossip Girl over and over again, but the most recent time this episode resonated with me. It kept echoing in my mind when I thought of friends I had lost and family I struggled to love. It occurred to me that I genuinely and deeply loved these people who I also profoundly and completely hated. I was as confused as Serena hearing it from Dan at first, but I started to see the similarities between Dan and I that explain how we could hate something and love it so powerfully, and incidentally, why the opposite of love is indifference not hate.

1. The first similarity between Dan and I is that we are both writers. We are living in our own novel/screenplay/blogpost, and everyone knows every written piece has a villain, and every written piece has a hero. If we are the hero then of course whoever we are struggling with would be the villain and vice versus. Moreover, every instant in our lives is a piece of a story and it therefore becomes more intense than it would normally have been.

2. We are both incredibly sensitive people. Dan Humphrey and I both feel things very deeply. Every single thing that happens to us is the entire world. If something is good, then it is a majestic perfect fairytale, if bad, then it is hell on earth. That being the case, when Serena slighted Dan it broke his heart and made his miserable, just as much as when she repaired their relationship it lit him up.

3. We are genuine. I think this is the most important of all. I think that if anyone really is honest with themselves, they sometimes hate the people they love, but there is a lot of fear about being honest about emotions in our society. Dan and I both strive to be honest about who we are and not to create a facade over our lives.(The fact that Dan was Gossip Girl doesn’t disprove this because even as Gossip Girl He was honest about who he was as a person.)

All of the above combine to create a perfect storm of whirlwind emotions. The important thing to note, though, is that the reasons for Dan’s hatred stem from his love for his family and friends. He is angry about what hurts them, or how they hurt themselves. We can see this in how he is willing to drop everything to help Upper East Siders whenever they are in trouble. It makes it obvious that love and hate are so closely related, that they are almost one.

Dear John,

Dear John

Really? You still haven’t called? It’s been a week and a half now, and all you have done is one Facebook IM to me, and a couple responses when I talked to you last night.

This wouldnt seem so weird if I didn’t know your roommates. I know you’ve been asking about me. That in addition to your response text last week that you had an amazing times and your desire for me to move to live near you makes this complete silence on your end so strange. Clearly you liked me…maybe even like me…so why the dead signal from your side of the state line?

Someone you know said you are waiting for me to initiate. That makes me doubt my own lack of contact with you, but just the same, you were raised in a traditional family, don’t you know you are supposed to lead this? I assume you know that but maybe its not a good idea. I argue with myself about whether I should stop being stubborn and just talk to you. Maybe even just say “soooo you ever going to call me?” What would you say to THAT? That would be a boldness I am not yet used to in myself but I’m beginning to believe in that side of myself. I’m not thinking about asking you out, just telling you you are being a dolt if you don’t make some sort of contact, especially if you want to.

The only problem with this is if I am wrong and you aren’t just being a wuss and not contacting me I run the risk of appearing to be super clingy and needy, and I am neither of those things. I just think you are being dumb if you really like me and yet refuse to act on that.

Anyway, call me, would you? I actually don’t like talking on the phone so you are lucky I want to hear your voice on the other line. I’m here though if you want to talk, so man up. You’ll have to if 22 year old you wants to be with 24 young me!

Live. Love. Laugh.

Love,

Me

Phil’sosophy of the Night

I need a man in my life.
For some very important reasons.
Like earth shattering crucialness here people.

There are spiders in houses. Seriously. SPIDERS.
And sooner or later there will be a spider in MY house. 
And I may or may not….who am I kidding…I WILL have to kill it myself.
All by myself. 
While shaking, and squealing….and….running,
Probably clothed in a towel from the shower that he will show up in….

Also, there is a dead squirrel in my yard.
He has been laying there….NOT breathing…for….maybe a long time.
It is possible that he may begin to stink before I work up the courage to….
Shovel(???) him into my dumpster?
Maybe if I just cry somebody from City Hall will show up and magically make him disappear.
Dissolve..into my yard? Ew! That’s gross!

Also, I have not had a medical injury in a long time.
And I am grateful for that huge blessing, and I pray that it lasts
(KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK)
But it seems like everyone and their mother sprains their ankle.
And if I sprain my ankle…
I need someone to CARRY ME!

Ok maybe not.
These all actually sound pretty stupid on paper.
But it’d be nice to have someone to do the dirty work for me,
Even if I love my independence so much…
And my little moments of LOOK HOW B.A. I AM
I JUST KILLED A FREAKING MONSTER SPIDER.

The Terror

There you are. When I said I saw you
Standing there alone…I lied. But now,
Now it’s true, and you are standing here, new,
Alone and different, distant, somehow.

Maybe it’s because you’re not really here,
Just here in the throes of my memory.
You stand alone, looking at me, seer
Of all that I am and ever could be.

That was the magic of what you were,
Your one expression made me live, alive.
You forbade me let life go, a lost blur,
And in a day I learned to breathe, to strive.

But you are distant, far away now, and…
I cannot ask you what I once did and could,
My stomach churns and yearns for your warm hand,
And is met instead with impenetrable wood.

Will you come to breathe life to me again?
Perhaps my very need will make you stray…
Is this very longing my deepest stain?
It’s fear for which I don’t think I can pray.

God knows the burning desire of this soul,
May He preside, and make anew this foal.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑