Category / Deep thoughts and blonde moments

by Bethe

Give me grace

I think one of the greatest lies the enemy has for us is that we’re alone. That nobody else can relate to our problem. That we’re the only one. That it makes us abnormal. That nobody will understand.
Through my years of serving in women’s ministry I’ve found that one of the greatest things we women can do for each other is to be transparent. To be willing to remove the veil of perfection and let others in on our struggles. 
I’m not a perfect wife. 
I’m not a perfect housekeeper.
I’m not Martha Stewart.
I don’t have it all together… I have junk drawers and my mascara runs and I have absolutely no idea what I want to be when I grow up. 
This year as I’ve struggled with health issues and the lingering physical and emotional scars it brings, I’ve found that several of my friends have silently been carrying the same burden. I had no idea. It was so encouraging to find out I’m not alone. 
I’ve had countless friends share with me their deepest, darkest insecurities, and I just hug them and tell them… me too.
Satan wants us to feel isolated, because that’s when we lose hope. God created us to be in community, so that when we struggle with unfixable problems, there’s a girlfriend nearby who can take us to get ice cream and pray for us and encourage us to keep on fighting.
We’re not alone. Underneath those skinny jeans, tall boots, statement necklaces, and perfect Pinterest projects are girls who, like you, need someone to reassure them that they’re not the only ones in the midst of a battle.
Let’s boast in our weaknesses, and cling to the power that comes through Christ.
PS–This month my little blog hit an all-time high of just under 2,000 hits. Thank you to my sweet friends (and family, and husband) for paying me so many visits. I am thankful for you.
by Bethe

Like a well-watered garden

God is incredibly sweet sometimes. Well, really all the time. But sometimes my eyes are more open to notice it. Lately it’s been one of those times.

I’m a words of encouragement person. It’s what I crave more than money, or prestige, or just about anything else. I need to be liked and I like to be praised. And there’s one key area in my life where this has been hugely lacking this past year. It has been a struggle that no matter what I seem to do, I can’t do enough to earn a pat on the back. It has left me feeling insecure and disheartened.

Mr. Right and both of my families have so kindly joined me in praying over that situation, that God would move and create a peaceful and encouraging atmosphere. And while God’s made some small steps in that situation, it’s funny… because while I’ve been obsessing over just a few people who are discouraging, I have gotten encouragement from the most unexpected of places. Random people that I didn’t even know a year ago have given me some of the most meaningful encouragement at times when I just didn’t see it coming. Even yesterday, I got an unexpected note in my mailbox that absolutely brightened my day. While I was so focused on something I couldn’t control, God has been answering that prayer in infinitely greater ways. There is such a richness to his blessings.

My situation has challenged me to watch for people who, like me, need encouragement. Want to join me in creating unexpected blessings to unsuspecting people? It sure is fun… 

by Bethe

Food = Love

After a whirlwind trip to Oklahoma for a funeral, I’ve been reminded once again of a huge truth:

Food equals love.
During the 36 hours we were out of town, we ate dinner at my grandmother’s house, which her friends brought over. Then we ate dinner at the widow’s house later that night, provided by some of her closest friends. I ate two desserts (I know… Project 115… don’t judge me).
The next morning we ate breakfast provided by friends. After the funeral, the family’s sweet church provided lunch for 100 people: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli casserole, topped off with sweet tea. I ate two desserts… again. Don’t judge me, you would too if you were forced to choose between chocolate cream pie and strawberry pie. It’s impossible, I tell you. Impossible
In a time of great sadness and stress, the people of that little town in Oklahoma rallied around our family the best way they knew how… with food. It was so generous, and thoughtful, and it provided a context for people to sit and reminisce and enjoy catching up.
Mr. Right won me over with sweet potato fries and baked goods. When we got married, all of the events were planned around food. In two weeks, we’re taking food to a dear friend who just had a baby. When my mother-in-law had surgery recently, folks brought a small feast. When we want to get to know people better, we invite them over for dinner.
During times of great celebration or times of deep sadness, the one constant that always seems to remain… is food. It makes me wonder who I need to cook for next.
by Bethe

Doing my happy dance

Today I’m spending the day in bed, not because I’m sick, but because I worked a 14-hour day yesterday putting on our annual black tie gala for work. It was incredibly stressful but I’m so very pleased at how it turned out. One of the benefits to being the one in charge is that I try to slip in little things that will make my husband and I happy that nobody else would ever notice. Last night I had the DJ play the first and last songs we danced to at our wedding. So, while everybody else enjoyed a regular dance, Mr. Right and I traveled back to our favorite night at Bass Hall and reminisced about the glorious time we both had. It was special.
In other news… I’m feeling better! I finally saw a specialist last Monday and got on new medicine that seems to have done the trick. I’m going to stay on for a good long while, but I’ll be switching to a low-dose version that should be much more tolerable… I can even get in the sun! Since I am wonderfully close to a little beach vacation, this was especially good news.
After a few weeks of feeling especially blue, it was so nice to have a week where I felt good. My energy is quickly returning, and I have a long list of things I want to do with my husband now that I’m able to be out and about again. Here’s the short list:
1. Go on a bike ride together
2. Take a picnic date to Trinity Trails in Fort Worth to watch the sun set
3. Ride the train to Dallas for dinner
4. Start RUNNING again!
5. Refinish the dresser we’re turning into a buffet for our dining room
6. Go on spontaneous Sonic runs after dinner… or other unplanned random weeknight date excursions
It seems like such a simple list, but these are all things we wanted to do but got cancelled over the last four months. I am simply ecstatic about the possibilities now.
Over the past four months my husband has shown me what a gem he is. On one of my very lowest days, this is what I found in our bathroom, a note he had left in a very loud way:
It was difficult to catch on camera, but it was a C.S. Lewis quote that made me melt all over my bathroom floor. I still can’t bring myself to clean this large love letter off my mirror, even though I know eventually I’ll have to. In the meantime I will just relish in this sweet gesture and be thankful that God has blessed me with such an encouraging man.
by Bethe

Old sweatshirts and Vanilla Ice

It’s funny how smells and sounds can be so powerful. There’s a soap that takes me back to my sophomore year of high school, when I had a new driver’s license, a great group of friends, and my first real, hunky boyfriend. Every time I smell this Dove bodywash I’m taken right back to spring of 1997, when I sported my high-wasted jeans and fake Doc Martens.
I also love the smell of my husband. When I have a particularly rough day, I’ll steal one of his old t-shirts to wear to bed, and for some reason it brings me great comfort. I was worried that once he moved in and we started to commingle our laundry that this smell would fade, but somehow it survives. I think Mr. Right worries that this smell is more of an odor, but it’s not. It isn’t a cologne or soap, just… him. I can’t describe it, but any girl who’s borrowed her boyfriend’s sweatshirt probably knows what I mean.
Sounds are also so powerful. There are several songs (Vidalia, Baby Blue) that take me back to my annual two-week camping trip to Garner State Park back in high school. We would two-step to these old songs under big, starry skies in South Texas and relish in the freedom of being teenagers. Ace of Base reminds me of my first cheerleading tumbling classes back in the seventh grade, when I was trying to master that elusive back-handspring.
(I don’t have any pics of me learning the back-handspring, but here’s a
lovely photo of me from the 7th grade… look at all those braces. And those bangs!)
Vanilla Ice will always have a special place in my heart – his one-hit wonder is my absolute favorite song in the whole world (don’t judge me) and is a sure way to make me laugh. All of my closest friends have probably seen me perform the words by memory at least once. Maybe twice.
Over the last few months, as I’ve struggled with being sick and have gotten more discouraged, music has played a big part in bringing me comfort. I’ve always loved Ginny Owens, and this song in particular has been my anthem:
Cause I’m not who I was
When I took my first step
And I’m clinging to the promise You’re not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will walk through the fire
If You want me to

So When the whole world turns against me
And I’m all by myself
And I can’t hear You answer my cries for help
I’ll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I will go through the valley If You want me to


I love this because it talks about knowing that God is good even if he doesn’t seem to answer our prayers for healing, or rescue, or whatever it is we think we so desperately want. It reminds me that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, and that this trial, too, serves a purpose. It brings me great hope.

What songs have brought you comfort during difficult times? You know… besides Vanilla Ice?

by Bethe

My pity party had an after party

I know I said my pity party was only for one night. And that was the case… for a few days. By the weekend I started to feel better, and by Monday I felt better than I had in ages. I even told my husband that I was planning a bike ride the next night after work, something I haven’t been able to do in three weeks. I was ecstatic.

And then Monday night I felt my symptoms coming back… and by Tuesday I was downright sick. Again.
I cried. Like, six times. In fact, I cried and reapplied my eye make-up so many times that I’m sure I’ll have to add money to my Dave Ramsey envelope budget for an early make-up refill. It wasn’t pretty.
I just lost hope. Every time I start a new round of meds, I get optimistic that this round will work. Every time I have a symptom-free day, I do a little happy dance and celebrate my recovery. And then every time I realize that it was a false alarm, that I’m still sick, or worse, that I’ve been healthy and then two weeks later it comes back… I feel a little more defeated. My determination to be strong and to stay optimistic gets smaller and smaller.
So when my eighth round of antibiotics didn’t work… I felt crushed. I lost perspective. I felt like this will never end. I got mad because I don’t deserve this.
But it will. And today as I start a new round of meds, I am again optimistic that this time it will work. I continue to beg the Lord to heal me, and am thankful for a praying husband, family, and friends who have walked alongside me and encouraged me and prayed for me. I am struggling now, but I am confident that somehow this will make me stronger in the long run. And no matter my circumstances, I still know that I serve a loving, gracious, faithful God and that at no point has he been taken by surprise. I may have stumped the doctors but I haven’t stumped him. In that, I am confident, and for that, I am thankful.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you… And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.
1 Peter 5:6, 10

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Thereofre I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
2 Corinthians 12:9-10
by Bethe

Day of rest

This week was my eighth week to be sick in the last three months. I’ve been trying hard to keep a good attitude, because I know this silly thing will pass and someday we’ll laugh about how the first three months of our marriage I spent most of my time stuck at home. But this week I decided to throw myself a pity party.

It wasn’t pretty, but thankfully it didn’t last very long.
I’m frustrated, tired of being tired, tired of hurting. Tired of barely making it through work, only to come home at the end of the day and crash on the sofa. Tired of not being able to work out. Tired of timing my meds so that they won’t make me sicker than I already am. Tired of going back to the doctor over and over and over.
I was told a few years ago that pity parties are okay, as long as they have a start and an end time. So I threw myself a mini-one Thursday night, wallowing in the feeling that life isn’t fair.
That party ended when I went to sleep. And now I’m over it.
I’m trying to do a better job of pacing myself, so I don’t completely run out of energy, and today was the perfect day to to recharge my batteries. Mr. Right let me sleep in, then we made a leisurely breakfast of waffles (my favorite), watched the new Harry Potter movie, then I went right back to bed for a nap and a good, long read. Tonight I’m going to a dinner party with some dear friends, and I should have plenty of energy to thoroughly enjoy myself.
I am blessed beyond measure. I am thankful for the health that I do have, and confident that this too shall pass… and soon! I am thankful for a sweet husband who dotes on me, and for friends who have been patient as I’ve had to cut back on my social life. It’s only temporary.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
 1Thessalonians 5: 16-18 (NIV)

by Bethe

My happy place

I’ve finally turned a corner and have been symptom-free for TWO DAYS! I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. God is so good and I’m giving him all the credit for making me better. And I think I’m going to do a happy dance.
I finish all my meds tonight and head back to the doctor Wednesday to see if I’m infection-free. Please say a little prayer that I am, and that I can enjoy some healthy weeks. I have a beach trip soon and I am hoping beyond hope that I’m antibiotic-free so I can lay on the beach and work on my tan.
In honor of this very happy day, I thought I’d share some of my happy places.
My sweet little house in the suburbs. I built it myself, decorated it with my sister, and love it even more now that Mr. Right has made himself at home. My youngest sister told me once that my house reminds her of Christmas–I feel like there could be no greater compliment. My very favorite spots happen to be sitting in a rocking chair on my front porch, or having dinner with Mr. Right on the back porch (which we do quite often when the weather is good).
The Ballpark. I grew up going to games every week as a child, and somehow landed my dream job as an adult that included entertaining clients at games for several years. Yes, I love baseball, but even more, I love the sights and smells and sounds of the game. I like to drink my jumbo diet coke and snack on a lemon chill while cheering on the team I’ve loved since I was 6.
I’ve probably been to Estes Park, Colorado 20 times. Sitting on the porch of our cabin, sipping coffee and staring at the mountains is one of the most peaceful things I do. I’m ready to go back.
Places where you can watch sunsets. Doesn’t really matter where, but it helps if there’s a cute boy with me.
Anywhere in Europe. Big cities, rural towns, beaches… really, anywhere.
Restaurants where they serve this. It’s how my dad used to cheer me up as a young girl, and it’s what I crave on my very worst days. The best ones come from Braums.

Getting one of these… my happy place of choice happens to be here.
Anywhere this guy happens to be…
by Bethe

Sick but thankful

I’m sick again. If you’re keeping track, that’s the bajillionth time this year. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but what isn’t an exaggeration is that I just filled my SIXTH round of antibiotics. I’ve been sick six of the past 12 weeks. Gee whiz.
The last time I got sick, I was so upset I cried. Poor Mr. Right had to comfort me as I totally freaked out. I was SO TIRED of being sick, so tired of not having the energy to do anything.
This time when I felt the dang thing coming on again, I chose not to get forlorn. There’s no use in crying or feeling sorry for myself. I can’t change my situation. I’m just preparing to stay close to home and am going to sadly say goodbye to those two weeks of running three times a week. I had just gotten to where two miles didn’t even phase me. Grrr.
But I’m thankful. Thankful that I don’t have anything life-threatening. Thankful that while a few rounds of illness have been a bit intense, nothing has escalated to something I really have to worry about. Thankful that this time I was healthy for two glorious weeks, which is a week longer than last time. Thankful that I have a sweet husband who is there to console me when I get frustrated. Thankful that in the grand scheme of things, it’s just been three months. Thankful that I’m really a pretty healthy girl.
So instead I’ll celebrate the good things, and choose to glorify God during times of sickness, just like I glorify him during times of health.

“Many, O Lord my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare.”
-Psalm 40:5
by Bethe

You can’t do that

It’s amazing how being told “you can’t do that” makes me want to do exactly that.

It takes me back to middle school, when a softball coach told my dad that I would never be good enough to make the all star team. My dad told me what the coach had said, and then asked me if I wanted to prove him wrong. For the next year, I busted my tail and made the “B” team, and the following year, after even more practice, I made the “A” team and ended the season with the highest batting average on the team. Not bad for a girl who’s not terribly athletic.
I love a challenge…
Or in high school when my parents said I couldn’t date a certain boy. Oh my goodness, how I wanted him after that! (I dated him anyway… but they were right… he was trouble.)
I am stubborn…
And now I’m an adult, and I have a total love-hate relationship with running. Even though I ran a half-marathon in 2008, even though I’m on the board for a major marathon event, even though many people think I’m a runner, I dread it. I haven’t wanted to do it for a long time…
Until I was told I couldn’t. Two months of being sick and five rounds of antibiotics meant I barely had enough energy to go to work, much less work out. So I gained 10 pounds. And because I couldn’t work out (and because none of my pants fit), it made me crave running. I was desperate for it.
So last week I was finally healthy, off antibiotics, and able to run. The weather was gorgeous, and I ran three nights around the lake by my house. I did crunches, and lunges, and push-ups. It was pure bliss.
Who knew it’d take two months of being sick to revive my love of running. I needed to be told “no” to appreciate it. Now I can’t wait… I’ll be back up there tonight.