Sugar and Spice

Today is a bittersweet day for our family. Hubby is in Illinois saying goodbye to his sweet Grandmother Margaret. She was truly an angel on this Earth and I am so blessed to have known her and for her to have loved me and Pumpkin. There was something about her hug and the way she looked deep into my eyes to tell me she loved me every time I saw her. It was something I could never articulate in words. It was that she looked at me with Jesus' eyes, with His love, and with His gentle spirit. She knew Him, she loved Him, and she loved her family with His unconditional love. As I said when I learned of her passing, if she isn't in Heaven, then there is no Heaven. The sweetness of her passing is that she is reunited with her loved ones - a husband, two grown sons, an infant grandson, and our two angel babies. Sweeter still, she is with her Maker, her Savior, and her Lord. She is no longer suffering. The bitter part is obvious - perhaps selfish, but we will miss her. A...

It’s already happened – I have already been faced by the heartbreaking reality that I will not always be able to make everything better for Pumpkin. I knew one day she would face loss, or heartbreak, or defeat and I would have to come to this realization, but I never knew it would be so soon. We are raising a pretty sheltered little girl and I was hoping we could just keep her happy and naïve for as long as possible. Then someone taught her about fear. Fear. It’s such a complex, lonely feeling. I wish she never had to feel it. I haven’t even let her watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates because there is a well-defined “bad guy” in Captain Hook – instead I make her stick to Mickey, Dora, and Blue who have no known enemies. But lo and behold, someone taught her to fear. It started with big dogs. She has always loved dogs. Then, one day, out of nowhere, she declared that big dogs were “keery.” No big dog has ever harmed her or even gotten within arm’s length of her without adult ...

I am a worrier. Always have been. It’s a curse, both to me and those who have had to learn to love me in spite of my worrisome nature. It’s a battleground for my faith. I worry about everything. Things I can control (“is the door locked?”); things I cannot control (“why are there so many starving children in this country?”). I worry about things past (“did I say something to hurt so-and-so's feelings?”), things present (“I have to finish this brief, I have to finish this brief”), and things future (“what will I do if anyone I love is ever hurt”). I worry about everything. Always. Even as a small child my parents used to try to convince me to relax - literally sometimes telling me to breathe. I would pick my fingernails to the quick with anxiety. I don't even know what I was so worried about. I was raised in a middle-class home by two loving, God-fearing parents, with my sweet, smart sibling; I was intelligent, well-fed, and given every opportunity I ever pursued. ...