Last week we took a family trip to New York City. And since we had a rental car, we figured what the heck? Let’s drive in the city.
Never. Again.
Don’t get me wrong. We consider ourselves experienced city drivers. In fact, we’ve comfortably driven in the biggest cities of America; places like Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Atlanta, Boston, Miami, etc. But nothing compares to the stressful traffic of NYC. Continue reading
I’ve been a Jesus-follower long enough to know that the Christian life ain’t all rainbows and sunshine. It’s a journey with mountain top experiences and their valleys below. And in those valleys, the struggle is real. Sometimes in long seasons of suffering, it can feel like God is silent and far away. And you find yourself wondering, Does He see? Does He even care?
I wrote this for a dear one of mine who has been suffering in the sea of adversity; drowning in wave upon insufferable wave. At times it seems unfair. Unjust. Undeserved. Left with a broken heart and a million unanswered questions.
In our darkest moments, it can feel like God has abandoned us. Or that He has turned a deaf ear to our prayers. Or that He isn’t moved by our tears. But just because we feel that way, does not mean it’s true.
Because He is there. He does see. And He deeply cares. Continue reading
I’ve been a little frazzled these last 2 weeks. The culprit? Those perpetual little tasks I finally check off the to-do list only to find them on my list again…an hour later. You know the ones. Dishes. Laundry. Incessant cleaning. Why are there still clothes on the floor??
And what is that monstrosity of clutter doing on my counter again? For the love of all things organized, can the mailman please stop drowning me in a mountain of papers to sort?! Can things just stay frozen in time (preferably after I’ve deep cleaned) so a girl can get some peace around here?? The futility of the mundane is about to make me go crazy.
At times I wonder, Am I just wasting my life? Continue reading
I love the Easter Bunny as much as the next kid. In fact, I think I spotted his furry little tail in my yard yesterday. You can bet he’ll be back this weekend, sprinkling our home with color and candy.
But while he may bring us what we want, he won’t bring what we need. The Easter Bunny will leave us as he found us. Unchanged. Destined to face another Monday. Left again to deal with our anxieties and fears with little more than a sugar high.
This Easter I need more than marshmallows, eggs, and chocolate. I need peace for my anxiety. I need purpose in my life. I need strength to face my fears. I need to know I am not alone. To know that my life matters. To know that I am loved, regardless. Continue reading
I’ve been told that if you’re a writer, you should write. And when you can’t write, read.
My four-year old nephew devours books. He asks us to read the same one countless times until he memorizes it and can “read” the book himself. A chip off the ol’ Aunt block. As a kid, I would press my nose into books. Wild with imagination, I traveled to other worlds from the comfort of my own home.
But somehow our love for reading dwindles in adulthood. Those well worn pages start collecting dust on the shelf. We go to college. We get a job. We start a family. We get busy. And tired. At the end of an exhausting day the last thing we want to do is read something. So we browse Facebook or flip on the TV. But honestly, when has TV (or Facebook) ever changed my life? Continue reading
Yesterday I sat by my fireplace wrapped in three blankets. And a bathrobe. Drinking coffee. And it was 50 degrees outside. Yeah, I’m cool like that.
All snuggled and warm, my mind drifted to memories of last year. My first winter on autoimmune meds completely changed the way I functioned. The cold weather suddenly presented an entirely new problem for me: sick season. I was scared straight with the never ending list of risks and side effects, creating a bout of anxiety for my compromised immune system.
So every year when the weather begins to chill, I give a half-hearted wave to the world and tuck myself in for a long winter nap. I spent the majority of last winter in self-induced hibernation, away from the public, reluctantly canceling plans with friends who had a sniffle. I felt like I had to screen guests with a “symptom questionnaire” before they were even allowed to enter my home.
That first winter was a very lonely season. But it was also a surprising season of transformation. Continue reading
I have a love-hate relationship with dishes. I love discovering a unique piece for my cupboards. I love crackle glass and how it makes everything look so fancy. When I pour coffee into my favorite teal mug and hold it between my palms, all seems right with the world.
But I hate washing them. Nothing annoys or stresses me out more than to come home and see a mountain of dirty dishes encroaching on my counter space. On more than one occasion I have been known to stockpile them to one side, thinking that if I just build a tower in the corner it will delay my fate for another couple hours…or days. How can our tasty dinner so easily turn into a bacteria nightmare?! When my workout for the day consists of scrubbing who knows what out of my pan, it just makes me crabby. I would rather do an entire day of laundry. I would rather scrub toilets. I would rather iron my husband’s dress shirts….no wait. That might be worse. Don’t get me started on those stubborn, antagonizing folds. And those taunting collars.
But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes.
So you can imagine my distress when I started our dishwasher the other week and was met with silence. I think my heart might have skipped a beat. I tried again. Nothing. Our faithful friend had finally breathed its last. And the reality of my future began to set in. I was now the dishwasher. Truth be told, I may have panicked a little. Continue reading
It wasn’t until I moved north that Fall took on a whole new meaning. The charming season now warms a special place in my heart. The very word conjures up memories of apple picking, pumpkin carving, hot cider, and the delicious aroma of Grandma’s pie baking in the oven!
Every year I look forward to pulling out my weathered box from its nestled place in the basement, rediscovering the rustic decor that will soon adorn my home. This year, as I sat down to admire my handiwork, my eye caught a glimpse of the trees out back. Tall and proud, they line the yard with their fiery blaze of reds, oranges, and yellows announcing that summer is officially gone and winter is sure to come.
Soaking in the moment, I was suddenly struck by the irony of it all. The very leaves I admire are actually dying before my very eyes. The thought was slightly disturbing and fascinating all at the same time.
How could death be so beautiful?
I was compelled to rustle through my memory from the old school days when we learned about the abscission of deciduous trees (science words make my head hurt). If the trees were going to survive the season, they must toughen up and dispose of their leaves. Not only is the loss of the leaves important but the nutrients that are received from that loss, and the chance for regrowth, is what guarantees longevity and new life in the spring.
I’ll be honest. Science makes me yawn. But as I gazed at the foliage, God whispered in my heart. There was something I needed to learn from the leaves. Continue reading
Rachel Boulos 