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The night before the night shift

Twas the night before my first night shift in postpartum in years and I'm trying not to think about it. As I was driving earlier today, trying to sort out my thoughts and the knot in my stomach and that queasy feeling, it hit me, "All those rules you need to remember, they hang on the law of Christ." All the hospital rules, and policies and procedures and computer programs... when I think about them I feel nauseous and overwhelmed. But when I pause and breath in the truth: I have Christ. All that I need to do to will come as I love my neighbor as myself and bear one another's burdens, fulfilling the law of Christ.

Stress happens.  You can be the calmest, coolest, most collected person on the planet, but moving, living in a construction zone with a frustrated and tired handyman DIYing it, starting a new job, and facing the start of a new school year will take its toll on your body.  Or at least it will mine.  And its a trap to fall for the comfort foods, fast foods and other stuff you can eat that makes you feel better for a little bit.  Or at least its a trap for me.  Everyday for the past two weeks my hands have been swelling and this week I've been getting sharp shooting pains in my hands/knuckles/fingers when I grip something.  To the point I couldn't even pick up a half gallon of milk or my purse.  It's better today.  I can grip things normally, but my right hand throbs. My body does weird things with stress, sugar and flour.

There is a semblance of order in the house, this side of the staircase anyway.  If you walk around the corner you'd think you were in a different house.  So as long as I stay on this side, we're good.

I'm fighting the dark cloud that looms over me right now.  It seems to come back when I'm sleep deprived, under a heavier than usual load of stress and eating an American-sized portion of sugar and flour.   I'm fighting with good, godly sisters holding up my arms, {Being genuine with one another.  I think in part that's at least some of what it means to,  "...confess your sins one to another that you may be healed," and "... bear one another's burdens."} casting my cares upon Him because He cares for me, and recalling out loud the promise that He is working all things together for good for me, to conform me to the image of His Son.

All things.  For good.  To make me more like the Son.

Worth it.  Totally worth it!


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An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…