Home again?

I'm back from a little bloggy break.

We spent some time with Jeff as my Florida kids played in the snow and got their first glimpse at becoming Carolina girls. 

That was probably the last trip I take with all the kids before we move.  It was bittersweet.  It's incredibly hard having a foot in both worlds--I've never been particularly nimble.  I have a life I love here and yet my husband and a new calling are waiting for me.  My future in one place, my heart still in this one. 

It's overwhelming when I think about moving, but as is true with everything in life, I know we'll figure it all out. I just have to cope with it all in the mean time and I'm not sure I'm handling that part so well.  As I write this, I glance to the side of the bed where my husband sleeps.  Of course he's not here. 

Something's here though.

A bag of Chips Ahoy Chocolate Chip Cookies has taken his place in the bed.  They are under the covers so the kids can't find them.  It is a dirty, shameful little secret.

I'm having a little emotional fling with cookies and it's kind of working for me. 

Okay, so I haven't exactly replaced Jeff, but the bag of cookies are my temporary bed fella.  I'm cringing at the guilt I feel from hiding those cookies, and yet they stay. 

I absolutely need to put down the cookies and slowly step away.  Being overwhelmed by such big life changes make me want to stop doing what needs to be done--even the little things like laundry and what in the world is for dinner? begin to feel like a Mt. Everest expedition.  So, the cookies move in.  Cookies are so good about keeping quiet. 

You know what's so great about Christianity?  Jesus loves that girl hiding cookies in her bed.  He loves the insecure, laundry avoiding me that I don't like.  He takes the time to whisper to my heart and tell me that I can do this only because He says I can.  He wants me.  Plain ole' unsure, overwhelmed, trying to cope me. 

I love Him for that.

I have a lot of really big things going on in my life.  Decisions that I don't want to make must be made.  So many times I wish I were just more.  Quicker, smarter, braver, quieter, stronger, disciplined, steady, faithful.  As often as I think any of those thoughts, I am reminded that Jesus did not die for that girl I wish I could be.  He died for the girl I am.  He rose again to take my hand and introduce me to the girl He says I can be.  The girl who puts the cookies down, does what she needs to do, and gives Him the glory.

I love Him for that.

So home again.  Working on being less overwhelmed by it all and as always, so thankful for my Jesus who is never surprised, worried, or overwhelmed.