Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Quote of the Day.

Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater.
If you give her a sperm, she will give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she will give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she will give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she will give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges whatever is given to her.
So if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Something God said.

Am I good enough?

I know you'll say yes, but if you've ever looked in the mirror and thought anything less than your full worth in Him, you know that it doesn't seem to matter what anyone else thinks. If you don't know your worth, there isn't anything anyone can say to change your mind.

I was laying in bed the other night. My husband turned over and whispered, "I love you...."
I layed there, wanting more. A great big gaping hole, completely void of any worth, wanted to know why. Why do you love me, when I don't even know who I am? Please, tell me how you see me, because when I look at myself, I see nothing....

I layed there in silence, wrestling through the thoughts and emotions that were clouding my heart and mind. God met me there. He told me, my child, you do not need hear the answers to your questions from your husband. You need to hear the answer from Me.

So, stubbornly, and annoyed, I said fine. Well God? How do you see me?

Suddenly God gave me this picture, of this little girl in a pink dress. She was dancing around and twirling, running. Completely care free.

Mmmm, nice right? No. Seriously God? I've seen all this before. I've heard all this before. The whole you seeing me as a little girl in a dress running around is not going to penetrate the thick walls that surround my heart! I am incredibly messed up! I feel so lost! I don't know who I am and I don't know where I'm going!

As I lay there, fighting in silence, God opened my eyes to another piece of His heart for me.

He brought me back to a memory of me as a little girl. I had gone to bible camp, and my mom was there to pick me up to take me home. As I handed her my bags, she asked me why on earth they were so heavy. I was embarssed to tell her, so I told her I didn't know and that we should just quickly get them in the car. She refused to put them in the car, plunked them down on the ground and opened up my bags. Inside each bag, she found pounds and pounds and pounds, of rocks. Rocks. I had filled my bags, with huge rocks! Immediately, my mom said I had to put them back, that it was rediculous to take all these rocks home. I begged her to take the rocks home, and told her I really wanted to decorate my bedroom with all these pretty rocks. Of course, my mom said no, and made me put all the rocks back on the ground, where they belonged. Dissapointed, I put them back.

As I'm remembering this, God gives me a picture, of that same little girl in the pink dress. She's pulling a wagon, overflowing with toys, some broken, some missing pieces, garbage, things that you couldn't even make out what they were, because they'd been broken off the object they came from. To any passerby, this looked like a wagon full of junk, but to this little girl, these were her prized possessions. God assured me that while it may feel like I'm pulling around a bunch of shit, that it's ok. He said it didn't matter to him what I put in my wagon, as long as I let him pull it for me. As I layed there, feeling incredibly messed up, feeling like a big mass of issues, here's this almighty Father saying, He'll pull my crap for me. He said, Nin, no one can possibly understand why you would want to fill your wagon with rocks. It doesn't make any sense! But, I understand. I know these rocks mean something to you, they're precious and sacred, no one gets this, but I do! My child, it doesn't matter what you fill this wagon with. You can fill it with rocks and broken dreams and trash, because I'm big enough to restore and redeem all those things! But Nin.....you have to let me pull it for you. You can't pull it on your own.

So, I fell alseep, in the arms of my Father, understanding a new piece of His heart. Realizing that sometimes, being strong, means falling down, crawling into His arms, just to cry.

Monday, November 02, 2009

My poor hubby is losing his hair. His dreams of aging and having a full head of white hair, gone. His dreams of growing his hair out, getting a funky fauxhawk, or basically anything and everything, gone.
One stressful day, after a stressful shopping trip, a man came to my door. Hubby and children were still piling out of the car. This man was here campaining for the upcoming election. My pardons (not) to those who think politics are dabomb, but I was in no mood to care about the election, as I had more important things on my mind. This man asked me silly questions about the election, and if I would be voting the following day. In my attempt to show this man that I did care about what he was bringing to my door, I pointed to my husband and said, well he is.
The man then thanked me, and said, oh ok, well I'll go talk to your dad.
Sitting there in shock, and fighting the giggles, I let my kids in the door, and watched the man approach my husband.
I plopped on the couch, wondering what to feel. Should I be insulted that I look so young? Should I be offended that my hubby looks so old? Should I think this is funny? Should I even tell my husband? Upon some thought, I decided to feel bad for my hubby, that was of course after, I updated my facebook status to tell the world my funny story.
So later in the week, I'm at the mall buying MicaBella makeup. The pushy sales lady asks how old I am, I'm assuming, so she can get a better understanding of my lifestyle, and where I'd be sporting my new makeup. I responded, 26.
*insert very animated, loud and annoying "gasps", "no ways", "you're kiddings" etc here*
So I walk away thinking, I've gotta do something about this. I've joked in the past to my hubby about how when we're out in public with our kids, and he's in his work suit, that people probably think he's "doing" the nanny. But it's time to put aside the jokes. This is serious people. This people thinking my husband is my father, or at best, the father of the children I nanny, is just not cool.
So here's my game plan.
I refuse to remove my piercings which make me look young.
I refuse to stop wearing my bunnyhugs, skinny jeans and tshirts which make me look young.
So option is left?
Sigh. As of now, and until all my hair is grown out, I, Nin, the hair dying queen, who has not seen her natural hair color in 16 years, am going to cease dying my hair.
Because, I love my hubby, and by george, if he's going bald, then he's gonna have a pierced up bunnyhug sporting grey haired woman by his side.