Sometimes, with gardening, I admit to not know what I am doing. However, I have accepted my condition, realizing that with every project and plant, my knowledge grows. For my perfectionistic soul, this is one of the most therapeutic activities. Plants require love and care, but they are alive and so much of what they do and how they develop is out of my control. I can see my work being rewarded, but I receive little surprises every day that I venture out to my plants.
This week, I have been battling weeds. I decided to be extra smart and sow perennial seeds into the south side of the old bunkhouse. Then, next year there would be happy plants ready to bloom and grow. The problem is that the seeds take 21 days to germinate and, in the meantime, New Mexico weeds have done their thing. I waited and agonized for my seeds to come to life and finally, I was rewarded for my patience. Tiny, unfamiliar sprouts lifted their heads from the dirt, shadowed by hundreds of iron weeds and careless weeds. So this week, with agonizing precision, I have endeavored to remove the weeds and give them space to grow. The funny thing is, I am just like those baby plants. The space and stillness given to me in those early morning hours, create the space for peace to enter my soul, fueling me for the hours of busy life ahead. It is in those quiet moments that I feel my heart stretching out, taking new and health shape. So, why do we resist the quiet? I think of the past school year and how I tried to fill every breathing waking moment. Surely, there was ample opportunity for my mind and heart to stretch and grow unencumbered by my vicious insistence on taking ground and marching forward. As I look at the summer months I pray for the wisdom to make sure I find space for stillness during other seasons of my life. ​
Where do you need to create more quiet and space for your soul to grow?
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 The summer has opened up to me and the time is so sweet. After the school year packed with activities and extra responsibilities with Jovani away, I want to soak up the extra space and at the same time, fill it up with every possible long-awaited dream. However, at the top of our list, is potty-training Micaela. It is time-intensive but going incredibly well. Still, I find myself growing impatient with her, wanting her to play less games and do more responsible tinkling on the toilet. Today, we got into an epic battle about the whole thing, mostly because it is laundry day and I am all "hurry, hurry, hurry." I feel God whisper into my soul with the some words a friend shared with me years ago, "The time will pass anyway." And it will. The time will pass at the same rate whether I relax or worry. The time will go on, oblivious to my plight. Surprisingly, this gives me so much peace. It reminds me that the only thing I have control over is the state of my heart as the summer days wax and wane. And, as I hold on to this reminder, I am at rest. I can trust God with these days and moments and everything will be as it should. So, you might ask, what am I up to? Well, I'm teaching Adela Spanish and some housekeeping skills, potty-training Micaela, taking the girls to swim lessons, taking them both on an experience once a week, gardening both vegetables and flowers, writing, podcasting, cooking for my happy husband, and reading to my heart's content. It's a lot, but it only becomes too much when I stop resting and trusting in God's perfect will. There is a quote by John Mark Comer that reads, "Hurry is a form of violence upon the soul." If that is true, then patience and rest is sure to heal this soul of mine that had been in great danger of running on empty and in desperate need of repair. And, even if it will be a busy summer, I am still resting in Him.
What do you need to trust God with so that you can find peace in the passing time?
 Micaela's staring spells began last spring. She would go into these long moments of unresponsive staring and then snap out of it like nothing had happened. By last September it had gotten so bad that we started trying new medications and rescue meds to help her. I hated it. They made me sick to my stomach, thinking about the destruction that could be happening to her brain as it went through so many little seizures daily. It seemed so unfair after having her awful nocturnal seizures under control that she should have to go through this, too. Our neurologist is one of the most wise and caring health professionals we work with. While she listened compassionately and trusted my observations and judgements, she insisted that a 24-hour EEG needed to be done in order to get a better picture of what we were dealing with. I dreaded the appointment. Micaela has spend the last year or so in that independent-don't-touch-me phase and thought of hooking her up to a few dozen electrodes sounded like my worst nightmare, but, we put the appointment on the books for June and got ready. My heart aches with happy amazement. The appointment was full of one unexpected blessing after another. First, Micaela was so sweet. Seriously. She held my hand like a champ as we navigated the hospital, gave out hugs like it was her job to every nurse, technician, and doctor. She even THANKED the EEG technicians as they hooked her up to the machine and tediously worked the electrodes off of her head the next day. Second, Micaela didn't fight the placement of the electrodes. The pediatrician on call at the hospital suggested that we swaddle her like a baby, and Micaela loved it. She seemed relaxed but curious as her head was measured, marked, and decorated with rainbow-colored cables. Third, our family was completely provided for the whole time. Our close friends treated Adela to a fun-filled sleep over with their kids complete with going to the rodeo and eating doughnuts. The nurses were constantly making sure Micaela and I had everything we needed and we were comfortable and well-cared for. But, the last unexpected blessing was the one that still makes me catch my breath. When they completed Micaela's EEG set-up they showed me where the button was to mark and record the staring spells. I was vigilant, watching her carefully and marking each one of those horrid episodes. And, guess what, there was no seizure activity. None at all. Those staring spells are just staring spells, possibly caused by Micaela processing some internal feelings or sensations. I couldn't believe it. I had been so sure. As they discharged us from the hospital yesterday, we walked into the sunlight with so much less fear and worry. My husband and I feel like we have been given some of the best news we've heard in years. Our little girl's epilepsy is officially controlled. I know it is foolish, but I hadn't considered that this blessing might ever be ours. I am so thankful for those who have faithfully prayed for her all these years. She is a testament to God's goodness and the strength of faith. Oh, my Christian brothers and sisters, you have been so loving in your continued prayers for her and for us. Thank you. Thank you. Image explanations from left to right, top to bottom: Micaela had just gotten her EEG leads removed and was enjoying a doughnut, Micaela loved playing "Doctor Micaela" with her stethescope that Presbyterian gave her the whole time, this is the monitor recording her EEG at night (I stared at it a lot), Micaela had just finished getting her EEG placed and hugged her baby doll hard, Micaela was a champ during the light test, making sure that she doesn't go into seizures with light flashing.
 I kept adding the items to the list and my stomach twisted. Finish planting the garden, do the laundry, prep the bunkhouse, cook meals for the weekend, call the neurologist,... It looked impossible and yet it had to be done. I raised a weary hand and rubbed my aching shoulders. Why in the world had I insisted on putting in the garden right before we started branding? Ugh! I shook my head. I knew why. After months spent in the classroom, I was hungry for sunshine and dirt. Hungry to be outside, to watch things be weeded, and to watch things grow. Yesterday I loaded up the girls into the car and we picked out plants and seed, eagerly driving back home to let the planting begin. We worked for hours and probably got half way done. In my mind, I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal. I'd dig some holes, do some weeding, and have it all done before dinner. That would have left today for all the food prep, laundry, and housework that needed to be done in preparation for the next few days of branding cattle. Nope. Even with Adela and Jovani working right alongside me, the work was slower than I had thought it would be. As I prepared for my days, my Bible reading landing me at 1 Peter 5:7 and tears sprung to my eyes as my Heavenly Father reminded me that He cares deeply for me. My strong and loving God goes with me and before me. Perhaps everything won't get done. Perhaps I'll have to trust the un-done tasks to the future of tomorrow. But, God will not change. This morning I choose to hold on to the promise that God cares for me. That promise makes the knots in my stomach untie and a smile come on to my face. So, I did what my Mom told me never to do: I wrote all over my hand. I need that reminder. I will need it often today. I will need it each time Micaela and Adela need time with me even though I feel too busy. I will need it each time the dryer finishes and I need to pause to sort a load of laundry. I will need it when everyone is hungry and I am finishing cooking. I need to remember that the God who created the universe is right their with me, caring for me, and asking me to give Him all my worries.
What anxieties do you need to give to God today?
 I want to remember all of it. This morning the house was quiet. The girls were still asleep, as if the stillness of our lives created a pocket of rest we so desperately need. I sat in my trusty rocking chair and was reading in Job, sipping my half-caff-coffee when I ran across that verse where one of Job's friends tells him, "You will surely forget your troubles, remembering them only as waters gone by." I paused. I don't want to forget. This school year pushed me and my family. All of us. Including my dad, mother and father-in-law, brother, and friends who came alongside us. I don't want to forget my mother-in-law showing up last-minute when one of the girls was sick and I needed to go into work. I don't want to forget late nights spent grading papers. I don't want to forget my dad cuddling Micaela on his lap as he waited for the bus to come. I don't want to forget every single hug that a coworker gave me when I was barely holding it together. I don't want to forget the phone calls and texts of my sister and close girlfriends as they checked on me and did the work of keeping our relationships alive. I don't want to forget how good it felt every single time my husband walked in the door and I remembered how blessed I am to be doing life with him. I don't want to forget my brother coming over to watch movies with me and the girls when I needed a smile. I don't want to forget the teachers that encouraged and watched over my daughters' growth as precious human beings even when they were having rough days, just like me. All those hard times, every single one, God provided for us. He provided for our weariness, fear, anxiety, and stress. God never ever forsook us. I watched Him show up time and time again and it was the most beautiful gift for my faith that I could have ever been given. So, my friends, I just want you to know, that in this quiet still morning, as my feet have made it across the finish line and my ears have heard that last bell ring, my heart is full.
What troubles have built your faith through the years?
 I must have been about 9 years old, sitting in the wild alfalfa and sweet clover that thrives around Pagosa Springs, Colorado, when one of my cousins asked me about my obsession with writing poems and songs and sketching. I remember the moment. It was one of those moments that imprints upon your soul in a way that only God can brand you with. My cousin, a touch older than me, must have been feeling philosophical that day. She sat down in the grass and flowers next to me and asked, "Lora, why do you do all that writing and drawing? Do you think you want to be an artist some day? What do you really want to do?" I felt the answer rush into my heart the way the New Mexico wind gusted when a storm was coming. "I just want everyone to know how beautiful everything God makes is." As I said the words my face filled with heat, not from embarrassment, but from a deep conviction I rarely felt being of such a quiet and passive nature. Today, I finished cleaning up the kitchen and started up my computer to work on some things for my classroom. I sighed a world-weary sigh and felt paralyzed by the long list of things that needed to be done. I just couldn't do it. It was all so important, but, I wanted to feel my soul sing. God never forsakes me. I feel His presence closer than ever these days as I navigate the new terrains of teaching and cheering Jovani on as he does the grueling work of a university student in veterinarian medicine. The devil likes to sneak up behind my tired shoulders and whisper lies about how my own dreams are being left behind in the dust of service to my family. That moment, decades ago, when I sat in the sun as a child, God placed an anchor of truth deep in my soul. Today I went back and asked myself, "Lora, why do you do all these things? The dishes and feeding baby and administering of G-tube feeds (Micaela's special needs) and wipe noses? What do you really want to do?" I felt tears of relief and gratitude fill my eyes because it IS what I want to do. I'm doing it. I am showing the world how beautiful are the things that God makes. He makes mothers and wives that can shoulder grief and loss. He makes wives that can weather storms and stand by their men with strength and passion. He makes mothers that can sit beside their children on the third hour of homework and gently encourage their struggles. He makes women who can spot out the lies of this world and fight for their families. He makes women who, though exhausted and often fearful, can find the love and joy to smile for and hug their friends. He makes us stand firm on the last watches of the night when our strength is failing us and our children are sick. He makes us forgiving, understanding, hopeful, and full of laughter. He makes us BEAUTIFUL, ladies. Right where we are. We don't need a stage or a platform. We've got our daughters eyes and our husbands arms and a world that expected us to break down a long time ago. But we just glow with that deep seated joy and peace, mortal vessels of God's miraculous spirit. Oh, so, beautiful.
Do you see the beauty in your life today?
 Micaela's sleep study on Thursday was very rough. I wish I could describe it differently, but it was awful. All of her teachers, therapists, and I were wondering how this would go. Micaela is currently at that independent, self-preservation phase. She doesn't like for anyone to help her or even touch her without her permission. She fights hard whenever she feels like she is being controlled. So, as you can imagine, when the sleep technician began to get her set up, our little girl went berserk. Our technician was amazing. She is the same lady who took care of us for our last sleep study and she remembered Micaela. Throughout the tedious process of getting Micaela connected to monitors for her brain, chin, jaws, breathing, chest, stomach, oxygen, and carbon dioxide levels, this remarkable woman never raised her voice. She was calm and encouraging and understanding. For Micaela, the situation worsened. Some of the equipment was faulty and it took three and a half hours to complete the set up. By the time we got the thumbs up to fall into a deep sleep, Micaela's eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying and there was so much snot coming out of her nose that the nasal canula was useless. However, as we settled in to sleep for the night, I was full of peace. I know we had countless family and friends praying for us and I marveled at how it permeated the room and rested on our technician. She had such a gentle spirit. Her back was aching by the time she had leaned over Micaela's struggling body for over three hours. However, she was remarkably tender and understanding with my obstinate child. Micaela even gave her multiple hugs before we left the following morning. Then, when I came home to fires and precious friends evacuating from their homes to mine, I remembered her gentle spirit. I served them as best I could for the frantic hours that we watched and hoped and prayed. I was humbled to get to serve them with some of that spirit of love that had been shown to us the night before. It was as if her patience and love strengthened me for my own trials ahead. Honestly, I would have otherwise been an angry exhausted mess. What a precious and unexpected gift. I've never thought about how our actions can give others the strength, patience, and peace to handle difficult situations completely unconnected to them. Our technician has no idea that her gentle spirit ended up affecting my whole day as a encountered a terrifying situation. God, let Your gentle spirit in me be a source of love and strength for others. Thank You, for watching over us, keeping my friends and neighbors safe, and most of all, letting Your peace reign. Amen.
Has the peace, patience, and gentle spirit of another person every blessed you in an unexpected way?  I think every sweet or salty treat has been calling my name these days, especially this past week. Trying to eat healthy and be “good” just added to my exhaustion as I tried to make it through the busy days and meet the demands of my full life. Finally, sitting at my desk at school, I decided to stop and figure it out. Why I was struggling? The room was quiet. It was my prep hour. Outside I could hear the occasional bang of a locker being closed and a distance chuckle down the school hall. So, I pulled open a new screen and did what any normal human being would do…I googled my problem. And, guess what? The internet happily complied and gave me more articles on “What to do when you’re stressed” than I could read in a thousand prep periods. However, one that concentrated on the Enneagram personality types caught my eye. I opened it up and sought to discover what I could do to get out of my current funk. Want to hear the coolest advice I found? Think about what you used to do as a child for fun and find a way to include that in how you take care of yourself. Immediately I smiled. I remembered the hours I spent writing, drawing, coloring, building with Legos, and reading novels that took me to different worlds. Inspired, I printed off a few adult coloring sheets and spent some precious moments filing in color between the lines. My shoulders dropped. I smile filled me from deep within. I realized that I was being completely unproductive, but those minutes filled me with peace and a sense that life is ok. We all do this. We put so much pressure on ourselves to get it all done. We want to push through the pain. We want to accomplish every chore and rise to every responsibility. But it is like filling our dryer with so many wet towels and jeans that the weight refuses to allow the drum to turn. We have to lift the weight off so that we can operate with efficiency, getting the job done without tearing ourselves apart. So many of the women I coach struggle with this. Often they are the ones who find that they are seeking food or alcohol after work or after the kids go to bed. The weight on their shoulders presses down and our human nature craves an escape hatch that will allow us to feel free for a few short hours. In the process of turning to sweets or wine to free us, we instead find ourselves enslaved to habits that weigh our hearts down even more. Oh, my love, God never told us we were to live this way. That’s why He gave a world where the sun goes down so we can rest and a seventh day to sabbath from our toil. From the moment of creation He built natural rhythms into our reality to protect His children. I want to challenge you to find the courage to place true natural fun in your life. Maybe it is music, or dance, or art, or crafts, or time in nature. Think back to what put a smile on your face as a child. Embrace the sweet uniqueness of how God made your soul and treasure it. Rest, my dears. Rest from the toil. Rest from the burden.
 I felt so weary. The road stretched out under the headlights as the windshield wipers rubbed and swished the slushy mixture off the windshield. In the back seat, the girls had refused to fall asleep and were restlessly playing games in the dark. My heart seemed to pulse in my ears. I gripped the steering wheel and kept vigil on the road, determined to get us home, safe and sound, in one piece, and in time for Micaela to get her medicine without having a reaction. I look back on those hours now, and I still hurt. Did you know, I couldn't even pray? Thankfully, I had friends and family covering us with prayer as we traveled, but I was so upset with myself that I couldn't even ask God for more than protection and forgiveness for my mistakes. I felt like the road and the weariness were mine to accept, to bear, to wear. I was still hurting hours after we got home and the girls fell asleep. Micaela, blessedly, did not have any seizures even though she received her medicine so late. I sat in a chair in the living room and rocked, refusing to go to sleep, keeping vigil on the baby monitor as she slept. It was, after all, completely my fault that the medicine had been forgotten at home and that we had canceled her sleep study when we couldn't have it filled or compounded at a single pharmacy in Albuquerque. These days, I make it a point not to wallow in my mistakes, but to pull myself up and learn and move forward. However, my friend, this one was harder for me. Probably because I have all the systems in place to prevent this mistake. Honestly, I still can't figure out how this slip-up happened except that I am human...oh, so, human. And, that realization, that mistakes happen even when we feel completely squared away, is humbling. A few of my friends pointed out that God will have His plans for Micaela and all of us, and the mistake was no doubt part of His plans. Perhaps it wasn't the right time for her sleep-study. Perhaps there was a different technician that needed to work with her. Or another reason we have to go back to Albuquerque. I don't know. But, I had a choice. I could either continue to shame myself and drown in all the things I should have done, or I could simply remember that I have given my life to God. I really can't be my own shepherd. I still need God. I need Him to guide me, to protect me. I need to take refuge in Him, not just from the world, but also for comfort as I grow. I need to trust Him with the way the road turns in my life, and not shoulder the burden of it all. I grin as I admit that I am just a simple sheep, prone to wander in stubborn belief that I know where all the green pastures lie. However, really, God knows exactly what we will need before we even ask. He takes His shepherd's crook, and redirects my steps because I have surrendered. Once you were like sheep  What Leads Me to the Pantry (or the Refrigerator) I have a “witching hour”, a time of day where I become angry and restless. My feet lead me to the pantry where I stare at the contents and finger bags of things that my stomach doesn’t want but my mind craves. Do you know what leads me there? One. Simple. Thing. My task list. Now, I need for you to hear me. I love time management strategies, organization techniques, and planning tactics. I love a beautifully orchestrated to-do list paired with a gorgeous schedule. However, 19 out of 20 times, all that planning leads me to the pantry at the end of the day. Why? Because all the planning in the world will never compensate for the unexpected. There is the phone call from a hospital or a request from a family member or simply a complication to a task I thought would be easy. Then, at the end of the day, I look at my plan and completely trash myself. I expected more. What I got done wasn’t enough. I am my own worst task-master. Right now my church is doing a Bible Study by Louie Giglio called “Don’t Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table”. As I work through the book I am forced to face the fact that I try so hard to be my own Shepard. It isn’t because I don’t trust God, it is more a lie that the enemy fed me that I should know how to do this without God. As if God needed me to be self-sufficient in order to be less of a bother to Him. Have you ever stopped and really thought about your opinion of God? Several Christian ministry leaders have made the connection of us viewing God, our Heavenly Father, the same way we view our Earthly father. For me, this is spot-on. I have an amazing Earthly father. He has always served his family well. He is a hard worker, giving everything to his children and even caring for my mother as she passed away from multiple sclerosis. However, I always felt deeply that I added to my father’s burdens. I strived to work hard and be helpful and “good” so his life wouldn’t be so difficult. It is an attitude that carries over into my relationship with God. It is both ironic and sad, because the God that created the universe does not need me to be perfect. He is not given to exhaustion or resentment because of any of my faults. He is the perfect Father. He has asked to give everything to me--guidance, protection, provision, and love--and it is His good pleasure to do this for His children. This lent, I have been asked to give God my task list. It is a symbol of my belief that I could ever hurt or disappoint my God by my imperfections. He can have my to-do list while I truly rest and trust His love for me no matter what did or did not get done that day. So, tell me this, what is leading you to the pantry these days?
If emotional eating is something you would like some help working on, consider signing up for my free weight loss class. I would be honored to coach you. https://mailchi.mp/88cc1c3e9b98/weight-loss-from-the-soul
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