Thursday, December 11, 2014

In My Father's Footsteps

I grew up the youngest of four girls. I also had two cousins that lived across the street that for all intents and purposes were like two more sisters. We grew up on 60 acres of shared family land that made our small world feel huge and limitless.

As a little girl I was into girl things but also was a huge tomboy. I loved to climb trees in my tutu and play with my Barbie dolls in the mud. I loved to wear my mom's lipstick and I loved to play with my dad's tools. I loved to bake and I loved to spend all day exploring in the woods. When my sister, Jaynelle, and I would play Hey Dude in my dad's lower garage, she would be Tiffany (the pretty, dainty character) and I would be Bradley (girly, but tough). These divided interests followed me as I got older. I became the athlete in my family and the one responsible for the outside chores (including, but not limited to, standing outside for prolonged periods of time in the freezing cold holding Christmas lights for my dad like I was Russ Griswold in Christmas Vacation). I liked to wear dresses and makeup and yet found it perfectly acceptable to poop outside when necessary or even just convenient. I dreamed of growing up and taking over my dad's contracting business or joining the army. I enjoyed painting my nails, and didn't mind getting sweaty or dirty. I was, in short, my father's only son. It was inevitable, I suppose, that I would one day hunt with my dad as well.

My father is a meticulous man. He is careful and calculated and doesn't miss a detail when carrying out a task. This is the kind of leader he proved to be in the woods as well. The first time he ever took me out, it was to hunt small game. Specifically, squirrel. I can't say I remember a lot of that experience, but I do remember two things. One: squirrels were simply too cute to shoot. And two: I enjoyed spending time with my dad out on the land. So, when I became old enough to hunt deer, I was there. The first couple of years, I decided hunting deer was more fun to talk about than to actually do. In reality, I had to wake up when it was still dark when most of my friends got to sleep in, and then spend the entire day in the frigid cold seeing and shooting just about nothing. But the draw for me was in the memory making.

Now, my sisters didn't hunt, but my two cousins did. Although I consider us kinda tough, we were still girls out there hunting. We horsed around, laughed too loud, peed too often (like, it happened more than once that we missed a shot because our pants were around our ankles and our guns were out of reach...oops), took naps, and had our dads build us a fire if we couldn't hack the cold. A typical day hunting would start with an early get together for pancakes and sausage at my uncle's house. Then we'd get dressed and eventually get to our "spots". If you grew up on family land I'm sure you are familiar with the way certain areas acquire names over the years. On the Brumbaugh farm, we have names like 'the bottom', 'the beaver pond', 'the hollo', etc. And then we have our "spots". It is common knowledge where 'Denny and Heidi's' or 'Mandi and Uncle Dick's' spots are. Once we arrived in our spot, my dad and I would stay there for a few hours. For me, this was sometimes the toughest part of hunting. It was cold. And quiet. And usually really cold. And mostly really quiet. I would fight sleep and wait in anticipation for my dad to say, "Well, you wanna go check in with Mandi and Uncle Dick?" "Sure," I would casually say...but you know I was pumped! Not only would I get warm from the walk up to their spot, I would get a new energy being able to move around, and they always had better snacks (things like Starbursts and salt & vinegar chips). Usually once we got to their spot our dads would leave us girls there and they would go drive the woods for us. Later in the afternoon I would go back with my dad to our spot and finish out the the sunset on the open field where we sit and listen to my dad tell stories of his upbringing, his hunting experiences, etc.

It was my third year hunting, I toughed it out through the early morning cold and quiet and my dad suggested we take a walk up to see Mandi and Uncle Dick. As we walked through the woods I tried very carefully to walk exactly behind my dad, stepping only in his footsteps, to make the least amount of noise as possible. I was busy concentrating on this when we heard it...a loud gunshot not far away. My dad instructed me to stop and be still and explained that sometimes a close shot might send deer running our way. We didn't have to wait long before we saw them. Three deer coming. Two doe and a buck. My dad told me to be quiet, maybe one of them would stop. As if on cue, the buck stopped. My dad told me to pull my gun up, take the safety off and shoot. I did. The deer took off. We both breathed, laughed a little, and my dad told me it was a good try and at least I now had practice shooting at one. I was reeling with adrenaline. My dad said we should walk over to where the deer had been standing just to check. When we got there we saw a little bit of fur and some blood. A new excitement swept over me. We began to track the blood. After a time we found him in a swamp. The deer had apparently run up the bank by the swamp and fell backwards when he died. We happened to come across a neighbor who graciously helped my dad drag my deer out of that black, murky swamp. I stood back watching. The moment I realized I had taken the life of something so big, really so beautiful, I cried. I sobbed actually. It was a foreign feeling to me. Being responsible for taking life. After a few minutes a different feeling crept in. One of excitement, and satisfaction, and pride. I felt like I had accomplished what I set out to do. Finally hunting took on a new meaning to me. It had a purpose. A goal. And I now knew I was capable of meeting that goal. I was proud that I was successful and happy that I could go to school and tell the boys that I shot an 8-point. But more than anything in that moment, I was simply inflated by my father's pride in me.

We now call that swamp 'where Heidi shot her first deer'. It may be used in reference to give direction to some other destination on the land. In eighteen years I have only missed one season, when I was 2 weeks postpartum after having my third baby. But, I've hunted through three pregnancies and through nursing two infants (my mom would just text me and say, "Baby awake. Send boob!"). During those years I'm not sure if I spent more time in the woods, or trying to get in the woods! I have realized that hunting isn't necessarily just something that I do. It is a part of who I am. It is a part of who my family is. It is something special I have with my dad, as his only son:)

Over the years more people have joined us on the land. Another uncle. My brother-in-law and his brother. My nephew. More spots have been designated. More memories have been made. I watch my dad gain a new energy with my nephew out there. This year it was my nephew who joined my dad at our spot, and I actually got my own, new spot. A tree stand. I felt so grown up. Like graduating from the kid's table to the adult table at Thanksgiving dinner. I'm happy to see him lead my nephew. Happy that my nephew will hear the same great stories I've heard a hundred times. And my nephew is blessed to learn the ropes from such a great man, to learn to walk quietly in my father's footsteps.

Me, my dad, and my 8-point swamp deer.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Dominica Jane

Dominica Jane,

Everything about you has been different. Our first baby not planned. Our first baby not born in July. Our first baby born past her due date. Our first baby with blonde hair and blue eyes. Our "late" crawler. Our baby who still has not said a word or walked. You entered the world on your own time and have been doing things at your own pace ever since. It is a beautiful thing.

When I found out I was pregnant with you I cried. Your sister, Charlie, wasn't even 8 months old yet. I didn't feel ready. I took a minute, breathed it out, and never looked back. I knew that God would provide whatever it is I needed to be a mom again. What I didn't know was how I needed you and how you would shape motherhood for me in a unique way that I had not yet experienced.

You have taught me to slow down. You have taught me that it is okay if everything doesn't stay clean or organized. Perhaps what you have taught me is that it isn't possible to stay clean and organized with 3 kids...but, whatever, the benefits of the lesson are the same! You have taught me that the world won't end if nap time gets off schedule, if you sleep in my bed (still), or if you eat a pancake off the floor. You have taught me that my best work right now is you, and your sisters. Anything else I'm doing pales in comparison and is less in priority. God has used your birth combined with unique circumstances in our life to open a window to my soul, that, as a mother, has made me strong and rooted, like a tree able to bare much weight. Though your cry (which is really not a cry, but at all times is a level 10 emergency scream) is straight from the pit of hades, you, Dominica, are like a peaceful river, flowing and pouring out life and rest.

I have been in absolutely no hurry with you. I have longed to savor every minute, every moment. I'll carry you as long as you'll let me. I'll hold you as long as you're still. The fact that you have been here one year now, is a testament to how fast all this is going. You have taught me to slow down, and I want to stay at this pace.

Your name means: Of the Lord. Though I consider all my daughters treasured gifts from God, your presence in this family has had a special impact. I think because you were not a part of our plans, it was clear you were a part of God's plans for us. And so I have felt graced by God. Graced to be your mother. To carry you, deliver you, love and nurture you. When we brought you home from the hospital I would just look at you and cry because I didn't want anything to happen to you, ever. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm thankful for you. I'm genuinely grateful you are here. It is a satisfying, joyful blessing to be your mommy. I look forward to an abundant life with you. I love you. Happy birthday, sweet girl.


Saturday, November 1, 2014

My Ebenezer

November 1st is a special day in the Pié home. In fact, we consider it a holiday.

When we got married, we had the honor of having Josh's dad speak at our wedding. He said a lot of great things that day that still have an impact on us. One of the things he spoke of were the Israelites and a custom they had throughout history of building alters when God had done a great work in their nation. It was like setting up memorials to intentionally remember and speak of and pass on how it was that God showed them favor, helped them, blessed them, saved them, etc. typically in situations where they were facing certain defeat. You can read this in 1 Samuel 7:5-13 where Samuel, Israel's judge at the time, placed a large stone between two towns where God was supernaturally causing them to be victorious over their enemies. Samuel named that stone, Ebenezer-"the stone of help". And also in Joshua chapters 4 and 5, where Joshua was leading the Israelites into the Promised Land. God, again, supernaturally intervened by causing the Jordan river to dry up so that His people could cross over and He then went to battle for them defeating their enemies while leading them to a place of promise and rest. After all the Israelites crossed over safely, the Lord commanded one man from each tribe of Israel to take a stone from the Jordan and pile them up to build a memorial so that their children's children's children could see it, ask about it and remember the glory of the Lord. Josh's dad encouraged us to build these kinds of alters in our new life together.

I don't know if you have ever read my previous post, Living on Miracles, but if you haven't I would encourage you to do so ( Long story short, there was a 2-year time period where Josh and I went through some serious financial struggles after I quit my full-time job to work part-time for our church/stay home with our daughter and where Josh was working as an independent contractor at a law firm. It was a time where I had to commit to knowing God is good when I didn't feel like God is good. It was a time where it was hard to see beyond the current circumstances to believe for anything different. We sometimes felt forgotten by God. Hopeless even.

But God truly is good. And on November 1st, 2012 Josh was offered full-time employment at the law firm. A very painful season came to a close. Just like that. Next payday we were able to start paying rent again and even buy our own food. I still remember how it took some time for that guilty/anxious feeling to subside when I would go to the store for groceries. But eventually it did.

I can tell you now that we still have times when we are paying last month's bills with this month's pay check, but that doesn't really shake me. I know we have walked the trenches of much greater despair and have been pulled right out into a place of promise and rest. That rest being this...that I know God is good.  

So, on November 1st each year we have a feast. We talk about what God did, and how he rescued us from certain defeat. We bless another family with a meal, letting them know we want to pass on the generosity given to us. And we pray together as a family. Giving God glory for what He has done in our past, is doing in our present, and is going to do in our future. This is our way of remembering our Ebenezer; of setting up our 12 stones.

Although it may not be a holiday in your house today, I encourage you to remember the faithfulness of God in your life. And know that He is good. And when you come through whatever it is your going through, grab a stone and tell someone about it. :)

P.S. If you are facing certain defeat in your life right now, check out the link below (Come To Me, Bethel). The lyrics in this song truly saw me through some dark days. To this day, it makes me cry.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

8 Years

8 years ago today, on a very cold, very beautiful Autumn day, I sat beside you on a green Gator tractor as we rode off into the sunset literally yelling, "What did we just do?!" We had promised our lives to one another. Felt like we were spinning wildly out of control, but in the most exciting and promising way. At that moment, the significance of that commitment was really only felt in the acknowledgement that we didn't really understand. It was a beautiful beginning to what would, and what continues to, follow.

Over the years we have learned through the unfolding of moments, and days, and months and seasons what it means to love one another no matter what. We have learned the process of living life as a united front. We have learned to work out the details of managing a home together. We have learned, and continue to learn, how to be parents to our three princesses. We have learned how to take all the good that makes you, you and me, me and create something new and better. We have learned that it is possible to fight without hurting one another. We have learned the depth of forgiveness and grace. We have learned that we won't just stay in love, but that like any commitment it takes work and practice. We have learned that sometimes we have to love one another through action, because it is right, not because we feel like it. We have learned that hardships surrendered to God will make us stronger. We have learned that whether it comes to experiencing joy or pain or anything in between, life is better together than alone.   

I look at you now and I don't see the same man that was in that tractor with me on that very cold, very beautiful Autumn day. I see someone much more mature. Much more seasoned. Someone who has held my hand through the losses and gains that life has brought us. I see the father of my babies, and the leader of our family. I see how God has worked in you, forming you into who He has created you to be. I am thankful for you. I am proud of you. I believe in you. I walk confidently beside you.

If I close my eyes I can still feel it. The cold wind. Newness. The excitement of spinning wildly out of control. I love you, Joshua. I would marry you all over again. Happy anniversary.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014


Sometimes in life we can sense that a season is coming before it is actually upon us. Just a few short weeks ago I could feel fall. The sun simply didn't hang around as long as it had been. I could see traces of color here and there amongst the trees. My heart began to grow anxious for all things pumpkin. And yet the afternoons still saw 80 degrees and my girls and I found ourselves in our pool, soaking up the last days of summer. Now, green fields have faded to golden yellows. Trees are adorned in radiant colors of red and orange. And my kitchen has filled my home with the sweet aroma of pumpkin pancakes, cider, and apple pies. Fall is upon us.

Just like I could sense the change in the season of the year, I have sensed a change in the season of our life here in the Pié home. Really, it would be better stated that we have sensed this change. Josh and I have felt God stirring in our lives for the past couple years. He has revealed Himself in a book here, a documentary there...speaking to us about how big He really is and about how we had been limiting His power in our life by keeping Him small. He revealed Himself in the testimony of a close family member who He freed from heroin addiction...speaking to us how He makes all things new and how He brings dead things back to life. He revealed Himself on mission trips to Haiti and to the Dominican Republic...showing us what He is doing around the world and urging our hearts to desire to be a part of it. He has revealed Himself by speaking over us about promises of adventures and broadened borders...and calling us to take courage and walk even if it means walking into uncertainty. He has revealed Himself in our circumstances...drawing us away from all that has been home, all that has been easy, all that has been familiar and comfortable and secure and quite honestly, all that has been taken for granted. He has revealed Himself in our frustrations, our poor decisions and our loneliness. He has revealed Himself by killing things in us that have been painful to let go of, like our pursuit of the American dream, and in it's place left a desperate longing to walk only in His will for our lives because in our emptiness and weakness we know that He is our portion and our strength. 

The season we are currently in is strange. It's difficult. It doesn't really make sense to us. We are committed in our marriage, yet live apart. I forget what it's like to have that feeling that he is coming home at the end of the day. Our 2-year-old doesn't understand that Daddy lives with us. And every time we are together there is that internal keeping of time, like we know we are just stealing moments together before saying goodbye again. But I know some things. Not because I know them in my head. Not because I can see how it will all work out. In fact, if I would have sat down at earlier times in this season to write about how I thought things were going to work out based on what I could see, I would have been wrong. But, like one yellow leaf on an otherwise completely green tree can bring forth a sense of the arrival of fall while in the midst of summer, the stirring of God in my spirit is telling me, "Be prepared, for a change of season is around the corner. It's not yet upon you. But it's coming. So be prepared. In fact, know that I AM preparing you even now."

So, when I am discouraged, when I am exhausted, when the circumstances that are overshadow the hope of what will be, I remember all the ways God has been revealing Himself. And I remember that seasons come and seasons go. And I know that just around the corner, just after a short time, I will be able to look around me a see the fruitfulness of a new season. I hope you will follow us along the way to God's faithfulness. I think it's going to be good!          



Friday, June 13, 2014

A Supernatural Day

I heard this said recently, and I think it is true, that as Christ-followers sometimes we are so hung up on experiencing a spectacular moment in our lives, that we miss out on the supernatural moments of every day.

I want to tell you about my friend Meagan. We met not even 3 weeks ago. I was killing time at a nearby park while someone was viewing our home that is for sale. I had my dog and my 3 girls with me. As my older girls were playing I noticed a girl alone on a bench smoking a cigarette. I had that quickening in my spirit know, that feeling, that nudging, that prompting to act. If I am being honest, I will tell you that I didn't feel like meeting anybody. It was hot. I was bogged down by an unruly dog, a stroller, bags, a mint plant I just bought at the farmers market, and the responsibility of making sure my older girls were safe playing. I wanted to just sit there quietly and pass time until I could return home. But thank God for that quickening.

Awkwardly I inched closer to her, sort of pretending my dog was wanting to see her. As I got closer, she got more and more interested in her phone, even turning away from where I was slowly approaching. Making it even easier to get her attention, I noticed she had ear buds in. Great. Should I dance or something? (Let me remind you I had no idea what I was even going to say once I did get her attention.) Ok, so I got as close as I could without being totally creepy and I gave an awkward smile/wave/raised eyebrows to show I was interested in conversation. She took her ear buds out. I said hello, and it took no time at all to begin making small talk. Next thing you know, my girls and I are hunched over her phone looking at pictures of her pet rats.

I was clinging to anything that could lead to something of significance. Remembering that God says not to worry about what to say, that he has it covered. Remembering that we will overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony. I saw a tattoo resembling something religious and took the open door to ask her about it. I shared the briefest version of my testimony and told her that God loves her and knows what she is going through (I had no clarity that that would mean anything, but I knew that it was at least true!). She told me she knows about God, goes to church sometimes, but feels judged by people. I offered to pray for her, asking if there was anything specific she needed. She played it off at first like everything was fine. But then let me know she was actually sitting on that bench trying to figure out what to do next because she had just lost her housing. I didn't know what to do. Or say. I prayed because I said I would. I am not exactly sure what I prayed, I think I thanked God for his goodness and love (you know, the basic things that, again, are true so I figured they were probably relevant.). I gave her my cell #, assured her God would take care of her, asked her to text me if she couldn't find anywhere to go, offered her the $10 I had left over from the farmers market (she declined). And I left her there in the park.

When I got home I talked to a friend about it. I was pumped to have gotten the chance to reach out to someone. But I was filled with all kinds of doubt and insecurity. Did I say anything of value to her? She didn't have anywhere to stay, wouldn't the obvious helpful thing be to bring her home? I should have just handed her the money, not asked her if she needed it. What did I even pray? Did I fail? My friend simply told me to trust the Holy Spirit to do the work. So I prayed that God would move above and beyond anything I did (or didn't do) for Meagan.

Days passed and I didn't hear from her, so I thought that was probably the end of that. Of course it wasn't, or this would be a lame story.

So, a few days ago I re-watched a message I love by a pastor I love to listen to ( And I remembered Meagan and remembered that she told me where she works. And I told myself I should write her a note and drop it by sometime this week. I did that yesterday. I wrote a short note, wrote some scripture verses and had the girls color her a picture. She wasn't working when I dropped it off, but I was told that if they could get the envelope to her they would. I walked away knowing I did all I could and told God (as if he needed a reminder) that he would have to do the rest. Within a half an hour I noticed a text message from Meagan. She thanked me for the card and asked me if I knew what happened to her. I told her I didn't. She told me how I was there for her that day at the park and then after having a crazy week she gets my card and she thinks maybe I'm her guardian angel. I let her know it is all God, that he put her on my heart. I asked about her crazy week. She goes on to explain how she overdosed this past week and was saved when someone called an ambulance. She said she prayed to God in that moment to help her if it wasn't her time to go. She said he did help her, and then when she got home she received my card with the scripture verses telling her everything she needed to hear-that she was made for more, has a greater purpose, and that she is supposed to be here. Just like that. From death to LIFE. 

I was moved to tears. In fact I continue to be moved to tears every time I talk about it (I've been talking about it as much as I can). Humbled by the faithfulness of our great God. How he blessed me with an opportunity to see a girl alone on a bench smoking a cigarette through his eyes. How he worked above and beyond my underwhelming prayer for her, my inability to say something really moving, my failure to give her any practical help. Meagan is his beloved daughter and he was pursuing her in that moment. It had nothing to do with me. 

God is so good. He is alive. He is at work and moving. He uses us when we make ourselves available. He takes the very ordinary things we do and turns them into supernatural moments. Every day is a supernatural day. I hunger and thirst for the moments when I feel that quickening in my spirit. I praise him ahead of time for the next story. When I think about what happened on a very ordinary day, in a very ordinary life. Hope. As Meagan put it, moving forward. I guess it turned out pretty spectacular after all.      

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Life Beyond Facebook

I have a 3(almost 4)-year-old, a 1(almost 2)-year-old, a 6-month-old, and a dog. All girls. My husband works out of town Monday-Friday. So for 5 days and 4 nights out of the week I am on demand 24/7. On demand for 3 small children and a dog, all of whom completely lack the ability to care for themselves. It has been this way since January. This isn't something we planned. Circumstances just sort of happened. These are also not circumstances that we find acceptable and are working to remedy the situation. If I have learned anything over these trying months it is this...single mommy-hood is not for me. I need my husband. And my girls need their daddy.

I have learned some other things too. Like how to say no. The amount of obligations I have outside of my home have drastically decreased. I simply cannot do everything I used to do. Some things have been hard to give up, others not so much. Standards have certainly decreased as well. I am a tidy person. I like organization. Sometimes when my whole life feels out of control I simply run my vacuum and I feel a whole lot better. Unfortunately my expectations for cleanliness and organization have plummeted. "I'll do that as soon as I get a minute" can be more accurately translated "That will get taken care of sometime in the next 3 days-3 months". Even my standards for personal hygiene have suffered. Brush my teeth. Put on deodorant. Those are the main priorities. Friday before Josh gets home I do a real deep cleaning. Like the deluxe option in a car wash. Good to go 'til next Friday.

I say none of these to complain. I have learned more about myself in these last few months than ever before. Seen what I believe to be the ugliest sides of myself. Cried a lot. Drew near to the presence of God in a way I never have, and consequently have experienced the presence of God in ways I never have. A lot of growth has occurred. I'm thankful. Truly grateful. It's not a bad thing to be pushed to the end of yourself as long as when you get there you meet Jesus!

Another thing I have learned is that I really long for genuine relationships with people. I don't have a lot of time. Not that any of us feel like we do. But literally I sleep in 2-3 hour increments, and spend every other waking moment aside from 45 minutes-2 hours (tops on the most perfect of nights) taking care of my children. So I have realized in order to maintain relationships that matter to me I really need to make the most of what resources I have available. Get the most bang for my buck so to speak.

When I originally got Facebook I thought how great it was that I could stay in touch with so many people. What I realize now at this point in my life is that (FOR ME) it has actually created a whole bunch of superficial relationships (I use that last word loosely) and has distanced me from people that I genuinely care about and am interested in staying in touch with. There is this deception that I am staying in touch with people, know what's going on in their lives because I happened to see a post here or a status update there. So-and-so went on a vacation. Somebody else is trying a new recipe. Oh look, what's-their-face is having another many is that for them now, not sure...let me look at their pics and I'll find out. Meanwhile I haven't had any significant conversation with these people for years. And some I may see in real life and we totally don't even speak to one another. Add to that the problem of posting my own status updates and whatnot. Such a dilemma. I don't like making myself the center of attention (yes, I realize I am doing that by sharing this). So I post on Facebook hardly ever. But when I do and somebody comments on it, I feel it is polite to take notice of it by clicking "like". Ok, then someone else comments. And someone else. Do I click "like" for all of them? Isn't "liking" all of them really the same as not "liking" any of them because how can every comment possible be "like"-worthy? But if I "like" this persons and not that person's am I gonna hurt someones feelings? Better not to "like" anyone's just in case. Bummer, cause I really do like that person's comment. Add to that the random invites to people's random events, the relentless requests to play games (Play games? Seriously? Who in the h-e-double hockey sticks thinks I have time to sit and play games?! I haven't even showered in 48 hours. (Insert angry eyebrows here.)), and last but not least, the fact that when someone sends you a message they are notified when you have read it. Who thought that feature was a good idea? Sometimes the mere fact that I have received a message feels like a million lbs of pressure. 'Cause now I have to read it and I don't know what may be expected of me, asked of me, etc. I certainly can't ignore reading the message. But as soon as I read it I know that person knows that I read it and then that million lbs of pressure increases exponentially because I am expected to reply in a reasonable amount of time. Remember the 3 days-3 months rule I mentioned earlier? Yeah. Big problems people. BIG problems.

So, all that to this time of my life where I may just go a little cracky-wack (that's just a silly way of saying crazy) if one more demand is placed on me, I am giving up Facebook. I am a little apprehensive, for I do not want to lose access to people. It may seem ironic for me to share this blog post on Facebook. But I do so to genuinely ask that you keep in touch with me. I am trusting that if you are reading this, you care about our relationship and if I don't have another way of contacting you outside of Facebook, that you will share with me how I can do that.

I don't know what life beyond Facebook will look like. I plan to be much more active on my blog. For instance, I'm really excited to share with you how God has been moving in my life lately to remedy the circumstances Josh and I are currently in. I hope to share that post with you sometime in the next 3 days-3 months. :)