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�who am I: I'm a small town girl, living in the big city, learning to trust God. I married a wonderful, patient man, Stephen, in October of 2008 and we had our first child, Micah, in June 2014. I've been keeping this diary since I was 16 years old, so it has seen a lot of life with me!
�likes: singing my soul out, writing my heart out, learning new things, falling in love, helping people, thinking about life, talking things through, dancing
�dislikes: not knowing where I'm going, fighting, losing touch with friends, making mistakes
�current reads:
tobehis
lobo21
standongrace
jondavid2010
fistofdoom
koorikaze
�old reads:
icofxcnika
iamhephzibah
eowyn86
araquen
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howgoesit
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My Bucket Lists
Dreams and Goals - 2004
Bucket List - 2019
My Little Thundercloud
9:24 p.m. || July 06, 2021
Just wanted to share a story from our lives this past week.
Things have been getting slowly better with my strong-willed child (Benji). He is 4 now. But the other day we had another bad day. He was angry and just WOULD NOT let it go. I was so, so tired. Stephen was gone, either at an appointment or at work. And after doing everything I could possibly do, I just gave up and started crying, hard. Then he started crying, because Mommy was crying. And we just cried for the longest time. I sobbed a lot of, "I love you, I just want to help." Said the hardest thing I've had to say to him: "I love you, even when you can't tell me what's wrong." (Why is that so, so hard?!) Stroked his head. Prayed a lot. Did a lot of accepting that I can't console my child, and that it's not my fault. It's not even his fault. I don't know what it is, but there are times he is just locked inside his emotions and cannot get out, and only the good Lord can rescue him. So I pray. And I cry. And I wait. And I pray.
When I had cried enough to start calming down, he began calming down too. I was wiped out. I dropped my head to the wall and pretended to snore. I saw him trying not to smile, and not succeeding very well. It was the sweetest, funniest, cutest thing. I wiggled tickle-fingers at him, then sprung him with a tickle. He laughed out loud. I played "Itsy Bitsy Spider" on him. He laughed more. And we just had to let everything go in a wash of grace. And that's ok with me.
There is no lying: THIS. IS. HARD. There are times when I can't bear to look ahead and say, "What if he's always like this? What if when he's an adult, he can't control himself? What if...?" I can only take the moment in front of me and trust the Lord for the rest, and pray that someday we'll know the answer to why.
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