Right now.

Right now, I am sitting at my secretary desk, typing this, instead of tackling my insane pile of junk to get done.

I am drinking...

Diet Coke.

And munching on these bad boys {Andes Creme de Menthe Cookies. I found them on sale at Marsh. Don't judge}.

I am telling myself that it is okay that we have to be out of our house before Christmas. That somehow, despite it being the busiest time of year, we will find time to pack and move. That despite the fact that my parents (who are experts at moving) cannot help us move, we will have enough help and ability to get it done.

I am telling myself that moving will not ruin Christmas for me, since it is my favorite time of year. I will live viacriously through other people's Christmas decorations, beautifully wrapped presents and Christmas movie nights.

I am talking to my dog, asking him if he can finish the PILES of laundry I just didn't have time to do last week (btw, I have NO IDEA what Robert found to wear to work today. Sorry, SWC peeps.). He looks at me with sweet amber eyes that say, "WTH, Mom?"

I'm telling myself it is okay that I woke up this morning and realized that our sheets needed to be washed and our bed needed to be flipped, and I'm not going to do either for days.

I am telling myself that it will be okay that I don't know if we'll be able to work out the deal on the house we are looking to buy. That if it doesn't go through, we will find a temporary place to live and the RIGHT house in due time.

I am telling myself that Robert and I are in the right jobs for right now, and despite my doubts and uncertainty about the future, we will be okay.

I am telling myself that there are things I cannot understand, cannot fix, cannot clean (right now), cannot change, and I need to get it over it.

I am telling myself that I will not have a panic attack. Or a mental breakdown. That I can ask for help, that it's okay not to do it all this year.

I am telling myself that these changes are good, and though it's a lot, it is what I am supposed to have.

Yesterday in church, our pastor preached on one of my favorite Bible passages. It's the story of Jairus, how he comes to Jesus because his daughter is dying and he believes that Jesus can heal her. And how Jesus doesn't make it there before she dies. In the meantime, a desperate, cast out woman gets enough courage to touch Jesus' cloak, in the hopes that after 12 years of suffering, she can be healed.

Do you know what I love?

Both of these people are at their wits end. Both need Jesus' immediate attention. The timing is up for both of them. The woman already suffered 12 years with no break. Jairus' time runs out, and his daughter dies.

Both have doubts. Both are fearful at their circumstances. Both get the healing and help that they seek.

Isn't that the joy of what we believe? Isn't that our hope? Isn't that the whole point? That our time is up, our strength has failed, everyone else has given up on us, our circumstances overtake us... and that we are saved.

"Ignoring what they said, Jesus told him, 'Don’t be afraid; just believe.'" Mark 5:36


  1. aw, Chrissy! I can feel the stress in this post! you're so right, though - it WILL all get done. :) I'll come over and help pack! :D and we have a guest bedroom with its own bath that's yours anytime you need it. truly.

    and, I'll always drink a diet coke with you, too, and share chocolate. that makes it all better. :)


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