I have a lot of things I’d like to say to both “sides” of today’s breaking news, but I think what would do the most good is to pray that God would be glorified today and every day. Today is about the LGBTQ community, and I want everyone in that community to know Jesus. I pray that the church would be careful in its reaction so that the goal is not moralizing everyone according to our individual standards, but the goal would be sharing the gospel. Let God judge individuals and this country. Let us only love.

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Morning Prayer

Camy           Knees             Write                  Right               Stories

Mama                        Energy                     Positivity

Good Wife                        Devoted Couple                  Rest

Parents             In-laws                      Students

Good book experiences        Compassion               Jeremy

Taylor                 Fluency                    …in the Gospel

Mercy                     Kindness                    Opportunities

Love          Thankful            Good, Glorious, Great

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6 Lessons I’ve Learned About Being a Coach’s Wife

The Sexes are having a great summer. We are almost at our 6 month anniversary (June 27) and we’ve finished up year 1 of teaching. I’m teaching summer school most mornings and my husband coaches Junior High baseball. This is my first summer as a coach’s wife, and Coachs-wife-survival-guideit’s quite the learning curve for me. I was the child who read books through all her brother’s games and never wore a baseball/softball uniform. So if you are like me, and need some advice, here’s what I’ve gathered…

Lessons I’ve Learned About Being a Coach’s Wife:
1. The dugout is sacred. Just stay out….or wait till coach is watching 3rd base and no one notices so you can sneak in and use your husband’s sunscreen.
2. Feel free to give advice and yell and shout to the kids/coaches/umps…but no one on the field actually hears you.
3. When there isn’t a scoreboard up and running, use rocks. They are always available, eco-friendly, and work just as well to keep track of outs, innings, runs, strikes, and balls. You may get some strange looks, but others will appreciate knowing the score, too.
4. Introduce yourself right away…or you may be mistaken for the coach’s younger sister, the mother of one of the 12 year old kids on the field, or the “girl who follows around the team.”
5. Be ready to hear all the gossip. Want to know whose parents are divorced? Whose kids have always had a terrible attitude? The stands are the place for it all.
6. Don’t fall asleep while watching the game, it’s embarrassing for everyone. Not that I know what that’s like…

Hope this guide helps you! Or perhaps just gives you a glimpse into my life :)

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Chores. Oh, chores.

When you’re five,
they’re 20 minute requirements here and there.
You don’t see what goes into a home, if you care.

When you’re twenty, you’re on your own,
but with 1 person’s mess, there’s no need to moan.

When you’re married, there’s two.
Twice the mess, so the chores go to who?

That’s the question, not easy to answer.
I could be submissive wife and say, “Yes, sir!”

Or argue my case and say “You help, too!”
This is what I want, this much is true.

But most of the time I don’t mind doing it,
because the gender role just seems to fit.

I want things clean now, and you don’t mind,
so I can be the one to find…
the vaccum
the mop
the detergent
the dust mitt
the pledge
the Windex
the paper towels (so many paper towels)

…but you still clean the cars, okay?

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Home. My favorite word. I write about it a lot, and I think about it even more. Right now my home is an apartment next to a taxidermy shop. It’s where I live with my husband and 17 or so fish. It’s where I try to find homes for my hundreds of books, occasionally cook, deal with clogged sinks and tackle piles of laundry. It’s where I feel most content.

But my heart is also still in a little college near Athens, Greece,
And in a dorm that I devoted 3 years to,
And in a house in Sioux City where a lawyer lives now,
And in a home with a big porch in Missouri where my parents live,
And in my classroom 20 miles down the road.

Today I gave a church friend a ride to our Wednesday night class and she talked about moving 20 miles down the road to the next town for work and also because then she is now in the same town as her and her husband’s families. And I thought about how different it would be if Nathan and I’s families were close by.

What will we do if we have children and need a babysitter in an emergency?
Who do I call when my car stops working and my husband is at work in another town?
Who do I see that I know when we go to the city festivals at the park?
What if I want to see my brother’s concerts his senior year?
There are people I can call, but I wish it could be my family.

I miss them–my mom and sister are some of my best friends, my dad is my biggest supporter, and my brother is my favorite young man. And I wish that home were nearer my family, but it isn’t. My heart is in many places, but my home is here with my husband and my fish in the apartment near the taxidermy shop.

“For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling…Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord…We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” ~2 Corinthians 5

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It’s Time to Write

Today I picked up journals that are filled with my thoughts over the last 4 years–filled. And the past year? It probably fills a couple pages. I need to write, and I know it, but I haven’t made the time. It’s summer, and I’m a teacher, so it’s time to get back to business.


For today: On missing college, and why I need to write

I really don’t miss being a college student very often. I miss the people I lived with over the years, those I shared so many meals, late night chats, popcorn bowls, and stories with. Now they are spread across the country and the world–from Minnesota to D.C., California to Des Moines, Greece to Britain.

But I also miss my desperate attitude towards my Maker. In those filled journals from college are pleas for help, words that lift up hundreds of people who were struggling at the time and perhaps still are. I filled the journals with questions for the Lord about what his Word meant, and what He was doing with my life. There were words that begged for peace from anxiety and rest from stress. I wrote at night, and during the day. I wrote during church services and centering prayer events, prayer labyrinths and spiritual retreats. I filled my life with spiritual experiences that, of themselves, did nothing, but they gave me opportunities for solitude and subsequent writing. My life is not so stressful and anxious anymore. Nathan and I often talk about how blessed we are at this point in our lives with 2 stable jobs, supportive families, and a delightful marriage. I have time for solitude, but I’m not taking it. I don’t feel like I need it. So my prayer today is for the Lord to force me to my knees. I want to be forced to my knees in prayer to the Lord. He deserves all praise, honor, and glory. I want to give it, but I’m not taking the time. My prayer is still desperate, but not desperate for myself. I’m desperate for my relationship with the Lord to grow. I’m desperate for the closeness that comes from and results in filled journals of prayers to my king. It’s time to write.

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