This Messy, Blessed Life
A homemaker’s reflections on Faith, Scripture, and God's Grace in the Middle of Life's Messes
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It’s October 1st, and it’s raining.
Not just a little rain, but the kind of long, steady rain we have prayed for. After months of drought, the sound of thunder rolling across the sky definitely feels like an answered prayer.
And I am so thankful
But there’s another side to rainy days that isn’t quite as beautiful for me.
Seasonal changes tend to send my body into a flare. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it, but it feels a lot like having the flu without actually having the flu. The exhaustion, aches, heaviness and just feeling off can be overwhelming.
Today is one of those days.
Still, I’m reminding myself that I can be thankful for the rain and still admit that I don’t feel good.
I can praise God for answering our prayers and also spend the day resting.
I can listen to the thunder, watch the rain fall and trust that this flare will pass.
Because it will.
Life has seasons, and so does the body. Some seasons are energetic and productive. Others are quiet and require us to slow down.
Maybe there’s grace in both.
So today, I’m resting without guilt.
I’m listening to the rain.
I’m thanking Jesus for the blessing of water soaking into this thirsty Texas earth.
And I’m trusting Him with the things I cannot control.
The rain came!
And even on a hard day, I am truly thankful for His Mercy! -
Years ago, someone once said to me, after I mentioned Jesus, “I hope you aren’t drinking the Kool-Aid.”
At the time, I wasn’t really walking with Jesus, so I didn’t know what to say. I just kind of laughed it off.
I wish I could go back and respond differently.
Today, I think I’d smile and say…“Why yes. I have been drinking the Kool-Aid…and it tastes Heavenly. Would you like a taste?”I would have told them that I have tasted something I can’t and never want to un-taste.
I’ve tasted the peace that doesn’t make sense in the middle of difficult circumstances.
I’ve tasted forgiveness.
I’ve tasted grace.
I’ve tasted a love that isn’t dependent on whether I deserve it.
I’ve tasted freedom from the burden of having to have all the answers.
And I’ve tasted the hope of eternity.
The world offers plenty of things that promise joy. We chase success, money, possessions, relationships, experiences, approval, entertainment…thinking the next thing will finally satisfy the place inside us that feels empty. But eventually, we discover that none of it can fill that space.
Because we weren’t created to be filled by the world.
We were created for Him.
And that’s what makes me sad when I see someone completely reject Jesus. Not because I think I’m better than them. Not because I want to win an argument. It’s because I know what they’re turning away from.
The free gift of salvation.
The love of a Father who pursues us.
The grace that meets us exactly where we are.
The freedom of knowing we don’t have to save ourselves…that we can’t save ourselves.The joy of belonging to Christ.
I can’t make anyone believe.
I can’t force anyone to open their heart.
But I can offer them a taste.
And if they say, “No, thank you,” I’ll still love them.
Because Jesus didn’t call me to force people to drink.
He called me to make disciples.
So yes…
I’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid.And it tastes Heavenly.
Would you like a taste? -
This is the view right outside my laundry room window. I’ve never had a window in a laundry room before, and I’ve certainly never had a view like this from a window in any home I’ve lived in.
A few mornings ago, I was standing there when I noticed a cardinal sitting on one of these branches, facing the window. My first thought was, “I need to grab my camera!” But instead, I just stood there and watched. He stayed for several minutes before flying away, and I haven’t seen him since. I still look for him every morning, though. I like to think maybe he just stopped by to say hello and welcome me to Granbury.
There’s something really special about this place. The slower pace, the trees, the wildlife, the little surprises that seem to find me when I’m not looking for them…I really do love it here. And I’m so thankful God brought us to this little corner of Texas.
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It’s hard to believe we’ve been here almost two months already!
In some ways, it feels like we just got here. In other ways, it feels like we’ve packed an entire lifetime of little adventures into these first few weeks.
When we arrived, everything felt new…the roads, neighborhoods, restaurants, trees, humidity, people, and even the pace of life.
And speaking of the pace of life…
It’s definitely slower here.
My husband gets so frustrated with drivers who seem to have absolutely nowhere to be, often driving 15 miles below the speed limit.
I keep reminding him…We moved here for the slower pace!
One thing we noticed right away was how friendly everyone is. We’ve been greeted with smiles and sent on our way with “Have a blessed day!” many times!
I really like that.
We’re living in a small, quiet community in a more remote area just outside of Granbury proper, near the Brazos River. We’ve met several neighbors, and one even invited us to their church. More on that soon!
There aren’t privacy fences between the houses, so apparently everyone is just forced to get to know each other…
I guess that’s one way to build community!
Our little rental has been a good place to land. It’s cute and comfortable, and I’ve slowly unpacked everything we actually need and decorated a little.
Everything else is in storage.
And honestly, I’m perfectly okay with that.
Since we’re hoping to find a house by the time our one-year lease is up, I have no desire to unpack every single thing we own. If we make it a whole year without some of those things, we may have to admit we don’t need them after all.
The house feels cute and homey now. It’s smaller than our Lubbock house, but it’s comfortable.
It just doesn’t quite feel like home.
At least not yet.
Part of that is probably because we really loved our house in Lubbock. We owned it. We made it ours, and it held years of memories. I think it’s perfectly okay to miss a house without missing the place it was in.
Because while we miss our house…
We don’t miss Lubbock.
Don’t get me wrong, We do miss some of the people there but we definitely don’t want to move back. Even if we decide not to stay in Granbury, we won’t be moving back to Lubbock. It stopped feeling like home a while back.
Granbury is beautiful, but for the first few weeks, it honestly felt like we were on an extended vacation. I kept expecting someone to tell us it was time to go home.
Except this is home.
At least for now.
There have been a few adjustments.
This is a brand-new house and it does NOT have a garbage disposal. I have never lived without one, and apparently I didn’t realize how much I depended on that little appliance!
And then there was the cockroach.
A giant cockroach.
In the middle of the night.
At least two inches long.
With WINGS.
WINGS!!
Thankfully, it was dying, so I finished him off and flushed him. But it took me about two days to recover from the trauma.
I haven’t seen another one, but every time I get up in the middle of the night, I’m looking around suspiciously.
I understand we live next to a heavily treed area. But still…
STAY IN YOUR TREES, PLEASE!
Home of the giant cockroaches!! We’ve also been having fun exploring our new town. One thing we wanted to do was actually experience Granbury before immediately jumping into buying another house.
So we’ve been driving around, checking out neighborhoods, visiting open houses, and getting a feel for the area.
And let me tell you…
Granbury is spread out!
It feels so much bigger than it actually is. There are so many communities and neighborhoods, and each one has a completely different feel.
We’ve seen some beautiful homes.
Some we could afford.
Some we absolutely cannot afford.
And some we really don’t even want to afford.
We keep coming back to one particular community, though. We’ve been there several times, and every time, it just feels like home.
But we’re not rushing.
We really believe God already knows where our next house is. Maybe it will be there. Maybe it won’t. Either way, we’re learning to trust Him with both the timing and the location.
For now, we’re enjoying being renters and trying to find our place in the community.
My husband joined a local gym.
I don’t do gyms.
He also started a new job here, which I’ll share more about in another post!
But probably the best part of this whole move has been my boys.
They came over for dinner during our first week here, and afterward we just hung out and watched a movie.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing particularly special.
Just time together.
And I needed that.
A couple of weeks later, they came out again and we celebrated my youngest son’s birthday a little early. We walked around the Square for a while before deciding it was WAY too hot for that nonsense.
We had lunch, saw a movie, drove around looking at the beautiful scenery, and ended the day at home with cake and ice cream.
It was a good day.
And I keep thinking about how different this feels.
I used to get so sad when the boys left, or when we would leave Fort Worth after visiting them, because I knew it might be months before I saw them again. Between the distance, finances, and everyone’s schedules, getting together wasn’t easy.
Now they’re only about an hour away.
We can have dinner together.
Watch a movie.
Celebrate a birthday.
Or get together “just because”.
And that may be the greatest blessing of this entire move.
Having my boys closer.
Being able to have ordinary moments with them instead of waiting for holidays.
I’m so incredibly thankful for that.
Of course, our little Granbury adventure has come with plenty of uncertainty, too.
We came here with no real plan. No jobs lined up. We just knew this was where we wanted to be, and when the opportunity came, we jumped.
We accepted a full asking price offer on our Lubbock home within three days of listing it!
We drove to Granbury the following week, and the very first rental we looked at was well below budget, brand new, cute, and available immediately, so we put down a deposit and signed the lease.
We ended up closing on our house in just 21 days with no hiccups.
I can’t explain all of that any other way than….God.
We still don’t know exactly what He has planned for us.
We don’t know where we’ll eventually buy, how long we’ll stay in this little rental, where my husband’s work will take him, or what the next year will look like.
But we do know this…God brought us here.
And that’s enough for me.
I’ve spent a lot of mornings standing on our front porch, watching the sun come up over the horizon and looking around at this place that still feels a little unfamiliar.
And every time, I’m reminded what an amazing Artist God is, what an amazing Father He is.
There’s something humbling about waking up somewhere completely new and realizing…
This is exactly where God has us.
This is home for now.
Maybe it won’t be forever.
Maybe it will.
But, I don’t need to know the whole plan.
I just need to trust the One who does.
It still feels a little like a vacation.
I still miss our old house.
I’m still learning my way around.
And I’m still occasionally checking the bathroom floor for giant winged creatures!
But little by little, this place is starting to feel less unfamiliar.
And maybe that’s how home happens.
Not all at once.
But slowly.
One ordinary day at a time.
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Hello once again.
I’ve missed writing. I didn’t really realize just how much I missed it until recently. I’ve thought about this little corner of the internet so many times over the last several months, but life has been moving at a pace that left very little room to sit down and put my thoughts into words.
And oh, what a few months it has been.
So much has changed.
We sold our house in Lubbock. We packed up our life in West Texas and made the drive to Granbury. We found a little rental and began figuring out how to make an unfamiliar place feel like home. No real plan, just get here and figure it out as we go.
There have been unexpected changes, disappointments, new beginnings, uncertainty, and a whole lot of trusting God one day at a time.
And somewhere along the way, something has become very clear to me:
Everything I have belongs to Him.
Everything.
My home. My marriage. My family. My creativity. My ability to write. Our finances. Our future. The things I have and the things I don’t have. The plans I make and the plans that don’t work out.
It’s all His.
And somehow, in His incredible mercy and grace, He has allowed me to be a part of His story.
That realization has changed the way I’m looking at this season.
I’m not sure exactly what the next chapter looks like. And honestly, I don’t think I’m supposed to know yet.
For now, I’m just going to keep walking. Keep trusting Him. Keep seeking to do His will.
And I’m going to write….when I have something to say or just something on my mind. I’m going to take pictures of the things that catch my eye and I’m going to share the things I’m learning about Jesus. I’m going to decorate and cook and try new things. I’m also going to attempt furniture projects and probably mess some of them (maybe all of them) up. I’m going to share it all with you… the beautiful days and the messy ones.
I’m going to live this life I’ve been given.
And I’m going to look for God in the center of it. In the big things and in the little things.
Today, for example, I’m making Mississippi pot roast in my Instant Pot.
Nothing particularly profound about that.
Except that as I stand in this little kitchen, in this little rental that wasn’t necessarily supposed to be our forever home, I’m realizing that it is beginning to feel like home.
Maybe that’s how God works sometimes.
We think we’re waiting to arrive somewhere, and then we look around and realize He’s been teaching us how to make a home wherever He has placed us.
So I’m opening the door to this little blog again. My writing home.
Not because I have everything figured out.
I don’t.
Not because I have some grand plan.
I don’t.
But because I have a story to tell.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize that my story isn’t really mine at all.
It’s His.
And I’m incredibly grateful that He has allowed me to be a part of it.
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Who Was St. Patrick?
Saint Patrick is often remembered with shamrocks and celebrations but his real story is far deeper.
He was born in Roman Britain and, as a teenager, was kidnapped and taken to Ireland as a slave. During those years of isolation, he turned to God in a way he never had before. After escaping and returning home, he eventually felt called by God to go back…to the very place where he had suffered…to share the Gospel.
That decision alone tells you everything about the kind of transformation God had done in his heart.
The Day That Became a Celebration,
March 17th, the day of Patrick’s death, became a feast day set aside to honor his life and ministry.
Originally, this day wasn’t about parties or parades.It was about:
-Remembering a man who obeyed God.
-Reflecting on the spread of Christianity in Ireland.
-Gathering in worship and gratitude.
-It was quiet. Reverent. Focused on God.
How We Got From Reverence to Celebration
As Irish people immigrated…especially to the United States…St. Patrick’s Day became a way to celebrate Irish identity and community.
Over time, it shifted into what many of us see today:
-Large parades
-Wearing green
-Food, music, and social gatherings
There’s nothing wrong with celebration…but somewhere along the way, the meaning got quieter and the noise got louder.
The Part We Often Miss
What stands out most about Patrick isn’t the shamrock…it’s his obedience.
-He went back.
-Back to the place of pain.
-Back to the people who had enslaved him.
-Back with a message of truth and hope.That’s not cultural tradition…that’s the Gospel lived out.
A Biblical Reflection
Patrick’s story echoes Scripture in powerful ways:
“Love your enemies, bless those who curse you…” (Matthew 5:44)
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” (Matthew 28:19)
“All things work together for good to those who love God…” (Romans 8:28)
God used Patrick’s suffering as preparation…not punishment.
St. Patrick’s Day can be more than just another holiday.
It can be a reminder to ask:
Where is God calling me to be obedient, even when it’s uncomfortable?
Is there a place, person, or situation I’ve avoided that God may be asking me to step into?
Am I willing to let God use my past for His purpose?
St. Patrick’s Day isn’t really about Ireland.
It’s about what God can do with a life that says “yes” even when that “yes” is hard. -
Sometimes I think about something that stops me in my tracks.
What if the writers of the Bible had simply given in to their flesh?
What if they had chosen comfort instead of obedience?
What if they had decided the cost was too high, the work too difficult, or the audience too hostile?
Many of the men God used to write Scripture did not live easy lives. In fact, obedience often made their lives harder, not easier.
Consider Moses. God used him to write the first books of the Bible while he was leading a stubborn and complaining nation through the wilderness. The task was exhausting and often discouraging.
David wrote many of the Psalms while hiding in caves, fleeing from enemies, and crying out to God in distress.
Jeremiah faithfully delivered God’s warnings to Judah, even though his message made him deeply unpopular. He was mocked, beaten, and imprisoned. Yet he still wrote the words God gave him.
The apostle Paul wrote many of the letters in the New Testament while suffering persecution and imprisonment. Some of the most encouraging passages of Scripture came from a man writing in chains.
And the apostle John wrote the book of Revelation while exiled on the island of Patmos.
None of these men had perfect circumstances.
None of them waited for the right mood, the right timing, or the right audience.
They obeyed.
Scripture reminds us that the Bible did not originate from human ambition or personal inspiration:
“For prophecy never came by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit.”
~2 Peter 1:21 (NKJV)
God inspired the message, but those men still had to choose faithfulness. They had to speak. They had to write. They had to pick up the pen.
When I think about that, it challenges me.
Because if they had allowed their flesh to win…if they had chosen comfort, silence, or fear…how much of Scripture would we be missing today?
How many psalms of comfort would never have been written?
How many warnings, promises, and testimonies would have been lost?
Of course, no one today is writing Scripture. God’s Word is complete. But believers are still called to share truth, testify to what God has done, and use the gifts He has given us.
For some, that gift is speaking.
For others, it is teaching.
For some of us, it is writing.
That doesn’t mean our words will reach millions of people. It doesn’t mean the response will always be encouraging. Sometimes faithfulness simply means showing up and doing the work God has placed in front of us.
The size of the audience is not the measure of obedience.
Faithfulness is.
The writers of Scripture did not wait for perfect conditions. They trusted God with the outcome and simply obeyed the calling placed before them.
They picked up the pen.
And perhaps the question we should ask ourselves today is this:
What truth might remain hidden if we keep giving in to the flesh? -
For a long time I have wrestled with something that feels both simple and frustrating…consistency.
I love God’s Word. I love reading my Bible, studying passages, and writing down what the Lord is teaching me. My phone and notebooks are filled with notes, reflections, and half-finished thoughts. I have so many drafts saved…ideas that stirred my heart in the moment but never quite became a finished piece.
When it comes to sitting down and turning those thoughts into a cohesive blog post, my motivation often disappears.
If I’m being honest, this wasn’t always my struggle.
Years ago, before I was truly walking with Christ, writing came easily to me. I had a couple of different blogs, in one of those I wrote erotica, and I had no shortage of motivation. The attention was immediate…subscribers, likes, comments, and constant feedback. My flesh loved it. The validation was intoxicating, and it made writing feel effortless.
But when the Lord saved me and began transforming my heart, my desires changed.
I no longer want attention for its own sake. I don’t want to write things that feed the flesh…mine or anyone else’s. I want my words to honor God. I want to use whatever gift He has given me to point people to Christ and to share the truth of the Gospel.
Yet strangely, writing about faith can sometimes feel harder than writing about anything else.
Part of that struggle is simply the reality of the flesh. Even after we are born again, the flesh does not disappear. It still craves ease, comfort, and distraction. It resists discipline. It whispers that starting tomorrow would be better than starting today.
As Paul writes:
“For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another.”
— Galatians 5:17 (NKJV)The flesh is lazy.
And if I’m honest, I sometimes find myself waiting for God to “move” me before I begin writing. I tell myself that when the inspiration comes, then I will write. When I feel led, then I will organize my thoughts and publish them.
But lately I’ve been realizing that that way of thinking is backward.
What if God is not waiting to move me?
What if He is simply waiting for me to be faithful?
Scripture reminds us that faithfulness often looks like ordinary obedience. It looks like showing up, doing the work, and trusting God with the results.
“And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.”
— Colossians 3:23 (NKJV)It means writing even when the words feel imperfect. It means sharing truth even when there may be little applause. It means, relying on Him, not my feelings.
The truth is, God never asked us to measure our work by likes, followers, or comments.
He asks us to be faithful. In all things.
“Moreover it is required in stewards that one be found faithful.”
— 1 Corinthians 4:2 (NKJV)When I look back at my life, I can clearly see that God gave me the ability to write. For years I used that ability in ways that did not honor Him. Now that my heart has changed, I don’t want that gift to sit unused simply because discipline is harder than inspiration.
Writing about faith may not bring the same kind of attention the world celebrates. But that is not the point.
The point is obedience.
The point is using what God has given me in a way that glorifies Him.
Scripture also reminds us not to grow weary in doing good, even when the results are not immediate.
“And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.”
— Galatians 6:9 (NKJV)So this is my small step forward. Instead of waiting for perfect motivation, I am choosing faithfulness. Instead of letting drafts sit unfinished, I am choosing to write, even if the post is simple.
Maybe the discipline will grow over time. Maybe the words will become clearer as I keep going.
But one thing I know for certain… the gifts God gives us are never meant to be buried.
“For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.”
— Romans 11:29 (NKJV)And by His grace, I don’t want to waste it anymore. Time to start going through my drafts!
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“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” ~1Peter 4:8
I’m still learning…
Learning how to love without trying to control.
Learning how to forgive instead of hardening my heart.
Learning how to trust God with the things I desperately want to fix.
This isn’t written from a place of wisdom or arrival. It’s written from the middle…from a woman who loves her husband and is still being taught what it means to love like Jesus.Some days that love comes easily. Other days it costs me more than I expect. I’m learning that grace isn’t silence, and forgiveness isn’t pretending things don’t hurt. It’s choosing tenderness when self-protection feels safer. It’s laying down the urge to keep score and picking up prayer instead.
“Be kind and tenderhearted to one another, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” ~Ephesians 4:32
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” ~ Colossians 3:12
I used to think love was mostly about effort…trying harder, doing better, saying the right things. Now I see that love begins with surrender. With trusting God to do what only He can do, in my husband and in me.
“I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.” ~Philippians 4:13
These words are for the woman who loves deeply but feels tired.
For the one learning to let go.
For the wife discovering that drawing near to God changes the way she shows up at home.For the wife who wants to experience the joy and peace of the Lord in the midst of pain and disappointment.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” ~Romans 15:13
I don’t have answers, but God does.
I don’t have formulas. But I have the word of God. I have prayers and I have faith…sometimes small, sometimes strong, always growing.If you’re here, maybe you’re learning too.
So I’ll keep writing.
And learning.
And trusting God to meet us right where we are.
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