tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66809386668292416912011-07-30T22:27:55.013-04:00because Jesus gives more and more and then some morebriannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.comBlogger1251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-49893252296238885392010-10-16T12:21:00.000-04:002010-10-16T12:21:29.096-04:00

To andthensomemore dot net . . .   See you over there . . .

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-44148167151891071342010-10-11T09:33:00.000-04:002010-10-11T09:33:57.526-04:00

I was never one of those girls who dreamed of her wedding day all of her life.  I mean, I dreamed of being married, but the wedding day in my mind didn't really make the radar screen.  I don't think I was like a lot of little girls who dream of big fantasy, fairytale weddings where millions of dollars are spent on ensuring her perfect day.  The kind of dreams on which bridezillas are built. But

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-71665542988888911192010-10-06T17:58:00.000-04:002010-10-06T17:58:25.922-04:00

It's been three weeks since the mercy storm blew through. I still cry when I see its destruction everytime I drive through the treeless void it left behind. Yesterday as I drove through, the song “Mercy Seat” played loudly in my car, bellowing God’s mercy to the innermost parts of my soul. I was already crying for the truth of the song . . . I know where there’s a place Of mercy for you He said

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-88564295539610875802010-10-06T11:15:00.000-04:002010-10-06T11:15:28.662-04:00

When I was twelve years old, my family moved from Huntington Beach, California to the booming metropolis of Stow, Ohio.  In a very strange twist of grace, I actually thrived because of the move and found my life to be quite an adventure because of it.  While the geographical changes were drastic, the life changes were monumental.  It was my first real face-to-face with any sort of meaningful life

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-83485501590837809712010-10-04T09:35:00.000-04:002010-10-04T09:35:01.409-04:00

It happens more than I'd like to admit.  Everything will be going along just fine.  And then it hits.  It's usually something relatively inconsequential like choosing the wrong color socks.  This morning, it was about the clean pants she put in with the dirty laundry.  She'd only worn them for about an hour, and I was trying to make a point.  But Monday morning before school is not the time for

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-54942936512062117132010-09-29T10:12:00.001-04:002010-09-29T12:26:34.545-04:00

The fog settles on the hills, over the trees in my front yard.  I glimpse Fall and breathe in deep.  The misty morning air settles nicely on my face as we kiss and hug and they run to the bus waiting at the end of the driveway.  I step back inside, close the door and thank God for this morning. Thank You for the calm. It's not usually this peaceful inside.  There have been seasons where peace

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-89841706913919611052010-09-27T06:05:00.003-04:002010-09-27T09:22:49.961-04:00

Tomorrow begins a new adventure for me and for my marriage. It involves a weekly commitment, several other women who want to seek God as the center of their marriages, and a book called Finding the Hero in Your Husband by Dr. Julianna Slattery.  I read it a few years ago, and now I am honored to pair up with one of my friends and lead a group through it.  I was wondering if you'd like to join

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-61947612633020629162010-09-21T07:00:00.019-04:002011-03-06T15:58:24.241-05:00

Thank God for battery-operated alarm-clocks. That's what wakes us up. Going on 14 hours with no electricity. No water.  Last time this happened we wondered if there might be some merit to our Amish neighbors' way of life.  They were probably unaffected by the storm.  We should've been Amish, we joke. We lay there listening to the steady breathing of our two little refugees camped out on the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-64101870885494305752010-09-20T06:00:00.002-04:002010-09-20T07:34:57.786-04:00

When I got married, I had dreams of life as a wife.  You probably had dreams of your own.  Here's what some of mine looked like : -Happy mornings waking up next to the love of my life, cuddling in the pre-dawn before sending each other off into the day ahead.  -Nightly passion that would roll into the wee hours, neither one of us caring about the early-morning meeting we'd have to get up for.

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-45235532169925180882010-09-13T06:03:00.001-04:002010-09-13T06:03:00.848-04:00

I need a fresh perspective.  New.  Because I've let some things get stale.  Things like searching for ways to serve my husband.  Like what to write on Mondays about being a vigilant wife.  Like my daily motivations for why I'm doing what I do.    I was thinking about this stale state and remembered this Scriptural gem that has always amazed me.   God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-64072225606419124352010-09-12T15:37:00.000-04:002010-09-12T15:37:42.506-04:00

I have this long-standing love affair with mail.  E-mail.  Snail mail.  I love it all.  I remember going out to get the mail when I was a child and finding what seemed to be endless amounts addressed to my parents. Nearly every.single.day.  It didn't matter that the majority of it was either bills or circulars.  From my perspective, the fact that my parents would merit the sending of something  

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-54390203280821557792010-09-08T15:18:00.000-04:002010-09-08T15:18:36.263-04:00

I'm studying today.  Psalm 40.  It's thick and heavy on my heart lately.  The kind of thick and heavy that can only be processed with the One Who inspired both the Psalm as well as the thick and heavy. As I study, my heart weighs the truth of my down-and-dirty against His Word.   The only real and true Standard for living.  Himself revealed so that I can live.  Really live. So I go upstairs and

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-86133276865149864932010-09-07T07:07:00.001-04:002010-09-07T07:07:00.578-04:00

I looked out the front door to catch a glimpse of my daughters playing outside -- the one thing I made them do on their day off.  That's when I saw it.  It was blue.  And very, very large.  A rare creature indeed.  Stopping my girls in their bicycle-laden tracks, it fluttered to a marigold.  The one I planted last spring that is now a bush.  Wanting to capture the rare and beautiful moment, I ran

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-3137212194479190542010-09-05T21:38:00.000-04:002010-09-05T21:38:31.431-04:00

It's a day off here at our house.  Labor Day.  Sadly, I've never really been entirely sure what that exactly means. I do know, however, what it means for me.  It means my hubby doesn't have to go to work, my kids are home from school, and we get to have a family day at home!  In honor of that, and of my vigilant commitment to my husband and my marriage, I am spending today with my family. I'm

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-65733319324645188492010-09-01T20:24:00.001-04:002010-09-01T20:24:45.285-04:00

As it turns out, I didn’t screw up God’s plan 20 years ago in high school when I made so many poor choices. (Because, as it turns out, His plan always prevails.) As it turns out, my husband was right. Again. As it turns out, playing Smash Brothers with my kids is actually really fun. As it turns out, I can still be a pretty good mom even when my kids are in school all day. As it turns out, it

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-48417009143432920462010-08-29T21:47:00.000-04:002010-08-29T21:47:43.698-04:00

I've been thinking lately about the word vigilant. It means taking matters into your own hands. I guess that doesn't really fit.  Because the truth of the matter is, the only way my marriage can not only survive but flourish is by the very grace of God. That's why I write about prayer so much on Mondays. And it's why I'm praying for you.  And for your marriages. This week, I would love to renew

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-73063802237513939982010-08-24T06:18:00.000-04:002010-08-24T06:18:39.668-04:00

It's been slimy here the past several weeks.  The pit, I mean.  So slimy that I can't get my footing to lift myself out.  Like the spin cycle on Wipeout.  I fell in. But I found the way out.  God's strong hands.  He grabbed me by the armpits and pulled me out with His superGod arms.  He did it a few days ago as I mourned the end of summer break and the start of a new season of my life.  The

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-4664068032126388302010-08-23T05:00:00.003-04:002010-08-23T05:00:02.958-04:00

Anytime I see something beautiful even if it's just a glimpse of real beauty I praise the Creator. The One Who thought it all up. I'm pretty sure that's what the Apostle Peter was talking about when he wrote to wives . . . "There are husbands who, indifferent as they are to any words about God, will be captivated by your life of holy beauty." (1 Peter 3:1-2 msg) That's the kind of vigilant wife

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-28724684532245442732010-08-19T11:57:00.000-04:002010-08-19T11:57:10.120-04:00

"Is it long enough yet, Mommy?" I measure her hair, and I think it is. So I make the appointment and we go. When the hairstylist looks at me from behind the hair, where she's measuring again for accuracy, she shoots me a look of warning. Wanting to preserve as much of my beautiful daughter's lovely long hair as I can, I jump out of my seat and choke out a long diatribe of how I measured at home

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-63331731804441844992010-08-17T07:00:00.003-04:002010-08-17T08:08:50.141-04:00

You might know me as the mom.  Or maybe you remember me from way back when my sister and I used to argue over you.  Remember that awesomely huge Barbie house one of our friends had? Yeah, I totally wanted to get that for you.  Sorry it never happened. Anyway, I guess you probably get a lot of hate mail seeing as you so dutifully represent the world's view of beauty.  But, hey, I get it.  I mean

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-13082268761184738632010-08-15T19:26:00.001-04:002010-08-15T19:28:43.494-04:00

Quiet does not come naturally for me.  And, although at times I can be rather loud, I am not talking about volume.  I'm talking about spirit-quiet.  The kind of quiet that takes whatever it's given and chooses to react with the strength that only Creator God can initiate.  It's the quiet that Peter defined as unfading beauty when he wrote to wives . . . "Your beauty should not come from outward

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-67281898055539274032010-08-14T22:10:00.000-04:002010-08-14T22:10:13.227-04:00

If there is anything in life that I can not stand, it is feeling left out.  Don't like it.  Never have.  I could probably safely say that most people don't.  The only difference might be a person's level of tolerance for it.  I'm guessing there are some people for whom little is required in order for them to feel left out, while others would think nothing of it unless great measures were taken on

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-38298223644046315372010-08-10T16:16:00.001-04:002010-08-10T16:23:26.895-04:00

It was among the most sacrificial birthday gifts my husband has ever given me.  A registration to the She Speaks! conference in Charlotte, NC the last weekend of July.  It's a conference for women who want to pursue Christian ministry in the areas of leading, writing, and/or speaking. My husband and I had never even heard of the conference until this past February when I was surfing one of my

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-91055266153610466302010-08-09T05:09:00.002-04:002010-08-09T07:00:58.193-04:00

I was working as the high ropes course instructor at Camp Carl, sharing Jesus' love and grace with the campers in whatever way I could find.  It was the summer I surrendered the area of dating to the One Who is Three in One.  The One Who gave me the desire for intimate relationship in the first place.  As a result of that surrender, I broke up with my boyfriend, despite my ever-increasing

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-42428874159854061922010-08-01T22:31:00.000-04:002010-08-01T22:31:49.074-04:00

He gets me. We've been married for almost 14 years, but there is still stuff in the deep down me that I am somehow afraid to show him.  It comes out anyway because, um, I am not one who can easily hide what's inside for long.  And that's when his very nature lives out the unconditional faithfulness.  The vow he made on that day when I got all pretty and kissed him up in front of the church. 

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-86732631528806872282010-07-26T10:19:00.000-04:002010-07-26T10:19:40.040-04:00

I'm taking a break from my vigilance post this week. And I'm gonna' let you fill in the blanks. So c'mon and play along with a comment or a linkup. **Why are you fighting for your marriage?  What makes you want to be a vigilant wife?  What does vigilance in marriage mean to you?** Looking forward to your input...

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-36792044862703585022010-07-24T14:55:00.000-04:002010-07-24T14:55:05.770-04:00

Sometimes my dreams are so vivid that I can't distinguish them from reality. Like last summer when I was training for my first half-marathon.   I had this recurring dream that I was walking, and for whatever reason could not pick up my legs to move them.  I had to just drag them, using every ounce of everything I had.  It was scary, that dream.  And it felt so real that it left me wondering for

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-646681334607318322010-07-20T07:45:00.000-04:002010-07-20T07:45:48.627-04:00

It was dirty.  Really ugly.  Digging in the dirt in my crocs without socks kind of dirty.  The kind of dirty that soils even those who haven't had direct contact with the dirt itself.  And I don't mean the cool kind of dirty.  Like when you're feet are so dirty that they leave footprints on the floor in front of the bathtub as you prepare to clean them off.  Nope.  This kind of dirty stains even

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-26592944778100547532010-07-19T05:35:00.004-04:002010-07-19T05:35:00.211-04:00

The fact that we were watching it for the fourth time was insignificant.  I had only really watched it that one time when we saw it in the movie theater last summer.  So when I watched Up, and it came to the part of the montage where we get to see Carl and Ellie grow up and get married, dreaming of all kinds of adventures they ended up never taking, I sobbed.  Not because they never made it to

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-66969695276738018442010-07-14T10:48:00.002-04:002010-08-17T09:31:45.936-04:00

I used to be a slave.  An unpaid servant to things not holy.  Actions and attitudes that led me into dark living and spiraled down from there.  Deeper into living life as it was never meant to be lived.  The life that makes me feel worse at the end of the day rather than invigorated.  Rested in my soul.  I didn't even realize it.  But I was sin's slave.  And this slavery led to dirty cover-ups

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-85930659742381413122010-07-13T09:10:00.000-04:002010-07-13T09:10:24.219-04:00

Before I had kids, I thought I wanted boys. I was convinced that my husband and I should have 5 kids, all boys, who would run around crazy with life and bring me along for the ride. But God knew better.  As it turns out, God knows best.  And He gave me two girls instead.  So rather than five boys bringing me along for the ride, I found myself with the calling of pointing my girls to the ride

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-21530822586257393012010-07-12T10:06:00.000-04:002010-07-12T10:06:04.256-04:00

For the first several years of marriage, my husband and I worked in college ministry.  Which led to way too many late night pizza parties, lots of philosophical discussions, and some really great friendships.  It also led to so many weddings that we actually had it as a line item in our budget for several years.  "Wedding Gifts."  At one point, I was sure I could be a wedding planner based on my

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-88935898015135572122010-07-08T12:24:00.002-04:002010-07-08T19:04:35.285-04:00

After about five hours in the car yesterday and ten hours of (really amazing!) sleep in my own bed with my own pillow, I am home.  So why do I feel so . . . blah?  That I-don't-know-what-to-do-today-so-I'll-just-do-nothing-and-hope-my-kids-don't-notice kind of blah. I mean, I was refreshed.  Replenished from five days spent with the friends who became family during those nine years we lived away

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-29530944760385037182010-07-05T04:02:00.009-04:002010-07-05T04:02:00.395-04:00

I have always wanted to have a home in the country.  With a really big yard and room to run or picnic or whatever my little heart might desire to do.  It always sounded so tranquil.  Like a peaceful, simple place to thrive on the inside of my ever-frenzied heart.  Quiet enough to hear the quiet.  And thrive in the life of who I've been called to be.  Having grown up in the country, my husband

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-23549768441966604452010-06-28T05:00:00.004-04:002010-06-28T05:00:03.043-04:00

I woke up this morning with a list in my mind.  It was a list of qualities I wish I had.  Qualities which, in my mind, would make me a vigilant wife.  As I showered, I began to sort through the list and quickly developed a stomachache as burn-out and fatigue settled in.  I was already stressed out and had just barely started my day.  Realizing the improbability of getting through the list with

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-91747553873452758212010-06-21T17:20:00.000-04:002010-06-21T17:20:50.118-04:00

Vacation Bible School crafts coordinator = me = late / lack of Vigilant Wives Club post today.... I'll be back next week. Hopefully intact after this week. I've been thinking. Just haven't had time to write it all down yet.  So -- if I am still sane next week, I'll be back. BUT -- please enjoy the link ups...

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-9129614400427070052010-06-18T09:25:00.000-04:002010-06-18T09:25:49.826-04:00

I've never really been a competitive person. Or never thought I was anyway.  I went bowling with my parents once after I'd graduated from high school and got annoyed with them for trying to correct my form because I was not there to improve my game, I was there for the fun of it.  For a long time, I had prided myself on living in the moment.  Not on improving the moment. Problem is, pride and 

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-21883260007569194532010-06-13T21:30:00.001-04:002010-06-14T21:40:24.015-04:00

I love our local Christian radio station, which I listen to very frequently.  However, sometimes I just need a break from the same songs that get played over and over and over and over.  So lately I've been taking a sabbatical of sorts and gone to some trusty other stations for variety's sake, and for the sake of my sanity.  Because goodness knows I'm a variety-loving kind of gal.  And even in

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-71924005534854321602010-06-07T11:16:00.005-04:002010-06-07T11:22:41.753-04:00

As a first semester college freshman, I took an upper level class about the anatomy and physiology of speech.  I was the only freshman in the class.  I took it because it sounded really cool.  The kind of stuff that excited me.  The reason I thought I'd gone to college.  At that time, I wanted to be a Presidential speech-writer.  And this class was only being offered this one time, so my advisor

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-55156861633511568282010-06-04T08:00:00.002-04:002010-06-04T09:47:53.689-04:00

He whispers I love you in the dark before we drift off to sleep.  I soak it in.  Why? I ask.  What do you love about me? I summon.  A familiar occurrence since the day we were married.  Because I don't want either one of us to forget what it was that made us fall in love.  Sometimes he answers with a catalog account of trait after memory of the things he loves about me.  And sometimes it's short.

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-63803882963371326732010-06-02T17:24:00.000-04:002010-06-02T17:24:25.042-04:00

There is a seemingly great divide between who I am and who I want to be.  But the Savior of my Life is narrowing that great divide and will one day make me gapless.  Fulfilling His purpose for me.  He promised. A few months ago, I came across this e-book about how making the most of my time in the morning will help me parent more intentionally and be more purposeful in my day.  It was an

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-74413211023264447352010-05-31T09:51:00.000-04:002010-05-31T09:51:24.673-04:00

It's Monday. Memorial Day Monday. For me, it marks the inception of summer.  And a moment to thank the families of the brave women and men who bravely gave up their lives so that I could live here in this free land called the U.S.A.  It also means three straight days with my Honey home from work.  So today, my Vigilant Wives Club post is short.  So I can enjoy my time with him.  With our

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-13370506458375684672010-05-28T17:44:00.001-04:002010-05-29T11:32:42.205-04:00

The lights were fairly bright, which made up for the fact that the room had no windows.  Only a small number of us interns were stationed there.  And it was big enough.  Big enough for our six cubicles.  And the fax machine. We got used to sharing the space.  Learning together, even in our separate areas of ministry.  We were all working through a three-year seminary degree while working in the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-49469066927583666232010-05-24T06:00:00.000-04:002010-05-24T06:00:05.550-04:00

We had only been married a few months when I heard it.  We were at a friend's wedding.  The pastor (who was also the groom's dad) was talking to the bride.  He talked about all of the normal things one would expect to hear in the message before the repeating of the vows.  But I was struck with one I'd never really thought about.  The idea of providing a place of peace at home for her husband.  A

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-6197020439670220792010-05-23T17:27:00.001-04:002010-05-23T17:35:38.160-04:00

Since the day I became a mom, my understanding of my very person has been called into question more times than I can count.  And every time I think I have it figured out, the season changes, and I am forced to ask the same question all over again.  Who am I as a mom? Like the season (which lasted more than three years) that my oldest decided she would only wear dresses or skirts.  She was not

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-29157186366214497872010-05-19T12:41:00.002-04:002010-05-19T13:05:03.424-04:00

I have this thorn in my flesh called Pride.  It's been there for a long time.  So long, in fact, I think my body has adapted to it as if it's a new appendage.  Which means it's in there pretty deep.  So deep that only a doctor can remove it.  And there's only One Whom I trust enough to dig that deep and pull it out. At first I didn't recognize it as a thorn.  I thought it was just an inevitable

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-91512778061292396032010-05-18T12:34:00.004-04:002010-05-18T13:10:51.578-04:00

Have you ever noticed the veins in a leaf that fell many months ago?  Orange and crumbly, it nearly disintegrates as you pick it up to examine its intricacy.  I'm amazed at the strength of those veins.  Though not unbreakable, they hold firm until deliberate action is taken for their breakage.  Like the rotating blade of a mower.  Or the fast-moving shoe on a child playing hide-and-seek.  Or the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-17049092617309567352010-05-17T06:00:00.002-04:002010-05-17T07:23:06.374-04:00

I've been thinking lately about the power of words. I love words.  Words are why I write.  How I write.  I love playing with words.  But their power is not to be taken lightly.  They have the power to build up and encourage.  They have the power to tear down and destroy. I wish I had the energy to write more words about words.  It would be fun, I think.  But for now, I will commit to use my

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-44605455219376408462010-05-10T06:00:00.002-04:002010-05-10T06:56:56.875-04:00

"I think I know why the weeds came back," she declared from the backseat as we drove along the country roads that lead us into town.  "Because the sign got crooked from the wind, and the rain made it so you can't see the words."  I didn't want to squelch her thoughtful invention or her belief that weeds would not only read her handmade "No Weeds Allowed" sign, but that they would also heed it. 

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-44175975533554735922010-05-08T14:49:00.003-04:002010-05-08T17:50:45.745-04:00

"Where did she get her beautiful blue eyes?" People ask this about my daughters all of the time. I usually look at them (with MY OWN blue eyes) and say, "My mother-in-law has beautiful blue eyes too." Then I smile and walk away. Sometimes laughing at myself. Sometimes laughing at the stupidity of the question. But always laughing. I have to admit it would be really fun to mess with someone the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-60624328957492513382010-05-05T14:42:00.001-04:002010-05-05T14:59:09.985-04:00

My daughter graduated from preschool today.  Well, the equivalent of preschool graduation, anyway.  Her last day of school is actually Friday, but today was the celebration part of the end of school.  I imagine that last day will be the reality part. She and I were both quiet on the drive home.  Odd for her, since lately her favorite phrase is, "So what should we talk about?"  I think we were

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-63304064124503729122010-05-04T09:55:00.000-04:002010-05-04T09:55:05.691-04:00

I think I'm addicted to intentions. I mean, I love calendars and planning and maps. I love websites and books that tell me how to improve my home and raise my children and write better blog posts. I love the thrill of potential. Of what could be. But the follow-through, well, that's a different story. See, I have this sort of glitch in my personality that loves ideas and planning, and hopeful

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-9286356465361490492010-05-03T06:00:00.002-04:002010-05-03T06:00:00.179-04:00

It's Monday.  That means we're spending some time in serious consideration of our commitment to our husbands.  It means Vigilant Wives Club day.  The day we have a little McLinky party to remind each other of our vigilant commitments to our husbands.  And I am so glad you're here. That word, vigilance, seems so . . . extreme.  Yes.  Extreme. And when it comes to my marriage, that's exactly

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-60159276473414653052010-04-27T22:30:00.000-04:002010-04-27T22:30:49.437-04:00

It was cloudy and a little bit rainy yesterday when I walked.  Ideal for alone time.  The perfect kind of quiet for noticing things I normally don't detect when the sun is shining.  Because on a bright, clear day the sun does the work for me, pointing out the obvious.  But when it's overcast and gray, the quieter, less prominent beauty shines in place of the sun. Like the bird I noticed taking a

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-19058264355746927442010-04-26T05:00:00.006-04:002010-04-26T05:00:06.964-04:00

Hello, my precious Vigilant Wives Club peeps.  If you are new here, WELCOME!  We are soooo glad you're here.  You might want to start here, just so you know what Mondays here at andthensomore is all about. Can I just say, knowing that Monday is coming changes my outlook for the weekend?  I mean, every Friday since this began, I start looking for some way, ANY way, to serve my husband in some

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-72349057899124220492010-04-20T18:28:00.000-04:002010-04-20T18:28:26.370-04:00

Why it's so hard for me to say yes to my kids when they invite me to play I will never understand.  I mean, it's not like I enjoy emptying the dishwasher or cleaning the toilet.  But the urgency of the always-available tasks somehow offers an excuse to foster my complacency and avoid the nuisance of having to run until my sides hurt or the burden of watching Pocahontas for the three hundred

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-56993192345025574582010-04-19T06:00:00.002-04:002010-04-19T06:00:02.460-04:00

Welcome to the Vigilant Wives Club! If it's your first Monday here, this is what it's all about. Dave Ramsey calls me "the free spirit."  The one in our marriage who's not "the nerd."  He says that every marriage has one of each on some level.  And, I suppose in some marriages, the contrast between the two is not so stark.  But in my and my husband's marriage, the difference is clear to see

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-52786438834200956332010-04-16T07:59:00.002-04:002010-04-16T08:01:42.145-04:00

There's so much going on inside that from the outside it looks like penetrating peace.  Inside my head, that is.  You know the whole writer's block enigma?  Well, I think I've got prayer's block.  (Which, incidentally, means writer's block for me.) Because normally my whole day consists of ongoing conversation with the God Who created the day itself. But lately.  Well, not so much.  And I don't

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-21702991903614440022010-04-13T09:29:00.000-04:002010-04-13T09:29:32.924-04:00

In my world, spring lends itself to excited and joyful admiration of God's creation. Because I.love.spring. And as I watch the dogwoods and magnolias flower and turn to green in anticipation of the sunshine that summer will bring, I can not help myself. I can not quiet my adoring heart in pure and simple praise of the God Who thought this all up.  I can not get over the fact of all that He did

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-17314734246162235052010-04-12T06:00:00.002-04:002010-04-12T06:00:03.790-04:00

Marriage has changed for me since that day almost fourteen years ago when I said, "I do." On August 31, 1996, I agreed to a long list of promises.  "To love as God loves me.  To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance."  We have it hanging on

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-78522434967093518562010-04-10T14:32:00.000-04:002010-04-10T14:32:30.817-04:00

 I am forever in awe of how God chooses to show His love and care through so many of the details of Creation. Like, the fact that He made flowers not only pretty to look at but also lovely to smell. And He knows the perfect time to make them bloom.  Just when I'm at my end with the seemingly endless gloom of dirty snow and dead grass, a budding crocus pokes through and reminds me that He always

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-10883038313813984652010-04-09T15:40:00.001-04:002010-04-09T15:43:58.496-04:00

Having just returned home from a fabulous vacation to . . . Detroit, Michigan, I am reuniting with my beloved computer. We didn't take it with us because my man doesn't like the idea of connecting to the world of cyber-space at hotels where some geek-like thug could hack into our personal files and wreak havoc in the land of identity thievery. And I trust his judgment. My man's got it going on

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-86275254493577488872010-04-05T06:00:00.002-04:002010-04-05T06:00:08.470-04:00

Welcome to the fourth edition of the Vigilant Wives Club!!  I am so excited about today.  Can't wait to read how God is using you to love and serve your husband.  Please know I have praying for each of you.  And I am so encouraged that you've decided to join in.  Welcome! It's spring break for my 2nd-grader this week.  So I'm practicing the art of vigilance as a mom. And, for me, that's a way

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-83098325197664578702010-03-31T15:08:00.001-04:002010-03-31T15:11:55.808-04:00

My walk/run today involved some hills.  Expectedly.  I mean, I do live in a very hilly area.  And, although I took my usual route, it came time for me to run, and I found myself on an incline.  And as the ensuing panic fell on me, I asked God for His energy.  Because I was still breathing hard trying to recover from the last running interval.  Maybe I should explain... See, I'm training to

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-77261316574491943182010-03-29T06:00:00.002-04:002010-03-29T06:00:07.829-04:00

I'm almost embarassed to admit this.  Because in my mind it's always been a "wifely duty".  Just like changing the sheets and doing (most of) the laundry.  (Please don't think that my mind is the end all be all of what truly is.  Because the definition of "wifely duties" varies for each wife.)  But I'll swallow my pride and get it off my chest. . . My husband packs his own lunch every morning

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-15420441424581942112010-03-26T18:50:00.001-04:002010-03-29T16:03:23.919-04:00

**This post was inspired by my good friend Lisa-Jo at http://www.thegypsymama.com/ If you've never read her stuff, you don't know what you're missing... ** I wonder if I will ever really grow up... I wonder how in the world you throw a garbage can away... I wonder if I will ever not panic when I hear someone say "I think I'm gonna' throw up!"... I wonder if I'm doing enough to teach my kids

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-84536087839282025112010-03-23T21:05:00.000-04:002010-03-23T21:05:47.967-04:00

One of the things I love about spring is my birthday.  There's just something about celebrating the life I have while watching life explode around me in colors that only God could have thought up. And one of the things I love about my birthday is the shopping I get to do afterwards. That's why it was a major deal when I was challenged to take a thirty-day "spending fast" a couple of years ago

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-39814456047828342542010-03-23T06:00:00.015-04:002010-03-23T07:47:41.769-04:00

I ran four miles with God today.  Well it was more walk than run, but that's not the point.  photo courtesy of http://www.dreamstime.com/ I usually pray during my walk/runs, so I started my requests in the usual way.  "God, use me as I train for this half-marathon in May.  PLEASE free those children and use the money we raise to bring more of them in out of the disgust and evil in which they

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-26992655994302756852010-03-22T11:10:00.000-04:002010-03-22T11:10:31.983-04:00

Last week was the beginning of the Vigilant Wives Club.  Thank you, cooperkelly4, for linking up.  If you haven't read her post, you can check it out here.  It's good stuff.  So, this week, it's on again.  And I so hope you will join in.  It is so encouraging (in the true sense of the word) to find other wives who seriously want to serve Jesus in their marriage.  So, here goes... We drove

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-74632058955100747652010-03-19T09:22:00.002-04:002010-03-19T09:29:50.308-04:00

"No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine. We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. "Psalm

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-57907763451307895862010-03-16T09:07:00.000-04:002010-03-16T09:07:24.388-04:00

She was only two-years-old.  But she's always been mature for her age.  The wisdom of a child is something I will forever admire. So when she told her grandpa that she wanted to be a strawberry when she grows up, I was not surprised.  Rather, I was delighted.  Because, the truth about growing up is that it has less to do with what we do than it does about who we are. And now she eats

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-68657333154793459572010-03-15T13:40:00.001-04:002010-03-15T20:33:11.475-04:00

I Promise(d) I did.  Because I loved him.  I do.  Because I love him.  I will.  Because I promised.  I promised him. And now, with so much more at stake, I've promised them. But, mostly, I promised Him. So, even though the choice to love doesn't always come as easy as the day I said "I do," I always will.  No matter what.  I promise(d). **Today begins the Vigilant Wives Club.  I might be

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-85576658619700435842010-03-14T15:47:00.001-04:002010-03-29T07:21:28.311-04:00

I'm feeling a bit worn out from the battle.  I've been on my knees for a friend's marriage, and my fight has been seemingly futile.  Because God is good.  And He lets people make their own choices.  Because God has a plan and didn't ask me for advice on how to carry it out.  And yet, I am weary from the battle.  Trouble is, the fight to keep any marriage together is ongoing.  It requires

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-35601057587842352442010-03-11T17:13:00.000-05:002010-03-11T17:13:48.479-05:00

I was driving pretty fast because we were late.  My oldest had missed the bus.  My youngest had forgotten the rocks she'd planned to share at preschool.  And I had just gotten off the phone with a friend who has had me on my knees since October.  The conversation, and the morning, had me feeling empty.  Like I needed some unidentifiable something to fill a strange void that had reared its

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-11786910087639770632010-03-09T06:00:00.002-05:002010-03-09T07:39:49.015-05:00

Sometimes it's easy to be thankful.  Like when it's sunny outside and I can smell spring around the corner of next week.  Or when my husband calls in the middle of the day just to see how my day is going and tell me that he loves me.  And when my children are asleep, looking so angelic and beautifully at peace in the quiet of night and the serenity of their bedrooms. But sometimes, I have to

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-64103106381046474152010-03-07T15:12:00.001-05:002010-03-07T15:15:23.195-05:00

"I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." Jeremiah 29:11 (msg) I have this dream of being a writer.  I think it started when I was in seminary.  My husband and I had only been married for about a year, and we were discussing what life might be like when we someday had kids.  Even then, the realization

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-53088440446728668362010-03-02T08:46:00.000-05:002010-03-02T08:46:50.015-05:00

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure."Hebrews 6:19 My soul has an anchor.Hope.The hope of knowing that I can approach Almighty God because of what Jesus Christ did (Heb. 4:16).And find mercy.And grace. Hope.Jesus Christ.Anchor.Mercy.Undeserved Gift. And now my soul is firm.Secure. And I can live.Even when the storm comes and the wind blows and my stupid choices are what

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-66127300740112889892010-03-01T12:05:00.000-05:002010-03-01T12:05:28.505-05:00

So, last night was kind of a rough one for me.  At around 2am, my coughing eight-year-old called for me. Loudly.  So I jumped out of bed and ran to her room, where she let me know that she felt like she was going to throw up if she coughed even one more time.  Thankfully, that did not happen.  But I did hang around for a while before returning to my own bed for another four and a half two and a

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-6532343783518225042010-02-27T15:26:00.000-05:002010-02-27T15:26:51.384-05:00

I love variety.  Always, my mantra has been "variety is the spice of life."  Truly.  I mean I love to find new ways to get somewhere.  It gets boring driving the same way all the time.  I love discovering new ways to use things in my home (I love the word "repurposing").  And I love new things.  New scents of shower gel.  New hairstyles.  I love making new friends and finding new restaurants and

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-15878501896450957232010-02-26T15:17:00.001-05:002010-02-27T09:02:25.001-05:00

Since I've become more regular in my blogginess, I find myself experiencing life in a different light.  Like when I first joined up on facebook, and found myself consciously updating my status in my mind, if not on my profile.  Constantly trying to whit-fully sum up in ten words or less what it is that I am doing.  The goal: make myself *laugh*out*loud*.  Well, now that I've learned to tame the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-2678418137844422722010-02-23T11:09:00.007-05:002010-02-23T14:35:46.462-05:00

Everytime my daughter grabs onto my hand, I marvel at the wonder of her chubby little fingers. I love how they grip mine. The game we play as she squeezes my hand three times to say "I. love. you." without words. The trust that they represent as she looks to me to guide her through the risky parking lot at Kohls.  What is it about chubby little fingers?  Is it their soft skin wrapping?  Or the 

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-9052670091751267612010-02-18T16:44:00.001-05:002010-02-18T16:45:54.863-05:00

Some of my friends keep asking me if I've built that snowman yet.  Because I've been wanting to learn how.  And because I really want to make use of the pants that changed my life, hoping they change my legacy as well. So I put on my life-changing pants today.  And we built a snowman.  Huh?  What?  I'm sorry I didn't hear you.  Oh.  "So what?" you ask.  So... the smiles on our faces and the fact

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-43525108342936818292010-02-17T06:00:00.027-05:002010-02-17T06:17:24.774-05:00

Five years ago this month, my family and I were preparing to move to Paris, France for a six-month expatriate assignment for my husband's job.  My oldest was three years old.  My youngest was seven months.  And my husband and I were pretending to be grown up enough to know how to live in a foreign country with very little knowledge of the language of the land.  We had A BLAST.  It was a

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-77959907825758974342010-02-16T08:21:00.001-05:002010-02-16T08:22:45.782-05:00

Lately, I've been feeling winter.  In my spirit.  It's just felt kind of . . . cold.  Like I want to curl up inside myself and wait for the onset of spring with all of it's excitement and anticipation.  And warmth.  And beauty. I can't really put my finger on the cause.  I can't even pinpoint when it started.  But I feel it.  In my being.  Wondering where the excitement of following hard after

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-82299380017076658102010-02-09T15:45:00.004-05:002010-02-10T14:14:51.733-05:00

I remember one of my first clarifying moments as a mom.  It involved a beautiful home, an airplane ride and a jar of salsa.  My oldest was ten months.  Our only child at the time.  It was our first airplane ride as a family.  (An adventure all its own, I'll save the sordid details for another post.  Suffice it to say, the transporation part of that trip was chock full of drama.  And I mean the

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-55301080730422127632010-02-06T16:52:00.000-05:002010-02-06T16:52:28.533-05:00

Isaiah 30:15"This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength."

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-27490582408322649902010-02-02T09:17:00.006-05:002010-02-02T09:46:31.539-05:00

Thankful. Hmmmm. Struggling to find it. All kinds of excuses to not even look for it. . . Winter blues. Too many trips to the pediatrician already this year. The mouse that found its way into the drawer at the bottom of my oven and left me lots of little deposits to clean up.But...It's winter. And I have good reason to stay inside and cuddle up with some coffee and a cozy blanket and watch

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-90104231980729599092010-01-26T08:22:00.009-05:002010-01-26T09:55:45.514-05:00

When I was a sophomore in high school, I got to go to this career day thing for girls only. My mom was a chaperon. In all honesty, I don't remember anything of what I learned there. All I remember is one detail of one thing that was said. It was when one of the women who spoke told us about the first marathon she ran. I think she was over 40 when she did it. That fact alone really impressed me.

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-17501777158861582432010-01-12T11:39:00.003-05:002010-01-12T12:05:40.943-05:00

Having spent much of Sunday night in the emergency room with my dehydrated five-year-old, I woke up Monday morning, well, exhausted. (Not a good way to start a new day, much less a new week.) Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Spent.And here I am on Tuesday morning feeling much the same way. Struggling to pry myself away from facebook games and self-pity parties as I watch my daughter (

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-23585722234050376712010-01-08T17:33:00.007-05:002010-01-08T18:35:08.813-05:00

I was 10-years-old when I got my first pair of snowpants. I think I was about 15 when I bought my last pair. Every pair I ever owned were for the express purpose of skiing. In fact, they weren't called snowpants in my family. We called them ski pants. But all that changed last week. See, I lived in Southern California until I was 12. And we didn't get much snow there. Every year we got

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-36077408200402087722010-01-06T15:14:00.006-05:002010-02-06T12:48:42.624-05:00

Proverbs 20:4 "A sluggard does not plow in season; so at harvest time he looks but finds nothing." That hit me hard when I read it last year for the first time. In relation to my kids, I mean. Young as they were, it was definitely plowing season. And I realized that if I didn't change something soon, I was not likely to find much at harvest time. At least not much of what I'd want to find. It

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-53174447137125842382009-12-22T15:24:00.005-05:002009-12-22T16:14:03.814-05:00

I'd been given fair warning before the program started, but I forgot to stock my purse with kleenex before leaving home. That's why I stopped for some toilet tissue before the lights went down. You know, just in case. I didn't really expect to use it. I mean, how many church Christmas concerts have I sat through in my thirty-seven years, right? But I prepared myself just the same.What I had not

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-65428360814737652002009-12-17T22:43:00.005-05:002009-12-17T23:20:10.740-05:00

I've long been intrigued by Mary's reaction to the angel when he broke the news to her about Jesus. I mean, the Bible says in Luke 2 that she was "greatly troubled" by the words, "You ... are highly favored! The Lord is with you." When she heard it, she "wondered what kind of greeting this might be." I have to wonder when I read it if she was suspicious. Or was it, maybe, that her simple and pure

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-27773779701930959342009-12-09T21:52:00.000-05:002009-12-09T21:53:08.378-05:00

"Nathan reported to David all the words of this entire revelation." 2 Samuel 7:17Without the surrounding context, it seems a verse like this would not naturally be one to extrapolate on. But as I read today's devotional text in 2 Samuel, I found an amazing amount of encouragement in these eleven words.See, God had just given Nathan the prophet a eleven verses worth of detailed revelation

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-42276556221958618232009-12-08T20:35:00.000-05:002009-12-08T20:36:44.728-05:00

I'm amazed at the amount of enjoyment I have experienced as a mom recently. I mean, I've held the title for just about eight years, and I've never found myself able to rest in the role like I have in the past few months. If I had to nail down a reason, I think I'd have to say it's the narrowing of focus, the honing of my purpose as a mom, the realizing that being a mom is not just a job. It's my

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-86065642141029231892009-11-27T10:58:00.003-05:002009-11-27T12:04:53.262-05:00

Colossians 3:23-24 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving."I recently read the story of Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5. A story I've read many times before. But this time, it struck a chord. Unsure of the reason, I read the story

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-44200908723522314092009-11-18T10:24:00.005-05:002009-11-24T23:36:14.695-05:00

The girls have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I'm hoping for an easy and quick in/out. I do not like waiting in the pediatrician's waiting room. Not when there are other sick kids with whose germs I am not familiar, nor do I care to be. Not with my two kids whose immunities I would like to keep as intact as possible through this seemingly treacherous time of year. Not with my impatience.

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-62688478367635325072009-11-16T12:53:00.004-05:002009-11-16T13:57:28.017-05:00

Yesterday was odd.I was the first one up in the morning. Odd. I made homemade waffles for breakfast. Odd for a Sunday morning before church. All this AND I got dressed up because I wanted to. I usually wear my nice jeans and a sweater. Dressier than normal mom-days, but not "dressed up" by any stretch of the imagination. Well, yesterday I felt like wearing a skirt, nylons (?!?!) and my nice, blue

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-10596606203684447172009-11-06T08:09:00.010-05:002009-11-06T13:51:24.545-05:00

I started Christmas shopping the other day. Unusual for me, actually. I usually do this all year long. Shopping clearance sales. Finding the occasional great deal, then trying to figure out who I might know that can't live without it so I can buy it. It's really quite difficult for me to walk away from a great bargain. Like that $20 kids game I got for $8. Or the adorable newborn baby Christmas

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6680938666829241691.post-23184691883439885212009-11-03T10:44:00.006-05:002009-11-03T11:20:10.466-05:00

Cuddling in bed with my youngest this morning, we watched Strawberry Shortcut's The Sweet Dreams Movie. It's actually a very cute video (if you like that sort of girly thing). About never being afraid to dream, not letting anyone steal your dreams. You know, that sort of thing. But as I lay there cuddling with my sweet, impressionable young daughter, I let my mind wonder. Wander, even. What do

briannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17720477210956618476noreply@blogger.com2