By Nicole

Last week, I was blessed with extra time one afternoon to over prepare for my Wednesday night girls group.  Because the curriculum is slightly outdated and somewhat LAME, I generally choose to redo it. I am tragically inconsistent, but every once in a while God steps in and helps me out.   We have been talking about college and career.  True to my expectations of these lessons, everything was a little too... ugh... for me.   Now, I'm an M.Ed in Guidance and Counseling, pro-college, pro-life planning, pro-education type of girl.  But I also am acutely aware of how often we package our expectations and try to align Christian values and a certain level of professional success.  Achingly upper-middle class.   I'm also a social worker, culture of poverty, social justice soapbox kind of girl... and I was kind of struggling to rectify it all.   Throughout this unit, I kept feeling like God wanted us to talk about more.... dig deeper.  G...

Today was a day that will live in infamy in our home.  The day the cow escaped and we spent hours and miles looking and chasing and worrying.  The day we fell a tree into the goat fence.  The day nothing went the way we planned.  The day we wanted to throw our hands up and cuss and yell and stomp in the mud and throw tree branches and pout. Instead we were humbled and reminded of God, who works all things together for the good of those who love Him.  We still don't know when those things will start working together for good, but I guess that isn't the point. The cow is still out.  First day in the barn, and he didn't like it, so he leapt over the fence and took off.  We saw him twice and couldn't get him to go the way we wanted.  Three hours later, we tucked our tails, set out hay and drove away. Those three hours were supposed to have been spent building a second place for our two smallest pigs, moving Connor's chickens to a better spot, cl...

This post was fresh in my mind over the holiday.  Itching to break free and find life in the interwebs... but, alas, I've been sidetracked by pork dumplings, meatballs, and tree demolition.  And my current guiltiest pleasure... Blacklist. I'm going to digress here and there as I attempt to reawaken the phrases that kept running through my mind.  Since the poetry escapes me.. I'm going to say it out right. This was THE most relaxed, non-stressful Christmas I've EVER had.   EVER. Since my children and the pressures of grown-up life anyway... And that, my friends, is a BIG deal.  BIG.  Even the hubs agreed and said so to others... which means truth.  We had a 4-H party at the house the week before.  Family over for dinner on Christmas.  My modest home had 25 humans in it at one point on Christmas day, and we all fit.  And talked and laughed.  And I didn't start breathing funny or have to wave my hands around my fac...

This is a topic where my insides scream and sob and my fingers can't begin to type what my heart is crying.  I just sit here with tears rolling down my cheeks, and I don't even know where to begin.  So forgive me, because it's messy and raw, and I can't seem to make it all line up like it should. This is a topic where everyone draws a line and chooses sides and wants it all to be black or white.   This is a topic that has gotten so legalistic and Pharisaical in my Pentecostal Evangelical world that I just want to scream. We are missing the point.   We are alienating and labeling so many women.  So many doctors.  So many people. So. Many. And here I am. Struggling and sick to my stomach about how to deliver a Pro-Life vs. Pro-Choice message to my group of teenage girls.  Dreading the topic because I can't wrap my heart around delivering a message clothed in legalism and judgement.   First, I'm going to back up for a minut...

I haven't been in a very good place lately... since my rant of January, I've struggled to find some forward momentum.  Work has sucked more than ever.  I'm overwhelmed with life and struggling to comprehend the tragedies hitting those who are so dear to me.  I'm questioning too much, and spending a lot of time fighting back tears I should probably just let fall. My fingers are itching to type, and my crazy roller coaster of a mind has surely had some great tracks to record in the last few months... but I just couldn't get the two together.  At least not until today. I'm feeling a little nostalgic, so bear with me. When I originally started blogging, I wanted to be funny... funny homemaker mommy blogger who made jokes about silly things and kids and life.  Then I started following lots of amazing women on social media and started feeling the pressure to find a focus... develop a brand.  A blog about something.  One thing.  The thing.  ...

This year, I won't be resolving anything.  I've signed up for a CHALLENGE!!! Woohoo! This is a short and sweet version of my previous post... it was funny, engaging, and full of witty sarcasm.  And then the Internet ate it.  Gone. All gone. I was too shocked to cry. In short, (because I'm mad and it's already way too late) 2015 is the year of the 52 Weeks to An Organized Home Challenge .  And since I started the last week of December, this isn't related to a resolution.  I almost didn't want to commit, but it was set up in Nicole-sized bites.  So I bit. My Family Calendar is hanging in true geek fashion on my fridge.  I've got birthday, meals, runs, challenge tasks, paydays and bill days marked in all their sticker glory.  This is probably year five of a family calendar... and I look forward to it every year.  Always there...not always kept up (like other things in my life), but always loved. My next task is the kitchen counters...

What an entirely cynical title. I've spent the past few months quietly fuming and praying about crummy decisions a family member is making.  Hoping the switch will flip and her brain will turn back on to smart mode.  But it hasn't happened.  As her behavior worsens, my fuming has become more vocal.  In the past few days, I have started to rant to anyone who will listen.  Not a good sign on my end. Today I found out she crossed the line.  The line that makes us set our own boundaries and build up our walls. I shouldn't have to feel like I need to protect my kids from their aunt.  We shouldn't have to worry about what will come up missing from our garage or when (not if) our home will be broken into. Steal it, sell it, get your fix. Break into your own grandmother's house while she is sick in the hospital. I'm furious.  I'm hurt. I'm not alone. Raise your hand if you have a family member like this.  If you are raising your grand...