Dig DEEPER

I've kind of joked around with Insanity and the encouraging words Shaun T. uses to keep you motivated.  It must work for me, though, because I am still doing it and still loving it.

My favorite phrase he says is, "Dig deeper!  You can freaking do this!"

Because, you know what?  I can.  I can poop out really fast, too.  It takes a whole lot less self-encouragement and arguing with my body to have it just sit on the couch instead.  But I know, at the end of the day, I'd be annoyed with myself. 

And then, I hear God whisper to me, "Dig deeper."  

And my first reaction is, "I will later, Lord.  I want to (fill in the blank) first."

And my day goes on with more things that come "first."

But lately, I've been getting up early because Hannah has given me a 6:30am wake up call to use the rest room.  "Mommy!!  I need to go peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"  Thank you for that, Pretty.  So, I've taken the opportunity to read my Bible and start a journal again before the kids are awake.  And you know what?  I can freaking do this, too.  And I want to.  And I feel like something is missing when I haven't done it.  And He is faithful to whisper still, "Carrie, dig deeper."

The difference of starting my day with the Lord in unexplainable, except that His grace seems to be in abundance when I have tapped into Him. 

I have found what I call my "Sweet Spot" with the Lord.  My yellow chair flanked by two corner windows and a little table with a lamp on top for light. It's where I meet with Him in the morning and offer Him my day and all that is contained in it.  Because He already knows it.  Because He's already seen it, walked it, and graciously given me the day that He has made.

Oh God of mine, I’ll have no idols
Oh God of mine, come lead the way
Oh God of mine, I’m greatly humbled
This sinner’s heart You came to save
Oh God of mine through storm and trial
Oh God of mine through death and grave
Oh God of mine in resurrection
Your scars display my soul’s refrain
Oh God of mine Who holds all nations
Oh God of mine Who saves the day
Oh God of mine, Your grace sufficient
And tender mercies new by morn
Oh God of mine, forever faithful
Oh God of mine, forever stay
Oh God of mine, forever after
These eyes upon Your face will gaze

-Rita Springer


Have you found your "Sweet Spot" with God?

I Define God to My Kids

I have been washed, wrung, and hung out to dry with something that I was re-taught last night.

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

Yesterday, we were at Michael's and I accidentally broke a picture frame. Noah knows that they are not allowed to touch things in the stores because they could break something and then I'd have to buy it and that's not how we want to spend our money, etc. So, when he saw me break the picture frame he said, "Oh no...you broke it Mom. Now you have to do the right things and buy it." Yes, I do and yes, I did. Thankfully, it was only $5.

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

Last night at our Growing Kids God's Way class (yes, we are taking it again! Trust me, we need it!), we were reminded that Christianity is not a religion of mediocrity. This is HUGE! We are to do things and do things as unto the Lord, and if you do something for the Lord, you naturally WANT to do it well. Christianity is NOT a religion of MEDIOCRITY. I was reminded of the idea of "good, better, and best." It is good that Noah wants to be a witness for the Lord. He could learn to do it better by speaking with more love. Eventually, he could be the best witness ever because he is unashamed of the gospel. I am a good mom. I could be better. For the sake of my kids, I want to be their best mom ever.

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

Love is not RUDE. Be COURTEOUS to all men. Another thing I was reminded of, not just during our GKGW class, but also during my Precept study I did earlier that day. This was meant to be a reminder for us to teach our children good manners. Offer your seat to the elderly. Open the door for people (my boys are awesome at this). Honor age by offering them the first plate of food. All these things are done because love is not rude and God asks us to love our neighbor by being courteous to all men. The problem here for me...is that I am rude to my kids. Ouch. I hate to admit it, but it is true. I am sarcastic at times. I also act as if they are bothering me when they ask for something which is not very courteous. I have a bad habit of ignoring them when they call my name. How can I expect them to trust me in big things, like God and Jesus and His saving grace, if they can't trust me in the little things, like knowing I will answer when they call?

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

And let's just be real here. I bake bread, make cookies, make granola bars, wash clothes, clean the house, work out, lead a Sunday School class, attend Bible studies, and make signs. People ask me how I do it. I don't. I am a figment of your imagination. I guarantee you the process of my daily grind is way less glamorous than you have it in your mind. You know what I keep thinking? What does all that matter if I have not love? Some days, I am so over-whelmed, I yell at my kids. I yell at my husband. I crash and burn into bed at 8:05pm because the kids have gone to bed at eight. Some days, I go all day without praying or reading the Bible. The hours between 4 and 8pm are the most daunting for our family. I'm trying to cook dinner while the kids are screaming that they are starving and I'm burning the bread, yet again. Dinner is a yard sale because the kids don't like what I fixed...and by that time, I'm exhausted with being nice and kind and not losing my mind that I make up for the whole day of "nice" Mommy with one explosion. Did I mention that my house is not clean?

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

And we are here to define God to the world. My kids will one day define God to the world and the picture I want them to have of God begins with me.

I am in prayer for a young wife who is waiting for a double lung transplant. While talking to Nic about her, I have also been in awe of her mom who is as strong as ever in her faith, but also raised an amazing woman of God. What did she do? What was her secret? What can I learn from her? What do I know of her?

I know she was and is a woman of God. I know she was involved with her kids and their friend's parents. I know she practiced what she preached to her kids. I know she was constantly in prayer for them. I know she earned their respect, honor and trust. I know her children will praise her at the gates.

Will mine? That is my hearts desire, but I could certainly do better on the road to getting there because:

I DEFINE GOD TO MY KIDS.

Isaac, it's not even 10am, yet!

He's just too resourceful for his own good.

Um...I think he wants to watch tv and he can't quite climb up on the couch, yet. That's his sister's chair from the breakfast nook.


He's pretty proud of himself.

This is for Becky.

Ask and you shall receive. :) Love ya, sis! Hope you like it!

The colors will be slightly more intense once I seal it.

I finally made one for ME!

Here is our "Est." sign:


And can I just say that I'm SUPER excited to start decorating for fall????

If you would like to order an "Established" sign with this design, please visit my sign blog and leave a comment and I will contact you!

It's Dinner Time!

I was given this amazing and versatile recipe from my friend Cindy. Tonight, I'm using crock pot chicken that was "crocked" with celery, bell peppers, carrots, onion, salt and pepper, garlic, and rosemary. I could have been making chicken soup. But I wasn't. I usually use canned chicken, but crock pot chicken is FABULOUS. Just sayin'. Any left over chicken will do.

Chicken Packets
2-3c cooked, chopped chicken
3-6oz cream cheese (I put 8)
1T green onions (omitted because of the onion in the crock)
2T milk
1 clove garlic (omitted again)
salt to taste (yup, you guess it...omitted)
2pkgs refrigerated crescent rolls
1/4c melted butter
1/2c bread crumbs or panko

Oven at 350degrees.
Mix chicken, cheese, onions, milk, garlic and salt together.
Make your crescent rolls into 8 rectangles making sure to press the two triangles together well.
Fill each rectangle with some of the filling and fold over. Press to secure edges.

Dip each packet into melted butter, place on baking sheet, and sprinkle with bread crumbs. *I just sprinkle with bread crumbs and skip the butter*

Bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

If you add veggies (I add broccoli or mixed veggies sometimes) then it's a one stop shop for dinner.

I usually make it casserole style (and really stuff it full of filling) by laying 1pkg of crescent rolls out in a 9x13 baking dish. Dump your filling on it and then put the second layer of crescent rolls on top. Drizzle the butter and sprinkle the bread crumbs. Bake for 30 minutes.

Dove Tattoo

I wanted something girly. Not colored in. Not too big. Something I could cover up with clothes if I had to. Most importantly, I wanted something that MEANT something to me. Something that represented my faith in Jesus Christ and something that might spark a conversation with someone else who might comment on it.

I have been looking for at least six months, knowing this was my final destination...my reward for hard work and depriving myself, for the most part, of sugar, cake, bread (even the homemade kind!). Pretty much the stuff I love to eat WAY too much of. The stuff that likes to stick around on my body WAY too much. And when I started Insanity...the final ten pounds just melted off my body. Like pouring peanut butter out of a jar. I don't know if you know this, but peanut butter doesn't POUR. It was HARD work and infuriating. But worth it.

So...back to the tattoo.

Some looked more realistic:

Some looked abstract:


Some were like Picasso:


Some did the symbolic olive branch from the Noahs' Ark story in the Bible:


Some....well...weren't doves:


But mine...I knew it when I saw it and it was confirmed with Brooke going "Oh, get that one!!!!" It was a spur of the moment decision to get it THAT day. I was content to wait for another two weeks (cause really..I was scared), but then my cheerleader and confidence booster (read: Brooke) wasn't going to be available. I wanted her to hold my hand, tell me how tough I was and basically, not let me chicken out. She called the parlor. Yeah, that's how chicken I was. It was 6:30 at night. Were they REALLY still going to be open? Yeah. They were. Who knew, but apparently, tattoo parlors keep late hours. Huh. They were open until midnight. Nic said I could go.

We had plenty of time. For me to pee my pants. And no excuses. No real ones, anyway.

We stopped at my moms to pick up the kiddos from their overnight stay where she ended up cleaning up urine for two days. Fun for her....relaxing for me to let someone else do it for a while! Thanks, Mom! (and Dad!)

I told my mom what we were doing. She was very supportive. Very. Did I mention she wants a tattoo? I'm pretty sure she was waiting for me to get one so I could relay exactly how much pain you endure before she bit the bullet. It's alright Mom, I'll take one for the team.

Took the kiddos home and dropped them off with Nic. Headed out to our adventure. At this point, my stomach is getting that nervous gurgle going on.

Thankfully, they take your money before you get the tattoo. Once I had paid, it was a done deal. I'd rather keep something that kind of doesn't work the way I thought it would than go through the pain of returning it to the store. I paid. I was getting what I paid for.

After I watched Brooke let the piercing lady drive a stake through her nose, dangle a cork on the end of it and stick a light blue rhinestone stud through the hole, it was my turn. By the way...Brooke has a nose piercing now. She's adorable. I wish I had a picture to show you. It's funny how it fits her face.

My tattoo artist was VERY nice and Brooke and I decided he had a sad quality about him that has kept him in my prayers since I've been there. Is that odd? I can't help it. Some people I meet make profound impacts on me in very short periods of time and I can't get them out of my head. I know the best thing I can do for them is pray for them...so I do.

Sad Guy asked me if it was my first time. Yeah. *Blush*

Then he said, "It feels like a cat scratch, but it's not constant because I have to get more ink periodically, so you get a break."

Cat scratch. Ok. I can do that. I've had those before. But this time I couldn't curse the "cat" giving it to me. I was the cat. And Sad Guy was my claw.

Cue disinfectant. Antiseptic. Carbon copy of my tattoo. Cue LOUD NOISE!!!! What the heck is THAT?!!!

"Oh, yeah. Don't let the sound scare you. They are kind of loud."

By 'they' he means the machine that works the needle. It's loud. Thankfully, it's bark is REALLY worse than it's bite.

Ten minutes later (yes TEN MINUTES) and I was checking out my new tat in their mirror. My cheerleader was chanting "You're awesome! You're tough! You're awesome!" Gorsh...thanks.

Yes, we probably are going through some kind of "Mommy mid-life crisis." At least what we're doing isn't permanent. Ok, so mine is. Eh. Like my brother in law would say, "Our body's are perishing anyway." Sometimes, I really love his logic.

And now I feel like the biggest weenie because it really wasn't a huge deal. Small price of minimal pain for something I've wanted to do my whole life. Done. Where's that bucket list???

And here it is:


A dove. The Holy Spirit that lives within me, now also is pictured ON me. Tattoo-style.

Noah thinks it's a bald eagle. Humph. I'm pretty sure I could have gotten a picture of a flower and he would have said it was a bald eagle. Stinker. But I love him.

And then, he promptly asked when he gets to have a tattoo that will never go away. I told him when hell freezes over like any good mom would. Naw...just kiddin'.

Nic has been amazing helping me clean it, put creme on it, stalk it...'cause he really LOVES it and has to stop himself from touching it. I love that man.

It's really not sore. Luke touched it and Nic just about made us all jump out of our skin when he yelled at him to not do it, but the actual touch didn't hurt at all. My little Luke. He has to touch things. I love that about him.

I thought I might have buyers remorse. Body remorse. Pain remorse. Or tattoo remorse that I didn't get what I really wanted. No remorse, whatsoever.

Did I mention I want another one?