If you were raised in the South as I was, it was likely ingrained in you to refer to your parent’s friends as “Miss” or “Mister”, followed by their first name. This was very different than calling other adults “Mr. and/or Mrs. Jones”. It was more casual and comfortable while still maintaining respect. It showed that you knew these adults well, likely spent a lot of time around them, and had been given permission to talk to them in a more relaxed than formal manner. These were the people that were closest to your parents. People you might turn to if you needed someone. People you knew very well.

As I transitioned into adulthood, I found it very difficult to stop calling older adults that I was close to Miss/Mister. I had to continually remind myself—and do sometimes to this day—that I was, um, older too. It no longer qualified as a sign of respect, and began to take the nasty turn towards condescending if not handled properly. It became something I did out of habit, rather than purposeful intention.

While trying to figure out this thing called prayer, I’ve struggled with WHO it is, exactly, that we are to pray to. Within the Trinity do we pray to the Father God, the son Jesus, or to the Holy Spirit?  Are there certain times we should address one or the other? 

In reality, of course, it is always appropriate to pray however you choose to address the Lord. However, as I look back on my childhood and remember how the walls of formality were broken as I began calling select friends of my parents “Miss/Mister” followed by their first name, they became easier for me to relate to. I still maintained a level of respect. But, I was less intimidated by them and more likely to be transparent in our talks.

In the same way, as I’ve moved away from the formality of approaching God as only God, and have approached Him instead as Father, or Jesus, I’ve taken on a new level of intimacy in my prayers with Him.

When you don’t know God, calling Him by any other name is quite intimidating. But, when you begin to understand and know the Lord more intimately, you discover that He longs for a more intimate relationship too, and encourages us to call Him by more intimate names. As a result, He becomes less intimidating.

The one prayer we are taught to pray in the Bible (The Lord’s Prayer) encourages us to approach Him as “Father”. As others in the Bible grew to know Him more closely, there are a plethora of names they called Him. He is also referred to as:

A shelter from the storm (Isaiah 25:4)

He who comforts you (Isaiah 66:13)

The God who sees me (Genesis 16:13)

My friend (Jeremiah 3:4)

Our peace (Ephesians 2:14)

Wonderful counselor (Isaiah 9:6)

The gift (Acts 2:38)

Why don’t you give it a try, as I have? Find a name that speaks to you and gives you comfort (for me, it is Father or Father God). It still may feel awkward at times. But, over time, it will make you more comfortable in your prayer time. You will feel like you’ve grown closer to Him in those talks, rather than simply respectfully speaking to Him from a distance.

Close the gap. Miss Laura did.

        

After spending the last nine years following Christ, the one thing that continues to stump me—and can make me feel like I’m way down low on the Christian totem pole—is prayer. It seems that every other Christian has a pretty good handle on it. As if once you choose to follow Christ, you inherit some sort of insider knowledge as to what it is, how it works, and the power it holds.

But, I don’t.

In fact, it seems to me that prayer grows more complicated as I mature in my faith. As if my simple prayers from earlier years no longer make the cut. I feel ashamed almost, that I’m still murmuring simple prayers when something overwhelming looms in my life. Shouldn’t I know how to talk to God?  Shouldn’t I be able to freely speak to the most important person in my life: Jesus?

And yet, while it feels like everyone else has a firm grasp on this, if I push them for an answer as to how to do it, all I get are vague responses cleverly clothed in Christianese.  And, that annoys me.  Sorry, but it does.

When I forego the prayer route and try to find a confidante in faith to discuss my issue with, I often get responses like:  “Have you prayed about it?” or “You need to take that to God in prayer.” And, while I know they are well meaning attempts at help, and I’m absolutely sure they are right, I want to scream: But, HOW do you do that?

I mean, exactly. Exactly how do you do that?

I’m the kind of person that likes to know how things work. I want the behind the scenes tour, to learn the nuts and bolts of something I don’t understand. I’m the annoying person in tour groups that asks questions like: “But, how did George Washington keep wooden teeth in his mouth?  Was there glue involved? Did he have them screwed in? What happened to his old teeth?” It’s never enough for me to just accept things as they are given to me. No. I have to completely over-think them from every possible angle. I know, I exhaust myself.

I do pray, though. Frequently. In the last year more than ever in my life. And, I have gotten some incredible answers at the most precisely timed moments you can imagine. But, overall, I still don’t understand HOW.

And I really, really want to.

When I investigate other curiosities in my life (Hey—it’s how I became a Christian too), I usually start with a definition to try to get an overall idea of what I’m looking at. It helps me to not only understand what it is, but what it is not.

The online Bible Dictionary says:

“Prayer is converse with God; the intercourse of the soul with God, not in contemplation or meditation, but in direct address to Him. Prayer may be oral or mental, occasional or constant, ejaculatory or formal.” 

While Billy Graham puts it this way:

“Prayer is simply talking with God—praising Him, confessing our sins, bringing our burdens and concerns to Him, and thanking Him for who He is and all He has done for us. But prayer is also a privilege—and it is a privilege God has given us because He loves us!”

 

Which brings me to my starting point for this topic . . .

Prayer is considered a direct conversation between you and God. Not a mine-wandering through the day’s thoughts and glancing at the clouds with thanksgiving (ahem). It is a purposeful, direct address to Him.

It can be spoken out loud, or only in your mind. It can be occasionally, or constantly.  It can be formal, or informal.  It can be spur-of-the-moment, or carefully planned.  And most importantly, it is a privilege.  A special moment that the God of the universe has allowed us to share—on our time table, not His (wow). An opportunity to “draw near” (Psalm 73:28) to Him, with the prospect of growing close to Him, should we choose to.

I have to say, that makes me think.  About how I’ve prayed in the past.  About what prayer actually is.  And, about the incredible opportunity God has laid at our feet.

I’m taking it.  And, I hope you will too.  I’m continuing on this journey and delving deeper next week.  I hope you’ll join me.

        

Have you ever had a year that changed you forever? Maybe, like me, the past year has been the one. One year later I’m not any smarter, better looking, or unfortunately—thinner. But, I am changed. Going through difficult trials tend to do that. You go in one side eager and ready for battle and come out the other side scarred and weary.

That’s where you’ll find me now. I’m tired.

It’s during trials such as these that I start to secretly wonder if God has forgotten about me. Like, in the midst of the millions of people in His care, He has somehow misplaced me, forgotten where he put me. It’s all too easy to get discouraged during those times. To listen to the voice that says I’ve been left behind. To feel exhausted from the daily battles and disappointments.

It’s during those very times that my prayers become spotty. As if God is no longer listening, I quit talking. And, like a child who can’t get her parents attention, I often sulk. Sometimes, I even get angry.

Can you relate?

The truth is, when I reach a point like that in my life, I am focused only on the immediate need instead of the big picture. It is me who has lost touch with God. It is me who has lost focus on the One I need most.

Romans 12:12 says:

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”

That is the verse I’ve decided to pursue over the coming weeks.

I have a sneaking feeling that much of my inner struggle is due to my prayer life. I, um, don’t have one. Not that I don’t want one. Not that I don’t realize I’m supposed to have one. I just don’t know what one is. What it is supposed to look like. What I am supposed to do.

But, I’m a determined woman. I’m going to figure this thing called prayer out. I’m going to find a way to make sense of it all. Because I know that it will help me stay focused. It will help me stay strong. And, most importantly, it will get me where I want to be: in His presence more often.

Will you join me?

        

 

I’ve spent the majority of my life outnumbered.  Sure, there was a glorious 14 month window sandwiched between my birth and my younger brother’s.  But, I don’t remember being able to take advantage of it much.  My childhood memories mostly revolve around being harassed by two boys (one older, one younger) that never went away, like being pecked to death by a chicken.

I don’t know if my understanding of surrender originated from being outnumbered by my brothers, or if I really perfected it after my third child made me realize that the children in the home outnumbered the adults.  I just know I’ve always had this sense of never being in complete control of things, but trying desperately to be so anyway.

It’s for that very reason that I tend to do most of what I need done myself.  I know that truly, you can’t persuade another person do what you want them to.  In fact, you can’t even make them if they don’t want to.  But, you can certainly work your very life to the bone to get it done yourself.  Right?

Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, saw the same in him.  As the tribes of Israel grew to enormous proportions, Moses began losing control.  When disputes arose, they were brought to him.  I often wonder if that was something he enjoyed in the beginning, playing the role of peacemaker among his people.  But, over time, as the numbers of people increased, so did Moses’ demand.  He would spend entire days listening to the people’s problems.

When Jethro saw what was going on, he asked, “What are you really accomplishing here? Why are you trying to do all this alone while everyone stands around you from morning till evening?”

Moses replied, “Because the people come to me to get a ruling from God,” and explained all that was entailed.

As a mother, I often feel this way.  Like I’m doing everything on earth, while little people stand around from morning till evening.  Why don’t I just ask them to pitch in?  Why can’t I let them settle their own disputes? Why can’t I hide better so that they can’t find me?  Because.  They are coming to me for a ruling.  Without me, the fight will never end.  I’m the key to their peace and happiness, right?

It has taken me years as a referee in the battles of my children to learn that I can’t settle their disputes.  Just as Moses eventually had to farm out the “judge” role, I have to do the same.  I must not only pass some of the work off, but allow them to grow in their own role as “judge” so that as they age, they will make wiser choices born of experience. 

That’s tough to do.  Especially when you see them pecking at each other like rabid chickens.  But, I try.  I want to be the Jethro in their lives, making sure they are being fair to themselves, more than I want to be the judge.  Let’s face it; we all have PLENTY of those around.  Jethro’s, on the other hand, are a rare find.

        

 

 

I have food issues.  I'll admit it.  I've been known to whine about eating certain things,and I am a major hypocrite when it comes to making my children eat things I won't touch.  My eating habits are well, more like those of a twelve year old than a thirty-nine year old.

I’ve always been a picky eater. I can remember with clarity the way I hid my veggies inside of hallowed out rolls, napkins, and even my pocket once (note: peas will stain a white pair of shorts). I’m not the kind of person that can force myself to eat something in order not to hurt someone’s feelings. I mean, I’ll try. It’s just that you will see the disgust all over my face. I can’t hide it, I’m sorry.

One of my favorite books of the Bible is Exodus because of all the food issues. It speaks to me, and I have a feeling I would have been right in there with them.

In Exodus 15-17, right after God parted the Red Sea and saved the Israelites from their enemies, they went into the desert of Shur. Three days later, they finally came upon water at the oasis of Marah, but it was too bitter to drink. And, the whining began.

“What are we going to drink?” the people complained and turned against Moses. They were angry and upset about their needs not being met. So, Moses cried out to God, who provided what they needed. Never mind the fact that only 3 days before they had walked through walls of water as God orchestrated an escape from certain death. When their food issues arose, nothing else mattered.

Later, as they travelled further into the wilderness, they complained again.

“If only the Lord had killed us back in Egypt. There we sat around with pots filled with meat and ate all the bread we wanted. But now you have brought us into this wilderness to starve us all to death.” So, God provided again, sending down quail in the evening and manna each morning. Each day, enough was provided for each person in the camp, but only enough for that day. They had to trust that God would provide for them the next day, which He did.

The people ate manna for 40 years.

Then, the people moved to Rephidim, but there was no water to drink. The complaining came once more, and God told Moses to strike a rock at Mt. Sinai, and water gushed. Moses then named that place Massah (“test”) and Meribah (“argue”) because the people argued with Moses and tested the Lord by asking, “Is the Lord here with us or not?”

Are you getting the big picture here?  It didn’t matter what miracles God placed before their very eyes, when the smallest of their worries (food) surfaced, they threw all other evidence aside and wondered if God was even with them. Incredible considering he’d chased away their enemies, led them through the desert by a fire in the sky and a cloud, and provided food from heaven each and every day of their lives. How did they miss it?

Much the same way we do.

When life begins to rev up, or stress builds, or we begin walking in unfamiliar territory, it is often during these times that we are all too sensitive about the smaller things in life while neglecting to see all that God is doing for us. Losing a job can seem overwhelming until fifteen months later you realize that God has provided you with a healthy family, and food on your table, each and every day. An argument with a friend or your spouse can make you feel utterly alone and forgotten, until you see that there is One who was there with you all along. Stressing out over the crazy schedule you lead seems ridiculous, when you actually slow down long enough to listen to Gods plan for you instead.

It’s too easy to take the low road when life gets tough. To stand in the wilderness and cry “Is the Lord here with us or not?”  He is. Look beyond the minor details and catch Him at what He does best: the big picture. Rest assured, He is behind the scenes in your life. Guaranteed.

        

When I accepted my first job, I remember being disappointed that it wasn’t more glam.  I mean, a textile designer has all kinds of cool possibilities.  Designer. Stylist. Creative Director. Yet, I decided to take a position that was more technical than creative knowing that it would later give me an advantage in my career.  I was excited about my new job, and what I considered to be a whopper salary—just above minimum wage.

Still, it hurt to hear my fellow classmates talk about their cool jobs, while mine was considered more of a “mill” position.  Within a couple of years, the stigma of me as a “mill” designer began to get the best of me, and I opted for a transfer within my company to a more creative position in Manhattan.  I had a great office, surrounded by windows, with a great job, and a cool title.  I couldn’t wait.

As I packed my suitcase and said goodbye to NC, something an older friend told me threw me for a loop.

“I think I’d much rather be a big fish in a small pond, than a small fish in a big pond.”

Of course, that got on my last nerve.  What kind of person would want to stay in a small town all their life?  I mean, there was a world out there!  With incredible things to do and amazing people to meet.  I would never be like them.

Ahem.

It only took me four months to realize how right they were.  What seemed adventurous in the beginning soon became lonely.  Living in obscurity rather than having everyone know my every move in life, actually, grew old.  I soon longed for people to know me.  I wanted to see some familiar faces.  I wanted to be remembered.

Many years later, I’ve often thought about that phrase: “Big fish in a little pond.”  And while I’m not sure that I’ll ever be a big fish, I can see the advantage of swimming in a little pond.  A little pond becomes familiar over time.  A  little pond knows all its inhabitants. A little pond can be more easily attended to.

I wonder if that is why Jesus ministered in small settings?  Sure, he had some larger events.  But, given choices, He chose the smaller groups.  The closeness of a few people. The opportunities that intimate gatherings offer. The small pond.

Jesus said, “Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.”  John 12:26

Whatever I become in my life, whatever type of ministry I serve in, I know that God will honor those attempts as long as I am serving in the will of Christ.  Sometimes that may be in the big city beneath the bright lights.  But, more likely, that will be in the smaller settings.  In the less glamorous opportunities. In the company of a precious few rather than the ego-building many.  Wherever it may be, I want to join Him there.

Go fish.

        

 

Have you ever noticed how food can get people to do things they are a little on the fence about doing?

You know, like offering a cookout to a group of friends willing to help build a playhouse.  Or, bringing donuts to a meeting to smooth over a tough topic.  Or, even—dare I say it?—promising a nice after church meal for anyone in your household or range of friends who might like to sit alongside you in the pew.

Is that wrong?

I don’t think so.

As a Christian, I consider it my duty to lead others to Christ.  To point them in the direction if at all possible.

Now, I can stand on the street corner and preach, or attend a women’s lunch and do the same.  In each case, some will hear, and some will not.  Some may even be offended if I am too pushy.  And, if I’m not careful, I can push others away from Christ by being too direct, too preachy, or too “Christiany” (been there, pushed away by that).

Or, I can stay connected to those in my life who aren’t yet connected to Christ and offer them non-threatening opportunities in which a seed might be planted.  Since each seed is planted differently for different people, you never know how it might hit another’s soil, or what the condition of their soil might be when it hits.

Is it okay for me to go about my life, offering opportunities in which “seed” might fall?  I think so.

In fact, in today’s culture, I think it is a wise way to garden.

If I look back at my own journey, I know that even though I rarely went to church as a child, I had a deep yearning towards Jesus.  I literally knew nothing about Him.  NOTHING. Had no idea that He was God.  But, someone in a Sunday school class, or in a pew, or standing at a podium on no particular Sunday, spoke something to my heart that planted a small seed that sat dormant for many years, waiting for someone else to water it and help it grow.

Though I passed through many revivals, street preachers, tract carriers, and well meaning acquaintances through the years, it was the water I received during a meal with friends that made me push further into my questions.  A meal with friends.  With no hidden agenda.  Bathed in prayer, and begun with one.

Sometimes it’s as simple as offering a chance to get together for a cup of coffee when tough subjects might come up in which you might be able to offer a prayer, or even the hope that Christ can give.  It can be a muffin laid with an encouraging note at a friend’s desk that you know is struggling.  It can even be the offer of an after church meal with friends or family, that might be enough social interest to inspire someone to come along the ride to church. 

It can be that simple.  And, that profound.

Do you know someone who could use a good meal?

        

 

Ok. So. I thought it was time to maybe . . . grow up.  Well, at least my blog!  I sensed that 3 years as the Crispy Mom was changing for me and so my blog is following.  It seemed to be moving away from just mom topics to life topics, and I felt a tug in me to really connect with a larger group. So, here it is, Group.  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Speaking of grown up, I did a very grown up thing this last week.  I dyed my hair back to its natural color.  I know, I know.  For those of you who never see me in person, you will be shocked to know that for the last several years, I have looked nothing like the picture on this website.  My hair went from dark brown, to light brown, to brown with blond highlights, to reddish brown, and then back down the brunette trail as I realized I felt more like myself that way.  Who would have thought?  In the midst of my life crisis, apparently, I was having a hair crisis as well.  Fascinating, I know.

But, it did get me thinking.  Watch out. 

Isn’t it funny how we sometimes alter things about ourselves as our lives go into a state of chaos?  As if we need one more crazy example of losing it, we’ll dye our hair, or change our wardrobe, or go totally Goth—okay, so I know I can’t pull that off.  It’s hard to be Goth with dimples.

As I was sitting in Raymond’s chair, washing my red away, I thought about my grandmothers.  Both of them are still living. One in her late eighties, the other in her early nineties.  One whose hair was so black, it never grayed until her early eighties (despite the fact that we all thought she had been dyeing it for years).  The other whose hair turned completely gray by the time she was twenty-two.  Of course, I wasn’t alive at the time to confirm that fact.  But, I can say with great clarity that I have been witness to it since at least her fifties, which is still very young to completely gray-out. Still, each of them was okay with what they had.

There’s something to be said for just being you.  The person God made you to be.  There’s something to be said with going along with His plan regardless of how it makes us feel at the time. I’ve spent a lot of time this last year getting acquainted with that feeling.  Letting Him run the show, despite how desperately I want to take over.  It taught me two very important things about myself:

1.  I am a driven woman.  And, that is not always a good thing.  Sometimes being driven can drive you completely insane if you don’t have a focus for all that energy.  And focusing it on the wrong things will become more frustrating as you learn they were a waste of time.  Focus on God first, what His plan is for you, then drive on.
2. I can trust God with every aspect of my life.  That was incredibly hard for me.  I was raised to be as independent as humanly possible.  And, that is not always a good thing.  The main thing I believe God wanted from me was the one thing I couldn’t mentally allow: complete trust.  That is, until He put me in a position in which the ONLY thing I could do was trust Him.  Genius, of course.

If your year has been anything like mine, I pray that you’ve grown closer to God in the process and learned your place in His world. He has a plan for you.  Truly.  Let’s not mess up His plan with vain attempts at significance, or acceptance, or belonging.  Let’s put all the cover ups aside and lean into His cover instead.

        

Last week, a friend of mine called me upset by a recent rift in one of her other friendships.  She was beginning to suspect that someone she had known for over 30 years had given her the heave-ho after discovering that she had become more serious about her faith.  She was deeply hurt by this turn of events and wondered if it ever happened to other Christians. 

 Um . . . unfortunately, yes.  Absolutely.

I told her of my own battle with this.  I became a Christian at the age of 30.  A statistical anomaly from what I’m told.  Up to that point, I considered myself a good person.  But, I made a lot of poor choices in life.  Many of which I’m lucky to have lived through.  Like most people, I tried my best, but I gave myself a lot of slack.  Let me restate that:  a LOT of slack. Once I became a Christian, I decided that I wanted to do better.  To aim for a higher ideal than the life I led before.  So, obviously, some changes needed to be made.

 Now, I need to make it clear here that I’m still struggling with some of these changes more than 8 years later.  And that, of course, is no reflection on God, but rather on my ability to truly give these issues over to Him fully.  All of this to say, that becoming a Christian did not rid me of my problems and struggles, but simply gave me the desire to try harder, to do better than I ever did before.

During this transition, I decided against doing things that I had done only weeks before.  It wasn’t that I suddenly judged others for doing those things, I just knew that I didn’t feel comfortable doing them anymore.  In response to God’s incredible love for me—a love like I’d never felt—I had a deep yearning to change myself.  To not only move away from the things that I knew He didn’t approve of, but even those that were a little on the fence, those that made me feel like I was setting a bad example somehow.  I suddenly had the nonstop urge to become a better daughter for Him.  Someone He would be proud of, someone worthy of being called His child.

I never said a word about making these changes to my friends. I never suggested that they do the same. Many of them were not Christians, and I knew—from my own personal coming to Christ—that actions often were a better witness than words.  That turning on them after turning my life over to Christ would go directly against what I believed a Christian should truly be.  That I needed to find a way to keep a relationship with them in the hopes that someday, they might choose a relationship with Christ as well.

It wasn’t easy.

I lost a lot of friends, had many simply distance themselves and felt isolated from others.  As I went about respectfully setting boundaries around areas I was no longer willing to go, they began to see that I was serious about my faith.  And that, sadly, was all it took.

The fact is, they were going to assume that I was judging them and holding them to a higher ideal no matter what I did or said.  They were going to see me as the world sees many Christians—too many rules and not enough fun—no matter how I tried to still be a part of their lives.  And, I had to accept that, and let the ones that chose to go . . . go.  Because in the end, it was no longer about me, or them, or our friendship.  It was about me and God, His offer, my acceptance and our relationship.

I had to do what many before and many after me have done.  I let go of the past and chose to move forward.

Philippians 3:13-14 says”

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” 

If you find yourself in this situation, it can be a lonely and disheartening place.  I encourage you to bring your disappointments and heavy heart to God.  Pray for what you need, knowing that He will find a person to give that to you. 

I’m lucky enough now to have several godly women in my circle of friends.  It wasn’t always that way.  But, I continued on, knowing that He would provide me what I needed, and who I needed in my life.  He did and He will do the same for you.

 

        

What is it about asking God for help with something big in our lives that makes us just . . . oh, I don't know . . . a little nervous maybe?  We approach Him guardedly, even when we have a strong relationship with Him and know that He truly does want to give us the things we desire.           

We pray something like this:  " If you could maybe just give me a little direction on where I should be going. . ." or "I'm so worried about what is going on with my child.  If you could just help them through this situation . . ."  or even "I really need help.  I just want enough money to . . . "

So, what's wrong with these?  Well.  Let's take a look at the word "just".  While Webster's Dictionary has several definitions for the word, the one that is most common is the following:

Just:  by a narrow margin; barely; only or merely.

Did you get that? Joyce Meyers has spoken on this and a friend of mine recently pointed it out to me.  By using the word "just" in our prayers, we are essentially asking God to barely do what we ask.  To do it by a narrow margin.  To only provide the least of what we want.  And, though He knows what we need without our asking Him, when we seek Him out in prayer to specifically ask for His help, He has said that He will give us what we ask for:

Matthew 21:22 says:
"Jesus said, 'If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.'"

I believe that with everything that is in me.  But, when I pray, am I doing myself a disservice by saying "just", or am I showing my true, deep down, lack of pure faith?  Am I giving God wiggle room in my prayer so that if He doesn't answer it like I want, I can convince myself that I didn't really want it either?

Sometimes I find myself doing this with my own children. Even if I know of something that they want, if they instead ask me for a smaller portion of it, I'll give them what they ask for, not what I know they truly wanted.  I don't do this out of meanness, I do it out of love.  I want them to understand about wants and needs.  I want them to be clear in their own mind of what it is that they desire.  And sometimes, I want them to see that they could have had more if they had been clearer and understood exactly what they wanted instead of jumping the gun and asking me hurriedly so that they could have immediate gratification.   

I don't know about you, but when I am actually setting time aside with God to approach Him with a problem, I don't want the bare minimum answer.  I want Him to step in and give me the answer to my prayer in God-sized-proportions that only He can provide. I want to know without a doubt that the answer came from Him.  I want to be perfectly clear in my approach and in my prayer so that we both understand exactly what it is that I seek.

I've got some work to do.  Since my friend pointed this out to me, I've noticed the word "just" seeping in through every corner of my life.  It's in my conversations.  It's in my writing.  And, it's in my prayer life.  It's probably nerve-racking just to carry on a conversation with me.  See what I mean?!

No more!  Let's approach God in confidence.  Knowing not only exactly what we are asking for from Him, but also knowing wholeheartedly that He is going to provide it for us.  The whole shebang.  The big answer.  The complete package.  Then, when He shows up with it, we'll not only have our needs met completely, but our faith will grow as well.  And with growth, comes the weeding of things we no longer need.  Like, just a small word.