Mascara is Dead.

Today. My mascara died.

It was such a good tube and one that somehow got better with age. Maybe it was a good batch? I dunno. Either way, it was something that caused me some grief and its what made me begin to think about change and how change is always so difficult, no matter how BIG or SMALL things may seem.

There was something about this mascara that made it volumize my lash in just the right way. I became accustomed to its ease and every morning greatly enjoyed using it to literally PLUMP up the volume on my face.

But those days are gone.

And how do we move on?

Pain.

There is something about pain that is the greatest part of this equation. It is the roughest, most toughest thing to do but it must be dealt with. Otherwise, we become stuck in the past and in days in which things that we want are no longer available to us and won’t ever be again. That’s what some call a “rut” but I call it pure living hell.

You’ll see people who live completely in the past. They are the ones most often times that seem the most miserable. It’s unfortunate but true.

I used to be this way.

I still am to some extent.

I’m human.

Count every day for its blessings no matter how small or big things seem to weigh on you. Ask God for his guidance. HE comes. I promise. If you are faithful, regardless of the death or circumstance or pain that may seem unreal that you are going through right now—He is there. Even if you feel alone, you are not. Praise God for his mercy.

And thank Him for new beginnings. I have thanked him for this new mascara. It is not “like” the old one, but in time I’m sure I will learn that new things and old things go hand in hand. It is how we appreciate our lives as a whole. Take one day at a time.  And Amen to that. 😊


“He is a rewarder of those who seek Him.” Hebrews 11:6

blog 3 mascara is dead

The F Word.

Well, we survived the storm. All in all, it turns out that it was the snow shoveling that took home the prize. It proved to be a much-needed male bonding exercise that I’m still flabbergasted (somewhat) about. My son was so excited to simply be helping his daddy. And because there are only (2) shovels, this mama got to stay inside where it’s warm and take photographs for her Facebook page.

That’s right, I said it: FACEBOOK. The F word. The fractions of time that add up to huge ones when we begin our life journeys and include social media.

I was watching Elevation Worship yesterday because the roads were so bad, and I love more than anything to hear that man preach. What’s his name? Steven Furtick. He’s the bomb. Anyways, like most Sundays, he has a lot of great things to say and valid points that he brought up regarding devices, reality versus behind the scenes conforming, and finding true joy instead of feeling pressured to be joyous, etc. Long story short, he brought up the F word. And there I was, getting ready to run outside and not only take a picture of my son and his dad shoveling, but also include a video clip for the “just in case” moments I oh so crave.

It was also then that I decided NOT to feel guilty for using F.

Right now, I sense fear. Fear that I will be someone who condemns, and that is the last thing that I EVER want to do. I do not want to ever speak ill of someone, especially publicly online. But the whole time he was going on, I kept thinking about how enormous the power of the Lord has become simply because of that church’s social media outlets. And that’s it. BAM!

I decided to F it, and Facebooked the snow shoveling day and was very happy I did.

I’ll tell you why.

Memories.

Without all of my Facebook posts from the past five years—Yes, that’s right FIVE. And I mean every single day for FIVE YEARS. FACEBOOK…has become my historian. It’s like when the past me looks out for the future me. I love those “I’ve got your back” moments. The memories and moments that were captured (that I still enjoy every day) would be gone. So, I’m glad I did. I am glad I used F.

Living in the moment. Being present. Finding that happiness? I get it.

But for now, Facebook is something I have decided I will continue to use for MY purposes. Not to show off anything or to be hyper focused on what others are doing, but for my own mental catalog of what I’m doing. We (more specifically) what WE are doing as a family. So, until next week Steven F., I think I’m going with social media this time. And don’t worry, I will continue to share you consistently on my F. 😊

Love & Giggles,

PG

Jesus is MY healer. I must remember that He gives me the strength to endure. It is within me that He dwells. When I am feeling the pangs of guilt, I must question where this emotion is coming from before proceeding because most of the time, it is merely a worldly matter. And most of the time? It doesn’t concern me. Most things that are worried over are things that truly don’t (in the long run) mean much of anything. Cleaning my plate, shoveling my side of the street, and moving on, helps me to stay focused, balanced, and in control of what my daily motivators with Him, are and that includes no one else. It helps me to stay healthy both physically and mentally. And I thank you, Jesus, for this awesome gift. It is where I find my Joy.

“They brought to Him all who were ill…and HE healed them. Matthew 4:24

 

the f word blog 2 pic

It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere…

Have you ever dropped coffee shards all over the counter when attempting to fill your coffee filter?

I just did that. I walked away briefly, and decided to enjoy a little bit of the coffee I had made first, then maybe have the motivation or enough gumption to return to it and clean it all up.

I cleaned it up. However, on my second cup of coffee I noticed small bits of sandy-like particles on the bottom of my feet. Dang. Time for the sweeper…but later. Right now, I have the peace and quiet of a cricket before mating. My husband and son are sleeping and my dog, Tyson, is downstairs sneaking an early morning nap on the sofa. The world is mine. And shouldn’t it always be? Hmmm.

It is storming out. We expected this. We all did. There is no toilet paper or general canned good from here to three counties over in the anticipation of this snow storm. It’s nearly 5 am. Sunday. And yes, it is already very bad.

No trucks (what we northerners or at least the ones in western Pa call the snow plow) are in sight. I can see the spray of snow in the reflection of the street lamp post outside, its pellets coming down fast and hard. If it were a woman, it would be one on the rampage. Cursing and hollering without thought. Huffing and puffing and blowing around the house like crazy. Yes, this is that kind of snow. It’s crazy woman snow. I hate to admit I’ve seen this type of white anger before–the snow I mean. It’s white static beauty, tunneling its way throughout its line of duty and looking for any further twinge of anyone who would disrespect it. Oh, the tenacity. Canned goods. Now, that’s power. We are all very afraid. Especially the news reporters. They are on edge!

Whether angry or down right disgusted, it wouldn’t matter after someone disrespected me for the very final time. Yes, final time. Because once someone disrespects you once, you must be on guard. It’s sort of like a strike system. I must admit, even I have boundaries and limitations of patience. And sometimes they are not what they should be as far as virtue. But the weather, that’s another story. Snow. It is one unreliable angry mega beast in western Pa during some winter months. Snow days. Ice days.

The snow plow just went by…the trucks are out running now. And somehow…the nastiness of it all seems to have been cut short. The pellets aren’t windy and hailing. It is merely muck. Muck on both sides of the street now after being plowed. Much like a fight that suddenly got silenced. The war seems nearly over.

Perhaps today would be a wonderful day to make a snow man. After all, there isn’t much else to do when you receive so much snow. Why not make fake dripping people and put them in your front yard? Dress them up and try to convince the road traffic that they are real men with scarves and tossle caps, top hats and carrots for noses. That’s fun. That’s party worthy. 🙂 

Anyways, I am enjoying my coffee and this all so much so thanks for listening. Until these guys wake up and I can use the vacuum and make noise…here I am. My beach oasis and sandy toes sprinkled with coffee. Can life get any better?

I don’t think so. 😊

Life is good. It is a party. And it should be celebrated. Even if it means taking the small things and making them big things—like little bits of coffee turned into a sandy beach in your kitchen one morning. Sometimes it is the small things that count for the big things I guess. And I like the sounds of that. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere…lol. Sorry, I just had to. It really is 5 am.