true love

 You might think I am on a soapbox. And, I might just possibly be. That's what happens when it's raining outside and you are stuck inside a camper. This morning I read a devotion about how the world is busy trying to do all kinds of things, politically and socially. They are doing it for the right reason but, the message that goes out is one of hate. I don't think hate can ever be dressed up. You can try and paint a pretty picture.  Wrap it up and put a beautiful bow on it. It can flow off your tongue like honey. Silky as satin. It doesn't matter how it is masqueraded, it will always be hate. There is only one antidote for hate and that is love the article stated. True love. Sometime we set out with our own agendas and try and attach Jesus' name to it like that will make it alright. I don't think that Jesus is interested in our "busy work". And I'm pretty sure he knows when we are hiding behind it. You know Adam and Eve did the very same thing in the garden. They were never ashamed of their nakedness until they sinned. Then what did they want to do? Hide. Rather than just coming out in the open and confess what they were really doing, they wanted to hide. We all do that from time to time.  I know I do. We hide behind our projects, our committees, our church attendance, you name it. It just makes us feel better about ourselves. 

It was a great article for me because I've been challenged to choose love a lot lately. It seems that everywhere I turn Holy Spirit is teaching me a lesson of "less of me and more of Him." I kept having a little confrontation with someone at work. What I said seemed to have upset the other person. I knew it did. I'm the kind of person that after I've said it, I want to take it back. Or try to pretend that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Well, after this particular incident, I immediately became broken. I started praying and asked Jesus why this seems to happen to me. His response was immediate. They just need to feel important. Like everyone, they want to be noticed. I immediately understood. When i put someone else's needs above my own, that is love. That sounds simple enough. And on a good day I can probably do that. But, on a day that my self-esteem isn't as perky, and my pride is a little too prideful, it's another matter all together. I just need to be noticed too!

 I've loved this quote for a long time. “How I treat a brother or sister from day to day, how I react to the sin-scarred wino on the street, how I respond to interruptions from people I dislike, how I deal with normal people in their normal confusion on a normal day may be a better indication of my reverence for life than the antiabortion sticker on the bumper of my car.”*  It speaks volumes to me. Now, don't get me wrong. I choose life. An anti-abortion sticker on my car is not a bad thing. It's just that life gets messy. I think how I deal with the messes says so much more about what is really in my heart. The question I ask myself is this. Am I really "all in"? Or am I trying real hard to just "look good."? 

 I just recently watched the new film, "Unplanned." It is a biographical movie about Abby Johnson, who after running a very successful Planned Parenthood Clinic was asked to actually help with an abortion on a day that they were short-staffed. It opened her eyes and heart forever. The theme that prevailed in that movie was one of love. Love in action. I must say it opened my eyes and heart. I've got to do so much more than put a bumper sticker on my car (or a bible verse on social media).

I can't hide behind anything! Whether it appears to look good or not.

God always knows my heart ♥ 

sammie jean

  If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. I Corinthians 13: 1-3

* Brennan Manning's the Ragamuffin Gospel.

 unworthy
in filthy rags
 broken down
 confused
i look for love
in the wrong places
 attention i seek
 from ones that
have none to give

i need to be accepted
 please glance my way
speak to me
whatever you have
i will take
it's better than
nothing at all
i will settle...
 for less

my daughter...
 he calls me
he speaks my name
you are my beloved
 i desire to be yours
i listen
i hear

his call is softly spoken
 his love quickly felt
all my shame
 melts on the floor
all fear
 runs out the door
 i need you

just to touch your nail scarred hands
you will make me white as snow
just to touch the hem of your garment
i know
that i will be saved
healed

my tears wash your feet
i will never leave
this place
it's like no other
not condemning
or intrusive
 guilt
or pain

 i trust you
perfect peace
I will never settle for less
never again...
i will search
 no longer
there will never be
the whole world over

a love that compares to yours

praying for all the young girls in this world that have settled for less

sammie jean
2/15/20

and it rained...

 We finally arrived at our mountain home.  I open the creaking screen door. It seems to always say "welcome back." After a quick glance around the room to make sure everything is in place, I walk straight to the front porch. I look over our acre. Tall oak trees that reach far into the heavens. Every single leaf has fallen to its resting place on the forest floor. Not one single leaf is left. I love the winter. Everything is in black and white. Something mysteriously beautiful about it. It's raining. I stare at the water droplets on the bare branches. They look like millions of white pearls strung together, glistening as small rays of sun smile on them. Even though it is dreary and cold, we are cozy inside. The rain is a blessing.  My husband can't get out and rake leaves. One thing for sure, the leaves will be waiting on him.Thinking about raking leaves makes me think of when I was younger. My daddy would make my sister and I rake leaves. If she were telling this story, she would say, "I hated when daddy made us rake leaves. I did all the raking, while my sister played." I can hear her now.  I am not going to deny it. She would be telling the truth. I got away with way too much! When it was time to work, I conveniently found something else to do. When it was time to wash dishes, my sister would say,"Where is Sammie Jean?" My mother would interject. "She had to go to the bathroom." They would laugh. The way I saw it was, just the joy of being the baby, I guess. I can grant you my sister didn't see it that way though.

 As I sit in my cozy chair, our first night in our cabin, all bundled up watching tv the lights start to flicker. The first time we saw the flicker, my husband uttered, "I need to change the bulb in this light." Then, it happened again. You know the cliche, the third time is a charm. It was. The lights went out. I quickly jumped up to light candles. I went over to get the kerosene lamp from the wall. The wick had fallen down into the kerosene. Too late to fix this. What does a man do when the lights go out? He goes and gets his trusty flashlight. The second thing he did though, was just what I had thought about for months in Florida. He built a fire in the fireplace. Being the helpless romantic that I am, I thought... it doesn't get any better than this. Lights out, fire in the fireplace.... I know it doesn’t sound very romantic but for the next two hours he snuggled in his chair and I snuggled in mine.  I could hear the wind as it blew through the trees. It seemed to say, "rrrreeeessssttttt." Those were welcoming words to me. Although my husband wasn't quite as eager to do that. He conceded. Almost all of the first week it rained and the second week temperatures went down into the teens. It was just too cold to get out, so we stayed inside. We read. We read about Jeremiah and his daunting task to once again try and restore Israel back to God. I thought about how familiar it sounded. Even though we live in the most blessed country in the world, sin has become very common-place.  Mothers kill their unborn babies, simply because they are an inconvenience to them. It is a "feel good" culture, basically. You do what, "feels good." Never submitting to anyone else. And, even though Christian's still go to church on Sunday morning, they enter in and look to see if there is a monitor in the foyer to protect them. The bible verse in Luke comes to mind, to whom much is given, much will be required. Oh, God, have mercy on us. We have been so blessed but yet we have turned our backs on you.

 We watched movies. A lot of movies. We watched the Hunger Games. All four. We watched love stories like Hope Floats and Under the Tuscan Sun. I just love it that my husband will watch mushy love movies with me. We watched HGTV too. We're pretty sure that we have it all down now; how to build a house and how to decorate it. We'll see. I made Chicken Fajita Soup with fried tortilla's on top. It was so good that we ate it for two solid days. One morning, I was up real early. I drank coffee and ate peanut butter toast, read my devotion and prayed. Just at daylight, I looked out the window and a couple of things caught my attention as they fell to the ground. At first I thought it looked like a leaf, but then remembered that there were no leaves on the trees. I got up, walked out on the porch and to my astonishment it was snow flurries. The little girl came out in me and I flew out into the yard. Robe, slippers and all and danced around with my face held high toward the heavens. "I will wash your sins as white as snow," it seemed I heard.  It was my very own little miracle. It didn't last long. But, I felt like He had done it just for me. 

We had a fire in the fireplace every night. One day, all day and all night. I turned my chair to get as close as I possibly could by the fireplace to feel its warmth. It seemed to warm my very soul. Glancing, occasionally, at Greg, just two and half feet away.  Making eye contact, we smiled and he made those quick "kissy" motions with his lips. I made them back. Then he would always say, "I can't move my lips as fast as you do." We laughed. This might be close to perfect, I thought. I don't think that when the Carpenters sang, "rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” they had ever stayed in their pj's all day long, snuggled in a warm, cozy chair in front of a fire in the fireplace, watching it rain, with the one you love. There is absolutely nothing depressing about that. 💗

sammie jean

Append 08/19/24 

The sweetest memories. I am so thankful that I wrote them down. Ever more sweeter now.

This was written 23 days before my precious husband passed from this life into eternity with Jesus.

Give me "2020" vision...

On my walk this morning I started thinking about the ways that God has answered my prayers. I realized that not very many had been answered in the way that I thought He should answer them. Or in the time frame that I thought He should, for that matter. But, I can say with all confidence in Him that I have grown to have, He has always answered them. He has been faithful. Always. It's weird how I try to put Him on my level sometime. It is Yehweh, the creator of the universe that I am talking about. The God that made the heavens and earth; every planet, constellation, stars and moons in our solar system. Makes day and night. Changes every season. Created every plant on earth. And every animal. Even takes care of the sparrows. He created me and you. And knows the number of every hair on our heads. The God that sacrificed His only beloved son and raised Him for the dead for me and you. The highest and most creative entity that I could ever imagine. And I'm questioning if He thinks the way that I think He should.  I'm quickly reminded that His ways are not my ways. His thoughts not mine. So, if I'm trying to put Him in a box, I can just take him out.

What got me started thinking about this was, I was reading an article about someone this morning. A person that professes belief in Jesus. This person had been selected to represent a person in high places in a certain position. The first thought that came to my mind was, "is that person qualified?" It's odd that I would question that person because I'm far from being who Jesus wants me to be. The more I walked the more He and I talked. By the end of my walk, it became pretty clear in my mind that the revival that we are going to have in this country will not look like I think it will look. And the people that He uses may not resemble my walk with the Lord. However, we will all have one thing in common; our love for Him and our love for one another.  Lord please forgive me of my stereotypical behavior.

I began to think about Jesus' life here on earth. There was nothing about his life that was like what the "godly people" of that day thought it should be. He didn't come into this world in the way that they expected. Not how you would expect a king to be born. And because of that many didn't believe that He was the Messiah. And still don't for that matter. All because He did not come in the way that their human minds perceived that He would.  He didn't arrive with pomp and circumstance, but rather a very humble one. His earthly mom and dad just ordinary people. Nothing special about them other than they were willing to be used by God. He was born in a borrowed stable and lay in a feeding trough full of hay. Yet to all that believed then and today, He is our Savior. Even during Jesus' ministry, he proved time and time again that His ways were unlike the ways of the world. The need for him to go to a town that was not the customary place for people of his nationality to go. There was deep rooted prejudice between the Jews and the Samaritans. But, rather than follow custom, He had an appointment with a woman at the well. Although she was not of reputable character, He pursued her. He broke all the man-made rules of the time to bring her into His kingdom.

 He walked right into the middle of my messes and met me where I was. I am forever grateful. How could I ever judge someone else? If they profess the one and only way, Jesus Christ, then the way God uses them might not look like how He uses me. If Jesus did not follow man-made rules concerning stereotypes why should I? If he showed us time and time again that the people who appeared to be the most "godly" were the farthest from it. Why would I think that people of my time that preach the loudest and fit the part that religion screams "look like this" are the most like Him. Lord, please forgive me that I stereo type people into certain categories. The ones that go to this church. The ones that don't go to church.  The ones that have no place to sleep at night.The ones that live in a five bedroom house. The ones that wear this on their heads. The ones that don't. The ones that don't pray out loud and the ones that pray the loudest. Their ministry might not look like mine, but there will be evidence of you in their lives.

 Lord, please help me not question your move because it isn't the way that I think it should look. Help me not to judge others and the way that they worship just because it isn't the way that I do. Give me a desire to pray about it more than I talk about it. You are the only one that can truly change us and the world we live in. You know what our very heart beat sounds like. I"m confident that you know what you're doing.

 Thanks for reminding me....that the last will be first.

sammie jean❤

But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.
Matthew 19:30

good-bye 2019

I sat down this morning to eat my very last Christmas sugar cookie with a cup of coffee. I'm a sentimental person so even though I was glad to eat the last one, it was a little depressing to think that I would not have another one until next Christmas. I took my last walk of the year.  Crisp, cool morning, blue sky. Not a cloud anywhere. After I finished walking, I came in our camper to sit down and ponder a little. My usual thing to do on the last day of the year. Quietness all around me except for the welcoming sound of power tools that I hear outside. My hubby busy building our little house. Can't wait to call it home. He has done most the work all by himself, except for a little help from family and friends. He is a hard worker. I tell him all the time to slow down. I thank God for him. I thank God for us. He has given us dreams that we can share and work on together. I'm extremely thankful for that. Its been 3 years now that we have lived in this camper. By the time we complete the house it will be close to 4. When I prayed for change back in 2015, I didn't really know what I was asking for. But, then do we ever really? The "winds of change" definitely blew into our lives. We've just held onto our caps and enjoyed the ride. I don't think I would have changed a thing though. Well, maybe, a little more hot water for a longer shower would have been nice. We are not the couple that we were when we moved here. Change has been good. We don't take life quite as serious as we did. We laugh at ourselves more. We go with the flow a little better. We enjoy each other and God's creation more.  I think that we have sifted through a lot of  life's stuff  and realized what is really important. It definitely isn't things. It's relationships that are the most precious to us.

Can't wait to open up that squeaky screen door at our cabin in the mountains. The last time we were there was in October. Our stay was slightly interrupted by the phone call that I got on our walk that morning. We have no cell service in our cabin or around our mountain except for one spot. On this particular fall morning as we walked across that spot my phone rang. It was the first grade teacher that I knew that I would hear from. I was planning on subbing in her class during her maternity leave, just not quite that soon. "Ms. Sammie," she timidly spoke. "When can you start teaching for me?" she continued. She had another week before her due date, so we were hoping to have a little more time.  However, her doctor felt it was necessary to induce labor. She told me that they decided to get another substitute for a couple of days in order to give us a little more time to get home and get ready. That was extremely thoughtful. So the phone call was no surprise really. We knew when we left that this was a possibility. It was all up to the Lord just when it would occur. It's really ironic though. The whole thing. I taught in a first grade classroom from January until May this year after the teacher decided to go to nursing school. Since it had been twenty-five years give or take a few years since I had been in a first grade classroom, I was just a little rusty. A little rusty?  Who am I kidding. I was definitely unpolished. My memory had escaped me on just how difficult it could be to teach six year old children. I was way out of my comfort zone too. A new town. A new school. New teachers. I had been teaching in third grade when I retired four years ago. I had forgotten that there was a possibility that a six year old might not do what you told them to do. And I sure forgot that their attention span was much shorter than one Scooby Doo Show. What in the world was I thinking? I survived. I guess I should say, we all survived. I didn't do too much damage because when I entered the school the last week of October to take the six-week maternity leave for her, the children that I taught in first grade that are now in second grade, hugged me like I was their long lost friend. Small kids are like that. They might be a little difficult at times but the rewards are huge. So, as I was saying about how ironic the whole thing was, I came back to teach in the very same first grade classroom, next door to the same first grade teacher as before. I couldn't have done it without her. She was wonderful (both times.) I couldn't have done it without the schools guidance counselor, a close friend of mine either. She was always available for me.  Counting spring break and fall break I spent 7 months in the very same classroom this year. Different children but the same four walls. The best analogy that I can think of to describe this experience is how I feel about my grandchildren. I love them with every ounce of fiber in my being. I enjoy being around them, but at the end of the day they can go home with their parents. That is how I feel about this whole teaching experience.  I still enjoy teaching.  I love the children, but when  my teaching time has expired, I can give them back to their teacher and walk out the door. I'm pretty sure that I have the best of both worlds.

This year has been an exciting time to watch our little 17 month old grandson grow from a baby to a toddler. He is the brightest little boy. He talks a lot for his age. Some words we understand and a lot of words are his own, but I expect that one day soon when I see him, he will be talking in full sentences.When he hugs and kisses his Ammie, it just melts my heart. I love that little fella. He is still too small to stay with us in the camper, but I am looking forward to making memories with him in our new house. Our granddaughter, is the only one of our older grandchildren that will come and visit us much anymore .She visited us this year every chance that she got. I enjoy her being around. Her pawpaw enjoys her being around too. He lets her drive his truck all over the property. She thinks that's pretty cool. Now how many years do we have before she won't think this is fun anymore?  I don't even want to think about it. The older grandchildren have already "outgrown" us. I remember when they thought being here was pretty exciting. I understand though. Teenagers take on a new life of their own. I have to remind myself that I was one, once.

This year has been pretty spectacular with family and friends. I enjoy every visit that I get to make home to visit my mama.  I didn't get as many beach trips in as I would have liked with my sister and mother.  I'm not working now, so I will be available to go to the beach, sista  😉

Church family, you are a  precious jewel. We are forever grateful that Jesus brought us together. Our mission trip this summer to West Virginia was a rewarding experience. Can't wait for many more to come.

 WOLF pack and BFF's. I love and appreciate you. My suitcase is always ready for our next trip.

 My husband and I could look the world over and never find a more faithful (family.) Thank you for helping to make this year, a year to ALWAYS remember.

I find it kinda hard to say good-bye... but, like my little buddy, Winnie the Pooh, once said, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

here's to 2020 vision,
sammie jean

We don’t have any dogs of our own. When we come to our cabin the neighbor’s dog comes to visit. We call him our “grand dog.” Yesterday evening he made his rounds. We were sitting on the porch and we saw him come our way. He had something else on his mind. He didn’t come by at first. We were so disappointed. However, a little later he made his appearance. He looked so much better than he had looked on previous visits. His coat was shiny. No sores or ticks. We loved on him like any good grandparent does. I didn’t have a juicy piece of meat to give him like I usually have. It was our first day here and we hadn’t cooked yet. So, I scrounged around in the kitchen and came up with a half of a pimento cheese sandwich and four sweet potato fries. Left overs from my recent trip with my Sunday school class lovingly known at the W. O. L. F pack (women of living faith.) I really figured he wouldn’t eat it but he engulfed it in a minute flat. The next thing I knew my hubby was right in the middle of the floor with him.  They had such a good time wresting and tussling around. He must have worn him out because he plopped down, flat on his stomach and laid his head down on his crossed paws. “He looks sad to me,” I suggested. My hubby agreed. There's just something in his eyes. We talked about his family and agreed that if we lived in a dysfunctional family like hers, we would be sad too. She lives with a mean bulldog. Not sure what kind he is. He’s loud and angry. His owner definitely wants him that way for some reason. We started talking about that he might be sick. Don’t really know where that came from other than he just looked really tired in his eyes. My hubby made the comment that almost made me cry. He looked at him and held his little face and said, “I wonder if I will see you in heaven one day?” Instantly, I envisioned my hubby standing in heaven, and out of no where here he comes, bounding as fast as he could up to him. And he said to him, “Well hey there Jasmine.” You know I never thought about that very much, dogs going to heaven.

I know that people love their dogs. I have always loved mine too. I know some might not be very happy with my opinion. But, I just can't understand why they take them everywhere they go. I mean, it's a lot of trouble. It's like taking your children shopping. It isn't fun! Everywhere I go I see people with their dogs. Today I saw a couple in the grocery store. The lady was pushing the grocery cart and her husband was pushing their dog in this stroller type gadget, following along behind her. I must confess. I shook my head in disbelief. My thought was, “Can’t they go anywhere without there dogs?” I guess I'm just old fashioned. My dogs stayed at home. It’s a different time for sure.

 I remember my daddy had an old hunting dog named, Joe. I barely remember him. I do remember him going with us one time in the woods to look for a Christmas tree. Apparently my sister loved him, because I still remember the look on their faces the day we buried him in our yard. My daddy and sister cried. I didn't understand why. I didn’t know him that well. I had a couple of dogs growing up that were my buds. One was named Trouble. I have no idea what breed he was. Just a solid black dog. He was my childhood playmate. Like his owner, he was always into something. We had a lot of fun together. Not sure how old he was but  he started swelling and we took him to the vet. The vet told us he had heart worms. There was nothing we could do. It was a sad day for me and my mama. I didn't know that she was that close to him. But, I remember her crying too. My other running buddy was half shepherd and collie. Unlike Trouble, he was a pretty dog. Sweet dog too, but he couldn’t stay at home. He was constantly going across the road from our house to investigate at the park near the creek. We fed him, but I guess it wasn't interesting enough for him. The delectable treasures that others left behind were just too tempting. Poor dog got run over so many times that he could barely walk. He never learned. It was what ended him. Later on when I got married and had kids we had a dog named Choco. I guess she reminded us of a cup of hot chocolate with marsh mellows on top. She was a homeless poodle. Someone asked my husband if we wanted her. We loved her. Such a pretty dog. We kept her groomed. I remember when we picked her up they always had bows in her hair. She slept at the foot of my bed every night. I remember one night I laid my hands on her and prayed for her when she was sick. The saddest thing happened though. After my divorce, I moved to another town. A new house. Choco had started losing her eyesight before we moved. I heard that poodles commonly get cataracts.  One morning, I let her out like I always did and she must have wondered off a little too far. She got lost. I never found her. That's the last dog that I had. That was around 33 years ago.

Haven’t thought about these dogs in years and years. Not until we got our grand dog. But, now, that I think about it...dogs have just got to be in heaven. Heaven is the happiest place that we could ever imagine. I can’t think of many things that have made me happier than my dogs

I hope to see you again one day; Trouble, Teddy, Old Joe, Choco, and Jasmine…

sammie jean

grace...

I grew up in a home with two coaches. Yes, I know what you're thinking. And you are exactly right. It was very tough at times. But, they were good parents. They provided everything I needed. I don't ever remember a time growing up that I didn't have everything I needed physically. Emotionally was a different story.  Mama was always available. Daddy wasn't. He was always working or doing something. He stayed busy. I remember in our earlier years after he worked all day he would referee basketball games at night. Mama came home every night after work and cooked a big supper. My senior year of high school was the first year that girls had sports in Florida. Mama coached volleyball, softball, and track, coming home late, cooking supper and starting all over again the next day. I saw what was important. I learned what a strong work ethic looked like. I remember on a few occasions, I would wake up in the mornings not feeling very well.  It didn't matter if I didn't feel well or not. I can hear mama now. "Sammie jean get dressed. You will feel better when you get to school." The truth is on most occasions, I did. But, on some, I ended up in the clinic on a cot. When I was much younger, I went to my granny's and poppy's across the street from the school. They were running my mama's and daddy's little hamburger and french fry grill. I would often just complain to get to go over there and get special attention from granny. But, that's another story. I grew up realizing that there would be no slouching going on in our family. Whatever you did you tried to do it well. Performance was very important. It was almost like life was a game. You had to play hard. You had to perform well. Not only for yourself but for everyone else too. "You had to give it all you got," daddy would say. Loafing was just plain out unacceptable. Expectations were pretty high. If you were good enough to win, well, that's when everyone would be proud of you. And, if you played extremely well...you might even get a pat on your back and a "that a girl." Compliments were not just handed out in our family. You had to earn them. I learned to be a people pleaser. I found myself doing a lot of things to get attention. I climbed to the top of the gym on a rope one time all because my daddy wanted to show me off in front of the boys in his Physical Education class.  I was definitely a performer. I worked hard for attention. Especially his. Becoming a cheerleader was a natural fit. I was good at it and I loved all of the attention. The sad thing was, I'm pretty sure that I lost a lot of myself in the performance.

After high school, I got married and had children. That didn't turn out very well. My life didn't turn out as I planned. Because of the mindset that had been ingrained in me, I felt like a total failure. I didn't love myself. I didn't even like myself very much. I  remember going to a new church around that period of time. It was a Sunday morning. My daughter was with me. She was 7 years old. In fact it was because of her that I went. We sang a song. I don't remember the name of it. But, it had words in it about how much God loved me. For the first time in a very long time, or it might have been the first time ever, I heard Him say directly to me, "I love you." It was so audible that it was like I had to look around to see if others heard it too. What? I couldn't believe what I heard and felt in my heart. I felt that my life was pretty worthless and...you're telling me that you still love me? I'm sorry, but I was conditioned to believe if you didn't perform well you didn't really get a pat on the back. I can say without a doubt in my mind that, that was the most profound thing that has ever happened to me. I was totally loved and accepted by God of the universe. And somehow... I believed Him.

When my marriage ended in divorce it was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. I had so much trouble accepting my failure. I remember daddy was not very happy about it. I could see it on his face and in his eyes. Mama was just quiet. Even as a grown adult with children, I still wanted their approval. I needed some form of validation from them. Just say something, anything. But, what I really longed for them to say was, "Okay you messed up. Things didn't turn out the way we all wanted it to, but, we still love you." I eventually had to realize that I was just not going to get those words from him. You know, my daddy was probably raised the very same way. And his daddy. And his daddy too. Always working hard for approval, but never getting it. I came to the realization that as parents we do the best we can with what we have. I believe the adage is true, when you know better, you do better.

I do understand now. I understand that I live my life for a heavenly audience; My Father, His son Jesus, and Holy Spirit. They are cheering me on. They cheer me on whether I have a good day or a bad day. Whether I perform well or not. Their love is unconditional.

 Although it's nice to have others "'at a girl" me, I don't have to have it.

This morning, as I was walking, my heart heavy for my grandson, praying and listening to the same song that I have listened to for one-million times*, Holy Spirit dropped this into my spirit. If you have received my grace and mercy for your life, why don't you have grace and mercy for others? Especially the ones that you love the most?  After some brief introspection, you know how I had to answer that? Really answer it? It's because they have to earn it. They have to perform how I think they should perform in order to receive my praise. Oh. My. Goodness. Talking about things coming full circle.💞 I quickly understood. At this very moment, my grandson needed to know that I loved him no matter what. His performance did not effect my relationship with him.

 My prayer for him and all my grands is that they realize how much Jesus loves them and how much He wants a relationship with them. No matter how they act or what they do.

Lord, please forgive me. Create in me a clean heart. Change the way that I think. Change the way that I speak. May my conversations with others be full of grace ❤   

Thank you for always loving me (regardless of my performance) 💕

sammie jean

*I was found
 before I was lost
I was yours
before I was not
grace to spare
for all my mistakes
and that part just wrecks me

And I know I don't deserve this
kind of love
somehow this kind of love is
who you are
It's a grace I could never add up
to be somebody you still want
but somehow
you love me as you find me

Hillsong United