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Why I don't want a Boaz (Ruth 2-4)

Over the last year, I have thought about, read about, and prayed for my future Boaz. The godly man who comes and protects and saves me. To me, Boaz was the amazing man who I have already placed on a pedestal before even meeting him. I tend to be the type of woman who places others, and more specifically men, on a pedestal. I have rose-colored glasses attached to my face and do not see them as the people they are. At the same time, I always see myself through smeared scratched dirty lenses. I see all the ways I am lacking and will never be worthy of these pedestal people.  Why can't he love me? What is wrong with me? I am just that unattractive. I am too honest and raw. I am rough around the edges. I am not godly enough. I am not smart enough. I am not strong enough.  I find myself just thankful to hold any value in others' eyes, that I slowly lose all sense of the worth I once may have held.  Holding men on a pedestal hurts me and is unfair to them. They did not ask to be

From My Angels Angle

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Take a moment to look at this angle chart below: Many women have found that when taking a selfie the most flattering angle tends to be between 30 ° and 60 ° (also between 120 ° and 150 °. This angle lessens the dreaded double chin, slims the figure, and makes all the difference in the world. It seems like such a silly little thing, but it is a big deal. Many of us already struggle to like or even to just tolerate our bodies, especially in reflections and pictures. We notice every little imperfection. We see the rolls, the pimples, the shape of our nose, and so many other things. So if that little difference in an angle changes how we feel about ourselves even in a tiny way, we do it.  I was looking through the pictures on my phone when I came upon two pictures that I hate! I found them absolutely embarrassing and horrifying to look at. I went to delete them when I came upon a couple realizations.    My first realization:   Charlie took these pictures and they are her art

Hydraulic Press

This week I collapsed under pressure. The weight of everything pressing down on me became too heavy to bear. Have you ever seen a hydraulic press? I find watching videos of them, especially in slow motion, almost majestic. As the press pushes down on something, the object either collapses or explodes. That's how this week was for me. (Disclaimer: I am not a scientist and do not have any background in this so please don't take my word as being concrete and backed up by evidence, this is just an analogy that I am choosing from my observation.) Collapsing vs. Exploding  Things that are not as dense and solidified seem to collapse. Watching the videos, the items almost look liquified for a moment. It changes its shape based on the amount of pressure put on it. Things that are more dense and solid seem to explode. The object has very little ability to adapt to the pressure and just projects outwardly. Which am I? When it comes to the world, I dont really want to be either

Obituary: Jordan's Marriage

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The Marriage of Mr. & Mrs. Jordan August 25, 2004 - July 15, 2019 On July 15, 2019, the Jordan marriage, one that brought forth three amazing children, died at the age of almost 15 years.  The relationship was born in July 2003. After a short period of dating the Jordans (then Buchanan and Jordan) progressed to an engagement. The engagement lasted one year to the day when vows were said in front of a very small group. Just three and a half months after the wedding day, the Jordans welcomed their first daughter Abbie. The marriage had many bumps, as many marriages tend to have in general. Having been a young marriage, the marriage seemed pretty stable overall thanks be to God. The Jordans welcomed their second daughter Eb almost seven years into the marriage and then two years later welcomed their third and final daughter, Charlie.  The Jordans loved watching BBC shows together. They enjoyed cooking and entertaining friends and family. They loved using humor to make it throug

Barbwire

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Going through a divorce is a painful experience in itself. There are also hidden barbs that prick and tear open your heart. They are things that a person would not consider to be something that would cause pain. Strung together they make an emotional barbwire.  One barb that tends to get me is pronouns. After being married for my entire adult life, I tend to use the term "we" instead of "I". I am so used to being part of a unit that my pronouns automatically became plural... and now that I am no longer part of a couple, I struggle to remember the correct pronoun. Each time it catches me off guard, I freeze, correct myself, then the barb catches. This is especially the case in the context of speaking about my girls.  My daughter, Elizabeth, was supposed to have an eye appointment this week. It would give information on what "we" should do to help her vision. The "we" caught me off guard. I have been separated since October, and yet I still str

One Year Ago Today....

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The next two weeks are going to be especially painful for me. I am preparing my heart ahead and have been forcing myself to dig into scripture. I say forcing myself because the last few years I have been so thirsty for the word so much so that reading and praying were easy. With these trials, though, I have found myself pushing away from God. Reading Gods word and praying bring pain to my flesh and heart because I am angry with God. So I am forcing myself to do what is right and obey, even if my flesh cries out.  One year ago today, I was driving to Colorado with my girls. It was stressful and overwhelming but I was excited to enter a new chapter of my life. I could feel my heart break as we got further and further from my friends and family.  One year ago today, the thought of my hubby brought a smile to my face instead of tears to my eyes. Even after 14 years my heart still fluttered. He was my best friend and my love. I felt like what we had was unbreakable, but I was blissfully

The Week of Quiet But Not Peace

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There are so many times that I wish I could just get a moment of peace and quiet. Mom....mom...moooommmmm..... There are times when I can not even hear my inner dialogue over the sound of two siblings bickering, a teenager blaring her music, the sound of the dog barking at the invisible threat. Mom....mom...moooommmmm..... The sound of the chips being spilled all over the kitchen floor and then the horrible sound of them being stepped on by little feet instead of being picked up. Mom....mom...moooommmmm..... There are days when I literally hide in my car to just have the moment of peace and quiet. There are days when all I want is quiet.  Then there are days like today. Days when my babies are at their father's house and it feels like a part of me has gone with them. It feels as if I took a deep breath when they walked out the door and I will not be able to breathe again until they return. Today I have the quiet... but I still do not have the peace. The quiet is eerie and encompa