His love.

I am a romantic.

In college I majored in communications/ journalism.  I was going to be famous.  A fancy, trendy, Barbara Walters if you will.

18 years old, and not a limit in the world.

I so wish someone would have pinched me and harnessed my dreams into reality.  Gently steered me into nursing, or teaching, or a tangible major.... a job with a difinitive job description that exists, not just a pipe dream.

I've always struggled with the fact that I failed.  After I earned my big degree, I never found a great career/job/profession/ that defined me.

I never arrived.

Somewhere along the way, however, I did learn that I have an artistic side, and took a liking to graphic design.  I  actually found a pretty great job doing so for a company.  Naturally, they went out of business 2 months after I was hired.

And then a little while later, we started having kids. An average of 1 every 1.6 years for almost a decade.

A time of wholeheartedly knowing my purpose in life.

I am thankful for every long, mentally draining yet equally rewarding day that I've been home with them.  I wouldn't change it for anything.  I am blessed.

And somewhere along this kid journey I remembered my creative side, my love for graphic design, and my tendency to turn everything I touch into a box of Trix. While home, I've dappled with selling my little handmade creations on the internet, and have taken on random graphic design jobs.

But could creativity ever define me?  Even in the crafty realm, I haven't arrived. Is there really any redeeming value in being crafty anyways?  Surely there is nothing noble about selling little handmade creations for mere dollars?   Doesn't God have greater plans for me?  There's no denying He created me to notice details and appreciate color the way I do.

As the kids are starting to get older, I wrestle with God's plan for my life.  Does he really want me to make lunches, hold little hands at recess duty, and dink on my computer making art?  Surely there's got to be more?  Something grander?  Clearly I'm not listening, or do I even have what it takes?

Every time I see a chubby little baby with chocolate skin and untamed hair, tears pool up in my eyes.  I want one so bad. I think. My heart is surely big enough to adopt one more, but is my sanity? Is there even room for one more wrinkle on my forehead?   I ran into a friend who is fostering a child.  And I think to myself, could there be anything more noble or God ordained than helping a child in need like that? And I am so caught up with the goodness of it all, that I don't really take the time to really let the reality sink in.  Is that a prompting from God or just another one of my romantic notions?

Discernment is not high on my list of gifts.

Tim and I were on the "crazy cycle" for the better part of last week. That delicate balance of love and respect, completely out of whack.

I like to blame it on the concrete.

When the days are long, patience is short, I blame and cry, he's short and cold.

And with the lack of time to resolve, it cycles on....we feed off of each other with guarded cold conversation, until we both choose to make it right, talk it out, re-commit, and resolve to keep on trying.

These are some pretty scattered thoughts I'm sharing, aren't they? Welcome to my head case.

Well, an irrational combination of these questions...and so much more.... were weaving through my head non stop, coupled with the "crazy cycle" the tail end of last week.  I allowed the devil a pretty strong foothold.

I was in this crazy state of mind Sat morning, and I couldn't settle.  My marriage, purpose in life... everything was off balance. My thoughts were swirling, and I was worrying about so many things out of my control.

After dropping Sydney off at basketball, I decided I would go for a run.  Surely the fresh air and endorphines would help clear my head from all of my unsettledness and give me a little break from the kids.

I hit "run" on my Nike app, and hit the pavement.  It's exactly the same every time.

I turn right out of our driveway, and Brit Nicole gets my legs and lungs pumping just as I cross the road with the same opening song every.single. time.   I only have 1 music playlist programed into my Nike app.

Well as I hit the pavement Sat. morning, and waited the 5 seconds for my music to start playing, a different, yet familiar beat warmed up and began slowly pelting thru my earbuds.  A familiar beat that I soon recognized.  As the words started up, the song hit me.

"One Thing Remains" by Jesus Culture.

I was puzzled by the error of music, but as the chorus began to refrain, I knew that this was a gift from God.

8 solid minutes and 40 seconds of hearing  "Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me" stream through my earbuds over and over... and over again.  It really is the longest song ever.

A message straight from God, just for little old me, in that moment, exactly when I needed to hear it.

Tears of joy filled my eyes as I ran, because I knew it was no coincidence, or musical playlist error.

For almost a mile I heard His truth whispered into my ear.

"His love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me."

Even ME.

I just had to share my little story. A song, God's gift to me.

Happy Thursday friends.  More random animal pics coming soon.....