When Life Burns You

I’ve been burned by you before.
-Featherduster (Beauty and the Beast 1991)

I type this post with a shiny upper lip. I had to apply triple antibiotic ointment like Chapstick after I scratched underneath my nose.  I’d forgotten I had pepper juice on my finger from deseeding an angry jalapeño pepper. It burns something awful. The offender had dark brown seeds. I knew I was in trouble. I can’t take the heat. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve been injured by jalepeno seeds. My first experience was rather unpleasant too. I was pregnant with Hayden. Jason and I had made our first “married friends” at our birthing class. We decided to have a picnic at the local park. I found fresh jalepenos for some ridiculous price; I think maybe 29 cents a pound. The seeds were kind of dark but I thought nothing of it. I stuffed pimiento cheese in each pepper half, proud of my efforts. Everything was fine at first. But I remember shortly after, it began to burn underneath my fingernails. The sting didn’t go away for days. Scouts honor…The skin under my wedding ring burned too. I can’t even remember if we ate them. 

I’ve fixed stuffed peppers dozens of times since then; sometimes unscathed by their heat. Other times I’ve reached up to rub my eye after pepper making. Such a mistake. But I keep making them. 

I’m a glutton for punishment. 

Not only when it comes to peppers. 

I’ve been burned by my own expectations that haven’t been met. 

I’m burned out by my commitments when I’ve made too many. 

Burned by rejection. 

Burned by those I trust and burned by a false sense of security, just to name a few things. 

We’ve all been burned. Most likely we return to some of those things that burn us; maybe because we can’t avoid those things….maybe because we think that next time will be different. Even if we avoid those things which scathe us, we’d run into other sources of suffering. It’s just life. It’s not IF we’re burned but rather when..

 More important than avoiding injury, is finding the balm that heals

I haven’t found it for the pepper situation. My shiny upper lip still hurts. Thankfully my soul’s afflictions are soothed by “The Great Physician”. His words bring me comfort. His spirit brings healing. 

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.  Isaiah 43:2

If anybody knows how to heal pepper burns, let me know.

…….not everybody at once……….

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Pastor Wife; My Oft Forgotten Friend

So I found out yesterday that it’s Pastor’s Wife Appreciation Month. Nice time to find out.  There are only a few days left in the month.

My wish would be to meet up with all of the fellow pastor’s wives in my life for a sno cone or Mexican food or better yet a weekend getaway. There’s something encouraging about spending time with them. But strangely, I rarely get the opportunity to hang out with this group of trusted friends. 

From one minister’s wife to another-

Several of us are in different seasons of life. We’re scattered in different directions doing whatever our current chapter of life is calling us to do. But one thing is for sure, every season as a pastor’s wife is a busy one. Through the years we commit time to our community and/or a profession. Our schedule fluctuates according to the season. But the majority of our time and heart will always be spent on the two families God ordained for us; our husband, with maybe some kiddos……and our church family. 

Of course you’re a part of that family. It’s just that I take our sisterhood for granted knowing that our breed is strong enough to keep going on our own; remembering there’s an unspoken connection between us. 

We wave at each other in passing. Hopefully we remember to send a birthday text or to deliver the picture frame we bought you three months ago that’s still wrapped and sitting on our dresser.  Often I forget to tell you when  I’ve been touched by an offertory you played beautifully. I neglect to tell you about the good things I’ve been hearing about the Bible study you’ve been leading.  I don’t take the time to mention how happy I am to see all those cars parked at your house on Wednesday nights for community group. And for you friends that serve in other churches? I rarely take the opportunity to listen to how your ministry is going. 

But you should know…….

I call you friend. 

You should know you’re one I know I can call on when I need prayer and understanding. 

You should know I love your husband; your family.  

You’re like family; a special kind of sister. 

You should know…..

-That I’m glad to be serving alongside someone who understands the irony of being surrounded by a loving church family only to find yourself at times struggling with loneliness. 

Realize that I’m grateful for the work you do. I know much of it is unseen. 

Know that I pray for you without taking the time to tell you when I see you and you look tired. ………or when I know your husband probably hasn’t been home before dark several nights in a row because days of ministry rolled over into nights.  

…let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another. Hebrews 10:24

I want you to know that I’m glad to be serving alongside you, but I’d be glad to just talk, or listen, or cry or laugh with you


Maybe go out for sno cones. 


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How to Write an Unoffical Life Mission Statement

I love stories. I love sharing them. It runs in my family. We have a knack for making the story longer than the actual event. Take a trip to CVS for example. I can make that into a twenty-something minute story. I’ll begin by telling you that on the way to CVS I hit the curb again. It happens on that weird curved part of the road on 27th street right as you’re passing the Catholic Church going toward 365. I always feel squinched against the car next to me so I’ve on many occasions just rode the curb so my car can have breathing room. I’d then probably tell you that I have something I’ve come to call “Car Claustrophobia”. See?  Already all the words before I get to CVS and have the problems picking up my prescription that’s supposed to be ready.

Today I had the chance to share my story, my life story, the whole thing; very abridged of course. That meant that last night while writing an outline I kept in mind why my story matters.

That’s why I impulsively decided to write a short(ish) life mission statement.  I knew that even having purpose in mind during my life story, I would ramble something awful forgetting that my reason in sharing would be to bring glory to God. I wished to make sure that my words rather than being wasted, would serve to share what I’ve learned from my life so far and the direction I choose to go because if it.

Underneath my sketched-out notes about my path, I wrote my own mission statement; a plan for my life. I wrote out the person who I’d like to be. And it was incredibly helpful. I hurled my words and wishes like darts and somehow a target formed; a life to shoot for.

At the risk of sounding hokey, I’m suggesting you write one too.

Here’s how…….unofficially:

1. Think about what it is that’s important to you. What’s your mission? Being that I want to live a life pleasing to God, I thought about what things specifically are ingredients in living a fruitful Christian life.

2. Identify which of those characteristics you really stink at. And then write about doing the opposite. One of my failings? It’s filling up my schedule before the day begins and then moving about whirl-windishly like Taz in that episode where he wore lipstick.  I end up cranky and anxious; void of life to share with my husband and my kids. Even worse I’m left without energy to spend the time I should in prayer and study. I wake up consumed by the day instead of by God…..So I stink at putting first things first. THAT is addressed in my mission statement.

3. Go to an expert for assistance in formulating your personal goal. Being that I am striving to live a Christian life, I used parts of scripture.

4. Pen your plan. The words don’t have to be fancy or even understood by anybody else who might read them. This is your locker room speech to yourself. Say what needs to be said.

5. Read it every day. Pray it every day. Give it to your spouse or a friend and have them pray for those things specifically for your life.

I’ve included mine here.

My Life Mission Statement:

I commit to grow in my relationship with Christ by studying his word and will look to life with a ceaseless awareness of His presence. I’ll not take grace for granted. I’ll look for evidence of God and His goodness in leaves on a sidewalk, in the checkout line at the supermarket and in times of loss. I’ll choose to talk to Him about everything and will make room for listening for His voice. 

I’ll cherish the gift God has given me in my husband.  I’ll extravagantly love him and my kids -protecting our time together, giving them the best of me. I’ll aim to “bring them good, not harm all the days of my life”. 

I’ll open my arms to those outside my front door. I won’t be anxious as to how my love will be received. I won’t be set back when my love doesn’t bring about the change I desire to see. I’ll remember that His ways are higher than my ways. 

 As I, and those I love encounter difficulties I’ll be mindful that “God works for the good of those who love him and have their purpose in Him”.  I’ll make God the focus of my trust, the reason for my hope and the object of my love. 


If you write one, I’d love it if you’d share.  

Send it to me. 

Here’s my email. kristiburden@gmail.com

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Cinderella; A Girl to Look to up to  (a movie review)

Be brave and kind. 

That’s the message the new Cinderella is sending. It’s out in theaters now so I took the girls and a friend to see it. 

Starring Lily James of Downton Abbey, “Ella” finds herself an object of constant punishment at the hands of her stepmother and two stepsisters. Unlike the original Cinderella, this version lets you settle in and grow to love Cinderella’s parents before their separate and untimely death. 

Cinderella’s mother is gentle and wise and spends time with her daughter. She is stricken ill suddenly and calls Cinderella in during her final moment to remind her that in life she should always be brave and kind. 

Her father loves Cinderella and her mother madly. After his wife’s death, he searches for happiness hoping to find it in Lady Tremaine (played by Cate Blanchett). On a business trip he asks Cinderella and the stepdaughters what each of them would like him to bring back. Anastasia and Drizella each ask for something of monetary and cosmetic value while Cinderells asks simply for a branch, the first one he brushes across-so that he’ll carry thoughts of her with him along his way. He falls ill and dies during the trip. 

I grew up a Disney kid, excited every Sunday night when the Disney castle and fireworks appeared on my TV screen to the tune of “When You Wish upon a Star”. I’ve never met a Disney film I didn’t like. But I think this Cinderella might have captured things that the original Disney neglected or else didn’t make plain to young viewers. 

In the film Cinderella is a pretty girl, but she wears little makeup. She’s even a bit plain and her hair is need of some serious mama brushing.  She meets up with the prince in the forest one day. They’re enamored with each other, she not knowing he’s a prince. A bit similar to Sleeping Beauty, the prince meets her as she truly is and that’s the girl he falls for. 

I don’t want to give the whole movie away. This Cinderella is a bit more sad than the original. Whereas animated Cinderella finds companionship with the mice, particularly Gus-Gus, this Cinderella looks out for them and enjoys their company, in this film her loneliness is a little more evident. She remains brave and kind; big in her small existence. She is made beautiful and fancy by her fairy godmother for the night of the royal ball where she once again captures the heart of the prince. But I feel viewers are aware that her inner beauty holds more magnetism than her shimmery gown. 

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment , such as hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 1 Peter 3:3-4

Her unfading beauty is much attributed to the teachings and love of her mother and father. Good parents seem to be missing from many Disney films (except for the animal films, Simba and Bambi have awesome parents). This movie reminds us of the importance of leaving a legacy of good character to our children through words and time and deeds.   

I know there are a hundred reviews of the new Cinderella. Why add another? Cinderella speaks words of forgiveness to her stepmother at the end; a pleasant surprise in an eye for an eye world that exists now even in cartoons.  I’m happy to support a movie void of bathroom humor and inappropriate language; full of goodness. This movie makes plain the importance of inner beauty and carrying on the love found in family. I found it refreshing. 

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Technical difficulties

The post you received titled “when you can’t look….” is ironically a post you can’t look at in its entirety. Most of the post somehow deleted upon publishing leaving two paragraphs. Sorry. Some days my computer is not my friend. 

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When You Can’t Look; The Emojis of a Watchful Parent

Maybe I should have been at church last night listening to my husband’s message about how God talked to Moses face to face the way he would a friend. Instead, I was at the Heritage Festival with the kids eating fried food and spending money to let Rylie walk around in a large ball, like the ones gerbils walk around in (except it’s on water). I do say though, it was a mid-seventies, mild lovely night. 

My job was simple. All I had to do was follow Rylie around until she found something she wanted to ride or climb through. Then I’d find the exit and wait for her. I’d watch her; so easily thrilled on each ride. Some of the rides were easy to watch. Other rides (even as a bystander) made me nauseous and feel rather out of control.  I’ve broken the attractions down in terms of how I enjoyed them using emojis. (I just learned that my iPad keyboard has smiley faces and I intend to use them.)

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Better than Comfort

She gave me the once over and then looked straight at me. “You really like to wear those comfy shirts don’t you?………. You wear them all the time.”  The words of a third grade choir member rang in my head as I decided what to wear to a doctor’s appointment this past Thursday.

“Wear something,….anything besides one of those shirts,” I said to myself.

Her observation was keen.

I knew distinctly which shirts she was talking about. I have three of them. I bought them from Target. They’re long and soft and comfortable. I originally bought one in black and a heather color, but was overjoyed when I saw that the same comfortable shirt came in white with black stripes.

“And I know,” she said. They all have a zipper in the back.”

She was right. About all of it. The zipper. The fact that they’re comfy. And the fact that I wear them all of the time.

 I like to be comfortable.

I like to wear blue jeans and flip flops…..and comfortable shirts. Plain is pretty to me.

I drink a Dr Pepper and have a Dark Chocolate Chunk Granola Bar.  Every. Single. Morning. I’m all about making life predictable.

I like the fact that four out of the five in our family have phones. We can stay in touch. We even have the stalker apps on three of them. If I hear an ambulance and can’t reach Hayden (to make sure he’s ok), I can find his geographic location at the touch of a button. Because I like to know we’re safe. 

I go crazy when part of us have to travel, forcing our family be split between different counties. I’m anxious when one of my children or even Jason doesn’t share my feelings on controversial issues. I like tight boundaries. And I like to be the one who draws the lines. 

But I’ve been called out. Maybe I’m calling you out too.

As one who’s been given the once over, I’ve been reminded that life isn’t always supposed to be comfortable.

Comfortable doesn’t produce growth.

And testimonies aren’t made in safe bounds.

Following Christ will at times lead us to experience the opposite of comfort.

Whether our discomfort is minor or comes in the form of deep suffering , we do best to remember these things:

Comfort isn’t always ours to keep. 

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. 1 Peter 4:12

Purpose comes through suffering. 

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 1Peter 5:10

Our discomfort may bring comfort to another. 

Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice……Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought…..Be devoted to one another in love….Never be lacking in spiritual fervor……Share with the Lord’s people who are in need…..Mourn with those who mourn. Romans 12

As believers our suffering is temporary. The future holds something better. 

…….what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. Romans 8:18

Removed comfort is a reminder to look to Jesus and is opportunity to grow in our faith.  

…… everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
For God’s way of making us right with himself depends on faith. 

 We don’t suffer alone. 

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. Isaiah 43:2

Our default is set to choose comfort. Comfort isn’t always ours. Choosing to trust God outside those bounds brings things far greater. It has been in times of greatest suffering that God’s goodness overwhelms me. 

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JuJu’s Cajun Crawfish; A Novice Foodie Review

Jason and I checked out JuJu’s Cajun Crawfish in Fannett. He’s mostly done the review part while I walk down memory lane. I need to walk. I ate a lot of crawfish. 

A word from my guy:

Since Kristi and I started doing these Foodie Reviews we’ve recieved some great suggestions for out of the way eating places. We’re working our way throught the list so if you haven’t seen one you’ve told us about, it’s coming.

This morning, we headed out for Ju Ju’s. Check them out on Facebook and give them a Like. We heard about them just this past week. 

I don’t know how we’ve missed this spot for the past 4 years. This is legitimate South East Texas Cajun food. 

Guess what they serve: Crawfish. 

You can have it with Corn and Potoatoes or you can have it by itself. You can have it mild or spicy.  You can have it with one of three dipping sauces (I suggest the pink sauce). 

When you cook only one thing, you better cook it well. 

Ju Ju’s delivers the flavor!

We ordered ours spicy. Can you feel the heat coming off of this picture?

Kristi and I always check the Internet to see when a place opens its doors. We like to eat early on Fridays to avoid the lunch rush. We didn’t beat anything this morning. The locals were way ahead of us and lined up at the door. We were fortunate enough to be one of the first dozen or so patrons. Beyond that they run out of seating.

If you get there after the rush has already hit, don’t go in the door.  They have a system. They’ll take your phone number, send you back to your car to wait, and call you to come in when there’s space. This isn’t McDonald’s or Burger King. 

The crawfish are plentiful and BIG this year. I’ve heard from many that this is going to be one of the best seasons for Mud Bugs. 

Check them out sometime. You can find them at:

18277 FM 365, Fannett, Tx

On a side note, if you’re in Nederland on a Friday night in the Spring of the year, Butcher’s Korner is serving up the Mud Bugs hot and fresh. You can dine in or have him fill up your cooler to take home with you. Check out their Facebook page as well.


Now here’s my memory walk and more about JuJu’s:

Today we ate at JuJu’s Cajun Crawfish in Fannett, but my thoughts drifted west and back a few years to my dad’s filter shop. I worked there several years growing up. His shop is still in business today manufacturing air filters that are much better than the filters you get anywhere else. While the filters are the best in the business, his little shop is a bit on the run down side. If you could see the walls, you’d see taped-up pictures drawn by employees’ kids. You’d also see dates marked in permanent black ink with the number of filters made that broke the record of some other prior date. That wouldn’t be only place you’d see his handwriting on the wall. 

Juju’s is much the same. A cardboard flat where soft drink once were stacked now serves as a sign telling customers what kind of dipping sauces are served. Other handwritten signs on copy and notebook paper remind

Keep door closed. 

Do not block area. 

Do not enter kitchen area. 

Do not rush us. 

Please. Do not rush us. 

There was a window unit whose vent was stuffed underneath with napkins to manipulate the direction of airflow also reminding me of my dad and his philosophy that a permanent marker, hot glue and masking tape can fix just about anything. 

You won’t find a welcome mat at either place. Just like my dad’s establishment has always been focused on filter-making and little else, Juju’s is serious about serving good crawfish. And they succeed. 

You’ll find three card tables and three picnic tables inside. The “porch” has about eight chairs in a circle for those waiting to get in. It’s cozy inside; so much that I was able to notice the hands of the couple beside us. I asked them how they kept their hands so clean being that my crawfish eating gets pretty messy. They told me, “Well, we eat here twice a week so I guess we’ve got it down”. I’d say that’s a good plan. 

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When Love is in Your Camp


Camping in the summer with Meme and Grandad was a big part of my childhood. They’d take me and my older brother and sister David and Vicki and my cousins Shawn and Angela to places as far as Colorado. It seemed rational to me at the time, but looking back it seems pretty phenomenal. I was the youngest and still had my baby teeth on these trips. My brother was the oldest; a preteen. How did five squirmy kids and two adults fit in a small camper trailer? We made cookies and Kool-aid and my grandparents helped us do our own devotions at our campsite. A couple of times we invited the neighbors. Those trips are sweet in my memory. 

I’ve had four adult camping trips that were also memorable, though not for the same reasons.

The first was with Jason and I along with my mom and dad’s Russian exchange student, Taya (she’s kind of like my sister).  It started out beautiful with us camped outside on a hill with a storm rolling in. We were able to watch a show of lightning miles away. That was the last of the night’s beauty. I woke up to Jason beating wildly about his legs. He said something had crawled on him and had hit at it until he couldn’t feel crawling anymore. He abruptly went back to sleep. I did not. The next morning we found an expired tarantula curled up beside his sleeping bag. There’s a picture of it somewhere. Curled up, that monster was still the size of Jason’s hand. I kid you not.

That should have been enough, but we took our youth group camping too. Jason lost some arm hair on that trip showing the kids that flour is combustible using the campfire he’d made. Singed hair smells bad.

We took another camping trip years later with my sister and her family. We’d found a great place in central Texas that was historically connected to Quannah Parker. That camping excursion only lasted hours; enough time to get our tents up only to be swallowed up by a torrential storm. The storm was short-lived but the anger of an army of ants thereafter was not. They thought to overtake us, but we surrendered and went back home.

Dinosaur Park in Glen Rose was the last camping trip we’ve taken. I was eight and a half months pregnant with Rylie when we camped at Dinosaur Park. We had a trailer, but for some reason our suitcases and ice chests and such were in the back of our truck. The rain once again met us there. Our camping started out with our furiously transferring suitcases and lawn chairs into the trailer. I spent the first night with contractions. That was an uncomfortable trip.

Camping is a time when stories are told, maybe around a fire or in our case,  a dry spot out of the rain. Camping is also a place where stories are made. But truthfully most camping trips aren’t without their miseries. Camping trips usually include mosquitoes and cramped living quarters; uncomfortable temperatures and at some point complaining.

Yesterday we attended The Tabernacle Experience at our church. Check my Facebook for a short interview Jason did about it. The tour was powerful and moving. I couldn’t begin to share with you what the experience was like but thoughts have been rolling around in my head since our going.

The tour takes you back to when the Israelites were camped out in the desert after their deliverance from slavery in Egypt. Our church has on loan, a replica of the tabernacle that the people of Israel carried around with them which they would set up in their camp. Appropriately, our experience in the tabernacle camp yesterday wasn’t without rain. The weather was slightly miserable. I thought about the people of Israel and what we read in scripture about their attitudes much of the time they wandered.


In the desert the whole community grumbled…  (v. 2)
“If only we had died at the LORD’S hand in the land of Egypt, when we sat by pots of meat and ate all the bread we wanted. Instead you brought us into this wilderness to make this whole assembly die of hunger!” Exodus 16:3

I remembered a phrase used in the leaflet given to us prior to the tour yesterday.

Tabernacle means “dwelling”.  The idea behind it was that God would have His own tent among their tents.

As I stood on soggy ground yesterday I was struck with a stronger than before realization that Holy God pitched his tent amongst theirs. And as imperfect as I am, He has made his dwelling in me; sinful, grumbling me.

The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you.  And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you. Romans 8:11

To think that he dwells in a heart like mine….

If you get a chance to head to First Baptist in Nederland by the fifteenth, this coming Sunday, go. It’s quite the experience.

And Meme and Grandad, if you get a chance to read this, know that I better appreciate the effort and love it took to go camping with a bunch of kids who wouldn’t understand what you were doing for them……..until now.

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Just One Time

There’s a ninety percent chance it will rain today. I watched the forecast on the news this morning as I was packing three lunches for school. In my Monday morning mood I thought to myself that there was a better chance of rain today than all three of my children remembering their lunches. We’re a forgetful bunch. Last Thursday one remembered their lunch, one forgot their lunch and one somehow got off with two drinks but missing her snack. This morning one “lost” her lunch. How do you misplace your lunch?

I scampered upstairs to check the bathroom (gross thought). Not there.  I was checking the next possible spot grumbling about

wishing we could have one morning

where we ALL have our stuff when she yelled, “I found it.  It fell behind the shoe basket.”

It’s not just mornings that I’m reminded of our inability to “get it right”.

I am a diligent overseer of grades. I frequently go online to check how the kids are doing. I’ve also signed up to receive a notification any time the kids make anything below an eighty. At least one kid scores below an eighty on something every week.  Every Friday like clockwork I get an email from the address “noreply@nederland.k12.tx.us”. But I tell you, I always have a reply.

Could we just have one Friday without one of these emails?

One Friday!

Jason suggested this past weekend I change the notification setting to a lower grade or that I discontinue the notification. ….The nerve of that guy…. Why would I want make our Friday afternoons more pleasant when I can have a guaranteed reason to shake my head at this “less than eighty nonsense”?  I think I may listen to him.

Sometimes I’m forgetful. 

I’m forgetful of my own blunders. I’m forgetful of my own forgetfulness. I’ve only recently come to the place of knowing I have to put my keys in the same basket on the counter or else they will be lost. I’m constantly looking for the one spatula I have. I lose paperwork. Worst, I lose my cool.

I’m also forgetful of how quickly time passes. The duties and demands of motherhood are unending.  As moms we spend so much time working to make things right, that we often neglect to realize how right things are. In the Burden house, the kids are all still home. The number of those days is getting fewer.

In five months we’ll be moving our oldest into his college dorm. Jason and I attended a high school meeting two weeks ago for Hallie. I wasn’t prepared to see “Class of 2019″ on the projector screen. The kid was a preteen thirteen months ago. The baby is months away from double digits.

In ten years I won’t have lunches to pack anymore. I more than likely won’t have foreheads to kiss every morning.

I wonder if I’ll be wishing we could have “just one morning”. Maybe I’ll be asking for another Friday with the kids all home.

It was just a few years ago that I grumbled about diaper changing. Now I miss grabbing those bare feet, squeezing pink baby toes while they were close to me.

They’re a forgetful bunch, those kids. We’re a forgetful bunch, us moms. Neither us or the kids get it right all the time. But today lets know where our heart should be. Mine is in a place called home; a sometimes messy spot where things are often missing

……but never should be love and gratitude for a gift as precious as our family.

Today put your heart on pause; maybe it will tick a little more slowly.   Forgotten lunches and crummy quiz grades for me,  or maybe dirty diapers and toddler tantrums for you, mean that our children are still children. Instead of asking for one day where we get it right, surely we know that today is right. God has given us today with them. Today is good.

We’ve been notified.

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