The Other Bennet Sister - by Janice Hadlow

 Well, Dear Reader/s

I'm very excited to do my very first book review of 2026. 

Recently, I've had a magnetic push in nostalgia. But, the good kind? Like, a deep need to reconnect with the parts of me that always felt stifled, buried, ridiculed,and rejected. I'm not saying that for pity. We ALL have been in this space where what we like is immediately mocked, or shot down in the name of someone else's taste. You know what I mean , let's say a table of friends are discussing something as simple as ice cream flavors. And your closest best friend hears that you prefer strawberry over vanilla. Immediately , she starts to laugh, and say how idiotic strawberry ice cream is, how much she hates strawberry ice cream..... and it goes on. 

Now, some people would be able to shrug their shoulders, and move on with their life. It's not that big of a deal. It's just ice cream right? 

Then others, will take that reaction and hold it deep in their brain. They will have thoughts like "why is it such a big deal that I like strawberry?" , "am I idiotic?" .... Down the rabbit hole that person will go, until they genuinely feel deep shame for the simple fact that they like strawberry ice cream. 

I'll leave it a mystery as to which behavior pattern I am healing from. Ha! 

In some ways my little scenario is the perfect introduction to this book. 

I love a good book. It doesn't matter to me if it is audio, old fashioned paperback, hardback, special edition, or on a Kindle or my phone. Books are soothing, thrilling, and the right kind of book will deeply impact you. 

This was such a book. If you love Jane Austen, you will love this book. 

This book was about the journey of Mary Bennet, and the impact of the words spoken into her life. It sobered me, because in many ways this book chronicled what happens to a person when the words spoken over them are life or death. 

I'm not giving a spoiler alert when I say (to fans of Pride and Prejudice) that Mrs. Bennet is a silly and vain woman. The same would be equally said of Lydia, the youngest sister. 

So what happens when a silly and vain mother raises a quiet, studious, glasses wearing girl that is not as shockingly beautiful as her other sisters? Well, you will have to read that for yourself. 

I listened to this book for free on the Libby app. As soon as the book started, I took a screen shot because I knew I was going to love it.

I recommend listening to this book with a cup of herbal peach tea, and a slice of /////gluten Free Orange Carrot cake. 

In my diffuser , I put Young Living's Hope blend, chamomile,and bergamot.

The recipe for the cake is as follows;

GF Orange Carrot cake

1 3/4 cups of Bob's Red Mill gluten free flour blend

1 mashed banana

3 finely grated carrots

1 1/2 teaspoon of baking orange oil (I get mine at World Market)

Vanilla (measure with your heart)

Cinnamon (measure with your heart)

3/4 cup of organic coconut sugar

1 teaspoon of baking powder

1/2 teaspoon of baking soda

3/4 stick of melted butter

1/2 cup Greek yogurt

2 organic eggs

Combine your wet ingredients first in a glass mixing bowl, and then add all of your dry ingredients .

Heavily butter a glass baking dish. Bake at 350 for 30-35 minutes depending on your oven. Cake is done when a fork inserted comes out clean. I like to drizzle a little butter on top when it's fresh from the oven. 

This snack feels warm, slightly sweet and spicy, pairs well with a cup of herbal peach tea, and a good literary  visit to Longbourne. Your house will smell like the orange groves, and the carrots in this cake only add to the natural sweetness.

For those of us desiring cleaner, whole foods, that do not cause our autoimmune issues to flare, this cake is exactly what you need mid January to lift your spirits and satisfy your sweet tooth without harming your body. 

Be Blessed, Laurie

Sabbath Happenings

 

 Every Friday night we do our best to slow it down. 

Between ranching, ministry,foster care,homeschooling,and fighting 3 autoimmune diseases there is a tendency to hold a lot of tension, and hurry. The past week was particularly busy and I found myself actually forgetting at least 5 different things that were important.

So when Friday approached, I was ready. 

Our respite care baby had been safely returned to the foster parents,fresh from a getaway for the two of them. It was a blessing to be able to facilitate a safe place for their foster while they were away reconnecting. 

After looking at the clock it felt like a countdown to blast off before Shabbat dinner.

I quickly went to my hair stylist for a fresh cut. Fighting against neurogenic burning on my scalp means that there is a lot of relief from pain when my very thick hair is cut short. I love my stylist who is a new believer in Christ. We have a good time together chatting, and she always tells me she is praying for me. We decided to do a hidden undercut short bob so that the pain on my neck would be relieved. It felt glorious! The pain on my scalp is much more manageable now. 

I did the grocery shopping, and got everything I would need to make our family Sabbath dinner.  My favorite thing is to put a fresh vase of flowers on the Sabbath.

Our menu was BBQ chicken/ steaks cooked in the cast iron, southwestern cornbread,baked potatoes, and a special AIP (autoimmune protocol) coleslaw. 

A very western style Sabbath dinner indeed, but it works for us! My father loved the cornbread so much, and typically he does not like the classics to be "messed with". But, I got loads of compliments from his side of the table. 

For the cornbread it is very simple. If I am eating it, then I will use Bob's Red Mill gluten free mix, but if others are eating I will use Jiffy. Make your batter according to directions. Now add one small can of green chili, and two handfuls of shredded cheddar cheese. Bake according to directions and you have Southwestern Cornbread! 

The coleslaw was an invention of my own after scouring the internet for AIP friendly recipes. I used ;

1/2 a shredded and finely chopped green cabbage

1/2 an english cucumber, peeled and finely chopped

1 handful of cilantro chopped

2 cups of shredded carrots finely chopped

3-4 tablespoons of organic olive oil

2 cloves of finely diced raw garlic

1 tablespoon of ground ginger

Take the last three ingredients and put them in a mason jar with a pinch of mineral salt and pepper. Shake it. 

Toss all the veggies and dressing together, and enjoy!

We had a lovely family dinner. This is my favorite thing about living close to family and that is our peaceful Sabbath dinners. 

The next day, I went to a special women's ministry event at our church where we watched The Chronicles of Narnia . It's a personal favorite of mine. My mother and I enjoyed it so much. Then it was back home for rest and relaxation. 

We went to church the next day and served in our ministries, that morning I prepped the crockpot with a whole organic chicken, well seasoned with garlic and mesquite smoked salt. We often have people over after church for discipleship purposes. We typically spend Sunday afternoon ministering or/ and getting ready for the week ahead. I did a little bit of rearranging some things in our bedroom, and having fun with some new essential oil blends. 

I love cowgirl/Bohemian styles and decided to turn my mannequin into a display for my favorite accessories.

The oils I used for this blend were Blue Spruce,Lime,and Peppermint. It was so refreshing! I have used essential oils for at least 10 years, and am a big fan of their properties.

All in all , it was a restful weekend. I did manage to finish two audio books this previous week, so look out for a book review coming soon. 

Be blessed in your days ahead, and may the Lord keep you by His side, Laurie

Divinely Appointed Rest

 For most of the world it is the New Year now. For all practical purposes there is value in at least knowing what day it is . But, I confess I find myself torn between two worlds.

I live here in this world of politics, history, and decisions being made that I have zero control over. And, I live in a spiritual world with a deep burning loyalty to my Creator and His Word. 

And so for the physical, and practical side of life... it is 2026. I have a new Bible reading plan. I have classes to be a part of, and all around me there are goals being set. 

There is nothing wrong with that in my estimation. Indeed, I have already declared to myself a desire to read more books, consume less social media, and heal my body. These goals are not unlike the rest of the world. Especially , those here in America.

Spiritually, I'm making a determined effort to sit down and stay put in my Father's hand. 

Hashem knows the way that I take... and in this I find a great ease of my spirit. There is no rush. He leads me beside still waters. At the present, I am admittedly not at full capacity physically. Instead of agonizing over my lack of bursting energy and health, I'm choosing to wait patiently during this process of healing.

If I'm not careful, I can confuse this "sit down" of the heart to be viewed as inaction, or a laziness of some kind.

But no, there is beauty at rest. While the world around me is frozen and sleeping, I will let my soul sleep with it. My heart will safely trust that Adonai is doing the work that He needs to do. And I will let Him do it. 

This decision to so emotionally trust that God is at work , and I am allowed to be secure in His hand doesn't come easily. 

For surely the pressure to be, and to achieve, to gain, and to accumulate has often so overwhelmed me that I feel ineffective and pathetic as a human if I am not perceived as charging the gates of hell tirelessly.

I cannot be the only woman to feel this way. Let alone the only woman of Judeo/Christian faith that has struggled with a Martha like spirit. 

I have recently been casually studying the concept of Edenic Womanhood. To my deduction, it is an embracing of the life cycle, spirit, and intention of the way God intended for women to thrive. 

I believe He gave us seasons, tied to the seasons He gave the earth, and in that vein of truth, I allow my spirit to be in winter. Buried under snow, hibernating , chilled, and retreated to emerge in the spring. The accounts of Creation in Genesis are for not only scientific knowledge, historical, theological, and to improve us; but I believe inside of the creation of Adam and Eve are beautiful secrets hidden in plain sight that give us keys to how He intended our bodies to function and our spirits to thrive. 

Winter is for hibernation. A good winter that has ample snow, and rain, and cold temperatures, makes the way for an abundant spring and a profitable summer leading itself to a bursting harvest. Hashem intentionally created our bodies to need these seasons for our own spiritual,physical, and emotional well being.

This intentional rest is not devoid of purpose. It is the purpose. It is not an emotional "checking out" it is an emotional "checking in"... When my soul feels buried, frozen, and lifeless.. I can rest in the truth that according to the divine intentions of Adonai, I am right where I should be. 

Do you feel paralyzed? Can you just not bring yourself to muster up an idea ? Are you tired? Does socializing feel draining? 

Let me remind you dear sister, we are in winter. The Lord will do His work in us this season and it will be a good work. Even if it doesn't feel good. He is good, every time.

A Bravery Worth Remembering , a Legacy worth Keeping

 It's a special time of year for me. 

I love celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas. My approach to the season might be a little different than most. But hey, I love to see how people celebrate things and why they do it. So in the interest of sharing culture and belief, let me proceed. 

Oh, Hanukkah. The Feast of Dedication that Jesus ,himself celebrated in John chapter 10. A special day that not only celebrates the Maccabees victory over oppression, but truly a celebration of a special miracle that God gave them. 

The bravery of the faithful Jews against Antiochus Epiphenese was astounding.

It's not the sort of story that produces warm, fuzzy feelings of peace and harmony. Rather, it's an account of men that were loyal to God in spite of horrifying circumstances. It has always inspired me. 

Could I stay faithful to God if the government murdered my children simply because they're Jewish?

Could I reject the pressure to worship idols, or give into other pagan cultural practices?

Would I obey God, even if I was tortured, driven from my home and had to live in a cave to survive?

This is why, the way the Maccabees lived their life, is so inspiring. They lived in a time when God said one thing, and the world demanded the opposite of them. Instead of recanting, and giving into the pressure to conform, they fought for the right to exist. Against incredible odds, God gave them victory. And what was Judah Maccabee's first act? To rededicate the temple to Yahweh. But, they didn't have the resources to do it properly. God showed up and gave them a miracle. 

That level of loyalty, dedication, and bravery is something to be honored. Every time I watch my husband light the menorah, I'm reminded that like the Maccabees, my children face (albeit not as immediate) threat. The Enemy hates that my children are growing up in a home loyal to Yahweh. He will set every trap to get them to turn away from the truth. He will do everything he can to discourage them from obeying the Lord. And as I reflect in the candlelight , I whisper a prayer. As this world grows darker, may my children shine brighter. May they have the courage of men like Mattathias, and Judah , that will not only stand firm in the Lord, but be willing to fight for the right to obey God. 

This kind of zeal can only come from great love. That is my greatest prayer for my children. Would, that they love the Lord with such a passionate and burning fire that not even oppression could douse the flames.

In this, I recognize a heavy responsibility. I must desire the Lord, and love His ways with that same passion. Where else would my children see it lived out, if not in their mother? 

Even in the midst of candle light, and prayers. My heart breaks for Jews in other parts of the world. This year alone, Jews have faced horrific persecution during Hanukkah. But the legacy of bravery will live on. We will never stop being who we are.

 

We have a legacy worth keeping, and passing on for the next generation. 

Not just to light candles, and remember brave people from long ago.... No. But, at the heart of the legacy we pass on is to simply be brave. To dedicate ourselves, a living sacrifice. To pursue holiness because we love the Lord, deeply. That is what we pass on, if we have the courage to do it. 

Where am I?

 Lately, I've had more than my fill of time spent scrolling on social media.

Being bound 80% of the time to rest in an easy chair can become a trap where endless hours are spent doom scrolling. I've made up my mind to redirect my energy into writing, investigating my family tree, and enriching  my brain. 

As a talkative person, and someone who genuinely enjoys healthy and respectful debate, I often miss the signal that I've had "too much".

I then realize, that I've listened to far too many voices and have allowed a lot of noise and clutter into my mind. 

I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to suspect that because of this crowded brain space, I often mistrust my own intuition and instincts. 

I'm not sure if the solution to this is to fully abandon presence on the internet, but rather perhaps to regulate it to its proper boundaries.

I love boundaries. I like to know exactly where I am , physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

Lately, especially with the debates of Israel and the Church a very hot button issue, the internet space feels chaotic, and full of hostile emotions.

I can understand this. It is natural to want to defend one's position with passion, and I cannot fault anyone for their passion. 

For the sake of people on the fence of this issue, let me share my position. Maybe in sharing my position, you can see passion without panic. Maybe in seeing a person that is passionate about their faith, without panicking about the outcome, you can experience God's peace.

I am a Christian. Meaning, when I was six years old, I knew there was no way I could earn a spot in heaven. When I realized that Jesus died for me, so that I could be forgiven , I accepted that forgiveness. The price Jesus paid on the cross, was applied to my soul, and I became a child of God.

There was no church membership. There was no ritualistic prayer. Yes, I prayed to God, in my own words, from my heart. I'm not a Christian because I'm an American. I'm not a Christian because it's my religion. 

I made a decision to trust God that He was enough when I could never be. That's it. 

So very simple.

I am a woman with Jewish heritage. Meaning, I have grandmothers in my direct parental family line with Jewish DNA. It's not from Judaism. It has nothing to do with religion. I didn't grow up celebrating that heritage, in fact the Ethnically Jewish people in my family tree give no indication of being religious, or celebrating a Jewish culture at all. I don't know what their reasons were for this. I'm not even positive they knew of their own origins. Both of their deaths in the 1980s and 1990s make it almost impossible for me to know how these women felt about anything regarding the Bible, or Israel. 

But, God in His mercy sent me two women, who were spiritual grandmothers to me. They taught me the treasures of being both ethnically Jewish, and belonging to Christ. It is because of the way they stepped in and were like surrogates to me , that I have such boldness in celebrating my faith and heritage.

Personally, I cannot separate my faith and my heritage. My faith is in Christ alone, but how He chose to create me was with Jewish ingredients! So my faith walk here on earth has a Jewish flavor to it. I have confidence that it pleases my Creator and my Redeemer. 

It doesn't matter to me how many people try to convince me that Ashkenazi Jews don't exist. This belief system is used to discount, and dismiss a whole ethnicity that does, in fact exist and cannot be erased. If they exist then they belong in that group of humans that John 3:16 is referring to. 

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son..... He loved (and still loves)  all of humanity regardless of ethnic origin.

To say that we don't exist is to discount us from the saving grace of God. Honestly, it doesn't add up to the character of the One who created us. Therefore, I can easily dismiss it. I find the audacity of any entity, be they church or self proclaimed believer, to exclude a whole group of humanity from the grace of God to be anti-biblical, and quite shocking. Is it possible that the American church has taken its focus off of the Gospel itself and is starting to invent reasons as to why some people cannot ever be "saved"?

I don't get confused on how to navigate Israel or Church traditions, because I'm a whole Bible believer. Meaning, I do not separate God into different categories based on the Testaments. I do not believe in an angry, fickle and harsh Old Testament God. Additionally, I do not believe in a soft spoken, easy-does-it law breaking Jesus, that shields me from his angry father in Heaven. 

Actually, I believe quite strongly that this narrative that I've mentioned , is the most dangerous narrative that much of the American church has accepted as truth , and quite frankly it is a rotten lie from Satan. 

I believe;

The God of Genesis, and Leviticus is the same God that wrapped himself in human flesh and died on the cross for the sins of humanity, and rose again the third day.

Let me say it in a much more pointed and explicit way. There is zero personality or character difference between the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament. 

This is why I can so easily rest in God's promises to national Israel. This is why I do not say that "Israel" is the church. This is why I can be an expressive Jewish believer. I refuse to isolate Scripture. All Scripture I study is studied with the testaments side by side. I think of it like salt and pepper. I don't eat bland food, so why would I have a bland faith walk? 

I'll tell you another secret. I pay very little allegiance to "church tradition". I don't hate the church, I love the church. But, my faith is in the Messiah. His Word is the authority in my life. I might study early church practices, and for historical purposes learn about church fathers. However, they have no authority in my life. Even the most devout, and persecuted church father can have an incredible testimony of faith ! He would still be a fallible human that at best is an inspiring example. 

So you see, these are the principles that cement me in my daily walk with God.

It gives me great peace. I might not fit in , in a lot of crowds. I might be too Jewish in flavor for the church, and I might not be Jewish enough for Judaism.

But? I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Standing on the Rock of my salvation, arms wide open, and excited to tell the story of His faithfulness to me.

Messy Faith

 What does it mean, to be a woman of messy faith?

At first I used the term to rip off a self righteous mask I wore. I wanted the world to know that I wasn't as perfect as I thought I was. 

As I grew in my faith and my knowledge of my Jewish heritage, it became a coded way of expressing my faith walk as a "Messianic Jew". But, even then it was my term all my own, I didn't belong anymore to a specific denomination of Christianity, but neither did I fully belong in the "Messianic camp". 

There is nothing orthodox, or kosher about my lifestyle. Except, I genuinely love the expressions of my Jewish heritage. 

I still go to a Sunday church. But? I cherish  and practice the biblical Sabbath.

In fact, I love and celebrate the entire biblical calendars from Feast of Trumpets to Passover, it's a blast.

I appreciate much of the works of Martin Luther, but I cringe at his antisemitism.

I love the whole Bible from beginning to end. 

I squirm in my seat when someone preaches church traditions,with the same importance as Scripture. I actively have to work hard to not be harsh when it comes to much of church history and opinion. I chose mercy because God is merciful. I will not die noble deaths on the hills of sabbath keeping, and biblical calendars trying to convince the church world that the way I walk with God is the best way.

But. I will share , and I will testify of the closeness of God. The perspective that I see Him from, and the way I walk with Him. I've reached the place in my life where I don't need anyone to follow me, but I would love to tell you about the way I follow Him. 

I would love to share with you the treasures I've found in His Word. 

I would love to be a conduit of His mercy. 

I long to be a reflection of His character.

If you haven't guessed already, I'm in a different season of life. Almost two years since my last blog post, and there have been many changes, and much has stayed the same. I'm still in my beloved Montana. I still have my beautiful family, now occasionally grown by foster children. I have a greater responsibility in the areas of ministry and teaching, and I love it dearly. I'm writing a book. I'm still contending for my health. I still struggle with "messy" moments of balancing faith , life , health , and passions. Through it all, God is sovereign, and He's my friend. 

I think this is the biggest truth I hold amidst all of the "noise" in this world. God is my friend. 

Planting Seeds of Faith

I pulled my chartreuse wool sweater over my head, and started the car. It takes practically five minutes for my smallest to put his shoes on properly and just about the same amount of time for my windshield to defrost. We make it out the door just in the nick of time. I didn’t scream or yell at my kids , there was no panic attack on my part or my kids. We high five each other and blast my latest favorite praise song “In the Room” . The youngest walks into his class at school, the oldest and I head to Bible study where I’ll have some good adult discussion, and he will listen to an audio book while doing his 5th grade handwriting .

These days my mind is full and bursting. Hope is alive and well.

I can remember a time when it wasn’t. I remember days of darkness, night terrors, depression, grieving, wrestling with what felt like insanity, drastic weight gain and no matter what happened the scale would not go down.

But on the other side of it, I get why Proverbs says “ she laughs without fear of the future.” I used to be so perplexed by that part of Proverbs 31.

But, now? There’s a soft humor in looking back. A gentle giggle at the little “ Much Afraid “ that I was.

The one anchor that I can point to is my Savior.

Every other is just a small tool, but Jesus is the tool belt.

It wasn’t healthy supplements alone that got my body to start releasing her extra pounds she was hoarding. It wasn’t careful devotion and prayer checked off my to do list that cured my depression. It wasn’t “ doing all the right things”……. Although , doing “ the right things “ made an impact. No, the catalyst was a microscopic seed.

It started as a tiny little seed. A seed of faith that God IS who HE says He is.

Even when I couldn’t wrap my failing mental health around it , I had to decide that the God of the universe was right about every single thing. Right. Good. Loving. Friend of mine AND King of all eternity.

This seed of faith planted took me by surprise. As I reflect I realize that to be the “ good soil “ in the parable Jesus told, doesn’t mean that your life is perfect or without pain and suffering. No. To be good, receptive soil is to yield.

Yield to the way He picks the rocks out of my heart.

Yield to the churning as His Word plows through me and digs up ugly things hidden there.

Yield to the wedding. Letting God do whatever He has to , willingly makes us “ good soil “.

We are often so scared to hand over our entire being to the Lord. We laser focus on the precious things He might take away. Or we worry over the suffering we might experience.

But my friends, I promise you;

It is worth every valley of the shadow of death, to have Jesus by your side.

Who knows what kind of harvest I’ll see when the seeds planted during darkness have become mature? But, I can tell you this. There is value….. immense value in the planting, the growing and the harvest.

Wide Open Spaces

 Well, after a long absence on this space, there's a new beginning here.

Not on the horizon , but here , present in my life. God is the author of my life and He has turned the page. After 9 years as an army wife, we packed up our belongings and headed home. Home. A place to sink our roots down into. A place where we can actually dream and have vision for the future. A place to plant fruit trees. 

This post is several months in the making. As I lean into this new rhythm of life, I have waited for the words to come. I have always been a writer, and I knew that as soon as my brain would let me.. I would be able to capture the right words for this new chapter.

In the back ground of my mind, I hear the words to that country song "I Ain't Dead Yet", sung by Ashton Shepherd. 

My life's a lot different now. I've traded the neighborhoods, of military bases for five acres in a valley in Montana. Just down the road live my folks. My husband swapped a military uniform for a cowboy hat, facial hair, and I can't remember when his last haircut was. We do a lot of working together with my folks. Pop is the foreman of an incredible ranch that is just getting started. We are building a one of a kind family operated ranch where people can go and become educated in the subject of wild horses. My husband and I both are going through the certification process to be wild horse trainers. He's the top hand , and quickly becoming Pop's right hand man. My mother and I teach preschool,and homeschool my boys, and do the cooking. This kind of life requires everyone of us to pull together, and have each other's backs. 

I'm grateful for our time as a military family. Most of them were good years. We formed intense friendships with incredible people and I will cherish those forever.

But this life? This present? I wish I could convey the depth of peace, the height of inspiration, the satisfaction of accomplishment in a job well done .

It's not that ranch life is any better than military life, or that life is magically easier now as the wife of a veteran vs active duty. 

No my friend, all life is hard. We have to choose our hard.  If we are to survive life, and do so in a way that thrives, then we have to at some point adopt an attitude of appreciation for the present.

Many times I look back and realize, I wasted years of my life obsessing over the "next thing". This new season is full of beginning. Each day another board is hammered into place, a new building is worked on, and inch by inch progress is made. If we obsess over the end result then we will never appreciate the journey. And we truly have to trust God that His timing is perfect. 

He brought me to this place for this season, and with open heart and hands, I gratefully enjoy it. 

Lately

Lately,

I’ve been laid up with an intense allergic reaction to the arrival of Spring in the south. Only for it to turn ugly and become a full on infection of the airways. I’m so thankful for amoxicillin , rest, and a quiet place to do so. When I say I’m really not a southern girl. I mean it. As we speak my ears are roaring with pain, because I dared to walk outside to my car. Thank you, Pollen.

I ran away with my family for Spring Break to the rolling hills and ridges of Serenity Ridge Farm . It’s not a joke that  the farm was named Serenity Ridge. That place is like a warm hug for your soul, and the love that you experience there is like a floodgate opened up. It’s the perfect place to hideaway from the world, and just think. Of course the only real picture I got from the trip was of the newest addition to the farm. The dog, Watson. Who is a perfect gentleman of a dog , very well mannered and quite loving. He’s also a collie, and it’s safe to say I’m in love with him. Granted not half so in love as his girl, ( my niece) or even the whole family at Serenity Ridge. Give them a follow on Instagram and enjoy watching the goings on at the farm.

If you feel like your world has gone crazy and upside down lately, you aren't alone.

Between the traumatic events and Nashville, Ft.Campbell, and significant change in my own personal life, circumstances can and do feel overwhelming.

I have no solutions, except that I know God is Sovereign. 

Looking ahead;

I finished up a few sewing projects , and as soon as my body is back to 100 percent , there will be a review on the patterns I used.

I’ll also be posting some recipes that we have tried, and some thoughts on our expectations of God are coming soon. 

For now , I’m gonna reach for my box of tissues, pop a cough drop in my mouth , and fight the urge to sleep while I homeschool my children. It’s very true that your body doesn’t work well when your gut health is off, and after several days on amoxicillin, my gut is proverbially screaming “What have you DONE to me!!!??”.

But, before I go ,I wanted to leave you with a smidgen of encouragement. 

A fortune cookie’s worth of truth , if you will. 

God is not a man that He should lie. What He has called you to, He will prepare you for. He is good all. The. Time. 

Steady my friends, life’s gonna get a little western, but God’s got this.

She taught me to worship. ♥️

Once upon a time I looked over at the woman raising her hands in congregational worship and I envied her.

Oh how the lyrics touched my soul, and the tears would stream down my face. But , I wouldn’t dare raise my hands.

I had heard too many preachers, and church people criticizing those “attention hogs”, rebuking them for disrupting the service. 

I couldn’t even fathom the freedom it must have felt to not only raise my soul, heart, but also my hand to God while the family of God praised Him. 

I longed for it. I grieved for it. When I saw women like the lady beside me in church, I never thought they looked prideful or boastful .

They seemed to be pouring themselves out to God, alone in a space where it was only them and the Father. I longed to go to that place. 

But, I was so bound in chains to the image of a perfect and reverently serious church lady that my hands stayed by my side. My fists were often clenched tight in pain, to remind myself “ don’t you dare raise your hand , it’s bad enough that you allow your face to be expressive during song.”

Every service in my early 20’s  was a tight rope of agony and joy. 

Joy , because I genuinely loved going to church, singing, and listening to the sermons. I lived for it. And agony because I was a perfectionist and a people pleaser of the worst degree. I had no clue how to discern between the Bible and man’s preferences. If I’m honest , once I did know the difference, I chose man’s preference over God’s Word. Simply because, man praised me for it. I lived for every compliment. I served for it, and would willingly torture my mind and personality so that my church surroundings would look at me and say “ Such a good girl!” .

How twisted my heart was! Eventually, I became extremely double minded. This is no way to live a life of faith. And it brought me to a broken place that morning envying the woman singing with a smile, abandoned to worship and hands raised. 

Eventually, I sat next to her in choir. 

Dear Lesa. She and I became fast friends. She saw the broken behavior of codependency, and lead me out of my twisted thinking by her example.

Over our time singing  together my fists were no longer clenched , and eventually I worshipped with my hands at my side , but the palms gently turned up. The FREEDOM I felt!!! 

It was as if floodgates had opened. I no longer cared so much of what others were thinking. I focused on my Savior and sang my heart out.

Then one day we took a trip . Our church had a ladies retreat. During this time God used Lesa as she taught us a valuable lesson about our self righteousness and God’s grace. I still have the craft we made together that day.

Before we left the retreat, we made our way to the beach to enjoy it one last time. There, as the Pacific Northwest clouds gathered, and the waters crashed, Lesa and I sang “ Behold Our God” , and for the first time in genuine worship, without worry…. I lifted my free arm, and held it out to Jesus. 

Someone snapped a picture. One that I will always treasure. 

This morning, I stood beside my husband, and I raised my hands unapologetically as we sang .

Behold our God, seated on His throne

Come let us adore Him

Behold our King, nothing can compare

Come let us adore Him

The tears streamed down my face. I thought of Lesa. How she no longer sings in the choir at church with her expressive face and hands lifted. But rather, in the court of her Maker, face to face with her Redeemer, beholding her Yahweh, seated on His throne, adoring Him. 

I will miss my friend Lesa, but I will see her again. And we will behold our God together. 

Leave it all behind; Mando

 The apostle Paul said this  "I press on toward the goal for the reward of the upward calling of God in Messiah Yeshua. Therefore let all who are mature have this attitude; and if you have a different attitude in anything, this also God will reveal it to you." Phil.3:14-15

I'm sure there is a whole lot of context to this verse that a theologian would dig out better than I can. I am no theologian, or pastor, or any teacher. 

But I am a sharer. Sometimes an over sharer,but that's a discussion for another day.

I've recently started running. I started it as a way to gain victory over some mental hurdles that I needed to bust through. I found myself in a space that was constantly dealing with a barrage of terrorizing mental voices. Mostly from my past growing up, and some from the past 10 plus years as an adult navigating her many flaws. Something that is incredibly interesting to me, is the fact that I have avoided running my entire life. 

After a few remarks about my lack of sporting ability in the second grade from the coolest kid in class, I can remember deciding that I was cool enough, and didn't need to run. At all. 

I grew up with horses and figured that riding was something no one I knew could make fun of me for. In honesty I saw my classmates as a bunch of city kids, and just avoided their berating as much as possible. By not participating.

Growing up into my teen years I faced a heavy amount of anxiety, and I would walk it out. Or ride it out. And, that's what I did over and over. Into adulthood , I would often workout on an elliptical, and fancied myself as "running". I tried to run with a marathon runner, until I hurt my ankle and never asked her to coach me again. 

Then came a moment in my life, that I realized I had given up on too many things in my life. One of my failures was that I had let go of healthy discipline, and realized that I was killing myself mentally and physically. I couldn't shake the defeat in my head. I needed a win. I had been through the most fiery year of my life. And I thank God for the victory He gave during that year. But, now I am in a new year, and the above verse would beckon me and call me. 

Over and over the Holy Spirit would show me certain things He wanted me to pursue. For the sake of not blabbing my entire life on the internet, we will stick to the subject of running.

Running. God wanted me to start running?

No ellipticals. 

Honest to goodness feet pounding the ground and elbows back, head forward.

I tried every way I could to get around it.But, in the end I submitted to the Holy Spirit . I found a close friend that would be willing to train me, and I knew she would hold me accountable.

What followed was beginning training of form and small victories. I could tell that I had always associated running with bad memories, ridicule , or even trauma. Every time I started feeling that sharp  need to get air, those condemning voices would beat me up mentally. I am so thankful for my friend that looks beyond the physical and starts to preach to me . When I would reach that point of legs burning and gasping for air, my memories became evil demonic voices,and the fear would take over... but I wouldn't break my form. I would finish and cross that distance line that we had agreed to.

Until my first day of running on a trail. My friend picked me up and we set out on our warm up. Being out in nature makes me feel so alive, and I was thrilled to be away from all the cars and sounds of town. Our trail was a mixture of hills and turns, but I was so ready for  victory. Until I took a hill, and lost it. The form was gone, and I couldn't seem to pull myself together. I kept telling my friend "I can't do this, my body can't do this". She never once gave up on me, over and over she proclaimed truth with the voice of a lioness. To the outsider, it might have looked like  I was being pretty pathetic.  But, on the inside of my brain there was a war. And I had zero strength to fight it. The onslaught of evil thoughts seemed too much, and my friend fought in my stead. Identifying every weapon the Enemy was hurling my direction and telling me to fight it in Jesus Name. There was a point where I had almost given in to those thoughts of condemnation. 

Then these words echoed in my head. "This is why you're unlovable. All you ever do is give up and no one  truly loves you."

For some reason that  sentence searing across my brain,  caused me to open my palms, and breathlessly start to sing. 

I lift my eyes to heaven and remember I am loved

I lift these weary hands and let my Father pick me up

More than answers, more than healing, God your presence is enough

I lift my eyes to heaven and remember this is where my help comes from

My elbows pointed back. I started lifting my toes. My breathing became less shallow. My form was beginning to take shape as a runner and not someone who was giving up.

I could see the truck now and by God's strength I was going to make it to the truck without breaking my form. The whole way my friend encouraged me. She shouted the truth at me, because she could see how hard I was fighting. Once we reached the truck she wouldn't let me collapse. We walked it off. I felt like all my pain, and mental battles were being crunched into a cube, like in a trash compactor, and it was stuck in the pit of my stomach. I opened my arms wide. Not caring who saw me. With a fire in my lungs, I breathed out the lyrics.... I'm no longer a slave to fear!!!!

I noticed we were making our way to a grassy park beside some water, and I knew I needed to run to it. I told my friend.."I need to run to that spot." She said "lets do it". I ran, I ran so fast. I had to get to the pavilion and I knew I needed to worship there. I needed to be rid of the irrational fear of running. I needed victory over this stronghold in my mind.

After a sweet few moments of worship, we walked back to the truck. The sign next to the park where I gave it all to God, and commanded the fear to leave in Jesus Name said MANDO.

My friend was curious so she looked it up, and showed me the definition on her phone. 

COMMAND. 

We laughed. The laugh of victory. The kind of laugh that is unbothered and at perfect peace. 

And I walked away in victory. Victory may not always come in sweeping, grand gestures. It helps to have friends that see past the physical and will call your timid heart to courage. 

The truths I take from this experience are overwhelming and have lasting effects.

I'll always remember the day that irrational fear almost won, but because of the power of Jesus, I was able to command it to leave. 

And I left it behind me. 

Like Paul, I press on.

Leaving behind the fear and failure, that let's be honest had nothing to do with my ability to run. It had everything to do with my worthiness to be loved. 

But, I know Who loves me. I know Who gives the victory. I know Who called me, by name. 

It's through Him, because of Him, and by Him that I can leave it all behind. 

The Lord Bless you and keep you,

Laurie

Art work does not belong to me. I found this on Pinterest, and thought it so applicable.

Welcome

 This wouldn't be the first blog post that I've ever written.

Blogging has been a fantastic form of self expression for writers , for many,many years.

Surely , there were the years I spent pouring myself unwisely out for the internet to read my deepest thoughts. Ahhh, the teenage angst and dramatics that was displayed!  Then, were the years of my shabby blog, that mimicked an online scrapbook. Then came the transition to the  years when I was new to being a military wife. 

Finally , for many,many years I left blogging untouched. Content was I, to write in small paragraphs on instagram. All these years shaping my writing style , subjects, and ability; I knew I would one day return to writing extensively . That day is today.

So, let me introduce myself.

I'm Laurie. 

Nobody of great distinction. The most important thing you , dear reader need to know, is that throughout the years the only identity marker that REALLY belongs over me, is that I belong to Jesus.

As the title of this blog alludes to , I would call myself a person of messy faith.

Not a person of little faith, but still a human that is not perfect and refuses to pretend to be.

I'm a student of faith. In the sense that I have a burning curiosity in my heart to know God on a much deeper level than I did last year, last month, or even yesterday.  Yes, I ask big questions. Big questions of God,and faith practices. I'm like a thirsty woman in a desert,and the only answers that ever seem to actually satisfy that thirst are the answers I find in the Word of God.

In far less important matters; I'm a lover of a good cup of herbal tea. I love to sew, and cook. I actually enjoy things that are aesthetically pleasing. I'm a designer by nature , and enjoy a myriad of creative  outlets. 

And here, in this corner of the internet is where I express those things I hold dear. So if you feel anything when the page loads and as you browse the various articles I write here, I hope you feel as if you're having a cup of tea with a good friend. 

May the Lord bless you and keep you,

Laurie