the future is in my hand

You've heard the term "holding the future in your hands", right?  Well have you ever?  Like literally HELD the future in your hands?  I did.  Recently.  And it looks like this...

That little box.  What does it hold?  Well, specifically... my spit.  It holds mama's saliva.  And it got mailed off over 7 weeks ago to a genetic testing company.  I'm waiting patiently for results.  6-12 weeks, to be precise.

How do you wait patiently for genetic testing results?  By the grace of God.  And a lot of ignoring that it's possible you could carry the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene or any of the other 19 genes they are currently testing me for.

It all began earlier this year when my sister sent in her "sample" and was identified as carrying the BRCA1 gene.  Life can get really simple when faced with this kind of information.  Life matters.

You see there isn't a single life that exists that wasn't breathed into existence without God.  He is never surprised by unexpected pregnancies or deaths or cancer.  He is never surprised when we find out we carry a gene that all but guarantees what we've assumed our whole lives.  And so... I trust Him.  I trust that He knows what I don't.  That He sees what I can't.  And that His plan for my life includes any obstacle that brings me closer to Him.

Soon I'll get the call.  The one where I'll sit down on speaker phone with my Mister and a genetic counselor.  And although I have no idea if my call will sound like my sister's call did (well, I do have a 50/50 chance of it being the same), I know, like she does, that all is well.  I don't have to be in control.  Jesus is at the wheel.

This is in no way an advertisement for or endorsement of the genetic testing company we chose, but if you're curious, I'm happy to share that we used color.  Genetic testing has become significantly more affordable and available.  My test cost $249 but this month (October 2015) they are offering their testing for $199.   Just so you know.

mama's new office

I mean y'all.  You wouldn't believe the lengths I would go to for a good craft.

Over the weekend Mr. Mister told me that he wants to kick me out of the office in our house.  He "needs more room to spread out" he says.  And let's be honest, he really didn't want me there to begin with, but mama's gotta have her cute desk somewhere, so.... the office seemed like a logical place in our new house.

Although I am a purger by nature, I have accumulated a RIDICULOUS amount of craft supplies over my time as a maker.  And that "stuff" has to go somewhere, so when we moved in here, it got dispersed to nooks and crannies where it fit.  Which means I've got crap in the office, guest room, and master bedroom.  No bueno.

So on Sunday, the Mister gave me marching orders to head to Ikea (alone!  gasp!) and get a desk/table/whatevertheheckIwant to set up my "office space" in the guest room.  Have fun he said.

Has this EVER happened to you?  It's a rarity around here.  So I did the logical thing: I ran around like a crazy woman, threw on a hat, grabbed my toothbrush and jammies, and RAN out the door (before he could change his mind, of course, and because who knows when Ikea closes.  I was coming from Oklahoma, you know.)

Now I'll spare you the details of my hours-long trip to mecca and tell you that I was working on the fly.  I was using many numbers in my head for measurements.  And I was trying my darndest to keep it all straight.  And yet....  when you fail to plan, you plan to fail.

I came home with this awesome, long tabletop, and two trellis legs.  Hmmmmm.  Anything sound off here to you?  It didn't to my mind that was swimming with all the possibilities.  Apparently when you buy a "build your own desk" deal at Ikea, you need to LOOK AT THE TABLETOP before leaving to see HOW MANY LEGS IT NEEDS.  Turns out, this looooooong top needed an extra support in the middle.  Snap.

And yet, this Macguyver managed to assemble the table without needing that extra leg.  But not before she ordered one online and tried to cancel it minutes later, only to be told by Ikea that they couldn't cancel it twelve hours later.  Whose fault is that??  Check your email sooner, Ikea.

Anyway, I digress.  So now there's a bonafide office space being erected in my guest room and last night I had a cussy moment.  You know, I have a problem with that.  So, I had been inspired by youknowwho to make a pegboard to go above my new office space.  And of course, I jumped in my car and ran over to Lowes (which is because they are the closest store to my house).  I went inside and had a precious time dreaming about cross stitching my new peg board.  Let me share some inspiration here with you.  These are all from Pinterest.  Who I hate, by the way, but she's a necessary evil in the inspiration business.

WHA??  Paint a cross stitch?  I was just planning to hang some crap on my wall.  Now you're speaking my language!

Is this for real??  A cross stitched RUG on a PEGBOARD??  GET IN MY HOUSE!

And this, folks, was the original inspiration.  But when I went searching I found so much more than I imagined possible.  I'm leaning now between simple and roses.

So anywho... Last night I check out at Lowes with my new 4x4 pegboard and went out to my car.  That mother scratcher wouldn't fit into my stupid little car.  (This is one of those time that I actually miss my minivan.)  I sat there, on the edge of my back bumper for a solid 15 minutes, watching the sun set in the freaking Lowes parking lot, silently cussing.  I called Mister for some practical help (like should I go inside and buy a saw and cut up that board right here in the %@^*& parking lot?) because of course, once I was inspired, Lowes was unprepared for me.  Their saw was out of order.  No cutting on their end.

Alas, I had to return that stupid board and go home empty handed.  Well, technically not.  I kept all the gadgets I bought to put on the pegboard that I WILL OWN VERY SOON, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD.

Stay tuned.  Office reno is coming soon...... 

this is my story.

Man I love fall.  I love when the wind turns to a chill, the leaves fall, the pumpkin candles burn, and the football is on tv ALL DAY LONG.  I know that's surprising, me, loving football of all kinds.  But I think it's just the sound of fall as background noise.  It's comforting.

As fall settles in, we all start coming indoors.  We look around, fluff our nests, and ready for the winter ahead.  Oklahoma falls don't last that long.  We sort of go from hot to cold.  But that's fine by me.  I love this "little" town in our little state.  I love the community I feel here, the friendly people, and the shared value systems around me.

Speaking of value systems, lately I've been a leetle convicted.  I've started back in BSF and this week one of the questions basically asked about a sin you struggle with.  I wasn't in my normal group where I should feel safe sharing the answer.  Nooooo, my leader is out of town so I was in with another group, where luckily two of my friends normally meet.  So I felt "safe enough".  And as is customary while you're in my company, I just laid it out there to these precious and God-fearing women.

"Welllll, I love Jesus, but I cuss a little.  Because if you're honest, you know that sometimes a well placed cuss word is FUNNY."  Yep.   There it is.  I actually said that outloud to strangers in my bible study.  But seriously: Jacka$$.  That's a GOOD word.  And it has all kinds of uses.  So I use it.

The problem with all my cussing is that I worry that people see the words and miss the message.  I cuss a little (and don't worry: only in appropriate places and around adults) but I LOVE JESUS.

Y'all.  You don't even know the road I've walked in my lifetime.  You don't even know the crap that lies beneath.  But you'll know my heart if you spend any time around me.  You'll know that for being a conservative Christian, I am surprisingly non-judgmental.  (Well, it's no surprise to me, but liberals might find this hard to understand.)

I know pain.  I know loss.  I know struggle.  And I know the feeling that God is far far away and not really interested in my heartache.

But I also now know that God loves me and every intimate detail of my life.  He loves me in spite of my awful mistakes.  He has pulled me out of the pits of despair and redeemed me.  He has made my story beautiful when I gave Him a mess to contend with.  I have seen redemption and forgiveness first hand.

Do you have a story like this?  Well let me tell you now, that SHAME is removed from your life when you are able to have victory over it.  Telling your story is the only way to really remove the shame from your mistakes.   You don't have to hide in fear anymore when you say hey, here's who I am.  I'm not perfect, just forgiven.  And God has the final say on the chapters ahead for me.  That pain has no dominion over my life.

Listen to this little diddy.

I love this song.  Because lately I've been convicted to share my story.  It's not a story that I will write here, so don't get your hopes up too high.  ;)  But know that if I get that feeling while I'm with you, and God tells me to share, I will do it.  And you should consider doing the same thing.

Do you know why it's important to your own story to share it with others?  It's this little word called HOPE.  Because your story may be the one that gives someone hope to someone who is desperately seeking it.  It tells them that they, too, are worth the cost of the cross.  Their life matters.  And didn't you need to hear that at some point in your story?

So don't hold it in.  Share your story of defeat in victory, explaining how God used your brokenness to make you completely whole.  Don't be afraid, friend.  You were meant for this.