It Ain't Easy Being Catholic...

I have two posts in my drafts folder that I was bound and determined to work on and publish this week.

Then a little thing called a CONCLAVE happened and this is what I spent most of yesterday and today doing:

No clue where my kids ran off to

These past few days have been exciting. I was glued to social media and the TV looking for those first signs of white smoke. A certain brother of mine may have used the word "obsessed" to desrcibe how I was acting, and I can't say I disagree with him.

Today was full of anticipation. I don't think I've ever stared at a chimney on a screen so long before. I can tell you I've never been so amused by a seagull sitting on one. Once that puff-puff-puff came out... it looked dark... but got lighter and lighter. I may or may not have reacted somewhat like this:

Then the waiting game began... who was this new pope? What name would he choose? The Catholic world was all a flutter with excitement. The bells ringing, the crowds cheering, the bands playing- talk about Holy Ghost goosebumps!

Soon our new Father came out to greet us. He looked so humble. So simple. He prayed. He asked for a blessing before he blessed us. He told his flock good night, good rest... just like a good father does.

I'm so very pleased with our new pope! Today has been so emotional, and I should be sleeping now (1:00 a.m. is the dead hour for me), but instead I have to get some thoughts out there into the wonderful world of the interwebz.

When I had my spiritual growth spurt I was so excited and on fire about the Catholic faith. I loved the history, the traditions, the stories of the saints. I coudn't get enough. I could sniff out a Catholic book store five miles away and I would spend so much time in there and dream about winning the lottery so I could BUY ALL THE BOOKS!

During these last few years, that fire has fizzled quite a bit. I still love being Catholic, but I wasn't all excited when Pope Benedict got on Twitter. I wasn't a Cardinal Dolan groupie. I never waivered on my beliefs, but I just wasn't passionate about them anymore.

But these last few weeks my love for all things Catholic has come back again with great joy. I'm practically giddy!

Why do I love being Catholic? Because the Church points me to Jesus and to heaven. I know a lot of people don't like organized religion or they believe that one should have a personal relationship with Jesus. But the great thing about the Catholic Church is we have TONS of tools to help us to get to know Jesus even BETTER. To help us when we need help the most. We have saints, sacraments, history, music, colors, paintings, statues, prayers, liturgy, Scripture, gestures, oh my goodness... just thousands of different things to help us get to Jesus! A lot of this stuff looks foreign to people outside the Catholic Church. I've had a few friends comment to me on facebook about things they didn't know before regarding the Catholic Church, asking me questions and expressing their fascination. I'm so humbled that they asked me and I am so grateful that they are asking questions instead of straight up dismissing the Church. I've seen comments during this week that expresses ignorance toward the Church and that makes me mad and sad.

That brings me to the hard part. The part of being Catholic that has been on my mind for years now. It's so incredibly hard to be a faithful Catholic. It's not easy to be any kind of faithful Christian in this world, really. Our world just isn't built to have Christianity be a part of the norm. But I feel it's especially hard as a faithful Catholic. You have non-Christian people who think we're homophobic, against women, and intolerant. You have other Christian denoms thinking we're the whore of Babylon, a cult, a part of the anti-Christ. We're even ridiculed by other Catholics who think we are lunatics for not using contraception and think we do what we do because of blind obedience. I'm not saying everyone out there is like this, but sometimes it sure is lonely being Catholic.

Years ago I was confused and even kind of weirded out by some of the traditions of the Catholic Church. But I questioned, I wondered, and I learned. Soon I accepted it all. I'm all in, even though there are many things I still struggle with. Many of the things we have in the Church are gifts from Christ himself- confession, the Eucharist, the papacy... the list goes on. Jesus loves us so much that he gave us guides- multiple guides and tools to help us stay on the right path. He knew we'd be confused and lost without these gifts.

Sometimes I feel like we're having to defend ourselves from all sides. It gets tiring. It gets incredibly frustrating. Sometimes I get embarrassed by the looks I get when I say I went to confession or when I say I use natural family planning. But Jesus said being his follower wouldn't be sunshine and sparkly unicorn farts. We have to die to ourselves. We have to sacrifice. The path to heaven isn't easy. What we believe and what we do usually goes against what everybody else is doing. And, well, that can just plain suck sometimes.

But the suckiness is worth it. Today, I joined in with about 1 billion other Catholics, not only by social media, but in prayer and we were united by the Holy Spirit to see our 266th pope say hello to the world. I saw tradition. I saw things of old (the chimney) and things of our modern age (tweets and Facebook posts about the day) come together. I saw a glimpse of Christ in this very secular and sad world. And I saw in myself a new wave of hope and excitement for my faith life.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the gift of the Catholic faith. THANK YOU!

(Still get chills every time I see this video!)

But it is all worth it...

Yesterday I wrote, somewhat in a panic, of my concerns and frustrations of my toddler son gone wild.

His sleeping/screaming in his crib has gotten better, which means I am getting more sleep, which means I am less "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

I wrote on a Facebook group that I am a part of about my woes of Joe turning into a toddler crack head. A friend of mine joked that I was knocking time off purgatory. Another girl joked that getting out of purgatory early would be worth it. That got me thinking: I don't ever ask myself "Is motherhood worth it?"

I don't ever think that because I always know that yes, motherhood is worth all the tears, frustrations and bodily fluids that somehow always end up on me. There is no doubt.

Joe destroys. He kicks and bites. He climbs on everything (see above.) He screams at decibels that I think only dogs can hear. And he looooooooooves to pull hair, as you can see in the photo below.

This photo cracks me up every. time. I love the look on Joe's face!

Sometimes it seems that the naughty moments Joe has outweighs the fun, happy and hilarious moments.

But I know that isn't true. Dealing with Joe's temper and stubbornness takes a lot more effort out of me than when he's his happy-go-lucky self.


Last night as I was nursing Joe, I was about to drift off to sleep when Joe stopped nursing. I looked down to see if he had fallen asleep, but in the dim light I could see he was looking up at me. He gently put his hand on my cheek and moved my face closer to his. He leaned in. He always leans towards me when he wants me to give him a kiss. I gently kissed his nose and he smiled and turned away to go back to sleep. That is what makes all the chaos worth it. Love.

Loving isn't easy. Nothing great and wonderful in this life is easy. Marriage isn't easy. Family life isn't easy. Pregnancy and childbirth aren't easy. Being a child of God definitely isn't easy. But the amazing things in life are worth working for. The things in life that are easy? Well, they just aren't as fun. They just aren't as great.

Even though Joe knows exactly how to push my buttons, I am grateful that he is becoming his own little person. I am thankful he still randomly comes up to me to hug me and give me a kiss, because someday he will shudder in horror at the thought of hugging and kissing his mother. He is changing so much and so quickly.

Motherhood is hard. I will never have it all figured out. But I love my vocation (maybe not every single screaming second of it) but it is all worth it.

Be Kind. Be Compassionate.

This morning I woke up to learn my favorite weatherman, Don Harman from Fox 4 News, had died. I have watched Don Harmon since I was a freshman in high school. Mr. Harman was hilarious and wacky. He had such a good camaraderie with the anchors of the morning show. The light-hearted, fun-loving atmosphere he created made me want to watch the news in the morning because it wasn't all about murders, scams, and car accidents.

The station was keeping tight-lipped about the situation because not all of his family members had been notified. I kept wondering what it was that claimed his life. Had he been in a car accident that morning on the way to work? Perhaps he suffered a heart attack. When I got on the internet the rumor was swirling around- suicide. Suicide??! How on earth could this man who was so funny, so fun-loving, and knew he was adored by many in Kansas City kill himself? This man who was only 41 years old, with a wife and a young daughter... what was going on inside his head that made him feel like he was beyond help? What was going on inside his head to make him feel that his life wasn't worth living?

I don't know why his death affects me so. I had never met him. I feel a heaviness in my heart, not just because Mr. Harman's death, but just because I am sometimes overwhelmed at what seems like an enormous amount of darkness and sadness in this world.



Don Harman's suicide makes me realize that you never really know what is going on in a person's life. He appeared so confident and happy, but that was apparently a mask. How many people do we encounter everyday that are on the verge of suicide or having a mental break down?

I saw on the news today that the number one reason people dislike the holiday season is because they are "forced" to be nice to others; others meaning mostly their family and friends that they would rather not be nice to.

What is wrong with being nice? What is wrong with being kind? I suppose if someone is nice as opposed to being strong-willed they are considered weak. They are considered fluff compared to a stone.

What is wrong with keeping our mouths shut when we want to say mean and hurtful things? We take delight in saying mean things because it's funny and a thrill to demean someone.

It is easy to lose our patience. It is easy for us to snap. The holiday is a stressful time, but we need to remember that we are not the only person on this planet. There are others out there that are just as stressed, if not more. Our feelings, wants, desires are not the only feelings out there.

Instead of snapping at a cashier to get the line moving faster why don't you take a second and look at her name tag. Yes, she is a person who has a name, not just a corporate tool that scans your merchandise and takes your money. She is a person who has worries and fears and joy and excitement. She is a person who possibly is a single mother and this is the only job she could find to support her two children. Instead of complaining to her, or even cutting her off and being short with her when she tries to make conversation, how about you compliment her earrings. Tell her thank you for what she does. Tell her how much you admire her for working in the retail business during the holiday season. Tell her Merry Christmas.

Instead of throwing a fit that you didn't get fries with your extra value meal why don't you take a second to remember that the gentleman who took your order doesn't have it out for you to make sure you don't have your fries. People make mistakes. People get distracted. Sure, there are the occasional lazy-bones people out there that don't put in the effort to make sure your order is correct, but have a little more faith in people. Maybe this kid who has taken hundreds of food orders that day is tired because he had to wake up extra early to take his mother to chemotherapy and has two finals to study for when he gets home. Maybe he is distracted for good reason.

There are some things in life that are good cause for us to speak up and say something. Voicing our concerns about some things in life is necessary. But let us keep our priorities straight. Being mean to the teen who bags our groceries for accidentally dropping the bottle of spaghetti sauce isn't necessary.

We live in a world where rudeness and hostility rule, a teenage girl can be hailed as a free-speech hero for making disrespectful comments to an adult (who happens to be the governor of Kansas) and where people can tear each other apart while hiding behind a computer screen. I stay away from comboxes where people can easily accuse the authors of being bad parents, bad Catholics, and destined for hell because they believe in XYZ.



The world can't be all lollypops and sparkly unicorn glitter. There are people out there who are sarcastic and cynical. God made us all different and it's good to have a little spice and crunch in our lives. But no matter what our disposition is, we must be careful of our words. We must be careful of our actions.

Our words and actions can make or break someone's day. Our words and actions represent more than just ourselves. They represent our parents, our church, our country. It is not all about me, me, me.

I see the darkness of life and the sadness that seems to overshadow everything. I sometimes wonder what kind of world I have brought my child into. I hope to raise my son and future children to bring LIGHT to the world instead of darkness.

I have a different take on Advent this year. I wait for the coming of our Savior. I see the darkness of our world and I know that Christ has defeated it and has brought light to our world. He does it every single day.

There is good in this world. There is such incredible good in this world that it busts through the darkness of sadness and tragedy. God helps us to become that light that crashes through. It can begin with us.


May God bless the soul of Don Harman and bring comfort and peace to his family during this tragic time. May he rest in peace.



May God bless all those who are affected by suicide.



May God bless those who are sad and lonely this holiday season.

Forgiveness and Fatherhood

Tomorrow my dad is having heart surgery. I have spent this weekend contemplating my wide assortment of feelings. If I had known him my whole life would I be even more worried than I am now? I think I’m pretty much worried to my maximum capacity.

My relationship with my father has been like a see-saw since I was born. There have been many ups and downs.

My mother and father never married. In fact shortly after I was conceived they broke things off. It wasn’t a drama-filled break up. Things just fizzled out. My mom didn’t realize she was pregnant with me. There were times she thought there might be a possibility that she was pregnant, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had many other things to worry about.

Then the day came where she couldn’t deny the pregnancy any longer. She was in labor. She labored most of the day at home and finally drove to the hospital. Instead of driving to the county hospital which was about ten minutes away she drove across the state line to a hospital that was twenty-five miles away to maintain her anonymity.

She walked into the hospital, declared she thought she was having a baby and they wheeled her to delivery. On the way there she expressed her desire to give me up for adoption. She had thought on this for awhile. She simply could not afford to raise a newborn baby when she had a thirteen year old son to care for while working as a bartender and going back to college. Twenty minutes later I was born.

There are a lot of details to this story, but to make this a little shorter, I’ll omit some. I was put in foster care for 15 days. During that time my mother did a lot of thinking and praying. She figured I’d be much better off with another family. She didn’t feel like she could afford to give me a good and stable life. My birth was kept a secret for a few days, but when it came to signing the adoption papers, my father had to be involved to sign away his parental rights. My father insisted that my mother was doing the right thing in giving me up for adoption.

The days went by. For the first time in years my mom went to Mass. She remembered the homily was about abortion. Now abortion was light years away from my mom’s mind- remember she didn’t even feel or think she was pregnant. But the homily touched her. She thought long and hard about what her priorities were. Was she giving me up because she was scared? Was she making her decision for the right reasons?

Then the 96-hour rule came into play. That meant she could change her mind and keep me- no question asked. After a lot more prayer and thinking she decided that she would keep me. She didn’t need cable TV. She didn’t need her car- she could borrow her father’s car. Her daughter was more important than material things.

This story just proves that my mom is the most heroic and the most strong-willed woman I know.

She was at peace with her decision. 18 days after I was born, I came home on my mom’s birthday. Our family was complete and our extended family and friends were thrilled.

My dad on the other hand was less than thrilled. He was downright furious. He made sure my mom knew that she would be getting absolutely no support from him. My mother wasn’t too upset- she had a newborn daughter to care for.

I grew up wondering who my father was. My mom never talked about him, and for some reason, I never asked about him. The only thing I really knew was his first and last name. (Mom had obviously kept my last name the same as hers.) My friends and I would speculate what he was like. Maybe he was a millionaire. Perhaps he owned Disney Land! (I was a big dreamer as a child.)

When Father’s Day would roll around I was usually in a bummed out mood because I had no father to send a card to. I remember fretting when I was old enough to realize that the man who was supposed to walk the bride down the aisle was the bride’s father. I quickly came the conclusion that my big brother would be perfect for the job, since he had been like a father to me for so many years. He did a wonderful job walking me down the aisle at my wedding in April, cracking jokes the whole way!

One day, when I was about ten years old I was looking through my baby book and saw that I had a half-sister named Sierra. That piqued my curiosity. So I went looking through the phone book to see if there was anyone who had the same last name as my dad's. To my surprise I found one! I felt in my heart that the name I was looking at my father’s name and address. (I found out much later that the name I was looking at was my grandfather’s.)

A year later my wonderings about my father had basically faded away. I was worried and focused on those things that eleven year olds dwell on (what were those things…I can’t even remember anymore!) One day my mom took me to see the movie Twister. On the way there she told me that my father had called her and said he wanted to be a part of my life. She then proceeded to tell me the story of my birth- the uncertainty of her pregnancy, the near adoption, and my father’s abandonment.

I was beyond excited and happy. Finally the day had come when all my questions regarding my father were answered! And he wanted to get to know me and be a part of my life! I finally “got” a dad!

A couple weeks passed and I finally met him. He was no debonair millionaire. He didn’t show up saying, “Surprise! I own Disney World!” He was a regular guy working as a millwright. But to me, he was great.

When he came into my life I got a whole new family. I had grandparents (both of my mom’s parents had sadly passed away many years before.) I had a step-mom and a step brother and sister. (They have since divorced.) My half sister whose name I found in my baby book had a son- I was an aunt! It was like Christmas. I felt so happy and relieved to have this missing chapter of my life answered.

Over the years my dad and I somewhat drifted apart. He was on the road traveling a lot, so we rarely saw each other. We sent letters back and forth, but when I hit my teenage years, I became too busy to keep in touch.

It was during my high school years that I started to get a twinge of resentment and anger toward my dad. I faced a lot of typical heartbreak a young girl encounters. A boy tells me he loves me and will love me forever. The next day he’s flirting with some other bimbo at a basketball game. A friend of mine tells me that so-and-so has a crush on me and is going to ask me to the homecoming dance. That invitation never comes and I come to find out he never had a crush on me. It was those feelings of abandonment that reminded me that I had been abandoned by men since I was born.

I was lucky enough to have wonderful father figures in my life while growing up, but for some reason my father’s abandonment hit me hard when I was a teenager. The one man that should have been there wasn’t. I looked at how he treated my mother. My heartbreak was nowhere near the amount of anguish she must have felt. Despite all this my father still kept in contact with me. However, this man I was so excited to become a part of my life a couple years before soon became a figure of confusion.

I began to question my worth. All these boys in high school kept breaking my heart. My own father had broken my heart. I began to question what true love from a man was supposed to feel like.

Fast forward to a couple years: I had started college. Then quit. Then started another college. I still kept in touch with him, but very little. I was in a very confused and selfish phase of my life, so he had nothing to do with the very little contact. That was my fault.

I think the turning point for my relationship with my father was when I had my “spiritual growth spurt.” I could tell he was very happy that I had turned my life around for the better. Then my grandfather passed away a couple years ago. That brought us even closer together. Many friends and family came together to celebrate my grandfather's life and it felt good to be introduced as “John’s daughter.” It was a rough time for both of us, but we gave each other comfort.

I think the real stepping stone for me to forgive my father was through my mom. She told me the truth about how she felt about everything, but she never said anything to make me dislike my father. She first and foremost left the decision for him to be a part of my life up to me, but encouraged me to open my heart to him. There were times when mom would suggest to me I should call my dad to wish him a happy birthday and I would yell in a voice filled with disdain, “Why should I?!” She would answer, “He’s your father. Without him you wouldn’t be here!” So true, yet I conveniently chose to overlook that fact. My dad was supposed to escort my grandmother down the aisle at my wedding, but due to ill health she couldn’t come. He had no role in the wedding since my brother was going to walk me down the aisle. It was my mom who suggested that my dad escort her down the aisle. That shows how forgiving and loving my mom is. It was through her example I found myself rethinking how I saw my father.

We all make mistakes. Lord knows I’ve made a gajillion of them. My father apologized for his and tried to make up for them. No one is perfect. Forgiveness is hard. Sometimes it is easier to stay angry. There have been a couple times even in the past couple years I’ve felt a pull to grow back a little resentment. However, God expects us to forgive as He does. Its right there in the Our Father- “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” And to be perfectly honest- it feels good not to harbor resentment. It feels good to let my dad in my life. It felt good to see him and his brothers at my wedding, to see him in the stands at my graduation, and to hear his sorrow and support when we told him we lost our baby.

I don’t think my dad was expecting me to come be with him while he has his surgery. We’re nearly two hours apart. However, I can’t imagine not being there.

So I ask again, please pray for my dad while he is in surgery. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

7 Life Lessons I Learned in 2009

Jennifer at Conversion Diary posted her "life lessons" from the year 2009 and I thought it was a great idea for a blog post to wrap up this year. Here are my very own "life lessons" of 2009.

1. Just breathe, and take one step at a time. The beginning of this year was rather hectic. I was planning for our April wedding while finishing up my final semester of college. I was only taking six credit hours, so I thought the next few months would be easy peasy. I was very wrong. My senior seminar thesis class was over John Paul II's Theology of the Body. It was a very intense class and consumed a majority of my time. I was also driving an hour and a half to get to my 8 a.m. class...meaning I had to leave super early in the morning. (In case I haven't told you, I am NOT a morning person! Zombie movies have nothing on me!)

Ryan and I had a rather long engagement so I had a majority of the big details of our wedding taken care of, but little bumps in the road kept creeping up. I was trying to focus on the beautiful sacrament that I was going to take part of, but kept getting majorly stressed out.

The wedding turned out perfectly, but the next few weeks were filled with writing two 20 page research papers, a presentation for my senior seminar, moving three hours away from home to move in with my husband, writing thank you note after thank you note, preparing our new home and getting ready for graduation. I felt like a nomad because I was traveling a couple hundred miles a week to get where I needed to go.

I was overwhelmed quite a bit. I was facing huge life changes all in the time span of a few months. I could have easily had a nervous breakdown, but I learned to focus on one thing at a time. It was easy to get freaked out at all that had to be done, but I just went week by week and tackled what needed to be accomplished. For example, instead of freaking out about decorating for our wedding reception that was three weeks away, I just needed to prepare what I could with the time I had and focus on what was right in front of me (like reading 150 pages of TOB in one night.) When it came to decorating for the reception I felt a little less stressed.

This way of thinking has really helped me in other minor situations that have come up throughout the year!

2. God will help you if you let Him. This fall I suffered a miscarriage. This was a huge heartbreak for both my husband and I. In the past, when something traumatic has happened in my life, I've often either gotten very angry at God and crossed my arms like a toddler and said to Him, "I'm not talking to you!" or I've been so focused on myself that I forget to even turn to Him in my sorrow.

When we lost our baby Gus I ran to God so fast like a little child who just fell and scraped their knee runs to their parent for comfort. I completely opened myself to trust in His Divine plan and rely on his comfort. It was scary to do that, but you know what...it worked. He helped us in ways I cannot number or explain. If I would not have trusted in Him I would still be a mess. Now I wasn't always a pious ray of sunshine during my miscarriage. There were times I seriously wondered what we did to deserve this pain. There are still days I cry, especially this holiday season since I was expecting to be rubbing a very preggo belly while sitting by the Christmas tree. But I can smile now knowing that our St. Gus in up in heaven praying for his mom and dad here on earth. Now isn't that amazing?

3. You can't please everyone. I hate making people mad. I hate causing problems or hard feelings. I hate confrontations. But if I go through life being politically correct or changing what I say to make everyone happy that will make ME unhappy. Especially when it comes to my religious beliefs. There is a particular Bible verse that I always keep in mind. Jesus says, "And I tell you, everyone who acknowledges me before men, the Son of man also will acknowledge before the angels of God; but he who denies me before men will be denied before the angels of God." (Luke 12:8-9) I've learned I need to gain courage to speak my mind and to defend the glory of God and to trust in the Holy Spirit that He will guide me in what to say and do.

That being said....

4. I need to grow a layer of tough skin. Being Christian isn't easy in today's world. Being Catholic is even harder. There are going to be people that will try and tear apart my faith, disrespect it and fight against it. I could be called horrible names, have people stop talking to me or have my feelings hurt. I have seen people comment on other people's blogs with horrible insults. I've learned I need to prepare myself for the wackos out there who like to cause trouble. There will even be the Catholic-Puritans that accuse me of not being Catholic enough. I am a very sensitive person, so this tough skin will take awhile to grow!

That being said....

5. It is very important to do all things with love. I've often struggled with defending the faith. There are facebook statuses and comments I hear all the time that go against what I believe. What do I do? Say something? Correct someone when they are wrong? I've learned through one of Jennifer's posts on her Conversion Diary blog that sometimes the best thing to do is nothing but pray. Sometimes correcting someone's belief can cause them to go further away from the Truth. People's pride can easily be hurt. Sometimes it's best to let the light of Christ shine through us. If people see that you are a loving and happy person maybe they will be more likely to approach you regarding your beliefs feeling safe and secure. They won't feel like they are being judged or condemned. Another lesson in trust in the Holy Spirit for guidance.

6. Marriage ain't too shabby! Ryan and I were best friends before we started dating. I knew I was going to marry him before we even dated. Transitioning into marriage was fairly easy for us. We have learned that communication is a key ingredient to a healthy marriage. There have been many, many times where we've gotten into a spat, and we are both so stubborn we won't talk it out. I go up to him and say, "We need to talk this out. You go first." He then says, "NO, YOU go first!" and so on and so forth. We end up laughing because we realize how childish we are acting. We have learned not to take ourselves so seriously and to pick our battles.

Natural Family Planning has also been a great blessing to our marriage. It has taught us not to be slaves to sexual pleasure. We see sex for just how awesome and holy it is, both physically and emotionally. There have been times we've wanted to be *ahem* sexually intimate but knew our union could result in a pregnancy. We had discerned that we weren't ready for a baby. But just laying there, him rubbing my back, caressing my face and just talking was amazing. There are times that doing those things are better than a romp in the bed. :-)

7. Prayer works. Really it does! This last part of 2009 has been a struggle. With me being unemployed and Ryan's job not paying very well we've struggled financially. Prayer has strengthened our relationship to not be strained by money problems. Prayer has assured us that everything WILL work out just fine. Things may get worse before they get better, but God never abandons those who seek His help. I've been praying a 54 day Novena (basically praying a rosary every day). It has brought me great comfort and strength. I'm not just saying that in a sugar and sweet, cup half full way. I am a pessimist, but Mary the Mother of God has brought us some amazing graces. And when the bills come and we stress how to handle them, God hands us the grace and blessings to figure everything out.

I hope everyone had a very blessed and wonderful holiday with family and friends. I pray that you all have a very happy and prosperous New Year!