Hell can be a beautiful place!

July 4, 2020July 13, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

We lived in Utah from December 1997 – August 2000. We had lived in New Mexico for ten years and were planning to follow our jobs to Phoenix when Russell got an offer he couldn’t refuse in Salt Lake City. Being young and adventurous we jumped in. I literally would have followed that man ANYWHERE, but never entertained the idea that moving to a state I’d never even visited and 1000 miles from our family might cause a few problems.

Salt Lake City is beautiful! They have four seasons, just like in those books we read in elementary school, the views from the valley are spectacular, the mountains, the weather is so nice! Even when it snows, the entire place isn’t paralyzed like we are with a little ice in Texas. The tulips come up through the snow in the spring and Christmas lights covered in snow are so spectacular.

The culture, however, was very different from anything we’d experienced. We moved there from Albuquerque, a cultural melting pot that is SO diverse and by contrast Salt Lake seemed very white and very Mormon. While we were white, we definitely were not Mormon and that was a little problematic. I’m not bashing Mormons here, just pointing out that their culture was very different from what we knew. In New Mexico we met so many people that had visited and decided they just had to live there. Many people like us, had no family nearby. We found people to be open and friendly. In Utah, however, it seemed like we were the only people that weren’t “from there” and were the only people there with no extended family. (I’m sure that’s not literally true, but it was my perception.) We both had GREAT jobs, we had a beautiful home with gorgeous views of the mountains and a relationship under s t r e s s. Russell’s job was so consuming that most days he left before Ryan and I got up and came home after we’d gone to bed. Ryan could go days without seeing his dad and was usually the first kid dropped off at daycare and the last picked up. Some days I’d pick Ryan up from daycare and take him to play at McDonald’s while I finished the work I still needed to do —

then, somehow I got pregnant!

Then Paxton came along with the mantra, “HA – you think you can have it all!” His minor health issues pushed our already strained lifestyle right over the edge. I remember sitting looking at the snow capped mountains, tired, frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed and tired (yes I said that twice on purpose) — thinking

Hell can sure be a beautiful place.

You remember Russell’s work schedule, well we added to that an infant that DID NOT SLEEP. I don’t mean didn’t sleep through the night, I mean, DID NOT SLEEP. He had reflux so badly that he screamed bloody murder EVERY TIME you laid him down and had pneumonia constantly and low oxygen levels continually as a result. It is truly a good thing he was cute because life with him was H A R D.

It took me a long time to surrender to the idea of motherhood. I never really thought I’d be a good mother, I thought I was way too selfish (and I was not wrong!). It wasn’t until a spiritual journey that Russell and I took through the Walk to Emmaus that God really started to change my heart, but even then, I was willing to surrender only because I knew Russell would be such a great dad — I thought just like the rest of our lives he’d drag me along. Pregnancy wasn’t automatic for us, it took quite a few months of trying which really tested my faith because I really felt that God was calling us to parenthood and yet it eluded us. I made an appointment with a fertility specialist and at my first appointment, I was pregnant. Ryan was a dream infant, he took right to breastfeeding, he was happy as could be, he loved daycare, he traveled well, he hardly interrupted our lifestyle at all. I really believed women can have it all, career, family, social life — the skies the limit.

Then we moved and lost all our support system.

Then we had a real baby.

I’d like to say we moved back to Texas and lived happily ever after, but that would not be whole truth. Difficult times don’t just disappear, they slowly fade. We decided that our family needed a full-time wife and mother and evidently that was me! In theory it sounded like a great idea. My employer in Utah had been MORE than gracious with all Paxton’s health issues, they allowed me to work from home three days a week and really could not have been more accommodating. I knew it would be next to impossible to find a new job bringing that baggage along. Our pediatrician in Utah had threatened to drop us from her practice if I didn’t get Paxton out of daycare, how could I put him back? So I reluctantly decided to surrender myself completely to this job of wife and mother and it was a T O U G H transition. But once I realized how much better off all three of the boys were with my undivided attention soon we all began to thrive.

The key here was my surrender. I had to let go of that vision of what I thought my life would be to the life God had chosen for me. In that I grew to realize that Hell is largely of my own making. If I surrender to God’s plan for my life, Hell is a distant threat.

Looking back I realize I’ve had to surrender my vision of my life many times to follow Christ, I’m starting to maybe think, I might not be in control.

Fast forward, I have a dear friend who had the perfect life. She was a beautiful, charming, Godly woman who had a wealthy husband, four wonderful children, a gorgeous home — then he decides he can have it all and starts travelling and cheating and their fairy tale life becomes unraveled. It was ugly. Five people were hurled into unbelievable grief while one seemed oblivious. I know I have no real grasp on the depth of her pain. She asked us to look after the house (I called it the mansion, much to her dismay) while she was gone and as we sat by the pool, I had that same thought, “Hell can sure be a beautiful place” as this beautiful home had become her living Hell.

Contrasted to the missionary that spoke about living among families in an actual landfill that were filled with exuberant joy over the smallest things.

How can a mansion be like hell and a landfill be paradise?

I don’t really understand what Hell is, honestly, I don’t. I’ve studied it in the Bible, I’ve heard lots of people’s thoughts on Hell, I’ve heard lots of sermons on Hell, I even know one very wise Christian who doesn’t really believe it exists, but what I do know for sure is that it is Christ-less. Our Hell on earth comes not from the actual absence of Christ but our inability to see his redemptive plan at that moment. Our personal Hell can be a beautiful place physically, but true beauty rests in the redemptive power of a loving savior — no matter what the circumstance, or what your surroundings look like.

My friend and I shared the same place in our history. A time when our dreams seemed lost, hope seemed illusive and our vision was clouded by circumstances. We lacked the ability to see, at that moment, but not forever. You’ve been there too.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good , for those who are called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:28

It’s easy to see Paul’s truth in Romans when our life seems to be in our control but true hope comes from seeing it even in the midst of life’s storms. Living a surrendered life that is not of our own making, that holds treasures only God could imagine, we can trust in the hope of a future and of good despite what this moment may look like.

Hold on! It really does get better.

I finally got it!

June 27, 2020July 13, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

I love Jami Amerine, author, blogger, mom, she makes me laugh and smile and look for the joy in the ordinary life of following Jesus. Her tag line is Jesus be all over you! She says it all the time but today is the first day I got it.

I’m scrolling through Facebook and this memory pops up

In the picture is just Ryan and the old DPS cruiser he so proudly bought as his first car. But when I look back at the picture six years down the road, his dad is all over that picture. Ryan didn’t have a lot of money but he wanted a cool car and his dad found this place in Austin that sold old state property. The two of them researched about the cars, planned all the work they were going to do to civilianize it, how much money he had, how much it would cost to change what they wanted, so many plans and dreams realized on this day. While the picture is one boy and one car I see so much more.

That car was so fun, he loved it everyday he had it and when he was finished with it and bought a new vehicle he actually gave the car to someone who needed it. Generosity — that is a trademark of his father. But to me this picture now represents the relationship Ryan and his dad had. Dreams they shared. Time they spent together planning and dreaming, not just about this car, but about the life Ryan wanted and the dreams he had. Russell researched and figured out how to get the spray paint off the sides so it looked cool before he got it painted. I can see in my mind the smile on his face as he took this picture — Russell is all over this memory.

Which made me realize for the first time after reading and hearing “Jesus be all over you” by Jami. When you look at me I hope you see that Jesus is all over this story. As you read my words you have to see that Jesus is all over it. Without him, I’m just another picture with no depth, no memories, no emotion. I may loathe my image in the mirror of the creepy old fat lady until I can look at that girl and realize Jesus is all over her — and that my friend is good indeed! Thanks Jami!

The point is …WE

June 20, 2020July 13, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

Early in my faith journey I found studying the Israelites so frustrating. They had to be the most stiff necked people ever. The constant cycle of rebellion, repentance, deliverance was so tedious to me until I realized — I am no different. I need to study their stupidity, because it is no different from my own. My whole perspective changed when I realized that it was not “those people” who couldn’t see that God’s redemption was there all along, but I don’t live knowing that God’s redemption is there for me – always.

I studied the plight of the Hebrews and their rebellion against God as “those people”. It was not until I realized that there is no “those people” there is only us and God. And that most of the conflict we face comes from our thoughts about “those people”.

Teachers think of students as those people

Old people think of young people as those people

Whites think of blacks as those people

Fat think of thin as those people

Rich think of poor as those people

Haves think of have-nots as those people

Christians think of Muslims as those people

Americans think of immigrants as those people

This generation thinks of that generation as those people

And all of those again vice versa and many, many more!

Sean McDowell once said, “How you view this generation will shape the way you relate to them.” If we think of our students, or young people, as lazy, entitled, internet dependent, device addicted — that’s how we will treat them, as less than. If we think of them as the next generation, whose world is different than the one we grew up with and our mission is to help them make their world a better place — what a difference our approach will be. This doesn’t just apply to teaching. It applies to how we deal with others period. We have to see others as valuable, young, old, black, brown, poor, rich, disabled — all of us!

As a Christian, I must look at others and see — wow, WE need Jesus!!

People don’t grow where they are informed — they grow where they are accepted.
Bob Goff

We are all driven by the need for acceptance, yet struggle with being accepting. How much better our world would be if we were all just “those people”!

“Our” Anniversary

June 13, 2020July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

Today is our anniversary, except there is no longer an us, well in real-life anyway.

We had our first date on June 13th, we went to see the movie Friday the 13th. And then the year we finally decided to get married, the 13th fell on Friday again in June and we were ecstatic!

My dad said, “Of course she would marry on Friday the 13th, she’s been a financial omen her whole life.” My mother in law, being British and somewhat superstitious, was horrified.

But today, the 40th anniversary of that date and the 36th anniversary of our wedding, there is no longer an us, there is just me and my memories. Not even for the human beings that our marriage created does this date hold significance. I never realized how deeply personal anniversaries were. I wish we had celebrated them more because they are awfully hollow now that you’re gone, but we weren’t really the celebratory type.

It made me think about longevity. I looked it up, it simply means long life. Which made me look up long, which means a measure from end to end, lasting or taking a great amount of time, relatively great in extent, then you can talk about odds, phonics, finance, prosody. You can have a long day, a long meeting, a long nap — those don’t require a specific measure of time, long is a measure of how good or how bad it was. You can long for something lost or absent or anticipated. All these things are wrapped up in an anniversary. Even at a wedding we anticipate those anniversaries to come. The saving of the top of the wedding cake for the one year anniversary, the toasts and wishes for a long and happy marriage. But like joy and grief, anniversaries are both universal and deeply personal. We threw a big party for my parents 50th wedding anniversary. We weren’t even alive when the wedding took place and while their marriage both created and impacted me, it also had nothing to do with me. I really have no understanding of the connection that made them decide to marry 50 years earlier. But now he’s gone, what is that day now? Now it’s suddenly very personal again. Incidentally, tomorrow, June 14, 2020 is the 67th Anniversary of their wedding.

I think anniversaries are not so much about longevity but reflection. That reflection changes over time. The first anniversary celebration is nothing like any other, then they blur into the big ones. At GriefShare you hear people reference them as we just celebrated our ___ anniversary or we were looking so forward to our ___ anniversary. But only looking back can we see our last anniversary.

As I now look forward to and long for eternity I wonder: What does an anniversary look like in light of eternity. I think that anniversaries are a human shortcoming to deal with the fact that time makes no sense because we were meant for eternity. When the world was created, our days were not numbered, that came from sin. Now that our days are numbered, we’re obsessed (some of us (me) more than others) with counting them. With pregnancy we start counting weeks, the newborn we count months until eventually years all morbidly counting toward the end when we are awarded our final number. Then we lament, “Their life was cut so short” or “But they lived a long good life.” But living in the light of eternity is starkly different. It’s kinda sad and hollow when we wish someone a happy birthday in heaven or mark the anniversary of their death as their home-going or a wedding anniversary that reached its expiration date. I recently cleaned out my refrigerator and threw away all the condiments I had accumulated that reached their expiration date, is that the same thing?

But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is a thousand years, and a thousand years is one day.
2 Peter 3:8

But my hope lies in the reality that time is something I will grapple with only while I’m on this earth. We aren’t supposed to understand time! Like other things of the flesh, hatred, hunger, sadness, pain, fat and tired, time is one thing I won’t take with me in eternity. I don’t think we’ll celebrate birthdays, anniversaries or homecomings, we’ll celebrate only being in the presence of God. So maybe that’s why, today, more than most, I long for eternity.

Inspired by Draw the Circle devo Day 39

May 19, 2020July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

Then he said, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.
Exodus 3:5

I had a “send chills up my spine moment” typing this when I realized that I am typing to you in a place that has become holy ground to me (We started the Draw the Circle 40 Day Prayer Challenge by Mark Batterson and Covid-19 hit right in the middle so I finished the 40 day challenge via email typing the daily devo and then relating it to our journey.) When my husband died one of the first places I felt less lost was in the chair at his desk, in his office. It was the first room in our house that wasn’t re-done for one of our kids. He had inherited a couple of hundred dollars from his mother and wanted to do something tangible with the money and decided he’d invest it in his office space. I remember him asking, “Is that selfish of me?” I, of course, said no, and encouraged him to move forward.

He picked out the paint colors,

He designed the desk,

He picked out the flooring,

He re-wired the lighting.

He made it a space that he loved and as soon as he was gone, I loved it too.

Before he died, I had sat in his chair to type something for him and commented, “This is the most uncomfortable chair I have EVER sat in.” Knowing him, he had probably found it in the trash somewhere and refurbished it. I promptly bought him a new chair and he fell asleep in it the next time he was on a conference call! ANYWAY, he’s been gone 1,349 days and this is still one of my favorite places to be. I’ve done a few things to make it my own, but it is largely the space he created. It’s small, well lit and comfy. But typing this week’s devos I was overwhelmed by the fact that this is where God has done great things in my life.

It is in this chair that I have poured my heart out to Him in my journal and written the prayers I have seen Him answer.

It is in this chair that I have worried about how I would make it without him and seen God fill our EVERY need.

It is in this chair feeling lost and with no direction that I have sat and done Bible Studies that have sustained me.

It is in this chair that I have opened the cards people sent that contained exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

It is now that I realize this place was prepared for me long before I knew I needed it.

It is from this chair that I have risen and faced what I thought was unfaceable.

I never have shoes on here unless they are house shoes because my feet are cold – and I never will again, because now I know this is holy ground. It is where my God has met me, comforted me, sustained me and sent me. I will never look at this place the same again.

God knows where you are! Get your order pad ready!

The one handed girl isn’t weird?

May 15, 2020July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

I saw a post on Facebook by a super cute one handed girl who was pleading — don’t let your kids call me weird, I’m different. I don’t even know you, but I love you one handed girl who had the courage to post on Facebook. But, sorry sweetie, you are weird — and spoiler alert, we all are! I may have two hands but I’m a creepy, old, fat, white lady and a lot of people find that weird. Really we’re all weird in some way, but you have to reach a point where you realize your weird is wonderful, if you will just let it be. I’ve actually met three girls born without one hand in my lifetime — and at first glance they did look a little weird, but it took me no time at all to see that they were also quite wonderful! It took me days of thinking about this topic to remember I’d ever met someone with one hand because once you get to know someone you just accept them as a fellow human being and remember they touched your life. While it takes a second to realize someone is different it only takes the next couple of seconds to get to know them and see that really they are more like me than different.

I think not being weird is weird. What is normal after all? It’s weird how upside down God’s world is. Years ago I read a book by Carol Kent, A New Kind of Normal. It’s about how her life turned upside down when her vision of her life was turned upside down in an instant and the process of how she learned to adapt to her “new normal”. She never would have chosen this path. I don’t imagine anyone would say, I’d like to be born without an appendage, or dyslexia, or whatever imperfection we came with but we can adjust.We can do our best with what we are given and try to define ourselves, not as others see us, but as God sees us – redeemed by the blood of the lamb. Normal is just perception. If I perceive any situation as normal – it is my normal. Normal really only exists in cyberspace where professionals take weird people, Photoshop and air brush them and then present them to the world as normal — and we eat it up! I, personally, really like weird, probably the weirder you are the more likely we are to be friends, because I am pretty weird. If people define you by or treat you according to the number of appendages you have, number of pounds you weigh, the color of your skin, your religion, your sexual orientation, number of blemishes you have, number of eyeballs you have, whatever — they are missing the opportunity to know someone wonderful.

The tabs open on my computer would make Freud’s day. Right this second I have Facebook, Zoom, BibleGateway, Urban Dictionary, Pinterest and 4, yes four Google email accounts (Real me, work me, Paxton who’s been working on a project in here and a student who’s been coming over to use my stuff). I’m pretty sure this fact alone makes me weird! But I looked up weird on Urban Dictionary, (I love Urban Dictionary, people put definitions on and other people vote for the most accurate one. Disclaimer: It’s often irreverent, sarcastic and off color, buy hey, I’m weird). It is very unconventional. It also helps me navigate the world of teenagers I work in without having to ask so many stupid questions!

The truth is every word has two meanings: what I meant when I said it and how you take what I say. They are both right.

This teaches me that I have a choice with every word I say. I can choose my response, I can choose to be offended, I can choose to think you are ignorant, or funny, or clueless or kind, but most importantly we can choose to not be defined by the words of others. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion after all. We should use kind words, but sometimes I don’t. I may be having a bad day— hurt people hurt people. I may think I’m funny when really I’m not. But at the end of the day I choose Philippians 4:8 and I choose to focus on

…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.
Philippians 4:8

If I have said something that wasn’t these things – please disregard! Our words DO matter but I think what we focus on matters more, because I can control that!

Go – make your weird wonderful.

I don’t want a dog!

May 3, 2020July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

My twenty something year old son says arrogantly, “I don’t want children now they are too much responsibility, but hey, I really want a dog.” Because, you know, they are no responsibility at all!!!

Then you hear,

“Mom, I’m going out of town, can my dog stay with you?”

“Mom, my dog is tearing things up because I work and I’m gone a lot.” Who knew!

“Mom I’m working double shifts this week can my dog stay with you!”

“Mom I’ve been working double shifts and really need to sleep late, can my dog stay with you!”

“Mom you can’t go to school because of COVID-19 and I hate for you to have come over and let my dog out in the afternoon, can he just stay with you?”

And bam – I have a dog.

I don’t like him (the dog, not the kid, that’s another post all together!), but he really likes it when his treats are dipped in peanut butter first.

I don’t like him because if you leave the remote control out, he will eat it. I know because he’s eaten FOUR, because remember I am a slow learner.

I don’t like him because he demands to have the bathroom door open and since my bathroom door is a barn door there is very little I can do about it. He hates water, no amount of peanut butter will get him in the shower, but I can’t be in there alone either evidently. Once the door is open he’s perfectly happy and goes to nap on the bed or back outside – he just has to have things the way he likes them.

I don’t like him because he bites my left foot continually when I’m on the TreadClimber.

I don’t like him because he chases off the squirrels and the birds, and he lays IN my flower bed which he has eaten the landscaping timbers, and he likes to dig, and eat holes in the fence…..and he has a hunger for knowledge – he’s eaten several books.

Yes those are landscape timbers that he ATE!

I don’t like him, but he’s sweet as he can be and I love that stupid dog.

Now in the dog daddies defense, he did send him to obedience school, he is crate trained, he’s not a beggar or big fan of people food, but he does keep my kitchen floor clean and he does spend weekends with his dad (sometimes) and he loves to sit on the patio with me and watch tv at night.

Really I don’t want a dog, but he comes with some things that I DO want. I want a great relationship with my adult kids. I want them to say, “Mom can you ….” I want to be needed. I want to have a reason to get up in the morning. I want someone to be excited to see me. I want someone to sit on the couch with me and watch TV at night. I want something to complain about besides my own idiosyncrasies, well dammit, I do want a dog, because he’s part of a package that is in fact a blessed life!

The reality is — the best things in my life I didn’t even know I wanted.

For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.
Romans 7:15

Life is such a dichotomy.

I don’t want a dog, but suddenly I have one.

I don’t want to be fat, but I love to cook and eat, especially with others.

I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to go anywhere.

I don’t want to go anywhere, but I love to travel.

I don’t want to be a widow, but I have a dead husband. No, really I don’t want to be a widow! Please don’t refer to me as Ms. I didn’t sign up for this, I don’t want it, I didn’t choose it and it really really sucks. But in reality … I have to focus on what I do have, not what I want or don’t want…

I have had one and only one marriage, I have honored a covenant to another, I have loved and been loved.
I have found GriefShare and have met the neatest people through it and made some of the best friends in my life at point that I thought my life was over.
I have taken more chances, been less controlling, made more plans and been happier with fewer plans.
I have become more mellow as I realize, really, I am not in control and really that is a good thing.
For the first time in my life I’m doing what I feel called to do rather than focusing on being someone’s mother or someone’s wife, even though I wouldn’t trade those things for anything.
I have learned that it’s not about what I want, because I’m usually wrong. It is about surrendering my life and taking advantage of the opportunities God places in my path. And trusting that my days are numbered and I have the choice to make them count or not. And believing that the God who created the universe and cares about the sparrows, also cares about me.

It’s not about what I want or don’t want, it’s about knowing that I am NOT in control and THAT is good!

It’s about sometimes embracing what we do not want because God has incredible blessings in store for us!

Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!
Luke 12:24

Update: A couple of hours after posting this Rocky shattered the office window charging at a squirrel, broken window, small dog cut, which I thought was no big deal until we ended up in the doggie ER for stitches at 9:30 on Sunday night (cha-ching) and a ten day sentence in the cone of shame!

Scripture Writing

April 30, 2020July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

I’m an avid journaler. Probably because I don’t think anyone except God cares what I have to say. Recently a couple of people have told me I should write more – so this is my attempt.

I do scripture writing in my journal (shameless plug – love Bullet Journals – it’s like lines but doesn’t have to be straight). I find some savvy person on Pinterest that has put together something cool and steal their idea. I’m currently following Woman of Noble Character, honestly, because her verses are thematic and short. April’s theme has been healing and I have to admit that after focusing the entire month on scriptures of healing, praying for the sick and thinking about COVID-19, I only today (yes, April 30th) actually looked up the meaning of the word heal (I am a slow learner Shirley Jamieson!) and learned that the word in fact means “to be sound and healthy again”. Sound as an adjective means in good condition, not damaged, injured, or diseased. But healed inherently means that we once we’re broken and really may never be in good condition again. If I am healed I will have scars, I will be a bit taped together, there will be evidence of previous hurts. I fear that most times when I pray for healing I’m actually seeking restoration which means to bring back, or reinstate, I want my hurts and scars to be erased. But the reality is we only get healing here on earth, and it’s not guaranteed. We can be sound and healthy again, but restoration really comes from eternal life when this life is done and we are made whole in Christ. In the meantime, I limp along, broken, scarred, ugly … but useful to those around me who are also broken, scarred and ugly. I’m guilty of not praying for healing but praying to make my pain go away when my prayer should be, use my pain for your glory!

Heal me Lord, then in fact means, take this broken vessel, slap some tape on it and use me for your glory until the day I am restored and in your kingdom forever!

Even if you wear a mask today – smile at folks – we need it!

1,000 days gone???

June 6, 2019July 9, 2020 ~ Portia Stephens ~ Leave a comment

I do struggle so with this concept called time which has only been exacerbated while in Georgia when we took mom back to her home town of Columbus. Columbus and Phenix City are separated only by a river but each is in a different state and time zone. As you drive along the River the car clock keeps changing between central and eastern time automatically.

In that vein, Russell has been gone 1,000 days today – one thousand days – what does that mean??? I cannot wrap my mind around it, therefore, it all activated my psychosis about time. We had a long courtship (2,192 days – half the time he’s been gone). We were married for 11,047 days. He was a dominating force in my life for 13,248 days (not really, that number continues to build daily). Ryan had a dad for 7,611 days and Paxton 6,340 days.

I’m so grateful for EVERY ONE OF THOSE DAYS. But yet have a mini panic attack thinking about the day that the biggest number is that number of days he’s been gone. Will it feel like forever or a snap – the answer is yes!

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants! Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad in our days.
Psalm 90:12

I pray for a heart of wisdom that in His steadfast love I may rejoice and be glad in all of my days!! Living in the confidence that my days are numbered and facing each with the renewed conviction that each day IS the first day of the rest of my life.