Here we are. Face hidden beneath my straw hat, tiny dots of sun sneak through the spaces of the finely woven material. I'm sprawled on my back, half-daydreaming and eyelids heavy, when I feel his hand rest on my arm. It took a couple of days for my husband and I to discover our old "relaxed" selves, but we're here now. Present. Counting no time except beats between each wave lapping the shoreline. This is our view for the day and I'm convinced it's a glimpse of heaven.
We've discussed stress together in the past. We've explored topics like our brain chemistry, families, prayer tips, symptoms of stress, and stress eating. This time, I'm taking a different angle, so here are three (over-looked) reasons that you need to get away...
Please join me in welcoming speaker, blogger, Bible teacher, and mom, Andy Lee, to the Gritty Pearl. Full of inspiration and a vast knowledge of scripture, Andy's writing is sure to encourage you for the week to come.
She was desperate.
Sleep had evaded her, but the dark night sky gave way to a deep blue hue and the hope of a new day.
She could go now.
Though weary, Magdalene would be the first one to the tomb. She knew exactly where they had placed Him, and she had a job to do. She would prepare his body properly for burial with spices. At least that was her story. Perhaps though she simply needed to see him one more time. She needed closure.
But Mary Magdalene would not find a dead Jesus.
He never remembers when I tell him things.
Her stories are too long.
He interrupts me while I’m speaking.
She’s too detailed.
He’s distracted a lot.
She "always" wants my opinion, even when it’s a trivial decision.
He "never" needs my approval, he just goes and does it.
She expects me to recall things she told me when I was in a rush three weeks ago.
Some days marriage and dating feels like walking on clouds, and the very next, a sad country song.
Couples constantly navigate a gender-nuanced world when it comes to communicating clearly with one another. This week we'll consider a few ideas from the experts, so that our thoughts won't get lost in translation...
It’s spring break here in Wilmington and we’re entering week three (year-round schedule). Though I always dread the first few days of our routine change - the boys bickering over games, taking turns, and having constant "fairness" disputes - by the end we’re in sync, and I hate to send them back to class.
This time, the transition looks different. As our kids hit the books, my husband and I will slip away to celebrate our first ten years together. A gaggle of incoming family will be in charge at the Gemelli house so that a couple of tired parents can find rest under a palm tree or two.
Like many of you, the majority of my time is spent as mom, wife, and whatever else is asked of me. Over the years, it’s been easy to lose sight of the simple woman I’ve always been - a daydreaming daughter of God, enthralled with the dialed-down, simple life that used to come naturally.
Returning to her is a purposeful practice that I’ve adopted over the years. As I pack my suitcase and envision my impending escape from responsibility, I remember the words of April Lakata Cao. Her wind-through-the-hair reminder is one that I come back to time and time again. It's about the little things imprinted in our memories, the smells, the freedom, the mistakes, and living to the full.
Here’s hoping that you’ll be inspired to spend time with the you who gets lost in the shuffle too.
Light up the room,
When I was nineteen I had a jacked-up Jeep with big tires. I bought it that way, trading in my sensible, tan, automatic Corolla for a stick-shift Wrangler. To this day I don’t know what possessed me, but I drove that green monster off the lot, lurching and stalling along the way. (Did I mention I had no idea how to drive a stick?)
I never made it home. I ran out of gas on a hill and panicked when I couldn’t figure out how to stop from rolling backwards.
How often do we climb a mountain only to forget where we came from?
M.S. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Earns Crossfit participation trophies. Disaster cook. Enthusiastic wife. #Boymom. Clutches her faith, not her pearls.