How to Have a Really Great Year

Yesterday I read the final pages of the Bible. The last chapter of Revelation.  And because I read the One Year Bible, I also read the final chapters of Malachi in the Old Testament, the final Psalm, and the last words of the Proverbs.  Even though the Bible itself was arranged by man, it's not surprising that the last words I read for the year were filled with hope, challenge, excitement.

I've long held the opinion that all great movies end with a wedding.  It's not a flawless measure, but it often holds true.  It's the same for all great love stories.  There is a commitment to love and cherish forever.  That is how the Bible ends, in the final chapters of Revelation. A marriage supper is prepared and the Lord Jesus, the groom, brings his Bride, the Church (the saints), to live with him in glory forever.

Yes, it's a fabulous way to end a year.

I shared via facebook yesterday that I was retiring my One Year Bible, the one I have used for the past three years.  It's literally falling apart and covered in various highlighters and pen marks.  I have a new One Year Bible to begin this year with and it is the third one I will use.  A new book is always exciting, so fresh and clean, but a new Bible to curl up with each morning, one that I'm free to mark up and use up, is the most exciting.   This book is alive. Every day it waits for me, to speak to me, to do it's supernatural work in me. I'm really beyond words to explain how this works. The Word of God is, simply, alive.

Several friends asked me why I like the One Year Bible reading plan.  It's not a magical plan, it's no better than any other Bible reading plan, but it is, in fact, a plan. And I think we all need a plan, a discipline when it comes to reading God's Word.  There are countless ways to read the Bible.  You need one.  For me, the One Year Bible is easy, with no guesswork, and it works.  Like I said, I love to mark up my Bible.  So an electronic version just wouldn't be the same for me. But there are tons of electronic Bible reading plans available if this suits you. Get one.  There are various hard copy Bibles that will take you through the entire book in one year or two years, chronologically or otherwise.  There are printable reading plans you can stick in your Bible and follow daily.  You can start in Genesis and just keep reading every day.  Or in Matthew. What I'm trying to say is, there is no right or wrong plan.

You just need to have one.

Why?

It's the way to have a  really great 2014.

It's been said if your Bible is falling apart, your life isn't.  I see the truth in this, but the truth is also that sometimes your life feels like it's falling apart. Or it's just not going the way you had hoped.  I'll be the first to confess that 2013 didn't feel like the best year ever. Those people that say their day goes better when they read their Bible make me want to scream. Because often, nothing in my day goes the way I want it to. Reading God's Word, meditating on it, immersing myself in it, doesn't make my day better. It is slowly, painfully, and even joyfully making me better.

What do I mean by better?  It's making me into the woman Christ wants me to be.  Hard days, pain, everything falling apart and all.

My hope for 2014 is that it will "feel" better. That things will start going the way I want them to.  I wrote in my journal this morning that I want to look back and say that 2014 was the best year ever.  And I asked myself, what would make this the best year ever?  My answer:

More of Jesus in my life, in my husband's life, in my children's lives, in my friends' lives.

Spending time with Him every day is the key to this being the best year ever.

The new year began with Psalm 1 and verses from Proverbs 1. Again, a man-made compilation of Scripture in the One Year Bible, but perfect words to begin the new year.

Psalm 1: 1-2

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked

or stand in the way of sinners

or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the Lord, 

and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither.

Whatever he does prospers.

I don't have a goal for how much of God's Word to read this year.  Just to read it every day.  And to meditate on it. Let it steep.  Chew on it.  Let it feed me and fuel me and help me to flourish, not wither.

It's not about consuming mass quantities. As God's Word says of itself in Isaiah 28:10

For it is precept upon precept, precept upon precept,
Line upon line,
Here a little, there a little.

Just the other morning I came downstairs and noticed how nice it was to have an empty sink and the pots and pans in the drying rack on the counter.  I had washed them the night before, something I never used to do.  I hate washing dishes.  Thankfully, I have a dishwasher, but there are certain dishes that can't go inside it and some that just need a good scrubbing by hand.  I used to let them sit overnight.  But then I began intentionally washing them after dinner, after I loaded the dishwasher.  Now it is just a habit, something I do every night, something that I'm glad I do. Because I love coming down to a clean kitchen every morning.

Reading God's Word every day is a habit that can be built like any other habit.  It is simply committing to doing it every day, even if it seems a small amount. It's making a time and place for it in your schedule. It's having a plan.  And then it's just doing it. Until you no longer struggle to do it every day.  It is just what you do and even what you look forward to.  This has been the case in my life and it's worth the effort.

And it's what will make 2014 a really great year.

Silver and Gold

As a Brownie Girl Scout, I used to sing

Make new friends, but keep the old

One is silver and the other gold.

There is a lot of silver and gold this time of year, on the tree, in the house, in the stores... and a whole lot of it exchanging hands.  But it's those silver and gold friendships that shine like a light this time of year.

We just returned from three days in our former hometown, staying with my parents, doing our best to stimulate the economy, as Josh says. We still go to the dentist there, get our cars fixed there, and I always make a hair appointment when I go. And then there's my favorite things to eat there and my favorite shops.  But what I love, and miss, the most, of course, are those wonderful "old" friends.

It's impossible to see everyone we want to, but I love the little gifts from God, of seeing a friend I didn't expect to.  I turned a corner in Marden's and there was a friend!  A ring of the doorbell after dark and there was a friend, bringing the most unique and delicious cookie!  I had a wonderful, two hour conversation with an amazing godly woman when I dropped her daughter off from a playdate with mine.  I popped in to see my Kelly-girl and she gave me a lovely handmade necklace that I've received so many compliments on already.

I confess, driving into our "old" hometown is like salt in a wound.  I'm coming to realize that what we had there (to me we had it "all") will never be matched again.

But then we drove home. And we were coming home an hour before some of our homeschooling friends were showing up for a Christmas party.  A Christmas party that was rather impromptu, but we decided to just do it.  And it was wonderful.  It came together easily because we have new friends that we're getting comfortable with.  They don't care what my house looks like. They understand the imperfections of my children and are patient with the slow work of maturing in them.  We laugh and talk easily, the kids run out to play in the snow, we're honest about our struggles.

And when everyone has gone home, I put my finger on this lightness in my soul, this joy and gratitude that is there.  We have wonderful old silver friends and we are making wonderful new golden friends.  And I think, the refining of silver and gold is slow, it's not without fire, it takes time and trial to make something precious.

I had eight years to build lasting friendships with those people.  I shouldn't be surprised that, in our new hometown, the process of making and building new and precious friendships is slow. But sure.

Every year, for Christmas, I ask for "something special".  Friendships, old and new, are some of the best gifts I've ever received.

My Own "It's a Wonderful Life" Story

That wonderful, classic Christmas movie It's a Wonderful Life was just the butt of many a sitcom joke to me, until I saw it for the first time when I was 21 years old.  I remember that Christmas so well.  It was the year I was madly in love with this guy at church.  It was the first Christmas that truly held the wonder of Christ's birth for me.  It was beautiful.

I fell in love with It's a Wonderful Life.  And maybe the rest of the world did, too, because people seemed to stop making fun of it.  It's simplicity perhaps became something this harried, hectic season of celebrators needed and desired.

My own It's a Wonderful Life story happened the summer when I was greatly pregnant with our third child.  She was due at the end of August. The summer was blessedly cooler in comparison to others we had.  I had enjoyed this pregnancy so much and was overjoyed that we were having another baby girl.

But the shadow of that summer was our own Mr. Potter.  He was a heating oil dealer in our story.  Because heating oil costs were sky high, we had locked in our rate the year before and prepaid 800 gallons worth of that liquid gold.  That was no small chunk of change.  We also installed  a wood stove that miraculously heated our entire huge house, much to our surprise.  So the only oil we ended up using was for our hot water.

That was a blessing.  It meant we would get much of that prepaid oil money returned to us.  Right?

Wrong.

The owner of the heating oil company refused to return the $2500 to us.  I tried every avenue possible to get our money back.  I personally delivered a request for our money back, with a copy of the law.  I got the Attorney General's office involved. He dodged their calls. I spoke with a lawyer.  This despicable Mr. Potter type man had no intention of returning our money.

Just a few weeks before Petite was born, I fell down our back staircase on our way to morning swim lessons.  Thankfully, I only sprained my ankle, though it hurt like a beast.  Thirty-five extra pounds on a badly sprained ankle just added to my misery of dealing with our stolen money.  It was taking the joy out of an otherwise wonderful pregnancy.

The only answer to this problem was... to let it go.  To give this one to God and choose to enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy.  As unjust as the whole situation was, it was the way to peace.

Right after I let go, after I decided to not even take it to small claims court, my mom and my best friend threw me a baby shower.  So  many people showed up to celebrate my baby girl who was about to be born. My brother hid out in the basement but was sure to add his very large measurement to the game of trying to guess my girth (and he won!).  Jessie brought Ghiradelli brownies. Sara got me a chocolate peanut butter ice cream cake.  Holly and the girls sent me a giant bag of baby clothes from yard sales (she knows how I love to yard sale!) among many other gifts.  Diapers, adorable outfits, so much cuteness was in those packages... but when I unpacked all those things at my house later that night, it was the love and the laughter and the fact that my friends had just showed up that overwhelmed my heart.

There is so much that can be stolen from us, but the worst thing is when your joy is stolen.  My friends, my family, their presence, brought back my joy, as I realized, like George Bailey did, that no man is a failure if he has friends.  No problem is too great... when you have people who love you and show up for you.

This is one of my "corny" Christmas stories, I suppose, one that perhaps could be the butt of a joke :), but to me, it's a precious page in my history.  One that reminds me, my life has been, and is, wonderful.

And as a side note, that mean old Mr. Potter in our lives.... he got convicted of tax evasion a few years later... and went to jail.  And the Lord has more than made good on that stolen $2500.

Sick Thoughts

I'm on the eighth day of a doozy of a cold.  I'm not sure which symptoms will greet me in the morning when I wake up.  It began with a sore throat, and the next day seemed to subside.  The day after that, it felt like I'd been hit by a truck.  Then two days of feeling better.  Sunday was awful.  Monday was better. Today is awful too.

I'm exhausted from lack of sleep.  Coughing and headaches have stolen my precious hours of rest.  On top of that, I find that having three children is not conducive to rest anyway.  They already have far more energy than I do.  Now that I'm sick, it multiplies my disadvantage exponentially.

Being literally sick and tired is no time to think deep thoughts because they only tend toward the depressed and discouraged ones.  But what's a tired, restless body and mind to do when it can't muster up the energy for anything else?

I went to bed thinking about the boy in my kids' karate class who ignores my son every time he tries to talk to him.

I had  "the" bad dream- the one where Josh leaves me.

I notice that the layer of dust is getting thick on the shelves.  And remember that a whole bunch of people are coming for Thanksgiving.

I think of the pies I have to bake.  And that I need to make sure the turkey is defrosting properly.

I get sucked into searching Amazon for early Black Friday deals. And remember that I'm not looking at any of the flyers this year.  And have very little shopping to do anyway.

I'm grouchy because I'm sick but I still have to put the kids to bed every night.  And then I remember that they haven't gotten out of their pjs or brushed their teeth yet this morning.

I start to worry about cavities.

I'm kind of upset and really discouraged that Josh hasn't gotten a deer this year. He's put in  hours in the freezing cold for nothing.

The house is full of food but all I want is some soup.  And there's no soup in the house.

I make some soup out of leftover meatballs, half a carton of beef broth, some quickly chopped baby carrots and a few pressed cloves of garlic. I beg the kids to leave me alone for 52 minutes- just long enough to lay on the couch with my bowl of soup and an episode of Call the Midwife.

I only have a few episodes left to watch and I'll be all caught up. Even this thought makes me sad.  It's such a beautiful program, all about love, so powerfully full of LIFE!  And once I'm caught up, then what will I watch when I need 52 minutes all to myself?

But I feel better after some soup and some rest.  Even 52 minutes helps.

I make lunch for the kids.  I'm calling it lunch, anyway.  Popcorn, a cheese stick, hot cocoa, and a slice of coffee cake.  I'm waiting for Mister to tell me we didn't have lunch today. He likes very traditional meals.

I almost made chocolate chip cookies?  Am I crazy????  No, cooking is just therapy for me.

But I don't need therapy. I need rest today. There will be all that cooking and baking in the next few days.

I'm thankful my mom will be here. She'll make the turkey (if it's defrosted).  She'll give the kids all the attention I haven't been able to this past week.

I'll feel better soon.  Til then, I must come up with something that resembles dinner.  Cereal?  Rolled up ham and cheese?  A scoop of peanut butter and some crackers?

I cough my way through the obligatory three books before bed.  I'm tempted to stay up for a while, now that the kiddos are asleep in their beds and I can get a few things done in peace.  But I force myself to crawl into bed.  I hack and cough for over an hour, and pray for sleep. I need it so desperately.

And it comes.  No bad dreams.  Fewer worries.  Just the usual interruption of my littlest needing to go potty. And the next thing I know, Josh is returning from his night shift. He crawls in beside me, and though I am still coughing a little, all is right with the world and I feel better.

Simply, Thankful

Every day I'm reading thoughts of thankfulness in my news feed.  I love this and I appreciate it, though I haven't joined in.  I sometimes fear being one of those people who updates my status too often.  Or shares too many links. Or comes across the wrong way. Or reveals too much.

So I suppose I save more words for this place, a place only visited by a faithful few (and since I'm writing about thankfulness, I want you to know I am so very thankful that you do read my ramblings).  A writer needs to write.  It's almost like drawing breath sometimes.  And a writer needs to be heard to keep sharing.

I'm thankful for things deep, ridiculous, simple, often overlooked. Things beyond my comprehension.  Things I touch every day.

I'm thankful for the fish sticks and the french fries and the dill pickle slices we ate for supper, because I just didn't feel well enough to make anything better for dinner tonight.

I'm thankful for the layers of deep color in this morning's sunrise, just on the horizon, deep pink and gold and amber and stopping me in my tracks.

I'm thankful for a warm comfortable bed.

For the vacation credit card bill being paid in full.

For the basement being full of wood to heat us this winter.

For bags of potatoes at $1.99 a piece.

For bags of honeycrisp apples at $2.50 a piece.

I'm thankful for The Snowy Day and Llama Llama and Max's Dragon Shirt read over and over and over again.

I'm thankful for peace so deep even though there are so many things I'd change about my circumstances right now.

For Call the Midwife.

For Christmas music early.

For the word "mama".  Even though I don't receive a dime for it's use, it has made me rich.

I'm thankful for the verses that speak to me completely out of context but so clearly by the Holy Spirit.

I'm thankful for photographs.

For all four of my children's grandparents being believers in Christ and for being fully involved in their lives.

For the many beautiful stories I've shared with my children over the years.

For marrying my best friend, though I didn't know he was at the time.

For the times Petite takes me arm and wraps it around her and then snuggles in close to me.

For the intuition of my Brown-Eyed-Girl.

For the strengths emerging in my son.

For that first peppermint mocha of the season.

For the empty hole that will never be filled til heaven.

I'm thankful for the goodness and love and kindness of people. It's there, it's all around; it's stronger than evil and hate and cruelty.

I'm thankful for new mercies every morning. And every afternoon. And every evening. Moment by moment, if necessary, they are available.

For memories.

For the ones about to gather in our home this Thanksgiving.

For the joy in their eyes when they see the snowflakes fall.


I could go on and on. I am blessed.  As my husband says, and as he lives his life, If the Lord never does another good thing for me, He's already done more good than I deserve.

And yet... there is still so much more good to come.

For this, I'm thankful.

For His Goodness

Earlier this year, my best friend moved from our very northern state to the most southern state.  I didn't feel too abandoned.  After all, we were the first to leave our small town.  We just didn't move so far.

In our many conversations about moving, she looked to me for advice and encouragement.  I often felt inadequate to give either one, at least positive advice or encouragement. After all, we had moved in part because of necessity, but certainly at the call of God to go.  They were going out of desire.  They were choosing this move with arms wide open.  Paradise was calling.  And as I looked around at my life a year and a half after our move, it seemed anything but paradise.

It was loneliness.

It was discouragement.

It was the daily wondering, "Why are we here?".

I wanted to be of value to her during this exciting time, but I felt too disillusioned by my own experience to count for anything.

But this is one thing I remember saying, truth from the very depths of my own experience, my own walk with God over the past 15 years.

There are times when God blesses you so much.  You're so overwhelmed by his goodness, how he pulls everything together, making a beautiful picture puzzle of all the details.  You get that desire of your heart.  You're pinching yourself because things are too good to be true.  Enjoy those moments fully.  Praise him because he is being so good to you.

But then there are the times when none of the puzzle pieces seem to fit.  The details of life don't lend themselves to the big picture you imagined.  Every day is just hard.  Or just monotonous.  Or just confusing.  The desires of your heart are seemingly beyond reach.  Or maybe you've even forgotten what they are.  Even in these times, God is still good.  Even these times are his perfect love toward us.  These are the times our roots go down deep and make us stronger, even when our leaves seem to be withering like the last days of autumn.  Even in these times, we praise Him because he is good.  We praise him as we walk by faith.

And it's those hard times that make the good times so much better.

I remember how faithful and good God was when he fit all the pieces together for us to move.  Our house sold.  Our new house, he saved for us til we could buy it.  There were so many steps along the way that showed his hand in our lives and in the great change we were going through.  Six months later, reality set in.  I knew it would.  It was over a year before we made our first real, close friends.  So many things have not been easy or fallen into place.

But there have been the glorious moments of God's goodness among the more subtle ones.  Right now, we embrace one of those moments.  We try to live fully in the day we are given as we go to places we've never gone and see faces we've missed.   We embrace these moments even as we pray to embrace the ones we will return to. The ones not so sunny, not so exciting, yet still full of the goodness and love of God.

Strengthen Your Arms

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was at the point of wanting to quit homeschooling.  I reserved the rest of the story for another blog post. This blog post.

I've been able to reflect on some of the factors that brought me to that place where I just wanted to quit. Deep inside, I didn't want to give up. I love that I get to homeschool my kids.  I even knew I wouldn't give up.  I can't fathom placing my children in any other kind of school at this time.  It would just be wrong.  For no other reason than this: God has called me to do it.  It's not just something I do when it's fun and I'm seeing how it benefits us.  It's obedience to the mission and ministry God has given me.  To not do this would be wrong.

That's why it felt so much worse, so desperate a situation.  My will to do it was diminishing.  When I looked toward the future, I dreaded doing it day after day after day. I feared that every one of those days would be like the ones I had been experiencing lately.

There were some decidedly selfish and immature attitudes going on.  There was fighting.  Tempers got lost, including my own.  Tears were shed.  Everything, everyone felt like a lost cause.

But this was just the way it all manifested itself.  Here were some of the deeper issues going on inside me:

The two-year "anniversary" of our move had arrived.  And along with it came the discouragement, loneliness, confusion, depression, and lots of other tough feelings to swallow.  What are we doing here?

It was the weekend and Josh had to work, so I was alone a lot.

I hadn't exercised in a few days and I was eating way too much of the food my body doesn't like.

My blood sugar would spike, then drop.  No doubt some hormones were involved in this whole mess.

I wondered, do I need some medication to help me?  Because nothing seems good right now. Nothing.

Monday was just an awful day of school.  It was then that I began to vocalize that I just had no will to do this anymore.  I don't want my relationship with my children to be signified by this angst we have about math or by fighting with them to get their school work done.  I start to see all the ways I'd be a better mom and have a better relationship with my children if we weren't together all the time.  I'd get to greet them with cookies after school and let the teachers deal with their bad attitudes and laziness.  It sounded heavenly.

And yet, so wrong.

When I finally had the chance to get it all out with Josh, I was feeling a little calmer, a little more rational.  But I still went to bed depressed.

Things got better the next few days, probably because Josh was home and  helping to share the load. And things are just right when he's here.  It gave me some breathing room and time to come down from my ledge.

One of the major factors in this whole situation was that I wasn't taking care of myself.  I had skipped some days of exercise. I was eating too much carbohydrate, which makes me feel tired, cranky, and frustrated with myself when the effects on my blood sugar hit.  My time on the treadmill is decompression time. It's my time to either zone out to some great music, or pound out all the thoughts in my head and make sense of them.  Many of my blog posts are sorted out and "written" while I run.  It's where God so often speaks to me and makes things clear.  If I'm feeling "off" emotionally, and I can't figure out why, I usually have by the time I'm off the treadmill.  The exercise is just as much for my mental health as my physical.

I'm alone a lot. I'm an introvert, so I'm recharged by being alone, but I also need people.  I need other women in my life- sometimes to bare my soul, sometimes just for a good laugh and a cup of coffee.  When too many days go by and I haven't connected with someone, I start bearing more burdens than I'm meant to. Fellowship helps me unload the stuff that's too heavy to carry alone or at all.

It is really, really hard to prioritize taking care of yourself.  First, who has the time to exercise and plan a healthy menu?  And then, who has the money to buy all the special foods you need on all these new diets?  And, isn't it selfish?  Isn't me-time pretty much taboo?  Die to yourself, mama.  Your life is not your own.  Don't grow weary in doing good.  Don't let that candle go out at night and rise up early to take care of your household.

I get up every morning and all I want is a cup of coffee and my Bible.  I groan at the thought of putting on my sneakers and exercising.  It's tough, but when I get up really early and have a house full of peace and quiet, it is so worth it.  I get the recharging I need for a new day because I'm alone and uninterrupted.  I warm up to the idea of working out and feel that I have plenty of time to do it before school begins.  I feel fantastic by the time I hit the shower because I have taken care of me AND I'm running on schedule, ready to take care of my family for the rest of the day.

But then there are the days I sleep in a little and I have my coffee and my time with the Lord and I look at the clock and I just don't think I have enough time to exercise.  I'm running behind and I like to run on schedule.  Type A? I don't know, what am I?  My husband says I'm an ISTJ.  So I always ask him which letter of my personality is operating when I'm ticked off because we're not on schedule.

But the bottom line is that I need to take care of myself and it needs to be a priority.  Perhaps it's wrong that so much of my mental well-being rides on my diet and physical activity.  But taking care of myself pays huge dividends when it comes to my outlook on life and my ability to care for the ones God has given me.  I take care of me by reading my Bible and praying each day.  But let me be honest, it doesn't make my day better.  It doesn't make the kids stop fighting or the dishwasher snap out of it's funk of not working when I want it to.  It doesn't change the reality of life spent at home and the ensuing mess, chaos, and crumbs!  I do this every morning because it slowly, imperceptibly changes me.  And I am a weak and weary mama most days who's only strength comes by the grace of God, building me up line upon line, precept upon precept.

I've been exercising faithfully for over six months now.  Let me debunk a few myths.  You don't have more energy when you start exercising.  Not right away.  It took several months for my energy levels to rise.  One day I realized I wasn't completely exhausted in the afternoon.  At first, you'll probably feel terrible.  You'll be so tired it won't seem worth it. You'll especially be tired if you're limiting your calories too much or eating the wrong foods (you figure out what those are for your body.  It's different for each of us).  I've lost some weight and lost some love handles, but I've found that eating too little has it's disadvantages.  I need fuel to get through every day without crashing.

When I began working out, I was part of challenge group, and one of our assignments was to figure out our "why" for  eating better and working out and share a picture that represented it.  That was a tough one for me.  There wasn't a celebrity body I wanted to look like.  I didn't want to run a 5K.  I just wanted the energy and strength to do what God had called me to do.  The verse from Proverbs 31: 17 came to mind. I love all the versions of it:

She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.  NiV

She is energetic and strong; a hard worker.  NLT

She girds herself with strength and makes her arms strong.  NASB

She draws on her strength and reveals that her arms are strong.  Holman

The Proverbs 31 woman is an elusive ideal, but the heart of this woman is that she did well the things  God called her to do.  Taking care of her family, servants, and property required strength, in more ways than one.  She took the time to make her arms strong. She had strength to draw on.

I need that too. That is why I exercise and make the attempts I do to eat well.  It benefits my family, and that's not selfish.

I've discovered in the past few months that taking care of myself is something only I can do.  It can't wait til tomorrow, my husband can't do it for me.  It's my responsibility alone.  When I neglect to, I find myself spiralling down an emotional black hole, with Oreos and Cheez-Its my only companions.

So the purpose of sharing this is several-fold.  

To tell you I'm weak.  I'm frail.  I'm desperate most days.  Maybe you are too.

And it's okay to be.

That's why you've got to take care of yourself, Mama.  Mrs.  Miss.  You've got to.

There are people who love you and need you and they'll probably be thrilled to see you take some time and a little money to strengthen your own arms.  They can't do it for you, so you must do it yourself.

When you want to quit what God has called you to do, don't.   Wait. Perspective will come.  If you can, let Calgon take you away to wherever it is you'd like to go to get that perspective.  Call a friend or your sister.
Put a movie on for those crazy kids and don't feel guilty about it.  Get your hair cut (step away from the scissors! Don't do it yourself!)  Research workout videos and get one.  Just do it for a few weeks and don't worry about eating less, just better.  Chuck your schedule (if called into question, I never, ever actually said that) and steal whatever time you can to do something you enjoy. Carve out some time every day. Trust that it's doing something good.

Don't believe the myths that say a good Christian woman shouldn't need anything but Jesus.  In principle, yes, it's true.  He is your all-in-all. But discover the Jesus who feasted, celebrated, laughed with his friends, climbed mountains, took time off to pray, considered the lilies and the rest of creation, and travelled the country.  And if there was coffee back then, a million bucks says he drank it.  With delight.

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31