(Aurora and Lala started out both as oompa loompas for Halloween…but then the baby started pulling her costume apart and the chicken costume we borrowed got too hot SO baby Aurora went as a hershey bar in a little brown jumpsuit that says “100% sweet”.  Lorelei won 1st prize in the costume contest for ages 0-5 and Steven wore a mullet for about 30 minutes until his PRETTY BOYness took back over and he took it back off.)

Welcome back!

I pace through the house, hugging my sweet Rora tight.  Tears streaming down my cheeks, my lips pursed affording no sound to come out.  My throat makes a gulping noise as I suppress the violent sobs that shake me, threatening to come out.  I hug her closer to my chest, my head pulsing, trying to just ground myself.  Trying to see the good.  The light.  Because, my girls…they are my little beacons of light.

I feel like I’m drowning on dry land, my feet refuse to stand still as they walk across the cold, hard tile and I want to scream at the top of my lungs to my God, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?  HELP ME OUT, HERE, DUDE!  I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE AND I’M REALLY FEELING ALONE.  I’M FEELING BEATEN.  WEARY.  LIKE I’VE ALREADY LOST.  LIKE MAYBE…JUST MAYBE, I SHOULD CALL IT A DAY.  GIVE UP.”  But, I wouldn’t dare unclench my mouth, afraid of the emotion and uncontrollable and unrecognizable sound that may come out.  So, I pace.

“Mommy sad?” Lala looks up at me, her eyes searching mine.  “Yeh, baby.  Mommy’s sad.  It’s going to be okay,” I say.  And, I feel almost guilty for promising something that I don’t know I can keep.

As hard as I try, I can’t seem to wrestle through the tangle of issues we’re looking through.  I’ve found silver-linings in everything and chalked the rest to JUST BEING LIFE.  But, now I’m finding myself suddenly paralyzed and drowning.  Occasionally, I see a sparkle, hope of a surface…but then I realize it was just a bubble and I’m still alone at the bottom of the sea.

Several months ago, my husband lost his job.  Besides a few freak-outs, we took it in stride – knowing and believing that God had something in His plans for us.  Something just for us.  We’ve been through our share of difficult times, but this one…well, with this one, we felt at peace.

My husband still does not have a job, but we wholly believe God is working behind the scenes…and we await the day when the pieces begin to fit together in a way that we’ll be able to say “AHA!”  But, it’s when a seemingly large piece – something that I never asked or prayed for, something I didn’t even know I wanted, something so seemingly MADE FOR ME comes my way.  This thing, so perfect in timing and circumstance that it could be nothing else but A GOD THING presented before me.  My soul whispers, “YES!” and from the center of my being…I just know.

And, it seems so perfect, carefully intertwining my talents and servant heart without ever truly taking away from the ministry I know HE has called me to, first and foremost.  Until…one day it does.  And, I’m left questioning and searching for answers that don’t seem to be there, feeling more lost and alone than ever because I was walking so clearly in God’s presence, and suddenly…I’m surrounded by only doubt.  In myself.  In the pieces of a plan I was called to serve in…but then, seemingly left.

It just seemed so right…but it seems to be coming to a fast end.  Other agendas are fighting to trump the one thing I know I AM being called to do, other agendas trying to tell me how I should serve my God.  I wonder what the purpose of showing me this was…something I will never be allowed to keep for a long amount of time, something that will make me feel like more of a failure than I already do.  I have poured my heart in but feel like I’m only being drained as I’m carefully being stretched in a way that I never meant to go.

“I just…I just don’t get it.  God doesn’t make mistakes, but why would he give me this just to take it away again?  Why can’t I ever seem to find my way and KEEP it?  Why am I not allowed to breathe easily and rest for a while?”

“You know, Ash….maybe this was about you.  Maybe it wasn’t about you helping others.  Maybe it wasn’t meant to be long-term.  Maybe it was just a stepping stone.”

And, maybe.

I just wish that I didn’t feel so alone with such a shaken heart.

I am remembering… how much easier parenting is when you don’t have to do it alone.  It’s a tough gig to be keep your work at home status AND parent 2 sick children while you’re sick too.

I am creating…seating charts for the Banquet and other banquet stuff for work.  Also, homeschool Pre-K lessons for Lala
I am going… to a Pampered Chef mtg tonight….if only for the “break” that I so desperately need right now

I am reading…Breaking Free Bible Study by Beth Moore

I am hoping…that tomorrow is a less hectic/whiny/crazy day.
On my mind…help?

From the learning rooms…Lala is beginning an alphabet study – one letter a week.  Today, we discovered the letter A, apples, circles, the difference between big and small –and tonight, we’ll learn two new signs.  We’re also practicing life skills such as washing fruit, slicing fruit using mommy’s (help and) mandoline, and laying apple slices on a baking sheet AND cleaning up after ourselves.  Oh, and washing dishes.  She LOVES helping rinse dishes – although she shares that with Mimi.

Noticing that…I need to leave in an hour and I really wish I had bought those black sunglasses with the rhinestones from Old Navy so the sun wouldn’t be in my eyes when I drive.  (It’s REALLY hard to drive with my eyes closed, for ME anyways.)

Pondering these words…I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

From the kitchen…cinnamon apple chips.  YUM.

Around the house.. .Both girls are FINALLY asleep.  Little fighter has wanted mommy to hold her all day.  But, they are both finally asleep and I promise to hurt the person (or yappy dog, as the case may be) who wakes them up.  ESPECIALLY baby.  For the love of sanity, please don’t wake the baby.

One of my favorite things. . . Relaxing and reading…I have lots of favorite things but that’s something I’m yearning.  Time for me.  And, back to the sushi and chocolate cake…that sounds delicious too.

A few plans for the rest of the week. . . Pre-K homeschooling – big vs little, apples, the letter A, sign language lesson, life skills lessons, and whatever else I wrote down in my lesson plan book.  Blog.  Work on seating charts and design packets and the things that go in them for Banquet.  Finish up this week’s worth of Bible study.  A meeting, or two…or three.  Have the van looked at before it kills me (the horn stopped working and some other pretty important things).  Shower daily.  A prayer dessert.  Bible study.  Lunch with friends.  Movie with friends.  And beyond that, my brain just died.

From my picture journal…

(2007)

Growing up, I experienced a lot of unhealthy relationships, some even abusive.  I yearned for that special kind of friendship that Hollywood made seem so real – the kind that never broke your heart, the kind that never failed to be there for you, the kind that would be there for you when you fell the hardest (and even when you didn’t).  For years, I actively sought out deep friendships, only to be swept off my feet…and land right on my face again.

I was hungry for a friendship and a love not laced with betrayal, resentment, or ulterior motives.  I was hungry for someone who would love me, not use me and throw me away again.

I began seeking this type of friendship so much, that it began to do wonders to my soul.  Every time I was hurt, another stone was placed in the wall around my heart – and, slowly, I began to feel more and more under-appreciated and un-deserving.  Every birthday, every loss, every triumph seemed so much harder without that extra hand to hold – the hugs that I needed from someone else besides my mom or husband.  I just felt…alone.

When Sir and I began to have trouble in our marriage, I hit rock-bottom.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone in my life.  Only a handful of people supported me, and the rest wanted to hear nothing about anything and were satisfied to just hang and shake their heads in complete disapproval.  The lack of solid friendships in my life became that more evident and blinding in those moments, those days, those months.  I became acutely aware of the difference between the relationships I thought I had, and those that were really there for me – through thick and thin – whether by blood or other bonds.

In the following months, my life was blessed in many ways.  I began connecting with people I wouldn’t have otherwise found had it not been the circumstances I was facing.  I began forging friendships.  –Friendships that I had been hoping and praying for.  I reached out, they reached back, and we enveloped each other in hugs and kind words.  And, I wasn’t just being blessed with one special friend, but many.  Relief flooded over me.  It was like I had finally found something that I’d searched for for so long.

Then, in an instant, things screeched to a halt.  Suddenly, I became aware that these relationships were quickly becoming seemingly too busy to include me, and events and fun were being had – without me.  Important events (to me) and so I reached out more, and it felt like they had stopped reaching back.  Without warning, it was like I had been thrown back into middle school, alone on the playground, the last to be chosen.  My heart screeched to a halt and I felt panic climb through my soul as my brain whispered “FOOL!  UNWORTHY!  UNLOVED!”  I quelled the hateful words that bubbled up within me towards myself, choosing to believe that it was nothing more than them being busy.  They must’ve just forgotten, that’s all.  But, as I kept reaching out to them (not in neediness, but with love), I kept seeing them instead, reach out to someone else.

Just not me.

To me, in that moment, the lack of inclusion and felt like a clear statement to me: You were not chosen because I do not love you.  To me, it felt like everything up to that point – every act of kindness, every sweet gesture – had been negated, had been a sham.

Lost.  Alone.  Unloved.  Undeserving.  Under-appreciated.  Forgotten.  –All words that would describe what I felt, but none of them would accurately be able to explain or describe the dark shroud that clouded my heart.  It’s one thing to never have something, but to be shown and have it ripped from your grasp when you feel you need it the most can be one of the most traumatic (…or learning) experiences ever.

In the past few months, I’ve been coming to terms with my ideals of friendships and I’ve done a lot of growing.  Through friends and random scattered messages, God has shown me so much.

To begin with, I had some crazy high expectations.  While I was fully ready to dive head first into a DEEP friendship, I expected ALL of my friends to be able to deliver on this level.  I expected the Hollywood version of a “healthy friendship” – one without betrayal and one with total loyalty.  I expected someone that would have time for me and would want me there for their big and small moments – from birthdays to funerals, so I could laugh and cry with them the entire way.  I expected them to love me and need me back.  And, in such…I set myself up to fall a mighty fall.  Because to be incredibly frank and honest – there’s only ONE somebody who can fulfill such a tall order – and He is my God.

The truth is, I was seeking someone else to fill a role that should’ve been reserved for HIm only.  I don’t know why I thought someone ELSE could fulfill a role that not even my husband could completely fill 100 percent of the time, but I did.  I was so caught up with what I *wanted* and less with what I *needed*, and so focused on ME rather than Him that I lost sight of what true friendships are and the blessings they can bring.  I lost sight of the many different ways in which people choose to express their love, and I somehow came to expect them to speak in a love language that was unique to me.

I was looking so hard for the deep relationships, searching for a specific type of friendship, that I began to let anything other than that one type of friendship completely self-destruct into a little pile of smoke.

And that…that, was on me.

A good friend recently said something that resonated deeply – “All of the issues I have with you are my own.”

It’s true.  I owe so many people apologies because I wasn’t happy enough with what they were willing to offer.  I just wanted more.  And more.  I had let myself come to the conclusion that if the friendship didn’t look a certain way, then it wasn’t real and I didn’t want it.

Friendships don’t have to look one certain way.  And as my friend put it, “Friendships are like a buffet.”  –You have all different sorts, and they’re all blessings and wonderful…or they can be.  If you let them.  If *I* let them.  And, sometimes friendships come and go like seasons during our life.  Not all friendships are meant forever.  But, it doesn’t make them less valuable.  Sometimes, they just come in your greatest hour of need, and sometimes you don’t even know you were needing them, but He did.

And as my friend so eloquently put it, “I’m so thankful God forced me to have Him as my best friend.”

Me too.  And, I am so thankful for friends like you who have been put in my life to help me grow closer and closer to resembling the woman I was meant to be.  I’m so thankful for every hand that has reached out, even once – and, I’m so sorry for not seeing it so clearly as I see it all now.  And God?  I apologize for trying to give someone else your job as my BEST FRIEND, I’d really like for you to take that position.  And, then…maybe you can send me some close friends so I can give this a go again?  Thanks.  Love, Me.

This past week has been a WHiRLWIND.  CrAzY!  We’ve been trying (to no avail) to get the house cleaned up and ready just for Sir to leave again.  A little frustration came when 2 out of 3 of my Pampered Chef parties canceled very last minute, but I guess that’s how it goes.  In hindsight, it may have been a blessing in disguise.  Either way, it became one less thing for me to DO DO DO.

Last night, I had the Pampered Chef I’ve been looking forward to for weeks.  -Full of lovely women and hosted by my aunts, it was all sorts of awesome!  I experimented with more of a SHOW AND TELL approach, rather than an INTERACTIVE COOKING SHOW and just let them sip wine and mingle.  AND, it was one of the best parties EVER!  Yay!  And, not all of the orders are even in yet…so I’m super excited about it!

With good news, comes bad news…

The girls are sick.  Both of them.  As much as we tried to wash our hands and stay germ free, it just didn’t happen.  We brought home a nasty souvenir from our St. Louis trip – Gigi got it first, then the girls, then Pa (Gigi’s Pa), then Sir…and then we successfully gave it to Mimi!  The good news is that we’re pretty sure it’s just a cold.  So far, it looks like God is showing me some real mercy and not letting my symptoms progress quite like everyone else’s.  –Which shows just how much God takes care of the details because I’m going to have my hands full playing a almost-but-not-really-single-mommy-for-two-weeks.

Yesterday, the girls had a previously scheduled well-child appointment and I was SO THANKFUL.  Our pediatrician is awesome, and because of this, the wait can be LOOONG.  But, we already had appointments scheduled MONTHS AGO.  So, we got a quick diagnosis and a lot of questions about growth and development and how to keep the girls comfy answered.  He very patiently gave us TWO HOURS of his time, one of which was just to talk to me because I had some concerns.

Over a year ago, I decided that vaccination wasn’t for our family RIGHT THEN.  Lala had had her several shots and a nasty reaction (not the nastiest that they can get, but enough to worry me), and I had begun to do a lot of research.  Sir and I decided we’d stop and then constantly re-evaluate, especially when different sicknesses made their way near us.  I have reasons for not loving vaccines – including the ingredients (and I’m not just talking about thimeresol), how many are given at once and the ages they are given.  I also don’t love knowing that MAYBE I could have kept my child from getting a disease they can’t get rid of.  Then again, I don’t love the idea that I may be loading them up on harmful drugs, or known carcinogens.

A few weeks ago, whooping cough came back on the local radar.  So, at our appt. I asked the doctor about it and after a very lengthy conversation, we decided to selectively vaccinate.  For NOW.  We’ll skip certain vaccinations, and the others we’ll do on a special time schedule made JUST FOR MY GIRLS.  And, if they have an awful reaction, we’ll slow it way way way down.  I couldn’t help but rethink our decision as I held Lala in my arms, her tear-filled eyes looking up at me with the most desperate look of utter betrayal.  I did what I could to not break into tears, myself as I held her in my arms, forcing her to stay still.  Then again, as she refused to walk all night and would sob as she let her legs give way underneath her, I couldn’t help feel NOT SO SURE again.  Then, when baby Rora broke out with a 101.5 fever that wouldn’t respond to tylenol in the middle of the night…I began to wonder if I’d made the right decision.

To be very honest… I DON’T KNOW.  All I know is that I’m doing my absolute best to be their mommy, their advocate.  And, I hate that I can’t do my own scientific research just to know that I would have 100 percent reliable information that hasn’t been twisted or bent for one purpose or another.  I love the idea of vaccines, I just can’t wait for the day that they become everything we need them to be for our children.

So, when you see us out and about and my babies look feverish and tired…it’s the shots.  The sniffles and sneezes?  That’s the cold.

I was raised Catholic, and since I was a small child, it was ingrained in us that there was a special moment during church service every Sunday that we would be able to go to communion and partake in the unleavened bread and wine.  Except…in Catholic tradition, it’s more than a simple symbolism and remembrance, Catholicism generally believes that the bread BECOMES His body and the drink, His blood.  We have since switched churches, but…

Every Sunday at church, we pass around communion.  As Sir took his tiny white cracker and rolled it around then bit into it, his face paused in deep concentration.  “You know,” he said, nudging my arm and leaning in to whisper in my ear, “these sure would be good in some kind of taco soup or something.”

That’s my husband.  Never can get enough of Jesus.

When Sir lost his job last March, I remember going through a whirlwind of emotions.  Determination – not only that we’d find something else, but also to, well…not cry.  Then, anger.  I was angry at his boss for dumping him with no warning WHATSOEVER and refusing to even resolve a problem we didn’t know existed (and still don’t know exactly what it was).  I was angry at Sir for losing his job.  I was angry in general.  And, then…I was scared.  I worried how we’d feed ourselves and our children.  I was worried how we’d keep our home and how we’d be able to go to the doctor like we needed to.

I went back and forth from feeling like we were in a hopeless situation where I would feel so overwhelmed to feeling like *WE* had to fix it.  I went days where I felt like I couldn’t do anything (because it felt like I struggling under the world’s massive shoe) to feeling like we needed to run run run, constantly printing resumes, looking for jobs, and waiting for the Sir to get home from interviews.

“Just give it to God, ” people would say.  And, quite honestly, that little off the cuff saying really just pissed me off.  That, and the fact that we found out quickly who was really there for us, and who only wanted to TALK about being there for us but never really INQUIRED or TRIED at all in any way…which would make for a whole SERIES of entirely different blog posts.  Anyhow, I have to be honest when I say that from this side of the fence, the whole “Just give it to God,” saying became a really sore spot for us.  Not that we didn’t believe God knew of our troubles, but it felt more like we were being told “Please stop talking to me about this.  I don’t know what to say.  Just stop worrying about it and…see what happens.”  So, I got really quiet.  After all, people knew our situation and either reacted kindly, or they didn’t.  And, most certainly…God knew our situation.

We prayed and prayed for a new job.  For something.  We prayed that we wouldn’t lose everything and we wondered out loud what would happen next.

And, then it happened.  It was something soul-shaking, yet something that could easily have been labeled as yet another TRIAL, depending on how you looked at it.

We began letting things go.  First, it started with small pleasures.  We counted pennies and did away with unnecessary purchases.  We canceled birthday parties, we bought food carefully.  And, once you have no TV, don’t pay to go to gyms or out to eat, don’t buy little things here and there – Well, you begin to realize that HEY, MAYBE I DIDN’T NEED IT AFTER ALL.  We had our family.  We had our friends.  We could surely make do with the rest.  At first it seemed so UN-AMERICAN, but now?  It’s kind of freeing.

But, that was just the beginning.  Because, then…God began to reel us in.  We stopped rushing around like busybodies LOOKING for an answer and finally realized that God would put us where we need to be.  You think you give it to God, you think you TRUST Him, but then you got knocked off your feet and you realize it wasn’t enough.  You realize you were depending on something else to sustain you.  You realize that you actually thought it was UP TO YOU what happened, when it really never mattered because He had His hands on you.  He was guiding you, not the other way around.

Our prayers together went from us asking Him for a job and to save our home and give us food, to prayers of thanksgiving as we watched one tiny miracle after another unfold in our lives.  We began praying that we would learn to trust Him more, and that He would make it OBVIOUS to us (continuously) where we needed to go and be and to relieve us from anxiety.

Sir is still waiting for a job, but by the grace of God and His working through some really awesome people, we’re doing a lot better than we thought we would be.  When bills seem to get a little too close and begin to crunch in, something comes our way – an unexpected envelope of money, a few groceries – even gifts to keep our spirits high.

We were so terrified of losing our home in the beginning, and are now realizing that we’d be better off in a different place, surrounded by people who do more than just passively love us.

I was scared we’d both have to take up jobs and leave our girls with someone else to raise while we worked, and found a wonderful job I never thought could exist – a job that allows me to stay at home as much as I want but surrounds me with wonderful TRULY Christian people and in a ministry where I can go into work and KNOW that I’m making a difference.  It’s a job that was OBVIOUSLY made FOR me.  It takes every interest I have and joins them into one perfect position.

We didn’t know if our marriage would survive this extra hardship.  We were trying so hard to get past some other really deep wounds, and this situation alone is enough to tear some couples apart.  But, it’s made us stronger.  Together.

This situation has brought people into our lives that we couldn’t imagine living without, now.

It seemed like the end of the world, but really?  It was just a disguised miracle.  It was an answered prayer – a prayer we hadn’t even prayed yet.

So, my dear friend…I’m thinking of you today as I write this.  I hope you see this as the disguised miracle it is and the great opportunity it could be.  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:1
And, I’m here.  Waiting and listening whenever you need me.  You can do this, I know you can.  You’re never alone.  I love you.

There is a part of me that wants to document and sift through the plethora of feelings and thoughts looming over me.  Then, there is the rest of me that wants to hunker in the dark corner, silent – waiting for the dark waters to cover me and end the intense struggle.  Today, emotions are raw and the deeper I dig, the more hurt I feel.  It seems like one corner after another, my life is flipping over on itself.  And, each time I find myself talking myself off of a ledge.

No.

No.

No.

I won’t go back there.  Not to that place.  I can’t.  I’m stronger than this.

At least, that’s what I want to believe, despite the tears rushing down my feverish cheeks.

I sit in a chair, holding a friend’s hand, trying my best to comfort her.  But, no words can be said to fix the lifetime of hurt she’s accumulated and collected that is now spewing forth onto the table.  I hold her hand and hug her and tell her I love her.  And then I just sit.  I listen.  And I love her silently.  She struggles through tears of her own to tell me how unfair things have been and if she could just be in a different situation – a situation she describes that would remarkably look like mine…at least, on the surface.

And then I want to shake her awake, or at least mumble “Be careful for what you wish for…”

Instead I sit, listening.

She feels the world caving in, a little at a time, and her shoulders are so worn and ragged she doesn’t know how to take another step.  She feels like she’s alone in the midst of a crowd of people, and that she has to be everyone’s everything and that it’d just be easier if…

she could be me.

I tell her that we all hurt and we all have our dark and dirty little secrets that make us cry at night.  I tell her that for every happy face she sees, there are most likely bleeding hearts inside.  Awful, but true.

She laughs at me, her sweet eyes mocking me.  To her, I couldn’t possibly know the pain she felt.

My heart shreds a little and I feel my tongue glueing itself to the roof of my mouth.  If I were to begin saying what’s on my heart right now, I’d surely bury her in the rubble of it all.  This was her time.  I tried to smile, although it came out more like a wince.

“I don’t have words for you,” I told her.  “Just love.”

Because what do you tell a person when you don’t know yourself?

What do you say when the truths you were so sure of turned out to be pretty little deceptive lies laced in gold and diamonds?

What do you say when you’re clinging to the last shred of hope, yourself?

What do you do when they’re drowning, but your own life preserver seemingly floated away?

I’d hold your hand and walk it with you if you weren’t so busy pushing me away, insisting I could never understand.

Maybe, just maybe…did you ever wonder if I was the one that needed to hold your hand?

The fresh arrangement of violets and blues spill over the vase, creating a rainbow of soft indigo petals lusciously grouped together.  A small tag, attached with silver ribbon flutters in the breeze of the open window.  As you read it, you smile.  He’s quoted a lyric of your favorite song and in one line made you feel like the most special girl on Earth.  Your fingers brush against the new lacy camisole you bought and your thoughts drift to the plans you’ve made for him once he gets home for work.

You can almost smell the seductive scent as if you were there now.  You can almost touch his muscles as they flex, and you can’t help but smile at him  as wraps his arms…

around the big box of his crap that you just asked him to move upstairs for the umpteenth time.

****

When the wedding dress goes on and the rings and vows are exchanged, you are automatically (whether you like it or not) entering into a very special club.  It’s a club with all sorts of perks, and the waiting list is long to join, so it seems.  And, once you have, a special message arrives:

“Congratulations!  You’re married!   Hope you enjoyed the sex while you had it, because it’s OVER!  SUCKA!”

That, at least, seems to be the popular view on the subject.

It seems like before a marriage even begins, it’s cursed with negativity.  Not only is it assumed to be the Christian American way that sex in marriage must be rare, but it also must be B-O-R-I-N-G!  Yet, on the big screens, unwed teenagers are having the sex of their lives (supposedly) … often.

It’s kind of funny (except not really).  After some extensive conversations with some of my girlfriends, it’s clear that it seems to be pretty par for the course for a couple to date…have sex…get married…and, then Pbbttt.  It comes to a screeching halt.  Not because she doesn’t like sex.  Not because he doesn’t want it.  Just because…they’re married?  What?

HE wants to know how often he can get it and SHE wants to know how much she MUST put out.  HE doesn’t understand what the problem is – after all, they used to do it with no complaint before marriage and SHE doesn’t understand how she went from being his beloved and cherished to something more akin to something that merely belonged to him.  He doesn’t understand what her problem is, and she misses the sweet gestures and feel under-appreciated and used.

There are no longer attempts to impress and woo, just silent expectations coming from both sides.

No wonder marriages are failing left and right.  Actually, I’m a bit surprised that more marriages aren’t having an even greater decline.

As young couples, many of us go through marriage preparation courses – courses that edge close into the topic of sex within marriage but then STOP.  Abruptly.  Pulling back quickly as if a diseased monster just rared it’s head back.  We’re not taught what to expect or how to handle the upcoming challenges in or having to do with the bedroom.  Instead, we’re supplied with a vast array of negative remarks having to do with sex (or the lack thereof) in the marriage bed.

So, does this bring us to the conclusion that SEX IN MARRIAGE IS NOT OKAY?

Phyllis and Glenn Hill think so.  Because, they believe it’s AMAZING!  In their recent book, Sex In Marriage Is Not Okay – It’s Amazing, Phyllis and Glenn Hill explore sexuality in the Christian marriage and what it has become and what it was meant to be – and the stark differences between them.  They venture to say the things we’ve all been thinking but so afraid to say and answer some of the toughest questions that even our own churches refuse to answer for us.  In one book, they manage to cover a sticky topic with great advice and guidance that is enough to change lives and bedroom…activities.  Ahem.

This book?  Is the awesomeness.  And, there’s no way I’m going to spoil it on here.  You’re going to have to read it for yourself.  Learn what others have taken a lifetime to learn.  Allow yourself to fast-forward the mistakes and negativity and get straight to the happy ending.  Heh.

Right now, they’re actually offering a limited special … you can buy a book for yourself and then bless a friend…for the price of one.

Because, dude.  Just because you’re married and a Christian, you aren’t entitled to monotonous vanilla sex.  It’s because you are married Christians that you are entitled to some of the best sex of your lives.  Because, that’s the gift that God meant it to be.

Sex In Marriage Is Not Okay – It’s Amazing! (Or, should be.  Is yours?)