The difference 365 days & Jesus can make…

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The difference 365 days & Jesus can make. Last Christmas was the worst for us. We were both jobless and living in a tiny rental. We had lived in four houses in 16 months, and our marriage was in a bad place. I was at the bottom of a well of despair and depression; all I heard was darkness. All I tasted was darkness. And in it, I turned away from God – told him to take his hand off my life or let me die. Chris was crushed by the weight of providing for us. Security for us. Stability. A livelihood. He felt the weight of keeping our entire family afloat when we were all barely snatching gasps of air.

While some of our lowest points occurred in 2014, slowly but surely the Lord began to administer healing. And not only that…JOY! Peace. Forgiveness. A love and a passion and an insight that is purely beautiful. Our marriage, our children, and both of us are thriving like never before. So much so that Christmas 2014 has been our best one yet!

And if this Christmas has been difficult, keep breathing – even when you don’t want to and He gives you no choice – ’cause He is faithful. Even when we aren’t. Merry, Merry Christmas to you from the Cawthon Clan!Ā #OnlyJesus

That’s Hot!

I am one who likes to collect life experiences. I’m not really an ambitious collector, and at this point there isn’t anything radical on the list. In fact, there is no list, but if an opportunity presents itself to do something I’ve never done, I’m usually game. And if something mildly unpleasant or uncomfortable comes my way, I can usually roll with it and chalk it up as another life experience. Like having a dentist try to rip a tooth out of my head with no anesthesia. Like having another dentist who knows how to use his instruments yank four teeth in one day (after the failure of the aforementioned). Like eating lamb and fish in England – not a fan (of lamb and fish, not England), coaching cheerleading (sooo not a fan), and drinking almost an entire tidal creek trying to learn to slalom – and never succeeding (at slalom, not drinking the creek). I digress, but you get the picture.

Well, this past Wednesday night I added a new one to the list. One of the unpleasant and uncomfortable variety.

My mom joined the four of us for dinner, and we grilled burgers and dogs. I baked fries and prepared chili on the stovetop. We played a dinner game (so fun – Beginner Dinner Games – thanks Erika!) and went for a walk around the neighborhood. My aunt lives just around the corner, so we walked for a visit.

Yada, yada, yada, we visited. We were leaving, and my aunt ran back into the yard – ashen and blurted, “Don’t panic, but Darrell just called and there’s a fire truck in front of your house!”

WHAT!?!

Chris darted off towards the house. Carson fell apart. I’m trying to talk sense into a seven year-old who thinks her Tiger and blankie are burning as we speak (I know I’m an idiot, but, hey, I thought my house was on fire! Grace, people, grace…). My mom had Campbell who wasn’t saying anything, and we’re trying to speed walk back to our house. I began to think through whether I turned off the stove and oven as we all four began to run. I really didn’t want to see our house in flames, and I sure didn’t want my girls to, but we rushed towards our dread.

We made the turn on to our street, and there stood a fire truck with lights turning and five or six fully-attired fireman entering my kitchen from the garage. My first thought,…

Well, at least my truck is okay šŸ™‚

We saw no flames, no hoses, no smoke. Okay, it can’t be that bad. Whew…

Come to find out, there was no fire! None! Like not even a spark. And I hadn’t ruined my family’s life by leaving the stove or oven on. Yee-haw!

Our free-thinking alarm system sent a fire alarm to our monitoring service when it wasn’t even armed. AND WHEN THERE WAS NO FIRE!!!!!! Cute…

A service call and $200 later, we’re all good. And thankful (about there not being a fire, not about the $200 service call).

Prepare to Think Less of Me

Prepare to think less of me. Or to be freed in a very real way. Or, at the very least, to feel better about your own laundry habits.

I am a laundry hider. I’ve gotten good at it. And I even take a measure of pride in my own crafty deception [cue up wicked laugh] šŸ™‚

Our home group meets at our house every Monday night, and I usually accumulate clean laundry over the weekend – washing clothes as I piddle around the house.

This is our laundry room…

I know it suspiciously resembles a spare bedroom, but it isn’t. All of our clean laundry congregates here for extended stays. It’s quite ingenious, actually, because I can close the door and forget all about it. The picture probably features five or six loads.
Well, I can’t have my homies thinkin’ I’m as laundry delinquent as I am, so I hide it.
I stuff as much of it back in the dryer as will possibly fit.
And then I stash any leftovers in the basket in my closet. And voila… Straighten the comforter, turn on the lamps, and vacuum, and we’re ready to go!

Lest you call me out about not being transparent and authentic with my homies; I have shared my secret with them and they like to peek in the dryer every now and then for a chuckle.
And, yes, our clothes are supremely wrinkled. Always.
And, yes, we have to rummage through the laundry mountain to find what we want to wear, which can be terribly frustrating and inefficient. But, honestly, this practice works pretty well for me.
And just in case you’re wondering, I do eventually fold them all and put them away. Only to start building again….
So, do you guys have any other time-saving tricks to add to my repertoire?

Signs, signs; everywhere signs

I guess this may be a sign of the times…

But the lil’ orange sticky note posted above her beautiful sleeping head is our sign of the times…

My sweet first grader loves Kit Kittredge, an American Girl. We watched the movie and have – over the course of the past six months – had snippet conversations about similarities between the Great Depression (the time period for the movie) and the current state of the economy. About a month ago she recently began having nightmares, three nights in a row. As we talked through that the next day, she had made this very astute connection in her brain that terrified her. Bad economy = Increase in crime. She was afraid that someone would break into our house. We prayed this verse and posted it above her head as she slept. She has not had one more scary night and has only made mention of the whole thing once when she said, “Momma, that verse really helped me. If I wake up, I just look at it and go back to sleep.” šŸ™‚
For the word of God is living and active.
Hebrews 4:12
PS – Okay, sing along with me now, “And the sign said long haired freaky people need not apply…”

BRAKE Down

I have a lot of pride tied up in the fact that I drive a 1999 Pathfinder. I have been its proud owner for eight and a half years, and it almost has 115, 000 miles. Love it!

We brought both of our children home from the hospital in it. I drove it to my first day of work at three different jobs. Each year we strap our Christmas tree to its top. Oh, and my favorite memory of all – we wrote the check for the last payment three years ago. Yeah, that’s nice.

Now, as it approaches its tenth birthday, the BRAKE light comes in with red intensity on especially cold mornings. It doesn’t do it on warm mornings, and it doesn’t do it once it warms up.

I think that’s charming.

Seriously, I do.

Endearing even.

I’m easily amused, I guess.