Just Catching Up {Alternately Titled: Me in My Comfy Pants}

I just want to sit down and talk like we are friends. No formal post, no over editing, just talking: friend to friend. Not even anything super heavy. Just catching up, you know?

Sometimes I think in my love for words, painting pictures, and editing, I can kind of get lost back here. I am always me, and I am always me when I write.  But sometimes, I think you need to ditch the Sunday clothes, and put on your metaphorical comfy pants and t-shirt and just hang. 

So here's me, in my comfy clothes. (Well, the writing. That's my daughter in the picture.)

Mustache Mantis.

And here’s the current happenings in my life in no particular order:

1. My husband is now a solo deputy. Training is done. Mike is less stressed. We have a schedule, and the same one till the end of the year. He doesn’t have to be at work quite so early, and he has to stay over less frequently. We have the chance to sit down and eat as a family. My husband even has time to help with baths or dishes now. Friends, it is a beautiful thing! It feels like we can breathe again. {Deep breathe, hold it, and exhale. Ahhhh!}

2. We are starting to get the hang of homeschooling. We have had some rough days, and sometimes it seems like we might be a little crazy for doing this. But I love it. I get to watch my daughter learn to read, light up with wonder when we do a project or experiment, and let all this learning flow into our lives. I so value this time and that I get to be so apart. I also value things like awanas and gymnastics where I get to drop her off and have a little time to myself or with just my son.

3. I went with a dear friend and her kids to this local and awesome fall place last week. Apple picking, AMAZING pies, pumpkin patch, hay maze, petting zoos. We went on a weekday and called it a field trip. Two things I am learning: One: Fuji apples eaten right off a tree... I don't think anything compares. I've eaten plenty of apples in my day, but mini Fuji's, right off a tree... beautiful. Do it, friends. Two: Homeschooling is hard work, but there are some serious perks to it... like visiting a really popular (read: crowded) attraction on a weekday. 

Apple-picking, Pumpkin-patching with friends.

4. My gramps passed away a month ago. It felt like I was grieving his death, my granny’s all over again, and the sun setting on a generation and rising on a new one. That combined with some different changes in my life, and I just couldn’t get many words to form, like I needed silence to grieve—silence to feel the emptiness, the things that are no more. (I think I only made a peep or two on facebook and nothing here for three weeks straight.) I don’t know what it is about stillness and silence, but healing seems to be there.

I got to write up my gramps’ biography with my dad. It was just priceless to get to go through his life and learn about him, the Great Depression, World War 2, the Korean War, his and my granny’s love story, their many cross-country moves… I might have known who he was, but I felt like I got a glimpse into why he was. I can’t even tell you how proud of my heritage I was when we showed up to the funeral and the Navy had sent a few of their officers to honor him.  My aunt was given an American flag and Taps rang out after guns were fired. I just wanted to shout, “You did it, Gramps! You lived and breathed. You fought and you overcame. You provided for your family. You left behind an inheritance richer than your savings account and property. And now you are at peace. I am proud to be your granddaughter and so very thankful.”

5. My son wanted to wear his Thomas the Train underpants five days ago. He’s been in underpants ever since. He’s had a few pee-pee accidents, but he’s got it. We are over the potty training hurdle.  It’s so funny though, I think I might need to invest in a magazine rack or something because the boy really likes going to the bathroom and taking his sweet time. This morning we had the certified teacher over to check in on us (with the charter school) and Jed decided that was the time to go… for 20 minutes, shouting his play-by-play from the bathroom the entire time. Your welcome CT teacher for all the TMI going on in our house this morning.

Besides bedtime, there are no more diapers in this house. (Shout it with me: YAY!) But for some reason that seems very strange… like I need another baby. {My husband doesn’t agree (yet).} :)

Overalls on my Jed. Swoon.

6. I am bursting at the seams with all kinds of posts I want to share, maybe even a series or two.

October and November might have more posts than normal, folks. (Did you notice this is the 3rd post this week?! That hasn't happened in months.) And I am excited about it. I sorta love this writing thing, this organizing of thoughts, this key-tapping word-dance between me and my Friend Jesus. 

I also love connecting with you all. I can’t even tell you how much richer my life is because of this beautiful blogging community. Thank you!

So, what's going on with you? Chat with me in your comfy pants in the comments? :)

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

The Greatest Work

When I was 21, I moved to Los Angeles for an internship with a missions organization. It was an amazing time in my life, and it left me forever changed. I still remember showing up to skid row dressed in plaid golf pants, red sneakers, and a matching bow in my hair. One black woman dressed in rags walked towards me shouting to her friends, “Oh! Look at the cute little white girl!” All I heard was, “Little girl, who do you think you are coming down here in your matchy outfit thinking you gonna save me?!”  This small-town girl felt so out of place.

I gained a vision for evangelism that summer. I ditched my suburban worldview and traded it for a heart that bleeds for people. I have never been the girl that could talk to complete strangers about weather or gas prices. But I learned to sense the Holy Spirit and hear the words He did want me to say. I learned obedience and all about God's faithfulness.  I led worship for the first time in my whole life, me and my acoustic guitar with much fear and trembling. God you have to show up because if you don’t and it’s just me up here, it’s going to be all bad. I talked to addicts about the Jesus who was Hope, always Hope. Even though I didn’t know what it was like to sleep on the streets or to be high, I knew what it was like to be without Hope and how there was no pit so deep that God’s love was not deeper still. I connected with a 6 year old in Tijuana. I called her Liliana Chistosita, “Silly Lily en Ingles.” She was the oldest of 4 and while her mother worked, she looked after her siblings. She had a smile that was brighter than the desert sun and freckles on her nose.  I told her “JesuCristo te ama, Liliana. Recuerde por siempre.” Always remember Jesus loves you. I still pray for her.

A year later, I married my hunk of a husband, and we immediately stepped into children’s ministry. We made slime, gave away a whole lot of candy (your welcome, parents) and told church kids and neighborhood kids alike about the love of God. We lived on the poor side of town, on a street that had plenty of gang activity and drug deals… and a whole lot of children. My street was my mission field. A few months of living there and just about every kid on that street knew I had candy, random kid’s games and if they were bored or mom or dad were high or fighting they could hang out at my house.

---------------------------

Sometimes, if I am honest, I look at all that back-then stuff. Sometimes, I feel useless, like “just a mom.” Is this what being a housewife is? I can’t shake the knowing that God wants me here, all here, not working on children’s ministry props, meeting with staff, or writing lessons. I know I am living in the neighborhood He wants me in, where people hurry to work and complain about the poor pulling cans out of the dumpster.

God can you still use me? Are you still speaking? Am I not listening? Am I so wrapped up in life that I have forgotten that you are the Hope of the world and I have been given the ministry of reconciliation?

I grabbed my Bible tonight. Today’s reading started off with a thought about making the most of every opportunity especially as moms with our kids. And then I read this: “Live wisely among those who are not believers, and make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone.” (Colossians 4:5-6)

Live wisely among those who are not believers…

And then it hits me.

My kids.

Kids are not believers by default. Parents cannot carry their kids to cross, they can only point the way. Growing up in a Christian home usually yields a great foundation for a relationship with Christ, but it does not equal salvation.

I am living with precious, very moldable, very impressionable children.

And, I am essentially living with “those who are not (yet) believers.”

I don’t want to argue at what point a person is saved or whether Jesus living in one’s heart is Biblical or at what age someone reaches accountability. It’s just not really the point. My kids might know Jesus. My daughter might have even professed her desire to have Jesus live in her heart. But she hasn’t outgrown my care. I still make decisions for her. At some point, my kids are going to grow up and they are going to have to decide for their own selves what they believe and how they are going to live.

Right now, the first place I need to pour out my salt and light is my home.

Perhaps, I am a bit dense and some of you are going to read this and say “Duh. Amanda.”  But my kids are my greatest mission field. They are my highest and greatest calling. And if there is one thing I learned from doing children’s ministry, it is this: children’s parents will make the biggest impact on their life, for better or worse.

Paul says to live wisely, to make the most, to extend grace.  Instead of attractive conversations, other translations say “seasoned with salt.” Paul is saying to let your words draw them in, enhance the flavor of the conversation, and make them thirsty for Christ.

And now I am looking at myself. The way I carry myself in my home, around my kids. Do I do that? Do I live thinking of the long term ramifications of my words and actions on their beliefs? Am I alert, ready, always making the most of every opportunity to share my faith with my kids? Does the way I parent reflect the way God’s been so gracious to me, or do I get lazy or let myself get frazzled and just do what makes for the fastest results? And my words… Do I draw them in, make them thirsty for Christ??

My kiddos in the pool with a lizard they caught.

 I think in some ways, there’s this part of me that confuses bringing glory to God with bringing glory to myself. I want these amazing stories, these grand pieces of God-obviousness to string up through my life. Look at what God did through me. I led this many souls to Christ.  The day-in-and-out grind of motherhood yields slow results… and not even guaranteed results. But it’s a grand work—that God would take your hands and place them to soft clay.  Molding and shaping, giving and giving more, living poured out. 

Your purpose, their soul.

Is there a grander work you could be a part of?

By Grace,
Amanda Conquers

Sharing this here:

Psst.... And don't forget. This mom devotional is still available for $3.99 using the code: UMLAUNCH20 and a full of great reminders to live "all-in" with your kids. Affliate link used.

On the Tough Business of Motherhood {Plus, a Deal, a Giveaway, AND an Awesome Resource}

“Just a mom.”

I have thought this phrase, said this phrase. As if somehow the entire calling of motherhood is part-time or not enough…

Because, you know, having life form in your body, changing your body for nine months and then pushing that life into the world through much pain is no big deal. And I suppose all that time where your life revolved around feeding schedules and naptimes and all the sleep you lost was just a small matter. The way you worry about busy streets, strangers, and hazards everywhere you go, the way you feel like your heart might burst when two chubby arms squeeze your neck, the way you wipe noses and bottoms, the way you agonize over whether you are doing what’s best, the way you bathe and read bedtime stories, the way you mold and shape the lives that have been entrusted to you… eh, anybody could do it.

Um…

Mom. You are kind of a big deal. And being a mom is your highest and your greatest calling.

I know it’s tough. The way you long for just five minutes of quiet, the way you feel under-appreciated and like you just fall so short of what you think a mom should be. The way you endure stares from strangers when your kid decides to throw the temper tantrum of the century in the middle of the store. The way being a mom requires more sacrifices than you might have realized. The way you long for something that you feel good at…

Because I know, some days you probably go to bed feeling like you have no clue what is best for your child and like you completely stink at mothering.

Motherhood shows you how much you need Jesus like nothing else can.

These are the hard years. The in-the-trenches years. The years where you do the most molding and the most shaping. The years where your time and attention do the most and mean the most.

I don’t know about you, but “I don’t want to look back on my life in twenty years and

realize that I wasted the precious time I had with [my kids] by living in a state of perpetual distraction. I don’t want to be ruled by all of my 'supposed to’s'; I want to walk in Truth, with a purpose.”

Yes. Please.

My friend Kayse just released her ebook Undivided Mom today. That quote is from her book and one very good reason to read it.

Can I tell you about it?

Undivided Mom is a 14-day devotional for moms. Each day is either based on a passage of scripture or a real-life story. The Bible passages are relevant and the stories, well, I felt like they could have been written from my own motherhood experiences.

Kayse writes like she’s your friend, cheering you on, in the trenches of motherhood with you. The ebook is packed full of easy-to-digest truths and easy-to-put-into-practice wisdom.

I loved reading it so much, I sorta just read the whole thing in one sitting because I didn’t want to stop reading. And then I went back and read it again so I could highlight all the truth and wisdom (and not because it was given to me to review. But because I needed to hear so much of the stuff that was in there).

It’s easy to divide our attention and not do the thing God has put before us because some days (most days), it’s downright hard to be a mom. This book will remind you of the high calling of motherhood and challenge you to live an undivided life. To be an all-in mom.

I want to be that kind of mom. An Undivided Mom.

So, here’s the deal:

I get to offer my readers a coupon code for 20% off!! That makes Undivided Mom only $3.99 (Psst... that's less than thirty cents a day for each devotional.) Offer is only good until October 13, 2013. 
Coupon Code: UMLAUNCH20

Maybe get it now?

I do want to let you know, I am an affliate. That means if you click the links from this website to make your purchase, I receive a percentage for the referral. But can I be clear? That's not why I am mentioning this book. I believe in it. And I believe it's needed (I needed it anyways). But, you know, I totally wouldn't mind a little coffee money. :) So, if you read here and want to buy this book, please use the links provided here. That's all you have to do to give me credit for the sale. Just follow her instructions to make the purchase from her site. I'll still get the credit ;)

Also! I need to let you know, Kayse has an awesome give away going on for the book launch. Starbucks Card. Purse. Travel Bag. Coin purse. Cute. (And did I mention the Starbucks card?) Book or not, maybe put your name in the drawing?

Also! (another also!) There is a twitter party going down tonight. Want to come hang with me? Be brave with me? (Twitter parties totally scare me, but I do believe this one will be fun... and there's prizes.)

What's your current parenting struggle, Momma? Maybe be brave and share in the comments? I'd love to pray with you.
And since I'm asking you, I'll be brave and say I am struggling with navigating my daughter through change. Perhaps I will write on this more later, but she seems to have as much difficulty with change as I do. She's been having nightmares and been extra emotional :( I could use God's wisdom.



By Grace,
Amanda Conquers


By the way, I also need to let you know, I was given a copy of this book in exchange for my thoughts. The thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.

Also, (there are a lot of "also's" in this post!) I miss you guys! I am hoping to be back at least once more this week with a "what's been going on round here" type post... and maybe one more. AND I have an exciting series in the works full of FUN girlie stuff for us women. More info to come! 

How Does Salt Lose Its Saltiness?

It’s 2 pm on a weekday and I’m driving to Walmart. I have a list of groceries, and an hour to myself. It’s been a week since Mike completed field training. He is a cop. This is our life now—crazy schedule included. There’s the budget that we just can’t seem to meet. The house we wish we owned. The longing to establish some kind of routine for my kids. The college fund that hasn’t been set up. The hand-me-down couch. The two cars that are both over ten years old. The door I wish I had a fall wreath for.

A thousand ways to be distracted. A thousand things that seem necessary.

And yet, I can’t shake the story I read yesterday. The headline: “A Global Slaughter of Christians but America’s Churches Stay Silent.” And inside the article: the story of one woman, Rasha, who called her fiancé’s, Atef’s, phone. Instead of hearing the voice of the one she loves, an unfamiliar voice told her that Atef’s throat was slit for refusing to convert to Islam. Before that voice ends the conversation, he mocks her with these words: “Jesus didn’t come to save [Atef].”

Atef lived in the reality that he would have a choice, to deny Christ or to live for him. A choice that might cost him his life.

A choice he made at knife-point.

And really, I have that same choice every day. That decision might not cost me my life… but it might cost me my soul. Will I deny Christ?

The decision is subtle here between Newport Beach and the Hamptons with our strip malls and freedoms, where we sing of blurred lines and how we can’t stop and we won’t stop. Where there is worry about housing prices and the job market and the government shutdown… will I deny Christ or live knowing that He is my Daily Bread? Where I get wrapped up in schedules and how my life has changed… will I deny Christ or live knowing Him as my Center, my Constant? Where there are things like Miley Cyrus spinning out of control and whether transgender should be allowed to choose which locker-room they prefer… will I deny Christ or live knowing the God who IS Love? Will I live distracted? Will I live for stuff? Will I hide my head under a pillow and pretend there aren’t Christians who are being martyred and imprisoned daily because that reality is terrifying?

----------------------------------

This Saturday we went to an evening service. The pastor spoke on salt and light. In the passage Jesus poses this question: “If salt has lost its saltiness, what good is it?” (Matthew 5:13)

How does salt lose its saltiness?

I think Jesus was intentionally asking something that would baffle. Salt doesn’t lose flavor. It isn’t natural or normal, just like light doesn’t fail to change a dark room. So what is a Christian that denies Christ? That doesn’t change their environment? That doesn’t make someone thirsty for the only One who really satisfies? That doesn’t live in the reality of who Jesus is and what He promised He’d do?

Syria seems like a hard place to be a Christian right now, but I think America might be harder.

----------------------------------

As I was driving feeling both convicted and burdened for my brothers and sisters on the other side of the planet, I turned up some Delirious.

“My heart, it burns for You. And my heart burns for You.”

I belted those words through stinging hot tears, as though my words could be the fireplace poker awakening a barely-smoldering fire. My heart burns for You. Not for stuff. Not for home-ownership. Not for an earlier bed-time or better routine. Not for stability. But You. The desire of You. The holy pursuit of friendship with You.

Just give me Jesus.

I don’t want to live denying Christ. I want to live like He’s changed me to my very core… because He has.

I arrived at two conclusions today:

1. I have no idea what the proper response of the American church is to the slaughter of Christians in Egypt, Kenya, Pakistan, and Syria. But I do believe prayer is the one clear thing we can do… the one clear thing we are called to do.

2. The only way to make it as a Christian in America is to realize we are deciding whether or not to deny Christ everyday. Perhaps this a simple truth, but I do believe we need to meet with God daily… to burn. To light the fire afresh. To burn away the cares of this world, the distractions, and remember the one thing that really matters: Knowing Jesus. Not knowing about Him. But Knowing Him as friend.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Here’s that Delirious song, Obsession:

Linking up with the #TellHisStory community

Hide It Under a Bushel.

Yesterday I had one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.

You know the ones: you run behind for the first day of something, and you promised yourself you would be on time. You forget to put on deodorant. You drop your cell phone in the toilet. You blunder your way through a lesson for preschoolers in front of first-time parents. You notice the subtle signs that someone in your circle of friends probably doesn’t much care for you. You attempt small talk with a new friend and end up bringing up a painful topic that you really didn’t want to talk about, and all of sudden you feel incredibly awkward and embarrassed. You feel the sting of someone carelessly mentioning how they can’t believe anyone actually has the time to blog and, with all the other social media outlets, why anyone would want to.

Today, yesterday tormented me. Amanda who is terribly awkward and clumsy. Amanda who can’t do something simple like small-talk. Amanda who is still grieving. Amanda who is apparently hard to be around. Amanda who does weird things like make time to write on a blog. Amanda who actually thinks she could write a book.

So, here I am sitting outside of Starbucks, laptop out, tapping keys, unable to produce a decent thought because I worry about what people think of me and what I write. I am uncomfortable in my own skin. In my moment of self-deprecation, I glance over and my eyes catch the sight of fountaingrass dancing in the glow of the setting sun.  The foxtail ends look lit from within, fluttering about like fireflies through a sticky July dusk.

Immediately, I want to pull out my camera and capture it. And as soon as that thought enters, another one follows: busy street, busy Starbucks. People will see. People will think I am weird bent over with my average camera snapping pictures of a strip mall planter.

That moment presents me with a choice, the same one that presents itself everyday: to live worshiping my Creator with the passions He placed in my heart or to live stifled under the expectations of others.

Because really, if you are going to live lit up with your passions, people will notice. Worship calls out the greatness of the Creator. Worship reflects His greatness too.

The worshiper gets lit up like a foxtail in a setting summer sun.

Somedays, I feel awkward in this skin. The girl who desperately wants approval, who doesn’t want to color outside the lines of the housewife role, who doesn’t want to draw too much attention to herself because some of that attention might look like rejection... she picks on the girl who takes great delight in putting beauty within the four corners of a lens, who likes her big-frame glasses and her purple pants, and who somehow comes alive when she is organizing her words and thoughts on the screen of her laptop. She might even feel like sometimes her fingertip-to-key tapping is really a dance of passion between her heart and God’s.

And really, it's the fight of pride: to bring glory to oneself or to God. Self-glory looks to people for approval. God-glory seeks only God's approval. And isn't it strange how self-glory--how pride--wants to deny oneself of who they really are? And isn't is a grand thing that God delights in the very thing that brings us delight?

How will I live? How will you live?

Will you do your worship dance in the passion that lights you up… behind a camera, pen to paper, in front of a black board before little faces, hands to dirt raising plants from the ground, covering miles of nature trails in running shoes, touching paint to canvas, strumming guitar strings, singing, baking, cooking, creating, organizing…

Or will you worry what people will think?

And just like that, I push my chair back and walk toward dancing reeds and a glowing sun.

Here I am: awkward, silly, occasionally clumsy and learning to care less… learning to like God’s creation (me)… learning to worship.

I will not hide under a bushel of worry or expectations. Oh no, I am going to let it shine. 

Since I just gushed about some of my passions, I'd love it if you shared with me: what passions do you worship with? What makes you come alive? 

By Grace, 

Amanda Conquers

Psst... My beautiful inside-and-out friend Becky posted earlier this week on a similar topic. She addresses comparison and the reason why we as women sometimes hold back when it comes to our passions. It was well-written and pricked at my heart. You can find it---> HERE.

Sharing in this lovely community:

For Sunday Morning

This one’s for the single mom, the military spouse, the cop’s wife, the woman whose husband won’t go to church. This one’s for the woman who does the toothbrush, pajama, bedtime story, no-more-getting-out-of-bed-son routine all by herself and then wakes up on Sunday morning to get herself and her kids dressed, ready, and looking decent… and wearing matching shoes… also by herself.

This one’s for the woman who doesn’t have the luxury of applying her make-up in the passenger seat while someone else drives.

This one’s for the woman who took all three of her kids to 3 different Sunday school classes and survived one “no-I don’t-want-you-to-leave-me!” tantrum. This one’s for the woman who snuck in during the middle of the third song and sat down in the very back, the one for whom just making it is a victory in itself.

This one’s for the momma who feels small, like everyone notices that there is no man present and wonders about it.  This one’s for the momma who dreads the cue to “turn and greet somebody” because all you see is husbands and wives and this magical land of perfect families and you forget you belong here.

This one’s for the weary one, the bone-tired one desperate for a touch from God, the one who wants to sink into her pew when the minister talks about serving because just getting to church is really all you have to give.

This one’s for the one who overcomes temper tantrums, self-pity, lost mascara, missing shoes, slow drivers, and the worry that maybe you don’t fit in because you don’t look how you think church-goers should look. This one’s for the woman who puts her children above herself, the one who pushes back the lies of the enemy, the one who tries to be transparent, the one who chooses to live in community with other believers, the one who seeks after God’s face with all her heart. This one’s for the one who doesn’t always feel like being that woman.

This is for you.

This is for me too.

Maybe you need to know that it is really hard for me to get to church right now. Maybe you need to know you aren’t alone. Maybe you need to know that I see you. Maybe you need to know that the church is made of misfits, of broken, of sinners, and that the enemy would like nothing better than for you to think you don’t belong. Maybe you need to know that sometimes in this following-Christ life, the way we feel doesn’t match what God requires.

Do it anyways.

Do it for your children. Do it for your husband (or the one that may be in your future). Do it for yourself. Do it because it’s worship, because it’s sacrifice, and because it’s community… and all are important. Do it because the church needs your voice. Do it for the woman who is struggling to get to church too. Do it because you are keeping the enemy from getting the victory.

In this uncomfortable space, in this desperate and lonely place, I have seen God work in my heart. I have fallen deeper in love with Him. My sufficiency has decreased, so Christ’s very present and abundant grace has increased in my life.

Sometimes I feel like I barely have anything to give… what could I possible bring to the body of Christ? Tired, weary, barely wanting to go to church, and never making it on time… what do I have to give? And somehow in this place, God reminds me: Your salvation is free. And My love is yours. You cannot do anything to earn it.  You just have it.

My pride hates all that I am learning, but it’s kind of an amazing thing to behold.

God. Is. For. Me… and that truth cannot be shaken from me. I know know it.

I can hear His soft voice:

Rest in me. I have prepared a place for you.

And that raising children (and supporting your husband) business? That’s kind of a big deal.

And that mom who is sitting by herself? You know what it’s like to be her, go love on her for Me.

So maybe instead of closing with a question, how about I close with a challenge? How about you find someone at church today who is all by their lonesome and after you ask for their name and how they are, give them that look... you know, the you are welcome and you belong here and I don't really care what baggage you came with because I got some of my own too and how about we learn to follow Christ together look. (Is there such a look? I think there should be. :)) 

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Singing the Background {From the Archives}

Since moving this site, I have had to go through every post I have ever written over the past 2 years and write redirect codes for each one. I mention this because I found a few gems from before I had many readers. I thought they were worth re-sharing. I am taking a semi-break for a week (maybe two) to focus on my home, homeschooling, and starting the book that I have been trying to start for a few months now. It seemed like a good time to pull from the archives. 

(Also, having gone through some of my earliest posts, I seriously need to thank everyone who encouraged me to write in the very beginning when I was rusty and super wordy. I had trouble reading some of that stuff! You are such gifts in my life! Thank you!!)
---------

She sings bold notes, loud and clear, deep and full, ringing through the acoustics into people's souls. She's young. A beauty pageant runner-up, straight-A student, former cheerleader, and vocal talent. Oh, and it seems important to mention that she has blond hair, big like Texas.

From my older and wiser lips, I sing softly, delicate and feminine, barely heard. I am the girl with hair that's destined to live out its days straighter and flatter than a memo sheet pinned to the wall, but I flutter a high-noted harmony that blends into her voice, elevating it. The background.

I am singing the background.

Without going into a long drawn out Amanda's Vocal History lesson, let me summarize it like this: I have always wanted to be a singer. I have never been all that great of a singer.

Time and experience have left me with a usable voice, but I will never be the Nora Jones or Adele that I dream of sounding like. In fact, the other day I was singing over suds and plates, and I decided to record myself with my camera. Friends, if you want to deflate your ego, record yourself singing. I could hear Randy Jackson saying to me, "Like, yo, dawg, it was pretty pitchy. Like I had trouble listening to it." Yeah. Me too.

In spite of my vocal shortcomings, years of trying to sing and playing the guitar have also left me with an ear that can pick out a harmony. I can't explain how I do it. I just do. I hear it in my head.

I don't have the voice that was made to shine. I was not made to be a soloist. I have the voice that was made to be in the background. It may seem un-important, but having been around bands and music teams for a long time, even leading one myself, I know, those background people cover the mistakes of the foreground people. They keep the melody reeled in tight when a young voice hits the power notes out of control. They cover the sharps and flats with the grace of their harmony.

All this got me thinking about parenting.

My son just started walking a few weeks ago. Stiff-kneed and arms out, he carries himself a bit like Frankenstein still.

Here's the truth about babies learning to walk: They walk when they are ready to walk. We, as parents, need to do very little. We stand in the background encouraging, arms out-stretched to meet their first steps. We wait, we watch, and we are there to catch them should they tumble.

It seems like a lot of parenting is like this. We, the parents, are in the background singing the harmony helping our kids find their melody when they walk, then talk, first day of kindergarten, making friends, losing friends, first crush, first broken heart, discovering Jesus for themselves, wearing make-up, spiking hair, first dance... {I think I need to stop there. I don't want to be in tears over this whole my-kids-will-be-grown-up-one-day thing.}

God made our kids wonderfully unique. He gave our kids talents, personalities, and a different way of seeing life and relating to God. He grafted onto our kids' hearts purpose, potential. As parents, we watch our kids' personalities come to life as they grow. We see their struggles. We see their strengths. We may not know exactly what they will grow up and do, but we want to see them get there (well kind of, I am pretty sure there is part of us that wishes our children could stay young forever). We want to see them walking in their purpose and in their dreams.

We want to see them belting out the melody of their life's song.

We want to be there to reel them in should they find themselves a little out of control.

We want to point them to Grace when they make mistakes.

And because of this, there is a subtle harmony each parent was meant to sing over their child. We sing it as we watch those first steps. We sing it as we prepare him for his first day of school. We sing it as we tend to her broken heart. We sing it as we show her how to apply make-up or do her hair. We sing it even when they don't want to hear it, when their eyes roll, when they think they know more. We sing that soft harmony that lifts their voice, guides them to their melody. It's quiet, but it's wise. It never outshines the melody, but it is important.

No matter where your kids are in life, they need your harmony. They don't need you to sing melody. They don't need your will, they need you to lead them to God's Will. They need you to sing the background: the guiding role rather than the leading role. They need your prayers, your support, and your grace.

--------

What do you think? This still speaks to me as a parent over one year later as Jed hits those "terrific twos" (I refuse to say the other "t" word) and Addy starts school... with me as her teacher. How can you see this (or apply this) to where you are currently as a parent??


By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Retro Office-Classroom Space

We live in a two bedroom home. We chose this place because, well, our budget doesn't allow for us to rent anything larger than two bedrooms at the moment and because this place came with a little 10x9 bonus room. It has no door or closet, but it makes for the perfect office.

Now that we are homeschooling, I have to share my creative space with a classroom. 

So, armed with very little money, this woman set out to make the space a great learning environment and a place where I could retreat in the morning and evenings to pray, read and write.

I sorta love the way it turned out. 

The design plan started when my mom (who runs a thrift store) got a few desks in. I fell in love with the lines of the desk. They were solid wood, sturdy, were designed for two kids, and were completely retro.

I also found a mint paint chip that just seemed happy, energizing, and perfect for a retro classroom.

I used Glidden Minty Green in flat for the bottom of the desk and Glidden White Muslin in flat for the top.

My mom convinced me to try out chalk painting for distressing. I fell in love.

It was easy to make chalk paint. Easy to apply. Easy to distress. And the wax? Well, it is easy to apply too, easy to make your furniture look shabby and aged, and it feels like butter to the touch when you are done. (Are you catching the easy theme?)

We are almost two weeks into school and so far it's done a great job of holding up against crayons and two rough kids. If you like wood working or furniture restoration, I highly recommend looking into chalk painting.

Isn't she pretty?!

I found THESE free alphabet card printables and strung them up with yarn and mini clothespins. 

Addy really wanted to put the painted wooden butterfly, flower and crown in her space. I really didn't want to let her because they just didn't fit with my design scheme. But, you know, Addy is in this space and it needs to feel like home to her too. So I let her. :)

My mom had some of those old kitchen cabinet doors lying around in the thrift store... you know, the standard 90's-track-home oak kind? I turned one into a chalkboard. The frame got the same white and the same treatment as the desk and the inside was painted with actual chalkboard paint.

I thought I would use the board to teach from, but, as it turns out, it is a great way to keep little brother occupied.

My favorite part about using old cabinets (besides the free part)? We used the original hinges as our hardware! EASY! Plus, it seems to fit in with the retro theme. I added two pieces of those picture mounting Command Strips to the back to keep the kids from pulling the bottom of the chalkboard away from the wall and then releasing it to bang against the wall. Kids seem to like to make noise like that.

I used another cabinet door above my desk for a sign as a personal reminder to me.

I love the way it turned out.

It seems to be the phrase God keeps speaking to me... when I want Addy to just get through the school work and just magically understand the concepts... when I am wanting to go places with my writing and the kids need my attention... when the to-do list is long and I want to skip time in my Word and in prayer... when I am "running late" and hurrying and could completely miss the gifts in my day (and teach my kids how to miss them too)...

Walk Slowly.

My daughter asked me about what the sign said. Her response: "Oh. Like we aren't supposed to run in our classroom?"

{And momma grinned.}


I put a few more quotes up that I thought would help me as a homeschooler, a writer and a human in general.

I love this one: "The bravest love is wildly faithful and it falls hard again each morning." -Ann Voskamp

It reminds me to faithfully meet with, pay attention to, and love with my whole big heart my husband, my kids, and my Jesus even when I don't much feel like doing what love requires of me.

I got the free printable from HERE. I ended up changing the colors to suit my color scheme. (I may provide my printable version later... but I feel like I need to ask permission first because I didn't design it, I followed her design and made a few color and font changes.)


I used thrifted frames and chalk-painted them too.
Oh, and see that curtain fabric? MUSTACHE print!!! I didn't think I wanted mustaches in this space (or any space really), but this print just makes me happy, the scale of the print was right for the room, and it seemed retro. My daughter told me that she hates it, but then in the next sentence bursts out laughing,"It's just so silly, Mom. Mustaches are silly!"

I'm taking that as it being successful. Silly. Quirky. Happy. Retro.

And I am still laughing over the fact that I put mustaches in the space.

And sometimes you just need a laugh.

I have a feeling I am going to need to remember this quote from Anne of Green Gables: "Each day starts fresh with no mistakes in it." Marilla says this to Anne after Anne has a "Jonah Day."

I need this reminder often.

I picked this clock up at Hobby Lobby when it was on sale. It just seemed like it was made for my classroom/office.

Most important piece in this space:

Okay. So there you have it... my office, creative space, and homeschool classroom.



I'd love to hear what you think. 
Also, I'd love to hear the quote/scripture you would put in your office and/or classroom to prod you forward. I could use a few more good ones :)



By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

When You Ask "Why God?!," and Don't Get an Answer

I have had two miscarriages.

The first one was right before Addy. The pregnancy came as a surprise; we hadn’t been trying very hard to prevent pregnancy, but we weren’t actually “trying.” I found out very early on. We were so excited... SO excited that we ignored the rule that some follow of waiting till the doctor confirms the pregnancy. We just couldn’t contain our joy.

Less than a week after we told our parents, I began cramping. And no matter how I prayed and hoped against hope… I was miscarrying.

I was heartbroken.
But I am not sure "heartbroken" adequately describes feeling of a 1000 lb. weight crushing your innermost being, how it feels like a part of you dies and can never be recovered.

I spent a week laid up on the couch with the puffy eyes and a tissue mess around me. Then, I got off the couch and decided to focus all my efforts on getting pregnant again. A few months later, the pee stick gave me that extra pink line.

It was a hard pregnancy. I was terribly ill (as in I visited the ER when, in my 11^th week, I started throwing up blood because my esophagus was raw from throwing up so much. Yeah. That bad.) But the hardest part wasn’t the morning sickness. It was where I realized that as much as I thought the meaning in that miscarriage was discovering how much I wanted to be a mom… it wasn’t. I was pregnant still grieving the loss of the baby that would never be.

I wanted to give that miscarriage meaning. I wanted to be on the other side of grief. I thought another pregnancy would get me there.

And the hard truth: Sometimes in this life, our “Why GOD?!?!” questions just don’t get answered. And sometimes, as much as we would like to be on the other side of grief, grief is a process.

Sometimes it’s in wading those heavy waters with a hole in your heart as wide as the Grand Canyon that you find that even though the hole remains, God’s grace can fill even the widest chasm.

And really, it isn’t that I actually wanted to grasp the meaning in the losses… what I really wanted was to hold those babies in my hands. And I can’t. And I wrestle with it. While as much as it might seem meaning is the only thing that can bridge the gaping hole in the aftermath of loss… truth is, only faith can.

I think it’s in those moments of loss that we encounter the gap between our understanding and God’s ways. This side of heaven, things don’t always make sense… we see through the mirror dimly, peering through the mist (1 Corinthians 13:12). Real faith demands that we freefall… let go of our understanding and jump. God is good. God has a plan... even when I don't understand it. And the hardest reality to grasp: God loves us and has our best at heart. At some point in the freefall, faith catches us. Joy and peace are restored.

We fall in love. We fall INTO Love.



Saying a prayer this morning for all who mourn... Blessed are those who mourn, for they SHALL be comforted. (Matthew 5:4).



By Grace,
Amanda Conquers


Sharing here:

Eat Your Crust

“Eat the crusts, Amanda. They’ll make your hair curly.”

I can still hear the voice of my gramps saying those words with a few threads of New Jersey wrapped around them. We’d sit at a small table—4 kids, two parents and two grandparents. No matter how little the elbow room was, the table was always properly set: bread plate, salad bowl, and water glass on the right, above the knife.

I remember the little details of that table, knots in the light colored wood. The faded pink cushions with little blue flowers. The celery slivers in every salad and the catalina dressing my granny made sure was on the table—I believed it was just for me.

At some point, every dinner around that table would consist of Andy, Kelly and me arguing over who got to use the one children’s plate with the little Pluto caricature printed on it, probably leftover from my uncle’s childhood. There would be conversations about Granny’s cooking, whether or not Gramps would make us watch the Lawrence Welk Show after dinner, and how picky of an eater I was.  

Gramps always led the mission to get me to eat everything on my plate. The Great Depression and hard times from my gramps’ childhood would never be mentioned. However, starving children in China might be brought up and so would my gramps’ and granny’s excellent health.

“I don’t know why you won’t eat everything here, Amanda. I eat everything your gran puts before me, and look at me, my health is great. I don’t think you realize how good you’ve got it.”

As I cringed through bites of things like baked salmon or tomato casserole or green beans, my gramps would glance at the remains of a French bread slice on my plate. I had buttered my bread, consumed the soft insides and left the hard, heat-kissed outsides behind.

“You know, Amanda. Crust gives you curly hair. Wouldn’t you like curly hair?”

I did. 

As a child of the eighties, all I wanted in life was big hair and bangs—big, curled up high with a few curled whisps on my forehead. I remember when my mom let me perm my hair in third grade, and I crossed my fingers for body and height and curls. The permanent did not live up to my expectations and fell out in a month’s time.

I am fairly certain I begged my mom to do this to my hair. I am also pretty sure I thought it looked amazing.

My cousin and I with CRIMPED hair and an attempt at big bangs.

With hope for better tresses, I ate my crusts. I guess I thought perhaps the brown outsides of bread held some kind of hair-curling nutrient. I think I was in seventh grade brushing out my fine straight hair when it occurred to me, I had been eating my crusts for years and still didn’t even have a wave. I’d been duped. Bread crusts having magic hair-curling properties was a myth just like tooth fairies, Santa Claus, and “don’t make that face or it’ll stay that way permanently.”

-----------------

As my gramps is living out his last days… hospice has been called, his body is shutting down, he has forgotten who each one of his grandkids are… I feel like I am grieving the loss of my granny, my childhood days spent at their house all over again along with grieving the loss of my gramps. I am mourning the passing of a generation. As my parents become my grandparents and I become my parents, I marvel at the way time marches onward, and it does not stop.

Gramps, Granny and my dad. Circa 1952

When you leave this earth, you can’t take anything with you, you can only leave behind. I think it's in all of us to want to know that at the end of our life that we will leave behind something good, something that lasts, something that keeps getting passed on.

As I try to think of what it is my Gramps would pass on, I think of bread crusts. The way as a child I wanted to just eat the soft insides and avoid the bitterness and hardness of the crust. The way I didn’t want to eat what wasn’t pleasant.

And don’t I sometimes want to live life that way? I open my hand to the beautiful wedding day, the snuggles and the I-love-you-to-the-moon-and-backs, the house and the yard with the tire swing. But sometimes I want to close my hand to the hard, the hard parts in marriage, the temper tantrums in the grocery stores, the miscarriages, the job losses, the times of more month than money. I see the good stuff as a gift but I fail to see the value in the hard stuff.

My grandparents were crust eaters. Overcomers. Hard workers. People who married for life even on the bad days. People who lived through wars and Depressions and things like obstinate children who joined the Marines instead of the Navy, a disabling injury, many cross country (and even cross world) moves, and the death of a grandchild. They were people who knew the value of everything put on their plate.

They knew how good they had it.

(Left) My gramps and granny on their wedding day. Wasn't my gramps handsome?  (Right) circa 2003

To this day, I still eat my crust. And I am learning to “eat my crust” here where sometimes it’s hard and it doesn’t always make sense or seem fair. I might not have curly hair, but I know how good I’ve got it.

Care to reminisce with me? What is one thing your grandparents always told you to do?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers


Sharing in community here:

A Strategy for the "Terrific" Twos (and maybe parenting in general)

My son is 2.

You know, that special time in a child’s life when they suddenly have a will of their own and use it every chance they get? Yeah. That.

Everything green on his plate will not be eaten, not even tried, maybe even thrown.

It will take no less than one hour from the time I tuck him in bed till he actually goes to sleep. (and on the rough nights… 2 hours.)

The bed will be gotten out of no less than 32 times.

No is his favorite word.

When I say it’s time to leave, there will be that sparkle of mischief before he takes off running in the opposite direction… and after I catch up to him, he may start kicking and yelling depending on how badly he wants to stay.

Parenting Jed is hard right now. There are days when I contemplate whether or not I should just cave and let him live off of chicken nuggets and goldfish and stay up till he falls asleep on the couch. It seems easier.

Discipline and consistency are not exactly easy. And some days, when you are with a toddler… progress is difficult to see.

 

And then I think of Addy. The other day we were wandering through the produce section of Costco. Addy points at the huge bag of asparagus and asks, “Mom, can we get that green stuff? I like it.”

I stopped in my tracks and perhaps looked a little more stunned than I should have. Play it cool, Mom. Play it cool. I smiled, “Why, yes. Yes, we can.”

It was like sparkles and a glowing light had descended upon us in that super store. Break through. Victory. Sweet fruit of my labors. Maybe it was in the simplest, most everyday-ordinary of ways, but we were overcomers.

My mind flashed to the 2 year old battles I had had with my picky, toe-headed daughter over the dinner table. I remember trying different tactics. I remember evenings of frustration. I remember wondering if I was going about it all wrong and if all this was really worth it. I knew I wanted a healthy child and a girl that would be brave enough to try new things.  

So I did it. I pressed forward. I drew my line in the sand. And it wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t overnight. I am not exactly sure when the shift happened. I just know that now she eats a lot of what I put in front of her (save but her short list of foods she cannot stand no matter what. I can live with that. I have my own short list. Mushrooms are and always will be nasty nasty little things.)

Bedtime is no longer a battle with Addy. She knows my “momma means business” voice and acts accordingly. Sometimes I have to remind her I mean business, but it’s not daily, it’s not even weekly.

Addy brushes her teeth. She shampoos and conditions. She dresses herself. She goes to the potty all by herself. She picks up toys. She loves helping momma (and some of her “help” is actually helpful.)

At some point, Addy stopped being a toddler and became little girl. At some point, the discipline and wisdom took root in her heart.

All that hard work eventually paid off.

I need to remember this on the hard days. The strategy for the "terrific" 2's might not be profound or easy, but here it is: Keep at it, momma. Don't give up. Keep love first and foremost.  Do what’s best for your children in the long run and in light of eternity. Keep mold and shaping. Keep disciplining.

Change might creep in slowly so that you barely recognize it… until one day your child asks for green veggies and the light shines down on you and you look back and realize you’ve been making progress all along.

You’ve got this, momma.

The sweet rewards of hard work will soon be yours.

Does it help knowing that each child is different and what worked for the first will likely not work for the second? Yeah. Sorry. But, hey… motherhood is this glorious adventure in which we likely will not ever lose our need to lean on Jesus.

What would you add to this list? What are your current parenting battles?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

A New Home

So here it is. A new home. A new address. A new design. But the same heart and the same Amanda.

Welcome.

Honestly, I have been wanting to do this for a long time. I loved “The Cadence of a Conquering Housewife,” still do. It’s just a bit of a mouthful. I love the idea of calling out cadences and encouraging each other. That is not changing. I just want a name that is easy and memorable and always applies to me whether it’s “housewife” stuff or not (because Amanda Conquers is always related to me… it is me).

Before I show you around, can I share a story with you?

Legend has it that long ago in the still hours of the night, a Norse army attempted a surprise attack on a Scottish encampment. In the middle of their quiet creeping, one poor Norseman happened upon a thistle, felt it’s thorns pierce his feet, and let out a cry that called an entire army of Scots to action. The Scots were able to defeat the Norse thanks to one humble weed. That flower is now the symbol of a nation.

I don’t know what it is about the thistle. But I think it might be one of my favorite flowers. (Not that I want my husband to go out and put them in a vase for me. I am not so sure they are that kind of flower.) There’s just something about the strength of that humble weed, the tenacity of it, the way it’s hard and thorny and even a little ugly… until the bud gives way to the feathery-soft, arrestingly beautiful insides of the thistle flower. I love the way that lowly weed is so full of purpose… even if it’s hard to see at first.

I think we all might have a little bit of thistle in us. Humble beginnings. A hard and, at times, thorny shell. A fight and a strength. A divine purpose that might just affect the outcome of an entire nation. And a beauty that proves God knows how to redeem ugly… We might fall so short, we might have broken pieces to our lives, but God makes beautiful things.

Arrestingly beautiful. Yes. Us.

Just earth and clay and dust. Low and humble. But redeemed and beautiful and full of purpose. Glory-giving-to-God.

Okay. So now you know the story behind the picture in my heading.

Now for the logistical stuff.

I updated my About Me and This Blog page… I even added some random facts about me. I would love to have you stop by and tell me a little about you or what we have in common. I will be working on migrating some of more pages over (you know, those tabs that go across the top) as I finish updating them.

I lost almost all my comments in the move, but I did manage to get all my posts moved.

If you subscribe by email, I moved my email list over to this feed. You don’t need to do anything to keep receiving my posts. (And if for some reason you would like to stop receiving my posts, just click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of the email). If you would like to make sure you never miss a post and have the convenience of reading and interacting right from your email box, enter your email address in the box on the top right or click---> HERE.

If you don’t want to subscribe by email but you do want to make sure you don’t miss a post from me, you can subscribe by bloglovin’ or feedly. They are both awesome ways to see all your favorite blogs in one place and read what you want to read when you want to read it. They have apps for easy phone and template viewing too.

I updated all my online profiles (facebook, twitter… and I am now on instagram. I know I am kind of late to the party, but I am loving connecting through insta-real-life-happening-now-grams). I was able to update my existing accounts so if you were following, you are still following me... I just have a different name.

I installed some new sharing tools that I hope make sharing and saving a whole lot easier for you. You can see those at the bottom of every post.

Okay. I think that’s it for now. I hope to have some more posts up this week. I don’t think I realized how much work a domain change would be. I have been missing writing and am bursting at the seams with thoughts begging to be written down.

Seriously. From the bottom of my heart. Thanks for being a part. Thanks for making the jump with me. For your encouragement. For you readership. I love having you here.

I would love to hear what you think of the new design? Also, am I alone in my love for thistles?  Or do you see the beauty in them too?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

DIY

DIY Projects and Tutorials:

1. Happy Hearts and Warm Ears: Fashion Forward Ear Warmers

2. Fabric Rose Hair Piece

3. EASY Headband and Bubble Skirt

4. Nursery Wall Art on a Budget

5. A little fabric, a little spray paint, and a whole lot of hot glue... makes an old lamp brand new

6. Leg Warmers

7. Shabby Shimmer Glazed Frame

8. Easy-Peasy Pleated Dress

9. Dinosaur Hoodie

10. Repurposed Toy Storage Bench

11. Baby Tie

12. Cabinet of Awesome

13. Chic Shirt Pillow

14. Cloth Wipes and Wipes Solution

15. Recipe Organizer

and still more...

16.  Bow Ties

17.  Photo Wall (with "Book" Shelves)

18. Rainbow Birthday Party

19. Little Baby Ruffle Butts

20. Organization Station

21. Joy! Journal

22. Shabby-Romance Mock Quilted

Crazy Obedience

5 women got this crazy idea: what if we wrote on what it means to follow Christ? What if we took a challenge to be willing to do anything God would ask for a month? What if we banded with other sisters and encouraged each other and shared our struggles and testimonies?

We are finding out. Care to join us?

This page will be updated with links to our posts as we post them.

New? Start Here.

Week 1:

The Journey Begins {ShineSisterShine}
Obedience Flowing from Love {Blue Marble God}
The Best Place to Start a Topic like Obedience {Conquering Housewife}
If You Have Control, It's Not Obedience (My Words, His Glory}

Remembrance's Role in Obedience {Blue Marble God}
A New Way of Thinking {ShineSisterShine}
What Obedience Really Means {Conquering Housewife}
Why Obedience? {My Words, His Glory}

What if God Asks Me to Do Something Weird? {Conquering Housewife}
Obedience- Faith in Action {My Words, His Glory}
How Suffering Strengthens Obedience {Blue Marble God}


Week 2:

Everyday Life Choices {ShineSisterShine}
7 Ways to Maximize Your Time with God {Conquering Housewife}

A Morning Offering {ShineSisterShine}
When Obedience Means Taking a Break {My Words, His Glory}
On Listening {Conquering Housewife}

The One Thing That Will Always Get in the Way of Crazy Obedience {Conquering Housewife}


Week 3:

When Everything You Do Feels Really Small... {Conquering Housewife}

To Love God {Faith and Simplicity}
I Jumped... {Conquering Housewife}
Fleeing on Horses {Blue Marble God}


Week 4:

Interview with Kat Lee {Conquering Housewife}
In Which I Fess Up {Conquering Housewife}

Want some blog swag?

<center><a href="http://www.the-cadence.com/p/crazy-obedience.html"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/56fe1495c6fc08aab4d59f10/t/577d1c74f7d1ffc7732aa503/1467817076084/1000w/"/></a></center>
<center><a href="http://www.the-cadence.com/p/crazy-obedience.html"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/56fe1495c6fc08aab4d59f10/t/577d1c74f7d1ffc7732aa507/1467817076085/1000w/"/></a></center>
<center><a href="http://www.the-cadence.com/p/crazy-obedience.html"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/56fe1495c6fc08aab4d59f10/t/577d1c74f7d1ffc7732aa509/1467817076085/1000w/"/></a></center>
<center><a href="http://www.the-cadence.com/p/crazy-obedience.html"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/56fe1495c6fc08aab4d59f10/t/577d1c74f7d1ffc7732aa50b/1467817076085/1000w/"/></a></center>

Credit: The photo for the graphic was taken by my very talented friend, Katie, and is used with her permission.

Blog Love and Link Parties

I love being a blogger. I love reading blogs too. :) I talk about how to enjoy a blog here.

Here's a list of my current favorites. These are ones I [almost] always read when I see them appear in my feed reader.

Places I find encouragement:

 A Holy Experience
This is Ann Voskamp's, writer of One Thousand Gifts, blog. Her pictures are beautiful. Her words are pointed, challenging, but drenched in hope and encouragement.
Giving Up on Perfect
Mary is a very real and down to earth writer. She is easy to relate to and I always get a chuckle along with some encouragement from her words. 
(in)courage
This is a site that a long list of amazing blogger/writer women contribute to. They always have great articles. 
Sarah Mae 
She is encouraging and super REAL...a great read for moms.
Deanna Brand
This is the blog to my awesome pastor's wife. She doesn't write often, but the truth she does write down is so uplifting. She is real. And she is real encouraging. :)
Annie Blogs
She is a great read for singles and young women... but I seriously enjoy her blog. I don't think I have ever not laughed while reading one of her posts... though do be warned, she is also the kind of writer that could bring one to tears too. She's talented!
Shaun Groves
Song writer/musician and Compassion Blogger. Sometimes this dude just says really profound things so simply it kind of grabs ya. Good writing.

Places I find inspiration:

 A Beautiful Mess
These sisters are fresh and trendy but also kind of indie-retro-rock too. I love their pictures. I love their projects. I love their fashion suggestions. This blog always makes me happy. 
Organizing Made Fun
Okay, so I don't always enjoy this blog if I am honest (I am so not an organizer) but I need this blog in my life. She has helpful tips and simple ways to organize.
551 East Furniture
This blog is from a gal who revamps old pieces of furniture and resells them. She's got a quirky sense of humor and some seriously great ideas for furniture redo's.
A Forest Feast
Healthy, Fresh, Easy Food and always with Beautiful pictures
Delia Creates
Delia's projects are easy, simple, and totally inspired... especially if you love to create for the little one's in your life. I love what delia creates :)
I Can Teach My Child
If you would like to be a better parent, check out this blog. Jenae's blog is full of easy activities you can do with your children.  
Not Just a Housewife
Stacy is a hard-core DIY-er. She designs and constructs many of her own pieces that make me want to bust out the power tools. She has many other cool home projects that make me believe my home can be pretty and welcoming for very little money.
I'm a Lazy Mom
Some of the best tips I have ever come across for making life (especially life with kids) more easy. Easy recipes, time-savers, and tips. (Plus she's a pretty funny gal).

Places that propel this Blogger and Writer forward:

Allume
If you are a female, you love Jesus, and you are a writer, 3 words: Go. Here. Now. It's an awesome community of bloggers. Encouragement and a conference (that I want to go to SOOO badly... maybe next year)  
Michael Hyatt
Former CEO of Thomas Nelson, and blogger with a massive amount of followers, this dude knows a lot! And a lot of stuff that I need to know.
Problogger
A credible site dedicated to making your blog better. 
Blogging with Amy
This gal speaks plain English when it comes to html and other technical jargon that a blogger needs to know. She has great how-to videos too.
Rachelle Gardner
This gal is a Literary Agent who's been around the book world for a while. She knows her stuff and she is a great blog writer. Lots of good information on building your platform and getting published (and why writers should blog too).

 

I link up at:

Mondays:

 Tuesdays:

Wednesdays:



Whatever Wednesdays at littlewritermomma

Thursdays:

Encouragement

Encouraging Words:

Here's to being real! And here's me being real. 

A Pink Sock Covered in Cheerios 

"...As Yourself"

Temple Tending

Rejoicing and Complaining 

Eat My Words

The Grace Game

Thrive

Applesauce and Insecurity

Keep Pressing!

Treat Yourself: Ain't nothing sexier than believing you are sexy

This One's for the Guys: Romance

Ten Year High School Reunion: For Me, the Redefining of Beauty and Success

Saturday Mornings...

Recipes

I believe in healthy food. I believe in simple. I believe in easy. I love trying new foods and I am not afraid of different ingredients. These are my tried and true recipes; some I've created, some I've clipped or found...and made over and over again.

 

For the Start of Your Day 

(because it's easier to conquer your day when you start it right)

• Good Morning! Good Breakfast! Baked Steel Cut Oats and Baby Cereal Bars
• Banana Blueberry Breakfast Muffin
• And Most Importantly, It's Caffeinated: Espresso Mix For Iced Coffees

Sauces 

(because really it only has to take 2 extra minutes to make a meal awesome... like a party for your taste buds)

• Tzatziki! (plus some meal suggestions to go with the sauce) 
• Red Pepper Pesto Sauce
• 2 Minutes to Fabulousness Raspberry Syrup
• Spicy Raspberry Cream Cheese Spread

Dinner 

(Amanda's family approved.)

• Grilled Pizza
• Fish and Mango Salsa Tacos
• Grilled Tomatillo Chicken
• Healthy and Delicious Turkey Meatballs
• Picky Preschooler Approved: Butternut Squash Mac and Cheese

Some Extras 

(mostly because I couldn't think of how to categorize them...)

• Chewy Granola Bars
• Pretzel Buns

Walk Slowly

There is an old Indian proverb: Children tie the feet of their mother.

And if you are a mom, you might know this to be true.

The slowing down starts with your swollen belly, duck-waddle walk, sleep deprivation from peeing in the middle of the night every hour and a half like clockwork and things like heartburn, shortness of breath, and calves that seem to have swallowed ankles whole.

It continues with a labor and delivery that rarely goes as planned. And no matter how that baby comes into this world, it leaves a warrior’s mark on your body. You will be a woman who hunkered down, who pushed through, who thought she couldn’t, who with much pain and sacrifice (and maybe even collar-grasping and screaming into your husband’s ear) brought life into this world. And when they lay that fresh-skinned baby on your chest for the first time, you will never be the same.

Mom. Warrior.  Sacrifice-Maker. Nourisher. Boo-boo kisser. Taxi-car driver. Expert snuggler. Storybook reader. Silly-song singer.

That baby will wrap himself around your heart and your legs, and you will never be the same. 

Children tie the feet of their mother.

You will answer baby cries at all hours of the night. You will read up on how to get a baby to sleep through the night, and just about the time you think you’ve got it figured out, they will have a growth spurt or drop a nap, and everything you thought you knew will go out the window.

Your arms will develop car seat muscles. Your perfume will be baby spit-up, and your shoulders will seem to always be covered in a mix of snot and drool.

Your life will revolve around things like feeding, pooping, and napping. You may have a moment where you cry because all you want in life is a shower. 

No matter how much you have desired to be a mom, it will grate against your independence and your pride. You will at some point feel like a failure. You will at some point long to have something in your life that you feel like you are good at or an expert on.

Children tie the feet of their mother. 

That child will grow older and faster. You will find yourself saying things you never thought would pass your lips in your lifetime: things like, “We don’t strip down naked at the park,” “Please, don’t wipe your boogers on your sister,” and “Ew! Don't lick the dog back.”

You will delight in their distinct personality and cringe at their defiance…you may also want to hide behind the Coca-Cola display when your child goes all flailing arms and legs and screaming on the floor of the grocery store. When you watch your toddler rip the plastic shovel from his playmate’s hands and yell, “Mine!,” you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt, we didn’t learn our sin nature; we were born with it.

You will discipline and mold and shape. You will wonder if you are doing it all wrong.

Your days will move slowly… either at work counting the hours till you can get home to your babies or at home counting the hours till your husband comes home to help you. You will pick up toys only to pick them up again a few hours later. You will know how painful it is to step on a Lego or a miniature stegosaurus. You may have days where you feel like all you do is clean up messes.

Children tie the feet of their mother.

And then there are those moments when you are making your way towards the McDonald’s drive-thru because your day just seems to need an easy button. In that feeling of guilt for not making the pb&j on whole wheat bread, the apple slices and the carrot sticks, your 4 year old glances up at the big blue sky as though he’s seeing it for the first time and asks, “Is that where Jesus lives, Mommy?” 

If you don’t live slow enough, tied-up enough in the wonder of those small years you could almost miss it.

Holiness. 

Yes. 

In that moment. 

And you tell your little one how Jesus lives in your heart when you ask Him to. And maybe, without missing a beat, your baby will stop and pray, “Jesus. I want you to live in my heart.” And just like that, in the midst of your mundane, God invades that moment, and it is Holy.

I know a man in the Bible who walked with a limp.

Jacob—whose name meant one who fights for his own way—wrestled God one night. God touched his thigh and changed his name. With a limp, Jacob became Israel—God Prevails. Because the only way to live like God prevails is to lean on Him.

Children might tie your feet. You may have to make more sacrifices of your time and your dreams and your way than you thought possible. You may feel inadequate, not-good-enough, like you yell too much and you don’t keep the house clean enough. You might feel like you limp as a mother.

But that is the place God prevails.

Lean, Momma. Lean on Him at the hospital when confusion clamors, and it’s not going how you envisioned. Lean on Him when that baby is up all hours of the night. Lean on Him when he’s peed on the floor for the fifth time in one day. Lean on Him when he is screaming because he’s shoved a Tic-Tac up his nose. Lean on Him when you discover things like rashes or ticks or high fevers. Lean.

You might feel tied up, but you are wrapped up in the abundance of God’s Grace. 

And that place of spills and kisses? It’s Holy ground.

If I could say one thing to the young momma behind me: Your feet are tied up for a reason. Walk slowly.

The years are precious and fleeting and littered with the gifts of His grace. Let those babies tie you up with their chubby arms around your neck. Know that your kids don’t need you to be perfect, and they don’t actually need Pinterest-inspired anything.

And, Momma, it’s okay if you limp. Because if you are leaning on Jesus, your kids don’t see your limp… they see Jesus walking with you. 

By Grace and with all my love for you, Momma,

Amanda Conquers


Maybe share with us? What is one of the best ways your life has changed since becoming a momma? What is one of the hardest ways?Photo Credit: Photos 2, 7 and 8 on this post were taken by KatieFewellPhotography and are used with her permission.

Joining with #TellHisStory community

On Leaning, Limping, and What It Really Means to Live Broken

Lean on Jesus.

I have heard this phrase many times. And for some reason the last time I heard it, I thought of why one might lean.

I remember spraining my ankle.

As I lay prostrate on the floor unsure of my ability to get off the ground, my husband gave me his hands and pulled me up. I put my arm around him. I leaned on him. And though I walked with a limp, I walked. (Well, at least until I got to my bed anyways. And then I pretty much let my husband wait on me.)

I think of the one man I know who walked with a limp.

Jacob—whose name means supplanter.

A supplanter is one who wants his own way and doesn’t trust anyone but his own self to make it happen. He pushes others out of the way. He is prideful, offensive, a liar, and a cheater.

There Jacob is on the eve of encountering his brother Esau… the one he supplanted. He must have trembled in his sandals as he got word that Esau’s band of 400 men were marching out to meet him in the morning. Jacob separated his belongings, he sent fine gifts, but he couldn’t stop the inevitability that he was about to come face to face with the person he wronged. He cried out to God to help him. He reminded God of His promises.

His last act before laying his head down to sleep: he sends everything he values most in life across the ford Jabbok. Jabbok means “emptying,” and I have a feeling as Jacob laid down that night unsure of the dawn, he felt emptied. Desperate. Afraid that he might lose everything. Wanting the control he’s always had that seems to elude him now.

God meets him there at that empty place.

Jacob and God incarnate wrestle—Jacob’s will versus God’s way.

Jacob fights just like he’s fought his whole life… like he fought for a birthright, like he fought for a wife, like he fought for sheep against Laban. He fights desperate, worried, and he does not give up. Just before the break of day, God reaches out and dislocates Jacob’s thigh.

You will limp now, but you may lean on Me.

God changes Jacob’s name from one who fights for his own way to Israel—God prevails.

Because even in our darkest times, when everything is out of control, when we fight and claw and grasp… God prevails.

My fingers run down that Genesis page touching truth so hard and so profound. God gave Jacob a limp. Because the only way to live like God prevails is to live broken.

I think of the way I have fought for my own way. Mydreams. My calling. I have been emptied. I have wrestled God, I have demanded blessings, I have been prideful and self-seeking. I have sought numbers and success and titles. I have bitterness in my heart towards those I see as more successful.  It’s ugly. I see it and it humbles me.

I am broken.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me.

The only way to fully live is to live fully broken. The only way to walk the straight and narrow is with a limp—often slow and always leaning on Jesus.

There was a time when someone at church would make a statement like, “It’s all Jesus. Only because of Him. Lord knows, I can’t do any of it on my own.” I would cringe. How could it be all Jesus? You did it too. God might have opened doors, but you knocked and you walked through them. And now I get it. They didn’t walk, they limped.

I think of Paul’s “thorn in his flesh,” David’s adultery, Gideon’s timidity, Ruth’s Moabiteness, Peter’s quick-to-speak-and-slow-to-think, Jeremiah’s weeping… a Bible full of people who walked with a limp. People who were nothing but earth and clay. People who God chose to put His very power inside of. People who knew the only way to reveal the miracle of God’s Glorious Redemption in themselves was to live broken open. Dress up the vessel and one brings glory to oneself. Break open the pot and one reveals the surpassing love and mercy of Jesus Christ and the at-work power of the Holy Spirit.

I see the way I fall so short—as a wife, as a mom, as a child of God. I see the fears that I allow to consume me. I see the way I would much rather put on my mask than have to share my struggles.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me.

This Sunday as I was standing in worship, asking God to heal me, to touch my brokenness, we began singing this chorus:

“The lost are found

The blind will see

The lame will walk

The dead will live

For You are God; Forever You will reign”

And just like that this broken, limping girl remembered… Jesus came to make me whole.The lame will walk. He is making me whole. Lean into Him.

I whisper it. Israel. God Prevails.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me… and I. Will. Make. You. Whole.

Amen.

Here’s that awesome worship song by Hillsong United. It makes me weep everytime. God is good. The gospel is the best news in the whole wide world.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers



Sharing with the #TellHisStory community

An Ode to College and Textbooks... And a Way to Save Money on Both {A Sponsored Post}

Let me start this post with this: I am receiving a gift card to CampusBookRentals.com in exchange for writing this post. I have some loved ones in my life who are in college. I thought this would be a really cool way to use my writing to bless one of them. That said, do know these opinions are completely my own.

I remember being in college. Please say we don’t have to discuss how long ago that was… okay, well let’s just say people had just started ditching their pagers for cell phones, myspace didn’t exist yet, and Sisqo's "Thong Song" had inspired a thong jewelry trend (I think my eyeballs are still burning from all the low-rise jeans and high-rise thongs I had to sit behind in my classes).

College Days.

I had treated high school like it was optional and had grades that reflected 23 “dentist appointments” (ahem) in one quarter. College, I was excited for. It was the second chance to do things right. I got to dive into the nitty-gritty of subjects like American history, and in college it isn’t all sunshine and roses… I liked that. I went to study groups. I discovered coffee. I debated things like the war in Iraq and the meaning of John Keat's "Ode to A Nightingale." I unearthed my passion for learning, analyzing, and processing my thoughts on paper. I found the subjects I was really good at (literature, history, cultural studies, and meteorology). I found the subjects I completely stunk at (biology, math, and political science).

I also remember the high prices of textbooks and how you got next to nothing at the end of the semester when you tried to sell back your books.

I may have even thought something along the lines of why can’t we just rent books (well, all the books other than my history and literature books. Those are all mine.)

Fortunately in 2007, someone had that thought and actually followed thru with it. That person created CampusBookRentals.com.

CampusBookRentals.com is kind of like the Netflix of the college textbook world.

• They have a huge selection.
• You pay way less by renting than buying (even less than buying used; and even less than buying it and selling it back… at least from what I can see).
• Shipping is free, and they take care of all the shipping details. They give you the pre-paid container to ship it back in.

I did a little snooping because I am a hard-core bargain shopper. Amazon.com started a similar textbook rental program. So, I decided to compare Amazon’s rental program with CampusBookRental.com. I looked at their policies and the prices of 11 different textbooks. Overall, CampusBookRentals.com came out the winner.

In case you are interested in my study, here's a picture of my findings: 

Also, I just want to mention… should you already have bought your textbooks, CampusBookRentals.com has a separate site where you can rent your textbooks for money. They do all the work. You make the money from your textbook. It’s called RentBack.com. If you happen to have a new edition, you could make some decent money back on your book as it could be re-rented multiple semesters.

Did you go to college? What was one thing you discovered about yourself during your college years? Do you wish you could go back to college?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers