I have GOT to get some new jeans. As I was throwing mine in the wash, I realized all but one pair are sagging in the knees or worse, coming apart at the seams in some highly critical regions.
We are not talking a level of trendy distressing here. We are talking potential wardrobe malfunction in the back-pocket area if I’m not careful.
Reminds me of the time my husband started to stand up in church, caught his pocket on a snag on the pew arm, and ripped open a sizable hole. We had to scurry out with me holding a bulletin over his backside. We’ve been anti-wooden-pew ever since.
Since I’m on the topic of clothes – and how to avoid clothing fails – I wanted to give you a quick devotional on the must-have garment for our spiritual wardrobe:
And over all these virtue put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3:14)
I needed to hear that. I’ve been wrestling with how to engage people around me with compassion but also truthfulness in a climate that stirs up the worst kind of bickering, grandstanding, and frankly, backside-showing that I’ve ever seen.
There is not a bulletin big enough to cover some of that. Read More
Since last week’s shooting, I’ve vacillated between grief and anger like pretty much everybody I know. I’ve fist-pumped at impactful posts only to despair at online arguments that are more about blame-shifting than truth-seeking.
One trending idea that’s caught my attention is that politicians will once again offer only “thoughts and prayers” but no real action. It’s a clever goad, daring the powers-that-be to come up with a solution rather than sympathetic noise (assuming politicians actually read our Facebook posts and Twitter traffic).
Interestingly, I saw versions of the same idea posted after Hurricane Harvey and other disasters, and not just directed at lawmakers. This makes me think there’s something far more cynical and despairing underneath than just a “dare you to act” challenge. Somehow “thoughts and prayers” have gotten such a reputation as useless words in a sea of other useless words that we may be losing faith in them altogether.
So with that in mind, here are three ways we can transform “thoughts and prayers” into something of substance and perhaps rekindle our faith in the process: Read More
Dear Younger Me,
One day you’ll hear yourself yell in frustration, “If you‘re going to stand on the kitchen table, at least sit down.”
With that nonsense echoing in your ears, you’ll suddenly awake from a parenting stupor. You’ll wonder when exactly you surrendered your home and sanity to a couple of pint-sized preschoolers. And wonder how long they’ve been tap dancing on the furniture.
All is not lost, however. Simply get your game face on and get back to being the strong but loving mama God meant you to be.
Older Me Read More
Dear Younger Me,
Slow down. Soak up life’s richness, physically and spiritually. Your existence is worth more than a mad scramble for stuff and success. Be still. Know God. XXOO, Older Me
Next to relationship advice, that’s been the second biggest theme for what many of you would love to to tell your twenty-year-old selves if you could.
Grant R. said, “Spend your money on experiences, not stuff.”
Linda H. said, “Before you make your To Do List, spend some quiet time with the Lord.”
Dena Douglas Hobbs (pictured above) said, “I remember starting my 20s being consumed with what I was going to DO, but I ended them working on who/what kind of person I was going to BE.”
In fact, Dena’s comment intrigued me because she’d become a pastor as a young adult and now has her own writing ministry. Since pursuing her calling with intensity and focus has been pretty important, I asked her what it was like rushing full speed into “doing” for God back in the days of grunge bands and flannel. Enjoy her story below and check out her devotional book through the affiliate link that follows. Read More
Dear Younger Me,
You pulled off that dream wedding! Just wanted you to know the next 22 years will be an adventure like nothing you can imagine from those church steps. Yes, you’re going to learn some things the hard way, but oh, they are going to make the later years of marriage so much better. Hang in there, and hang onto one another! XXOO, Older Me
Yep, this weekend was my 22nd wedding anniversary. On a crisp January day, I became Mrs. G. McLeod Glass, Jr. at a charming 100-year-old chapel. With Mom’s help, I had meticulously planned the event and then joined the Sisterhood of 90’s Brides, relishing my puffed sleeves, sweetheart neckline, and full skirts. McLeod, in his suitable-for-daytime-festivities morning suit, wasn’t looking too shabby himself.
Especially since the man wore a cravat for me.
He could have gone straight from the wedding to Royal Ascot.
It was the beginning of a series of concessions he’s made for the last 22 years. Thank you, honey! Read More
Happy New Year! I’m glad to be back and hope 2018 finds you well. Did you know you helped me reach over 2000 visitors since Cassia’s Place launched? WaHoo and Thank You!
Did you find something here that fired you up about pursuing your purpose, encouraged you to walk tall with God, or ignited your creativity? I’d love to hear from you via email@example.com and also learn what you’d like to read about this year.
What’s NEXT: What advice would YOU give your younger self? Comment below, or come add your #dearyoungerme thoughts on Instagram and Facebook . There might be a pic of me with an 80’s Home Perm floating around out there, or so I’ve heard. I’m starting a new series called “Dear Younger Me,” and I’ll feature some of your answers this month.
Speaking of sharing what you’ve learned, did you know January is National Mentoring Month? Who showed up for you when you were young? One of the best ways to pay it forward is to show up this year in one kid’s life as a champion and friend. I recently guest-blogged on Full of Joy, a site by fellow Write Brilliant Academy classmate Abigail Joy Dubbe, to give readers a behind-the-scenes look at mentoring. The truth about what it takes to help a kid might just surprise you — it’s not nearly as hard as you think! Read more here.
Easter weekend 2001, we discovered to our utter amazement that we were expecting a baby. From a due date calculator, we also discovered our child would be born right around Christmas. Though our son’s birth was 9 months away, a Christmas dream was born in that instant.
In it I would be sitting beside the tree, the soft glow of colored lights washing over me as I held my newborn child, perhaps humming a lullaby. All would be calm. All would be bright.
Yeah right. Read More
We had SNOW on Friday. At the end of a hard, sorrowful week following my mother-in-law’s death, we awoke to Houston blanketed in white-velvet gorgeousness. We squealed. We hit each other with snowballs. We built hideous last-minute snowmen before heading to school once the district sent out the world’s saddest tweet: Roads are passable so buses are rolling. See you soon for a great day of learning. Read More
We knew, and yet we didn’t know.
We’ve been preparing ourselves since early fall for the passing of my husband’s mom.
We knew she was likely in her final months, and yet, when the end came on Monday night, we still felt the shock of disbelief.
It’s still too tender a thing to write about much except to say that grief and joy co-mingle in a thousand moments. That it’s nearly Christmas adds both sweetness and pain. Read More
And yes, the stockings are hung by the chimney with care, but we kind of lost steam with the tree after an initial burst of decorating. It’s still angel-less and surrounded by hideous brown bins of ornaments from the attic. If I wrap the bins, they could stand in for the absent presents. Read More
If you caught my last post, you’ll know I was a mash-up of competing football loyalties this weekend. Let’s just say 3 out of 4 wins ain’t bad, and one contest pitted two of my favs against each other for an upset that has the whole SEC wondering what’s next.
All I’ve got to say about the hunt for a champ is “Roll Dawg Eagle” and may the best team win. Read More