Flailing Pillows to Solve Problems

{Repost of a Popular Post}

I have never seen my husband jump out of bed so fast–we had already checked on our three sleeping babies, turned off reading lamps, tucked covers around them.  We had brushed our teeth and put on pjs.  I was just climbing into the bed beside Mark who was laying on his stomach reading a text, in his boxers (because that’s what males call pjs, right?) when he smacked his back and jumped out of bed and into the corner of the room–somehow in one motion of jumping he also turned our bedroom light on to the brightest setting.

What’s wrongI questioned

Something just bit me!

Now, before I continue the story, I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret–my man does not like insects.  He will rid the house of a spider for me if I ask him, but in general, I probably kill more bugs than he does. Let’s be very clear that my man is a man — he is strong, a defender, he can lift every piece of furniture my little heart desires, & he makes chopping 35 year old tree roots with an axe look easy.  But, he’d prefer not to spend time around insects, particularly when he is donned in his undies.

It wasn’t long before we saw the bug that had nipped Mark — it was black and resembled a hornet–definitely not trustworthy in Mark’s book.  And, of course, we couldn’t go to sleep or turn down the lights until we rid the room of this unwelcome intruder.  Mark spent much of the next 15 minutes flailing pillows at the bug, as I worked to control the stomach cramps I was getting from laughing. His work to get the bug was erratic and made little progress. I finally came up with the plan to trap the bug by attracting it to one particular light and frying his bug guts. When the bug was dead, and the flailing had stopped, Mark said something we now quote to each other regularly.

I’m proud of how I handled that situation.

That smug and sarcastic comment was followed by at least five minutes of me laughing.  He and I both knew that he had behaved like a crazy man and made for a great story, but nothing about those moments were proud ones.

The phrase has become a joke around our house when we really botch something.  It is a funny joke, but the reality is there are so many situations in my day that my response is the equivalent of flailing around with pillows in my underwear in the spiritual realm.

Mark responds to me in a way other than what I had imagined and I get hurt, and then I let my brain toss it around for the next few hours, compounding the offense–flailing pillows

Beckett wakes up with a goopy nose and full cough, and my initial thoughts have pity party written all over them–flailing pillows.

Charlotte interrupts me early in the morning when I am spending time in the Word, and in a huff I carry her back up to her room–flailing pillows in my undies.

I would like to actually walk away from these interruptions, unmet expectations, and disappointments and be able to say to myself, I’m proud of how I handled that without any sarcasm in my tone.  Not because I can then walk around puffed up, but because that would mean I handled it the way my Father God has been training me–I handled it with an attitude of gratitude, the truth of the Word, and a deep love for people around me that covers their shortcomings.

Mommas, our enemy is real.  He is sneaky and deceitful; the Bible tells us he prowls around looking for who he may devour (or distract). Ready and waiting to jump out and nip at us just enough to get us flailing our pillows around, accomplishing nothing to resolve the issue and accomplishing nothing for kingdom purposes.

What is it that nips at you, what is it that gets you huffy or your brain reeling in offense? Gird yourself up with the Word & by the Holy Spirit at work in you, next time, walk away saying, I’m proud of how I handled that. 

Screaming or submitting

Sitting next to my sister-in-law’s hospital bed, in the leukemia wing of MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, my grief for her suffering became suffocating. I wanted to walk out into the hallways, command the attention of every doctor and nurse and yell, “Do something! Fix this! It’s been too long!”

I wanted to bust her and my tenacious brother-in-law out of that hospital and bring them home to have dinner and play card games. My heart screams–it’s been too long, too much.

“For God alone my soul waits in silence and quietly submits to Him, For my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation; My fortress and my defense, I will not be shaken or discouraged.” Psalm 62:5-6‬ ‭AMP‬‬ [emphasis mine]

David’s psalm pleads with my screaming soul to wait.

To quietly submit.

Because He ONLY is our rock and salvation (also translated hope).

So, for me and for you–I know I’m not the only one wanting to bust out of a situation–this is what I pray.


By faith, I agree with Your Word–You only are our hope. I tell my soul to stop being agitated and to accept the free gift of peace that you promise me regardless of circumstances. As you give that peace that is unlike any the world can give, I choose, by your Holy Spirit’s power, to quietly submit. I choose to trust Your love that sent your only son to the cross. Help me in my screaming, agitated, unbelief.


Amen, sisters.



When You Need His Truth

I can still see my brother-in-law sitting beside my sister-in-law’s bed in the Intensive Care Unit last May–his head was resting on her beside as he held his iphone, which played the song, “Here’s My Heart, Lord.”  As I stood in the doorway of the room, gripped with sadness and fear, the words of the song permeated the atmosphere. “Here’s my heart, Lord. Speak what is true.”

In the days that followed, God did indeed speak to each of our hearts in different ways and at different times, but it was always truth.  He used His Word, His Holy Spirit, and His precious people to speak truth to our family as we sat in the ICU waiting room. We claimed the truth that God is a healer, that He is in control, that He wasn’t surprised, and that He is good. My sister-in-law, walked out of that hospital weeks after the doctors, essentially, told us to say our goodbyes. Hallelujah to the God of miracles.

As many of you know, we are expecting to add a fourth arrow to our quiver at the beginning of May. After a second ultrasound, our doctor reported to us that I have a condition called placenta accreta.  I will spare you a blog full of medical jargon and explanation.  Here are the facts that matter for this post–our sweet son is beautiful, perfect, and will continue developing wonderfully (he is also already working on his chubby cheeks as he’s measuring 2 weeks ahead by way of size); the risk factors with this condition really only come into play during delivery–it’s riskier for me (not for our boy), and he will need to be delivered by 36 weeks. (If you want more information on the condition, just Google it).

As we walked out of our OB’s office, thoughts were moving quickly and in fragments through my mind–I might be asleep for Ryker’s first hours of life, I need to call my mom, I don’t have diapers for him yet; should I? No, not yet.  I’d been talking with God about my fears since getting the phone call that we’d need a second ultrasound to determine whether I did indeed have this condition. I had walked into the appointment with a confident peace that regardless of the doctor’s report, God is working good, but the enemy is so good at poking holes in our peace.

After all the facts and information, and all the, we aren’t quite sures the heaviness of it all began to settle in on my heart as did the old fear and lies of the enemy.  And, once again, as I did in May, needed to cry out to God for Him to speak truth to my heart.  The kind of truth He spoke to us when my sister was in ICU–a truth that surpasses human understanding and medical reports.

And, mommas, our God faithfully began speaking to my heart–I could feel Him lifting me up out of fears, as if He gently placed his hands under my chin and pulled my gaze to meet His own.  And, I could hear the truth that I’ve found in this song so many times since May.

‘Cause I am found, I am Yours
I am loved, I’m made pure
I have life, I can breathe
I am healed, I am free.

I don’t know what makes your thoughts feel fragmented today–medical situations, broken relationships, grief, financial strain, a rebellious child, feeling like a failure as a wife or mom–whatever it is, let your Father lift your eyes to meet His and let Him speak truth to your heart. Hearing His truth changes everything.