Living Life To The Fullest
What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?
This precious moments bible.
I actually do have a memory bin with many old little keepsakes but that I actually still use daily or often would be that little Bible.
It’s so childlike, I love it.
What are you passionate about?
For me, I would say I am very passionate about doing the inner work.
Working on yourself, learning to love yourself, beginning to ask yourself more questions…..ABOUT YOURSELF.
Investigate your behaviors, your reactions, your responses…….there is just so much learn about who you are.
And when you begin to learn more about yourself you begin to better yourself. You begin to flourish, radiate, heal, and grow in a completely different way.
And that’s how you change the world if you’re really interested. You work on yourself.
It’s as simple as that.
Now I will add though, working on yourself is very hard. It’s opening all these doors that you locked and sealed without even knowing you locked and sealed. It’s difficult but I will say it’s worth it.
When you decide to embark on this journey I just want to remind you that you’re never alone.
Which cereal would you pour into your bowl without a second thought?
Reese’s Puffs Lucky Charms Frosted Flakes Cinnamon Toast Crunch Life Cereal Cocoa Puffs Fruity Pebbles
👇 Scroll down to find out what your cereal soul says about you! 🌟
1. Reese’s Puffs – The Bold Dreamer
You’re a vibrant mix of contrasts — a little salty, a little sweet, and never boring. You dive headfirst into your passions and aren’t afraid to stand out. You chase creative sparks and don’t mind shaking things up. Life’s too short to be plain.
2. Lucky Charms – The Whimsical Believer
You live with your head in the clouds and your heart wide open. You find magic in small moments, believe in signs, and laugh at your own jokes. Whether it’s a four-leaf clover or a marshmallow moon, you always notice the little wonders.
3. Frosted Flakes – The Reliable Optimist
You’re solid, dependable, and have a way of making people feel like everything’s going to be okay. You believe in second chances, silver linings, and the power of a good pep talk. You bring warmth and sunshine — even on a cereal box.
4. Cinnamon Toast Crunch – The Quiet Rebel
You might follow the rules — but only the ones you agree with. You’ve got a fire in your belly and a sparkle in your eye. You blend sweetness with a little bite, and you’re not afraid to question the “normal.” Your energy turns the ordinary into adventure.
5. Life Cereal – The Deep Thinker with a Soft Side
You care deeply, think often, and love quietly. People come to you for perspective and calm. You might cry at movies, stare at the stars too long, or reread favorite books just to feel them again. Your steadiness is your superpower.
6. Cocoa Puffs – The Wild Card
You’re spontaneous, unpredictable, and a little bit extra. You don’t just walk into a room — you burst in, and people remember you. Life is your playground, and you’re not afraid to go a little “cuckoo” for what you love. You embrace chaos with a grin.
7. Fruity Pebbles – The Colorful Free Spirit
You’re vibrant, energetic, and totally yourself — even if that means being a little “too much” for some people. You bring color into every space you enter and aren’t afraid to express yourself in bold, joyful ways. Life with you is never dull — and that’s the point.
How do you feel about cold weather?
*cringe*
I don’t like it.
I really don’t….that much.
I enjoy wearing jackets and hoodies….that’s fun and cute but overall I just really don’t enjoy being cold.
It’s funny because when I was younger I lived in Alaska for 4 years (5th grade to 8th grade) and I loved it. I loved the snow!
I loved sledding especially! As a child it was playful and fun. I’m laughing just reminiscing. Now I’m getting kind of sad.
They were fun times as a kid.
However being in my 30s now I just don’t want to be cold.
Well actually, I actually like sleeping when it’s a really cold because then I sleep deeply and I do love that.
Now I’m rambling, but you asked!
Sometimes I wish she’d visit me in a dream.
Just once.
Just to say, “Hey, I know we didn’t get to be together in the earthly realm, but it was all for a reason. Just know I’m with you, and it’s all okay.”
I’ve heard stories from others about feathers on their doorstep, songs on the radio at just the right time, vivid dreams where their loved ones speak clearly. I try to hold space for those stories, to feel joy for them…
but I can’t help wondering—why not me?
I lost my birth mother, and along with her, a lifetime of moments we never got to share. There’s a quiet ache that comes from not getting to know someone who shaped your very beginning. Now that she’s in the spirit world, part of me longs for just one sign. One dream. One whisper.
But there’s only silence.
And yet… maybe that silence doesn’t mean absence.
Maybe the connection is still there, just not in the way I expected.
Maybe she’s been with me all along when I’ve felt courage I didn’t know I had, or grace that came out of nowhere. I’m apart of her, I know that, and getting to know me is getting to know her too.
Still, I hope.
I hope that one night, maybe in a dream, she’ll say what my heart has longed to hear:
“I see you. I’ve always loved you. And even though we couldn’t be together in this life…..your path, it’s unfolding exactly as it should.”
Until then, I’ll keep listening.
And I’ll keep trusting that love finds a way,
even in the quiet.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified… for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Deuteronomy 31:6
I feel like at a very young age, I always leaned into God. Even when life didn’t make sense, I somehow knew I was loved. Not just loved by people—but by God. It was a quiet knowing that I was held, seen, and cared for, even in moments where nothing around me felt steady.
But as I got older and life began to unfold in more complicated ways, abandonment became a deep and painful thread in my story. The kind of wound that doesn’t leave a scar you can see, but one you carry in your heart.
I experienced the “primal wound” of being separated from my biological parents. My parents divorced when I was eight, and I think most of us kids felt like second picks to their new spouses. Then, when I was seventeen—my senior year of high school—my mom moved out of our home to follow her husband’s job transfer. She wanted me to come, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It felt like she chose him over me, and the message I internalized was: You’re not worth staying for.
I moved in with my dad and stepmom. And then, after high school, my dad—“in the nicest way”—told me it was time to move out. He helped me get set up with school and paid for my apartment, which I’m thankful for. But the emotional part of it still hurt. Deeply.
As I became a mother myself, I found that old wounds resurfaced in new ways. I couldn’t understand how some of the choices my parents made were even possible once I knew the depth of love I had for my own kids.
These layered experiences of being left or feeling replaceable shaped my thoughts in relationships. When someone got close, I would think, It’s just a matter of time before they leave… or choose someone over me.
But even in all that pain—even when I questioned people—I kept leaning on God. I kept coming back to His promises. His love. His Word.
Deuteronomy 31:6 says He will never leave you nor forsake you. And I believe that. It’s the one relationship in my life that has never felt conditional. I trust God in a way I struggle to trust others, because He has never walked away. He has never picked someone else over me. He doesn’t move on or get tired or lose interest.
So I return to Him. Again and again. Not because I’m perfect—but because I know He is.
If you’ve ever felt left behind, replaced, or like you had to earn your place in someone’s life… please know this:
God doesn’t leave. He walks with you through every ache, every misunderstanding, every broken piece. And He whispers, “You are mine. You are loved. I will never let go.”
“And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.”
Hebrews 11:6
My poor Bible has been pretty lonely. I haven’t been actively reading it. I’ve been spending time with God in nature and in meditation but I haven’t been studying his word. Which I think it’s just as important.
So today I was flipping the pages of my Bible looking for inspiration today…
and I came across this verse I had highlighted. Hebrews 11:16.
And there’s a word in that verse that stands out, believe.
It’s a reminder that trust is crucial.
Faith is kind of like the wind. We can’t always see it but we feel it. It moves through the trees, brushes our skin, and reminds us:
“I’m here.”
I do believe God is like that. All around us. Reminding us and encouraging us of His presence.
Something greater. Something powerful. Something all-knowing. Something here.
And though I don’t fully understand all of it…I do believe this greater power truly loves us.
But like any relationship, it takes two. We want God to constantly reach out and prove Himself…
Yet we don’t always seek.
Seek God.
Let the veil be lifted.
Open your heart.
Open your eyes.
And maybe you’ll start to feel Him like the wind. Maybe this “foreign language” will begin to make sense.
Faith is not about having it all figured out. It’s about having hope.
Keep seeking.
God sees you and is with you.
He rewards those who do.
Letting yourself feel sounds simple. But it’s not.
It’s one of the bravest and most uncomfortable things we can do.
Because feeling means facing. And most of us have spent years—maybe even decades—trying to avoid the very things our hearts most need to acknowledge.
So much of life teaches us to stay busy, stay numb, stay “fine.” We learn early on that some feelings are too big, too messy, too inconvenient. We tuck them away. We get good at holding ourselves together. We smile when we’re sad. We shrug off pain. We keep moving.
But at some point, the ache catches up to us.
And we realize that what we’ve been avoiding isn’t going away—it’s waiting to be felt.
That’s when the discomfort sets in. Not because we’re doing something wrong… but because we’re doing something deeply right. We’re unlearning a lifetime of emotional suppression. We’re learning to be honest again—with ourselves.
And that honesty? It cracks us open.
It’s scary because real feeling is raw. It makes us vulnerable. It can make us feel out of control. But the truth is, we’re never more in tune with ourselves than when we allow the feeling to move through us—fully and freely.
Even joy can feel uncomfortable if we’re used to waiting for it to vanish. Even peace can feel strange if chaos has been our baseline.
But you were made to feel.
You were not made to carry it all in silence.
You were not made to keep bracing for impact.
You were made to breathe through it. To soften. To release.
Feelings are not enemies. They are messages.
They are waves—not tsunamis.
They come to move, not to drown you.
Letting yourself feel is not weakness—it’s courage.
It’s coming home to your heart.
“Army Dreamers” by Kate Bush is a haunting and emotional song about the tragic loss of young lives to war. The lyrics explore the sorrow of a mother who has lost her son in military service, and the deep grief and questioning that follows. Here’s a breakdown of the key themes and meanings behind the song:
1. A Mother’s Grief and Regret
The central voice in the song is that of a mother, mourning her son who died in military service. She reflects on the small, everyday things she did for him—feeding him, raising him—and now she’s left with an unfillable absence.
“What could he do? Should have been a rock star…”
She wonders what else he could have become if he hadn’t joined the army. There’s deep sadness in the idea that he had potential for so many other paths—but now they’re all gone.
2. The Futility of War
The song doesn’t glorify heroism. Instead, it questions the cost of war, especially for the young and vulnerable who may have joined for lack of better options.
“Tears o’er a tin box / Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn’t to know…”
The image of a tin box (possibly containing his medals or ashes) emphasizes how little is left after a life is lost. The line “he wasn’t to know” suggests innocence—he didn’t know what he was really getting into.
3. Societal Expectations and Pressure
The title “Army Dreamers” itself is a bit ironic. It refers to young men who dream of purpose, escape, or pride by joining the military—but also points to how society may nudge them in that direction, especially when other dreams feel out of reach.
Bush is gently critiquing a world where young people are sometimes given no better choice—and where their dreams are swallowed by systems they don’t fully understand.
4. The Lingering Question: Why?
Throughout the song, there’s a persistent sense of what if—what if he’d chosen a different path? What if the world had offered him more? The mother’s grief is tangled with helplessness and guilt, even though she did everything she could.
The Tone: Lullaby Meets Lament
Musically, the song sounds gentle, almost like a lullaby—which makes the lyrics all the more haunting. It reflects how war quietly takes from us—not always with dramatic noise, but sometimes with soft, quiet, irreversible loss.
“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.”
Ecclesiastes 11:5
Sometimes you hear of things that just make you freeze.
Unbelievable news. Tragedies that feel too big to hold. The sudden, silent crash of reality when life does something you never saw coming.
Sometimes it shakes you to your core that such things happen at all, that this world, the same one where we sing lullabies and light birthday candles, is also a place where deep sorrow and confusion live.
My thoughts scream, “I don’t get it.”
I know I’m not suppose to get it either. We are but children on this earth but the frustration is ever present at times.
I find myself sitting still, eyes locked on nothing, just staring off—wondering. Wondering why. Wondering what the truth is. Wondering how to keep walking forward with the storm of the questions that I possess.
But this verse brings awareness and comfort.
“As you do not know the path of the wind…”
The wind is real, even when I can’t see it. It moves through trees, across oceans, through my hair. I don’t know where it begins or where it ends. I just know it’s there.
And “you do not know how the body is formed in a mother’s womb…”
Another miracle wrapped in mystery. Life forming in secret, one invisible cell at a time, shaped by something far beyond my comprehension.
That’s the point. Faith isn’t about answers—it’s about surrender. About breathing in mystery and still choosing to believe in something good.
There’s a sacredness in not knowing.
There’s room for trust in the questions.
The mystery must remain.
God—the Maker of all things—moves in ways I can’t always trace or explain. And sometimes the most honest prayer I can offer is simply:
“I don’t get it. But I trust You anyway.”
Amen.
The Wild Gems 