Home Sanctuary

5 Communication Tips from Marketers

I recently snapped this photo at my local feed store - a perfect example of how NOT to make a sign.

 

I don't know which is worse: the fact that the sign painter didn't plan the layout, or the store owner saying, "Looks good, let's go with it."

A few minutes of planning would have made all the difference in legibility. After all, isn't communication the whole purpose of a sign? Ya might want to make sure people can read it.

Planning is an important part of signage... and all forms of marketing for that matter. Billions of dollars are spent on advertising products so that you'll "buy in" to their message. Companies create focus groups, do market research and conduct polls to best understand how to reach their target market. Then they carefully craft their logos, fonts, colors, brands, commercials and advertisements to appeal to the consumer in such a way that they'll WANT to spend money on their product.

You know, when it comes to communication at home, we could learn a few things from the marketing world. We are communicating every day- to our children, our spouse, our co-workers...if you think about it, we want people to "buy in" to our message, too. Whether it is giving instructions, sharing our feelings or talking about our day, we need our "customers" to understand and respond to what we are saying. 

Here are 5 Tips from the marketing world that can help in your personal world of communication:

1. Know your target market. Do you need to tell your husband something important? Try putting it in terms he understands. Sports analogies, technical terms, bottom lines and examples from his own life show that you value the things he cares about as you express yourself.

2. Timing is everything. There is a reason that arthritis medicine commercials air during the evening news. Marketers know that is the time their senior audience is watching TV. Find a time that your own audience is most approachable for sharing your message.

3. Be appealing. Commercials don't whine, beg or beat you into purchasing. They show how their product will enhance your life by making you more successful, attractive, and healthy. Be positive in your approach so your audience can see the benefits of your message.

4. Use humor. The most effective advertisements use humor to make their point. I enjoyed the Chevy commercials that featured the Santa salesman during the holidays and simply HAD to watch them when they came on. When I make things fun or add a dash or humor, my family is much more receptive to my direction than when I drone on and on (as I am inclined to do.) You don't have to be naturally funny - sometimes just lightening up a bit is all you really need to do.

5. Be clear. Don't you hate having to try and figure out what a sign or advertisement is about? Maybe the logo is too small or the layout too cluttered. Maybe it's just too darn confusing, like those perfume commercials are. A simple, clear message that is easy to understand eliminates a lot of frustration and miscommunication.

Today's Small Thing is to plan for effective communication by using one of the above 5 tips.

Instead of simply blurting something out without thinking, take a few minutes to make a plan. Think about your audience, your timing, your tone and your message. Ask God for wisdom and grace....and a sprinkling of humor. Ephesians 4:29 comes to mind.

How can you communicate what you want/need so that your "customer" will buy in? I'd love to hear what this will look like today. And please feel free to share other marketing tips you've observed!

Song of the Day: Say All I Need, OneRepublic

Terrible Twos-day

http://istockphoto.com

 

Ah, the Terrible Two's. It's a phase that starts around 18 months and lasts until....well, let's just say it lasts a long time. I've known some Terrible Two's that were at least three or four years old - AND some adult Terrible Two year olds. It's really awful to see grownups throwing fits when they don't get their way, isn't it?

Some people, boy.

Well, the other day, I found myself pouting about a situation that I didn't like. I suddenly realized that I either needed a nap or a spanking to snap out of it. I was acting like a two year old. Of course, a nap with my blankie made everything all better....and I thought (to my own shame) just how many times I display my naughty toddler tendencies.

Self-centeredness.

Not sharing.

Drooling, crying and general malcontent - which I blame on "teething." Ya. right.

Pouting.

Temper tantrums.

Saying "NO!" and refusing to cooperate.

Lashing out at others.

Wanting to eat snacks all day.

Wanting whatever it is that the other kids have, and then not wanting it when I get it.

Trying to charm my way out of discipline.

Lots and lots of whining.

 

Today's Small Thing is to quit being a Terrible Two, and act like a grown up.

Listen, have you been pouting because your spouse asked you to do something (like balance the checkbook) that you really don't want to do because that's not your job? Or maybe someone didn't invite you to their birthday party and now you're calling them mean names in your mind. Are you nursing a grudge, a bad mood, a dark attitude and want the world to stop and serve you? Are your socks lumpy in your shoes and you just can't stand it and so you throw yourself down and cry about it?

Maybe you are refusing to cooperate with something God has been prompting you to act on. You said a big, loud "NO!" and crossed your arms and now you are locked in a stare-down with Him. Well, jest you keep that up, 'lil punkin. God will prolly go ahead and let you have your way. :)

It's so much easier for me to see the childish behavior in others than it is to see it in myself. I can justify my own actions and attitudes quicker than you can say "that girl needs a spanking." I try to charm and sweet-talk to get what I want, and then pout when I don't get it. Sigh.

I think I need a Time Out.

Today, take a few moments to put on your Big Girl Panties and leave the Terrible Two's behind. Don a mature, unselfish attitude and realize that life is not all about you. Look for ways to serve others, be gracious, and spread joy. Refuse to always have to be the center of attention. Quit your pouting. You'll find that people and situations will respond to you in a positive way because you've chosen to be a grown up.

Maturity feels good.

How have you been acting like a baby lately? What can you do differently to show that you are an actual grown up?

Song of the Day: Baby, Justin Beiber

I'm Not Crying, I've Been Cutting Onions

"I'm making a lasagne......for one."

Oh, those guys from New Zealand, Bret and Jermaine, crack me up.  "I'm Not Crying" is one of those songs that goes straight to my soul because of all the denial. The excuses.  The sadness. It would be heartbreaking if my heart wasn't already liquid.

This silly song reminds me of the denial and excuses we tell ourselves when we don't want to face (or admit) the truth. 

• I don't count calories because I'm not good with numbers.  
• I don't implement my housekeeping schedule because I feel too boxed in.  
• I sleep in late because I have to search the web late at night.  
• I don't exercise because I'm too busy.  
• My poor tummy needs a milkshake because of the spicy food. 
• I'd be a patient mom if my kids weren't hyper.  
• If I didn't have so much to do I'd be willing to play hanky-panky with my man more often. 
• The Bible is boring so I don't need to read it.  
• I only watch soaps for the hairstyles. 
• I can't give to others because we won't have enough for ourselves. 
• My husband doesn't deserve my respect because he makes mistakes. 
• Smoking helps me keep my weight down.
• I'm not bitter, but I won't ever forget how I was wronged.
• This new purse will help me get a promotion.

What is your excuse today?  Are you avoiding the truth in some area of your life?  See, when we dance around reality, look the other way, or point fingers at someone else, we never get out the quagmire that holds us down.  We wonder why we don't experience freedom and joy in certain areas of our life, but we're never willing to go beyond our denials and "perfectly legitimate reasons" for being the way we are - to live life more fully.

Today's Small Thing is to call your own self out on an excuse.  Just for today, see how it feels to be free of that big old monkey on your back.  Say it like it is, recognize the truth, and find the strength to move forward.  Your excuse might be silly, or it might be something that calls for real repentance before God. It might feel risky, but oh! the joy you'll find afterward!

I've always said that our home sanctuary is founded on peace, order and beauty.  Peace comes when we make things right with our God, love the people around us and pay attention to the small things we do....and we'll never get around to those things as long as we deny that we need to change.

POINTS: 40 for a "no excuse" day!  Just pick one excuse and tell the truth.  Live free today!

That's not my donkey's name, so don't be thinkin he's gonna come when you call him that.

Flash is getting his own category, now that he has become a regular feature in my blog. I simply could not resist using the A-word, and although I worry that it may offend a reader or two, I humbly remind us all that the King James Version uses it all the time.

Our neighbors are very good friends of ours. We literally "share" the pasture where Flash resides. Although I do feel bad about the loud bellowing that takes place at all odd hours, I feel certain that he provides them with just enough entertainment to keep us on good terms.

Not long after Flash came to live with us, our neighbors stopped by to check out our new family member.

"And we thought of the PERFECT name for him!" they exclaimed excitedly. Before we could respond that we had already named our donkey, they blurted out, "HAY-soos! You know, Spanish for Jesus! Isn't that just perfect?"

Hay-soos? HAY-SOOS?

I mumbled something about how we thought "Flash" was kind of a funny name, you know, because he's not that fast and all. But apparently they didn't pay any attention to that part of the conversation, because they continue to use THEIR name for OUR donkey.

Hmph. I don't know why, but it's never occurred to me to re-name any of my friends' pets for them. I always thought that the person who owns the pet gets to name the pet. I mean, you can call my donkey anything you want, but that's not going to be his name. You can call him "Spot," or "Secretariat," or "Mr. Ed," but don't expect him to come running when you call him that, because I've told him he doesn't have to come unless he hears his actual given name. Yeah, that's right. By me. Given, by ME!

Boy, it annoys me when I see him trotting over whenever he hears "YOO-hoo! HAY-soos!"

Flash! You don't have to go over there! Have some self-respect!

And then one day it struck me just how much like Flash I am. I thought of MY owner, my Master. The One who has named me. He calls me:

Redeemed.
Bought with a Price.
Ransomed.
Healed.
Delivered.
Victorious.
Overcomer.
Beloved.
My Child.

Oh, there is a long list of sweet names He has given me. Because He owns me. Because I belong to Him.

Ya'll, I'm about to start preachin.

I SAID! OH YES, I SAID!!

HE'S NAMED ME!
REDEEMDED!
BOUGHT WITH A PRICE!
RANSOMED!
HEALED!
DELIVERED!
VICTORIOUS!
OVERCOMER!
BELOVED!
MY CHILD!

But then what do I do? I hear other names being called out to me and I respond by running toward those false names, like a foolish ass.

Sinner.
Defeated.
Loser.
Weak.
Unloved.
No Good.
Inadequate.
Failure.

What's worse is that I start acting like those names belong to me! Poor me, I'm such a failure. I'm no good. I'm just a loser, yeah that's me.

Like Flash, I need to remember Who I belong to and Who has named me. Those other names aren't MY names! Satan, the accuser, can call me anything he wants, but you know what? HE DON'T OWN ME! And I don't have to come running whenever I hear him call.

THAT'S RIGHT YA'LL!

I. don't. have. to. come. Because Satan's not my owner. I don't belong to him.

So I'm asking you. Who owns YOU? Who do you belong to?

Oh, my friend. Just come to the One who owns you. Because He's got a whole long list of sweet names for you, too. And He's calling YOUR name!

Isaiah 43:1,2 But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, O Jacob, And He who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine."

My donkey's name is Flash. His name is Flash because I own him and I named him.

What names do YOU come running to?

Tender Mercies

Joby Thomas Rasmussen Dec. 1, 1986-Sept.9, 2007

Joby's funeral was Thursday. It was a day of deep, deep sadness and quiet celebration of a young life that touched so many people. There was standing room only in the chapel, as friends came to pay their respects to my nephew. I can't thank you all enough for all your prayers and emails and kind comments. It means so much to all of us.

My heart is overwhelmed with thoughts about this last week. So many of you have gone through your own tragedies, and know the feelings of shock, disbelief, anger, faith, love, and sorrow that seem to come in waves.  The feelings weave in and out of every waking moment and even invade my sleep.  Surely, we will all wake up and find that this has been a terrible dream.

And yet, through it all, we've felt uplifted and carried by our heavenly Father.  Even as we've asked the hard questions of life, His presence has been close.  He is truly near the broken-hearted, and how we have needed Him.  Oh, how Joby's parents need him every moment.

I've experienced one of the Lord's tender mercies in the middle of this heartache, and it has given me hope that Joby's parents will be comforted by His tender mercies toward them as well. It has come from the love poured out toward me and my family by 8 women I met by "chance" on the flight home from the Deeper Still conference in Nashville last Sunday.  I had sat down in the only empty seat I saw, and found myself surrounded by a group of ladies from Trinity Bible Church in Weatherford, Texas.  We immediately began to talk about the conference, and then our conversations moved on to every topic under the sun.  It was so fun and I felt an instant bond with these cute women. 

When we landed in Dallas and headed for Baggage Claim, my husband, Tom, met me and pulled me aside to give me the awful news about Joby.   We just clung to each other there on the bench at Love Field and wept in each others' arms.  Please, please tell me this isn't true.  God, no.  I couldn't believe it.

After several moments he left my side and went over to the ladies and told them.  They immediately flew across the room and covered me with their own tears, their prayers and their embraces.  I'll never forget being encircled by their concern.  These women, who had been complete strangers to me only hours before, now are forever etched in my heart as dear sisters.

Since then, they (along with so many of you) have emailed their prayers and words of comfort, and it has helped me come to understand the tender mercies of God's grace in the midst of deep sorrow.  Maybe it is a small thing, but the sweetness and comfort of that moment has washed over me again and again.  I am so grateful.

Joby's parents, brother and sister will need many tender mercies to strengthen them for years to come.  The other boys involved in the circumstances of the accident will need their own tender mercies as well.  Thank you all for your prayers for them, and for us.  We appreciate every thought, prayer and gesture of kindness on Joby's behalf.  I believe that the last chapter has not yet been written, and we will someday know the lasting effects of Joby's brief life here on earth.  He was such a sweet kid with a great heart.

My new "Southwest Airlines Sisters."  Thank you, sweet things.

 

Psalm 25:6 Remember, O LORD, thy tender mercies and thy lovingkindnesses; for they have been ever of old.

My 100th Post and My Worry List

I fully expect confetti to fall from the sky when I hit "publish" after this, my 100th post.

I know, I'm a foolish dreamer. Perhaps I will pull a party blower out of my hoard of leftover party supplies and celebrate. After all, I've managed to post 100 random thoughts in under a year, a feat pretty near miraculous for me. I deserve to toot my own kazoo!

That I've had well over 100 visitors is nothing short of miraculous, either. Thanks, ya'll, for continuing to stop in. I thoroughly enjoy you, you sweet kindred spirits, who frequent my corner of blogland.  Please keep on stopping in!!  I just love you.

So around 7:45 yesterday morning. I was brushing my teeth, listening to my husband tell me about what he was going to work on that day. We are in the middle of a really big bunch of projects and I am feeling very anxious about the deadlines.

"....and I'll take care of this and that detail," he was saying. "So you can take that off your worry list."

I gave him a nod and a "ha, that's funny," fake smile, and continued with the brushing.

I don't have a Worry List!

Me? A List? Of Worries?

But by the time I was tapping my toothbrush against the side of the sink, I was convicted. My husband had already moved on and was discussing a new topic from deep inside the closet. I looked at my tiny pin-head eyes (no mascara) in the mirror and knew I was nailed.

I DO have a list. A long list.

I won't bore you with the details, but the general topics include: the kids, the bills, the looming deadlines, the flooding, the war in Iraq, the check engine light, the groceries, the doctor/orthodontist/dentist/vet appointments I should make. Then there's G.T.'s camp and Em's leg surgery and the kids' mission trip to Russia...., you get my point.

Oh, how many scriptures there are that tell us not to worry! And yet I finger my worries as if I will find comfort in rehashing each anxious thought.

I've got to be honest with you. I did not immediately drop to my knees and give it all to Jesus. That would have been the spiritual thing to do. No, I managed to hang on to my list for pretty much the whole day.

Well, I got busy and distracted and sort of forgot that I was still carrying around a knapsack full of burdens. But when I got back in the car to go home at the end of a very long day, my mind immediately began reciting The Worry List. Fortunately it was a long drive home, so there was ample time to realize the foolishness and even the sin of my ways.

When I continue to worry, I am not trusting in the One who promises to carry my burdens. I'm saying that God is not able to take care of me. In a strange way, I'm saying that what I have to say about my problems is more important that what God has to say about them.

You know, when you put it THAT way, it sheds new light on things.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I find it hard to admit that my thought patterns are just sinful. It's easier to justify and explain and defend my mind turf as "necessary," and "helpful."  But the bottom line is that when I worry, I am in disobedience to God's word.

Phil 4:6,7 says "DO NOT be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

I sure do like the promise that comes with that command!  I could use that transcendent peace right about now.  It seems clear that the path to the peace I want and need requires obedience.  And some spiritual warfare to take every thought captive to Christ.  It's recognizing that Satan loves to take my eyes off of my incredible God and on to myself-to make ME the center of my world instead of Him.  Of COURSE I worry when I think I must solve all of my problems on my own.  I know what a failure I am and how hopeless it is to try and fix everything under my own strength.

But just like how God showed me his greatness through my failure to put gas in my car the other day, He promises to bring His peace, His strength and His will to fruition in my life when I trust Him with my Worry List.

In fact, I don't even have a Worry List any more because I gave it to Him on my drive home last night.  It's all HIS now, and I have a feeling He can handle it from here.

God is Bigger than I Thought

I hate making mistakes. I get really hard on myself. "Why did I do that? Why didn't I doublecheck that? How could I be so dumb?"

On Friday, I ran out of gas. I knew I was close to empty, but I was following friends to a store and I didn't want to make them stop and wait for me. I knew I had enough to get there and then get to a gas station.

Wrong.

I made it to the store just fine, but when we went to leave, my '96 Explorer wouldn't start. The day was getting late and we had at least two more stops to make, so I was extra mad at myself. And embarrassed. I had to send my friends to a gas station and wait in the hot vehicle for them to return. I wanted to to beat my head against the steering wheel. "Why, oh why??"

They arrived back within about 10 minutes, full of smiles and a carrying a full red gas can.

"You'll never believe it!" one friend said, jumping out of the car. "There was a lady in line just ahead of us who had a gas can, but no money to put any gas in it! She didn't know what to do. We told her we had money but no gas can! Would she loan us her can in exchange for some gas?"

The lady, a foreigner, was elated! "Oh, yes! Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed over and over. She waited for us to return to the gas station with her can and then threw her arms around me when I got out of the car.

We were the answer to her prayers.

Because of my mistake.

Can it be that my God is bigger than I thought? I mean, I know He is glorified through holy living, through sharing the gospel and even through our work. But can He really bring glory to Himself through our failures? How could He know I would foolishly run out of gas, and then bring my friends to the rescue of another person at just the right moment in time?

I still don't get it, but maybe I don't need to. Maybe I can just rest in the fact that God is watching over the whole picture, NOT JUST ME, and can accomplish His purposes in spite of me.

I love serving a Big God!

"Constructive Criticism"

I've never been able to respond to criticism very well. I always tend to take it personally and start crying at the first hint that I'm not measuring up in some way. I just hate that. Why, oh, why must I blubber foolishly over WORDS directed at me?

My husband has learned to couch his helpful comments with careful prefacing and disclaimers.

"Now, I don't want you to take this personally, this has nothing to do with you, but I'm just going crazy here with the house looking like a complete disaster. I'm not saying anything about your lack of care, I know you have been busy, and rightfully so, and I really appreciate all you do, but we've got to do something different around here or I will lose my mind."

Of course, all I hear is: "going crazy, complete disaster, your lack of care, lose my mind." It's just ridiculous. After the tears come my defensive statements, beginning with "But I always" and "You never." Needless to say, I've got a long way to go toward rational conflict resolution.

So I was completely impressed with my daughter, Em's maturity when faced with constructive criticism last week. She attends a university well-known for its highly competitive music program. In order to get in to the program, she had to prepare 4 vocal pieces (2 English, 2 Italian) to audition before a panel of judges. She is an amazing singer, songwriter and pianist, but the level of perfection required for the stringent program is not for the faint-hearted.

First of all, I would never have the nerve to get up and open my mouth in front of judges. And to see them scribbling on their critique sheets would be unbelievably unnerving. Try hitting a high note in Italian with music snobs peering over their glasses at you. gulp.

Despite her relatively high scores (low 90's), it was the critiques that accompanied them that would have reduced me to a quivering puddle of tears.

But not my Em.

She took them instride. She defended most of the comments with "Yes, I can see what they mean. I do need to work on that."

She even laughed about THIS Simon Cowell-like critique: "If you worked at it, you could probably become a pretty good singer."

Who IS this guy? He is obviously an elitist opera quote-unquote "expert."

Em pointed out that the judge added a footnote, "but, it takes a lot of work and you have the voice to do it."

Where I would have focused on the negative, Em chose to focus on the positive. "See, Mom, I DO have the voice to make it!"

I'm humbled by this 18 year-old young woman. Her grace under pressure and before such criticism makes me want to step up my own game. She is able to take the comments as a means of helping her reach higher and try harder. By golly, she's got spunk!

I have no idea where she gets that. Must be from her father's side.

Mr. Hooper's Garden

Old Mr. Hooper's garden is coming along nicely. I drive past his plot of dirt at 40 miles per hour several times a week on my way into town, and always check on his progress. His garden is out by the road, located about a mile before the country road becomes a 4 lane suburban throroughfare.

Mr. Hooper is Old School. He wears long-sleeved plaid shirts, pressed pants and a straw hat. He's a bit stooped over, and I've often seen him leaning on a rake, supervising a younger man in a tank shirt and shorts. His old truck and 50's style ranch house are meticulously maintained. Of course.

I've learned alot about gardening from passing by and observing him through my car window. I've realized that he starts tilling a couple of weeks before the last frost. Whenever I see his freshly turned earth I feel a little wistful. Darn! Another year and I still don't have a vegetable garden! When I saw that he'd set out his tomato plants, I knew we were no longer in danger of a freeze. I didn't need the Farmer's Almanac to tell me.

This year, I noticed that Mr. Hooper protected his baby tomato plants with hollowed out 5 gallon buckets. And last year, he hung red Christmas balls from his gorgeous plants to trick the birds into pecking them instead of his precious tomatoes. Smart! I made mental notes so that when I start my garden I'll remember it. I see that he's used different colored twine for the different rows of vegetables that are already starting to come up. And within each row, he has staggered his plantings so that he will enjoy fresh produce continuously.

I still haven't figured out how he keeps the weeds out. Maybe that younger man does all the grunt work.

Note to self. Get man to do grunt work.

In watching the Old School gardener, I've thought about the other "Mr. Hoopers" in my life: people whose lives I have observed and learned from over the years. There's my mom, an incredible woman of faith who has influenced me, probably more than anyone else. I've watched her live a life of ministry and service to others, but mostly ministry and service to her family. There is my friend Barbara, an enthusiastic grandmother who recently earned her PhD in Counseling, active in the lives of women in my church. Then there is Billie, a great-grandmother who is still serving and involved with others. She and her husband are greeters at church. There is also Priscilla, (her book is in my sidebar), whose walk with the Lord and godly wisdom never fail to inspire me.

Another "Mr. Hooper" is my sister, Katherine. In raising her five children, her heart is at the core of her family and I've learned a lot from the way she loves and cares for them. I've found other "Mr. Hoopers" in blogland: Chris, at Come to the Table, and Kim at Lifesong are a couple that easily come to mind. I love to read these ladies' blogs because there is so much to glean from their lives.

I'd like to step on the brake and pull over the next time I see Mr. Hooper out in his garden. I'll bet he is like most other gardeners I've known--willing and eager to share bits of knowlege with novices like me. After all, there is only so much a person can learn by merely passing by. I know if I just spent a little time with him I'd walk away with a wheelbarrow full of enthusiasm and newfound wisdom for getting my garden underway.

I feel encouraged to tap my brakes so I can spend some time with my other "Mr. Hoopers," too. I think I'll go with an empty wheelbarrow so I can load up while I'm there.

Do you have some "Mr. Hoopers" in your life?

Proverbs 13:20 He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm.

Rachel Anne

The Frog Inside My Prince - More on Refuge

I hadn't been married long when I began to hear what sounded like "ribbets" coming from within my Prince Charming's shiny armor.

Naaah.  Couldn't be.  Could it?

Uh, like, yeah. (I have teenagers, I must overuse the word "like")

Reality soon hit me.  My Tender Warrior, my Knight, my Beloved One, had warts--FLAWS, dangit!  There was a frog inside my prince, just waiting to get out!  And it did, oh it did.

As a young wife, I was eager to forgive those tiny flaws and missteps.  It was easy to look beyond the disappointments to see the man I knew he'd become.... with my help.

And the Lord's of course.

But the truth is my "help" has often undermined the Lord's help.  I've had to face the fact that when my man makes mistakes he doesn't need a prison (or dog house) to make him pay for his shortcomings, but a refuge he can draw strength from when he falls down.  Both places have four walls and three "squares," but one strips a man of dignity while the other restores, builds confidence, resolve and courage.  One tries to control his behavior through criticism, nagging, arguing and punishment, while the other accepts imperfections and loves unconditionally.

To be an emotional refuge, I need to assure my prince not just of my acceptance, but of my appreciation and respect.

Guess what?  He IS working hard.

He's TRYING to do all the right things.

And half the time he feels unequal to the task of being the spiritual leader/breadwinner/husband/father/coach/church member/bike fixer/problem solver/boo-boo kisser/landscaper/handyman and all-around great guy.

Will it kill me to give him the kudos he needs to hear, or will I refuse to offer it on the grounds that I think I'm the one working harder?

Forgiveness, acceptance and appreciation are three small things that go so, SO far, and how often I overlook the simplest forms of true love:

A "thank you."

A kind word.

A soft answer.

A gentle touch.

Being an emotional refuge to my froggy prince means letting go of my need to fix him.  God can do a better job without me.

Refuge is letting him know that I am on his side, ON HIS TEAM no matter what.

It is loving him in spite of the fact that he's not perfect.

Being my man's refuge means remembering that.............

It's not easy being green.

Rachel Anne