My Thoughts On Unmonitored Transgender Bathroom Access

You’re right. I have NO idea what it’s like to struggle with my gender identity. I basically just looked down and assumed that it was what it was. I’ve never felt like man. I’ve never met a man who felt like a woman. At least not that I know of. 

I know that must be a horrible feeling, a terrible internal struggle filled with confusion and utter fear. And I’m sorry. And I want them the know they have a beautiful identity in Jesus- a divine calling. I want them to  know that their struggle is a lie told by the ultimate deceiver. I want them to know they’re loved unconditionally. I want them to feel ACCEPTED. But I cannot be okay with legislation that is attempting to allow ‘transgender’ people to access any restroom based on “gender identity.” 

The reason is simple: my daughters’ safety is more important than someone’s feelings. 

By no means do I believe that transgendered people have intentions of HURTING people. I honestly believe they are just people who are hurting. But I also believe that someone who wants to hurt people will stop at nothing to do just that. If a bad woman, claiming to be transgendered, could go into a men’s bathroom and possibly hurt your son, who were in there alone, she would. Because the law gives her that right and takes away your son’s right. In the same, any man could claim to “identify as a woman” and have unrestricted access to my little girls in the restroom.

If my daughter hits someone because she FELT angry, she gets in trouble because I value the other child’s safety. No matter how my child FEELS, while her feelings may be valid (or they may not), it is NEVER okay to compromise someone’s safety because she feels something. Ever. 

As adults, we should be able to see this. 

I have an immense love for people who are confused about their identities, their preferences, etc. I feel for them. I can’t imagine the hatred, the disrespect, the outright ugliness that they endure on top of the inner turmoil they experience. And I want more than anything for them to know that Jesus is the only person or thing that can give them the understanding and acceptance they so desperately crave and need (just like we all do!). 

I just can’t exchange my childrens’ safety at the hands of ugly people for the feelings of anyone. 

Love to my loves, Cate

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Scriptures for Labor and Childbirth (with printables!)

When I was pregnant , I scoured the Bible looking for scriptures that would give this scared young mama some faith. Especially the second time around, after a devastating loss and a scary diagnosis, it seemed like I was afraid the whole pregnancy. Then, my mother-in-law introduced me to an amazing book: Supernatural Childbirth by Jackie Mize. This book helped me so much! I loved seeing the ways that God intended childbirth to go and the encouragement to push out fear and focus on Him and His Word.

Chances are that you know someone who either IS preggers or is TRYING to get pregnant. Here are some scriptures that helped me through my labor and delivery. Download the pretty cards and print them out, attach them to a cute water bottle, stick them in your baby shower gift, and let her know God is with her through this exciting time!

Click Below to Print These Pretty Cards:

Labor and Delivery Scripture Cards

 

Love to my loves,

Cate

 

Don’t Give Up, Mama. They’re Getting It!

When Adeline was born, many people told me how difficult it is to be a mother– you’ll never get any sleep, you’ll never pee alone, you’ll never get time alone with your husband again, you’re basically grounded for the next 18 years. It was what every new mother wanted to hear. 

     In reality, I had given birth to a baby girl who slept through the night from night two, never had any dietary issues, and pretty much just went right along with everything. She adapted to our lifestyle without much fuss. Now, because she was a baby, there were nights she wouldn’t sleep, there was the infamous “I’m almost two and if I have to be in this car seat I’m going to make you regret it the ENTIRE car ride!” screaming phase, but for the most part, the child was the easiest kid to ever walk the earth.

As a two-year-old, we didn’t have many public outbursts, she was a very happy child, sassy-of course-, but primarily easy-going. Obviously, it was all because of my incredible parenting skills and the fact that I excel at everything I do, so my kid must, also, right? What an awesome parent I was.  

And then she turned three. 

This perfect, my-kid-NEVER-acts-like-that-in-public parent was hit in the face with the Mack Truck of the strong-willed child. However strong my will was, believe me, hers was stronger. The fits began- no, no. Not just the “I want a cookie and you said NO.” fits. More like the “APOCALYPSE HAS STARTED AND IT WILL NOT STOP UNTIL I GET A DANG COOKIE AND I KNOW YOU’LL DO ANYTHING TO SHUT ME UP! LOOK, KROGER SHOPPERS! I HAVE A SNOTTY NOSE AND MY MOM WONT GIVE ME A COOKIE AND SHE FEELS LIKE A FAILURE AND IM JUST SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMIIINNNNGGG!” fit.  Parenting Self-righteousness? Gone. 

There were fits about EVERYTHING. What underwear to put on. How to wear said underwear. Why we don’t dive head first off furniture. Why we don’t break things. The hard part was that this child, however strong-willed and difficult it was to parent during that year, was the same child that immediate preceding and following the fit was (AND STILL IS) good-natured, good-hearted, sweet, smart, ridiculously hilarious, and the life of any party. My smart, strong-willed child WANTED to be obedient. She WANTED to listen. But she also wanted her own way and couldn’t seem to control her need to do what she wanted. Because she was three. 

 We tried every pre bring trick in the book, positive reinforcement, negative reinforcement, spanking (yes, we spank. Sorry, not sorry!), reward charts, ignoring (that was laughable), you name it, we tried it. And failed. Miserably. 

For over a year, we couldn’t figure out what we could do to possibly help this child see she NEEDED to be obedient for safety purposes. So, I prayed. 

Lord, did I pray.

I prayed she would be obedient to me so I could teach her to be obedient to God. I prayed for wisdom in how to deal with her strong will and her fragile heart. I prayed for myself, that I would BE the obedient daughter to God that I wanted her to learn to be. And I made sure she saw and heard me praying. I prayed over every little scrape and booboo. I prayed over our attitudes, I prayed over our dinners and our days. It was all I knew to do. It was my last-ditch effort. 

This incredibly good-hearted, delightful child is now four-and-a-half. We haven’t had a tantrum in about three months now.

I wasn’t sure if she had been paying attention, though. UNTIL LAST WEEK. 

I had a toothache. A bad one. I was lying in bed and  My husband was putting the girls in their bed, which he never does without me. (He’s fully capable and the best dad EVER, it’s just something we choose to ALWAYS do together.) As I was lying in bed, Adeline came and crawled up into my bed, laid her tiny, perfect little hands on me, and said this: 

“Mommy, the only way you’ll feel better is if we pray. Thank you, God, for this day. Thank you for blessing us and keeping us safe and thank you that Mommy was healed by the stripes of Jesus. In Jesus name. Amen.” 

It was then that I knew she heard me. She saw me. And she was getting it. 

Be still, my heart. This child, this baby who made me a mommy, this ex-pro tantrum thrower, is going to do incredible things for her Father in this lifetime. And, mama, SO WILL YOURS. 

JUST KEEP ON TRUCKING. They’re getting it. 
Love to my loves, 

Cate

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Supporting God’s Call on Your Husband’s Life

Before Will and I got married, he told me that God had placed a very specific calling on his life. He told me, very plainly, that he was called to preach the gospel, to be a pastor (and that if I weren’t planning to marry him and be his wife, there wasn’t any point in us dating!). As a 17-year-old girl, you can imagine my surprise, but I admired his boldness and saw a man who had a huge heart for God, incredible knowledge of His Word, and a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied. This man answered my questions and my doubts with incredible patience and outright excitement. I married him. 

     Fast forward two years to a Sunday morning in the church where we met. A pastor from another country, who is very near and dear to our hearts, announced that he would like everyone who felt called to pastor to come to the front for prayer. My husband and one other couple stood and went forward. I sat comfortably in my chair. As Pastor Suarez was praying, I knew I should have gone with him. After all, if that was the calling God had placed on his life and I was called to be his wife, then we were in it together. 

    But at the time, I didn’t feel like God had placed ANY calling on me. It wasn’t until a few years later (when I realized the actual relationship with God was the key) and lots of seeking that God filled me in. He told me my first calling was to be a Godly wife. My second to be a Godly mother, and third, a speaker of His gospel. (I surely never thought THAT would be the calling He gave me.)

So, I made it my mission to support Will in his calling, which just happens to also be his greatest passion- preaching the Word. And while God hasn’t yet given us a platform on which to preach it, while we wait on His timing and His placement, here are five ways I try to support and help my Studmuffin grow and learn in his calling: 

1.) Pray For Him

Men are our protectors and providers. They carry the burdens of the family and guide us spiritually. On top of family life, they have work, they have church, they have just as many things on their plates as we women do. So we MUST lift them in prayer. I pray for him to have wisdom. I pray for him to have patience. I pray for him to resist temptation in all areas and for him to listen for the voice of God. I pray for his safety. My goal is for him to always be built up in prayer. Even if you’re running late in the mornings, when you’re stuck in traffic, just pray a two-sentence prayer over him. God hears our smallest prayers just as well as our elaborate ones. You’ll be glad you did. 

2.) Remind him who he is. 

When God places a calling on us, it doesn’t always manifest immediately. Whether your calling is to be a mother, a Godly entrepreneur, or a Pastor, these callings are all important and they don’t always happen when we want it to. So we wait. Or we are thrust into it. Either way, he WILL get discouraged. Remind him. Remind him who is in control. Remind him why God called him. Remind him why you married him. Remind him that He is who God says he is. Remind him that he has a loving wife and a loving God who both believe in him immensely. Remind him. Then remind him again. Then pray WITH him. 

3.) Speak goodness TO him and ABOUT him. 

In our culture, it seems to be the thing to speak ill of husbands, and really, men in general. We sit with our girlfriends and tell them the latest faux pas our husband has committed and roll our eyes at the stupidity of men. Don’t. My husband is my other half. My covenant partner. I should treat him as such. Speak good things about him to your friends, to your family. Praise him in public. Then praise him in private. Remind him. 

4.) Encourage his passion. 

   It used to irk me that my husband seemed to have NO hobbies at all. Seriously. He isn’t a music person. Not a sports fanatic. Doesn’t have a large circle of friends (neither do I). Isn’t a fisherman or a hunter. It took me YEARS to realize that he has two hobbies: Jesus and Business. Those two things, once he starts talking, he can’t stop. And while generally a quiet person, he has this incredible wealth of information and an eagerness to share it with anyone who will listen. How do I encourage that? I get him books and teachings. I talk about business ideas and marketing with him. I ask him questions about these things. For Christmas, I bought him a CD on entrepreneurial leadership. Today, I went to the book store and bought three books: one on Grace, one on mentorship, and one on pastoring. My goal is to feed his passion. And I find that I learn so much from him by listening to him. 

5.) Become the wife of a man who is called to that position/calling. 

This has been one of my biggest focuses: myself. I’ve been asking God to prepare MY heart as well. Make me gentler. Make me an encourager. Make me a listener. Give me a heart for God and a heart for His people. Make me into the wife my husband needs. 
I’d love to hear what you do to encourage your husband’s call. 

Love to my loves, 

Cate

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Heretic and False Prophet: Why We Should Reconsider Before Accusing.

 In today’s day and age, it is so simple for us to sit behind a screen and not hold ourselves accountable for the things we put on the internet. The thing is we are held to a higher standard than the world. As Christians, what we put out there for others to read directly affects others, both Christians and non-Christians alike. We are planting seeds by pushing buttons. Are those seeds for the glory of God or do they satisfy our selfish need for glory?

On Facebook, my husband and I had followed a certain popular page that creates memes for Christians. For a while, it was funny. Some of them were quite humorous. After a while I started to notice a trend: so-called Christians mudslinging and getting into outright arguments over their religious leanings. I noticed two very serious accusations being thrown around willy-nilly at the slightest hint of disagreement: heretic and false prophet.

Guys, we are to be building each other up, not being keyboard warriors and shining our hineys in an effort to make ourselves seem more righteous. WHAT KIND OF GOD ARE WE PORTRAYING? Not the God I serve. I serve a holy, loving, caring God. I don’t serve a God who is ready to throw me into the pits of hell at the first sign of my indiscretions. I serve a God who sent His Only Son to be tortured and brutally murdered so that I could have life, so that my sins could no longer be held against me, so that HE could have relationship with ME, a sinner who wasn’t worthy.

Do we realize the weight of an accusation such as heretic or false prophet? I honestly believe that if we did, we wouldn’t throw it around so hastily.

   Mark 7:6-9 defines a false prophet as one who “constantly honor Me with their lips, but their hearts hold off and are far distant from Me. In vain (fruitlessly and without profit) do they worship Me, ordering and teaching (to be obeyed) as doctrines the commandments and precepts of man. You disregard and give up and ask to depart from you the commandment of God and cling to the tradition of men (keeping it carefully and faithfully). And He said to them, You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your own human regulations!”

So, here is my question: When we accuse someone of being a heretic, a false prophet, we are, in essence, judging their hearts to be turned form God. And why? Because they disagree with us? Because we are so much more righteous in our understanding? No. We call them heretics and false prophets because we are too righteous in our own eyes to be calm and lovingly discuss the intricacies of the Word of God, because we are puffed up and afraid of being wrong.

James 4:11 tells us My brethren, do not speak evil about or accuse one another. He that maligns a brother or judges his brother is maligning and criticizing and judging the Law. But if you judge the Law, you are not a practicer of the Law, but a censor and judge of it. Only one is the Lawgiver and Judge Who is able to save and to destroy. Who are you that you presume to pass judgement on your neighbor?

No. Instead, we are to edify each other, to encourage, to counsel, and to do it LOVINGLY as we are given examples:

1 Thess 5:11: Therefore encourage one another and edify (strengthen, build up) one another, just as you are doing.

Galatians 6:1-3: Brethren, if any person is overtaken in misconduct or sin of any sort, you who are responsible and controlled by the Holy Spirit should set him right and RESTORE HIM and REINSTATE HIM without any sense of superiority and with all gentleness, keeping an attentive eye o yourself, lest you  be tempted also.

2 Tim 4:2- Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke, and encourage- with GREAT PATIENCE and CAREFUL INSTRUCTION.

1 Pt 3:8 Finally, all should be of one and the same mind, sympathizing, loving each other as brethren, compassionate and courteous.

Friend, when we are Christians, everything we do is a reflection upon Jesus. Nobody wants a God who is bitter, self-righteous, and waiting on the ready to attack. And that is a good thing because that God doesn’t exist. God is a God of mercy, grace, and restoration and it is time that we as Christians start presenting ourselves to each other and the world as children of that loving God.

 

Love to my loves,

Cate
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When Mama is Needed in the Middle of the Night

Today, Superman and I spent ALL DAY packing and loading a moving truck. Tomorrow, we begin a new adventure. Or an old adventure again, however you want to look at it. We are moving back to Mississippi. 

For twelve hours today, the two of us packed, moved out, and cleaned a house while my grandmother kept our girls. Since everything we own is in a truck, we decided to stay the night at my grandma’s house. So, we brought our air mattress and descended upon the formal living area, all four of us. 

We made up a couch for the girls and figured they’d be fine since we were in there with them and they sleep together. Ah, yes. We will get a good night’s rest tonight, close on the house tomorrow, and drive our happy selves to good ole Mississippi. 

We were naive enough to think it would just be that easy. 

We knew better. 

Here’s how the night has actually gone: 

We laid everyone down about 8:45pm. They were sleepy. They talked a bit, they walked a bit. Then the crying commenced. And it didn’t stop. For over two hours Abbie Faith cried and rolled and moved and cried and yelled. Awesome. I put her in bed with her dad and sister (now sleeping on the air mattress) and left the room to sleep in the other living room because Abigail refuses to sleep if I’m around. She’s been like this forever. When Mommy is in the room, forget sleep. So for an hour, I dozed in another room while she napped with Dad and Sister. 

Then, Addie Grace Coughed at precisely 12:04am. And Abbie woke. And then she screamed. And cried and yelled. And then she threw up. Awesome. It was clearly because she was so upset, right?

Cleaned up the kid. Tried to rock her back to sleep, but, alas, no sleep was to be had. So I put her in the truck and drove her around town (FYI: we are about 20 mins from town). When I was about 15 mins from home, Abs pukes again. A lot. In the truck. Wonderful. 

IT IS NOW 2:46AM and I’m awake in my Pawpaw’s recliner with a sleeping baby, afraid to move or breathe. 

BUT…

God gives us grace to handle situations like this when we are sleep-deprived and exhausted from a long day’s work. Tonight, he has replaced my irritation at not sleeping with gratefulness for the snuggles I miss out on when she sleeps in her own room with her sister. He’s replaced my frustration with peace. 

  
It may be a ridiculous time of night, but there is an incredible man snuggling with my big girl in the other room and a sweet, sleepy baby in my lap. I am blessed. 

And starting tomorrow, we get to chase our dreams and His will as a family

On Postpartum Depression: The Girl Who Always Smiles

I’ve always liked to smile. I like what it does to people. I like to see people go from disturbed and frustrated to relaxed and okay because of a smile and a kind word. But you only know what you see. It’s really not your fault. You see me smile and laugh and do my best to encourage others. You see my loving husband, my beautiful little girls, my amazing life. And you are right.

But that’s all you know because it’s all you see.

My constant smile exhausts me. It literally makes me tired. I smile all day to prevent you from seeing what is going on inside that I can’t control. They call it “Postpartum Depression.” But it’s really more like Hell. I can’t control my emotions. I can’t control my outbursts. I can’t control the tears, the rage, the overwhelming guilt. I smile as a prevention, if you will. I’m afraid that if you saw all these things I have a hard time controlling, you’d see me as what I fear I already am: a horrible person or worse- a hypochondriac, a hypocrite just looking for attention.

So I smile.

Meanwhile, my amazing husband holds me while I cry, forgives me while I rage about ridiculous things like entering through the exit, and reminds me that this is temporary and eventually will subside. But twenty months in, I have started to wonder. I fear this isn’t “postpartum” any longer.

While you tell me how you admire how I smile constantly, I think about how I yelled for the hundredth time at my precious four-year-old for doing something four-year-olds do. I think about how many days, I end up a sobbing heap on the floor and can’t explain why. What sweet child should see her mother do these things? Even worse, she wants to be just like me when she grows up and I’m terrified of what that could mean if she is to pick up the behaviors I’ve exhibited over the past two years.

I can’t explain what it’s like to have a great life, to know how great it is, and yet somehow not be able to enjoy it fully. Or what it’s like to feel like a fraud every. single. day. because I fake it. Or to wonder how I can fake it for the outside world, but not for my own husband and kids- the three people in the world who mean the most to me, who I love more than life itself. I can’t explain the feeling of getting in the car after work and crying after having held it together all day, but not knowing why I’m crying. Because I actually feel pretty happy right then.

And I know- it’s technically “hormones being imbalanced.” But I still feel they should have gone back to normal by now. I’m terrified that this is the new normal.

I wish I could understand how I feel. I wish I could just be me again. But, I’m not me. I’m someone I don’t recognize and I certainly don’t like.

I am the girl who always smiles…

 

You Made Me Mommy

I packed up a bag with all of your clothes,

Diapers, blankets and socks for your toes. 

We waited while they made a room free. 

It was time for me to become a Mommy. 
Dad held my hand for 9 hours straight. 

He refused to leave me alone to wait. 

Then here you came with ten little toes, 

Daddy’s eyes and Mommy’s nose. 
You had no hair. Your tongue stuck out. 

Six pounds, seven and one half ounce. 

That moment I looked at our sweet baby

And that was the moment you made me Mommy. 
Your whole first year was an awakening. 

Snuggles, kisses and nighttime feeding. 

Year two we watched as you became you 

Year three I saw some of Daddy in you too.
Year four I see in you so much of me. 

As you grow, I’m amazed at the beauty I see. 

Looking back, I feel that there’s so much I missed 

But I’ve always been here to hug and kiss. 
I thought I knew who God made me to be. 

But I didn’t truly know until you showed me.  

You’ve made me so much I never would be
You were the one who made me Mommy. 

20 Easy Steps to Getting Ready In the Morning- Mom Edition

Being a mama is serious work. But that’s doesn’t mean you have to suffer through not wearing makeup and feeling like a bum. Nope, I’m here to help! 

Here is a step-by-step guide for mamas to get in the mornings. Follow these tips and you’ll be in mom mode in no time! 

Step 1: Decide to put on makeup. 

Step 2: Ask 4-year-old where your makeup is. She just HAD to wear it and look like mommy. It’s now hidden in oblivion. Find it. May the odds be ever in your favor. 

Step 3: Pick out cute clothes for the day. Lay them flat on bed until time to wear them. (If you put them on now, the baby will have you filthy before you leave!)

Step 4: Chase down 4-year-old, take back makeup, threaten to abduct her princess dresses if she lays her grubby hands on the makeup again today. 
Step 5: Why is the one-year-old crying? She crawled onto the bed and can’t get down. Help her down. 

Step 6: Pick out new clothes. Baby just wiped PB&J all over the cute clothes you had lying on the bed. 

Step 7: Change Bra. She wiped PB &J on that, too. 

Step 8: Turn on VeggieTales or Sherriff Callie to occupy tiny humans while you get ready. 

Step 9: Go to bathroom and prepare to put on makeup. 

Step 10: Go back to check on kids. They’re too quiet. It’s suspicious. 

Step 11: Baby saw you. Pick her up and take her with you to bathroom. 

Step 12: Try to put her down. Fail epically. She flails and screams on the floor. 

Step 13: Turn up the A/C. It’s getting hot in here. 

Step 14: Forget to wait and put on clothes.

Step 15: Remember why you didn’t put clothes on. Also remember to wipe PB&J off baby so the mess doesn’t reoccur. Take new dirty clothes off. 

Step 16: Spend 30 mins getting kids dressed and ready. 

Step 16: Still in your underwear, figure out why baby is screaming again. 

Step 17: Check clock. It’s nap time. That’s why she’s crying.  

Step 18: Fill sippy cup with milk, lay baby down for nap. 

Step 19: Realize you’re still naked with a towel on your head and no makeup. 

Step 20: Put on yoga pants and a ponytail and give up looking cute. 

You’re welcome. 

If you don’t have kids yet, you’ll understand later. 
Love to my loves, 

Cate

A Waitress’s Observations of Christians at Sunday Dinner

Today at work, my heart broke.

Sounds a bit dramatic, no? But it’s true. Let me explain.

I recently picked up an extra job at a local chain restaurant waiting tables. Today was my first time as a server on a Sunday and what I experienced was not what I was expecting.

If you’ve never worked in a chain restaurant as a waiter/waitress, I implore you to consider what waitstaff go through. It’s not just running food from the kitchen to your table. What you don’t see are the five other tables of anywhere from 4-7 people your waiter is serving in addition to your party. You don’t see the multiple trips back and forth to each of these tables with drink refills, rolls, salad, soup, and appetizers before the meal even makes it out. You don’t see the intricate input system the waitress must navigate just to put in the order or the cook who is making an entire restaurant worth of food all alone because the other cooks called out. You don’t see the orders backing up and the waitress getting the blame because she is the face of the restaurant. Your waiter also cleans up after each table, then after everyone is gone, spends two hours ON AVERAGE getting the restaurant ready for the next day. It’s not easy work. I never realized just how demanding this job is.

Clearly, the general public doesn’t either.

I work most other days of the week. I experience rushed diners anxious to eat and leave so they can get back to work on time. I experience families at dinnertime just trying to get the kiddos fed. I experience people coming in late to have some drinks and relax with their friends. For the most part, customers are kind and polite. They tend to tip moderately and leave with a smile. On occasion, there are those who can’t be satisfied and it doesn’t matter what the server does to remedy the situation. But, usually, it’s enjoyed by all.

So, when I was scheduled to work today, a Sunday, I was pretty excited. I thought it would be nice to get to wait on people who I could expect to be kind, have a few conversations about Jesus, and make a good bit of tips since we’d be so busy all day. What I experienced, though, broke my heart. While none of my own customers were rude, my coworkers experiences weren’t similar.

Here are some comments I heard from my coworkers today. See if you can discern what specific group of people they were referring to:

“I guess they gave all their money to the church and couldn’t afford to tip.”

“You can tell they just came from church. Aren’t they supposed to be “Christians?”

“Sundays are the WORST day to work.”

Now, does this concern anyone? It does me. Concern isn’t even the word. Heartbreaking.

Heartbreaking because I see these servers behind the scenes needing Jesus so desperately. Heartbreaking because the actions I see from my coworkers aren’t those of belligerent young adults or selfish people. (These are some of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met.) Their actions are those of people who are hurting and seeking relationship, seeking love, seeking acceptance. They’re seeking Jesus- they just don’t know it. It’s heartbreaking because we leave church all dressed up and go out to eat with our families while these people are LITERALLY serving our every whim and we can’t even be courteous, kind, or generous. Do you know not ONE person today even after JUST leaving church tried to share Jesus with either myself or ANY of my eight other coworkers who were serving them?

WE, AS CHRISTIANS, ARE NOT BEING CHRISTLIKE!

So what are we even doing??????

Guys, I’m so upset. How is it that on a Sunday morning when hundreds of families came through our restaurant not one tried to talk to us about Jesus? How, also, is it that Sundays are overwhelmingly the worst days for tips? Now, I know that being a Christian and money aren’t signs or symbols of each other, but bear with me here for a second: If we come in our church clothes all full of joy and Jesus and pride and then leave our server a craptastic tip, (that’s not a technical term LOL) they don’t associate that stiff with us personally. They associate the stiff with our religion. WITH OUR GOD. If God is generous and we are called to be “Christ-like” can’t we spare an extra five bucks? Especially if we can afford to drop sixty dollars on lunch. **Standard tips are 15%-20%**

Guys, we HAVE to realize that we represent CHRIST. We don’t represent ourselves. We are the children of an almighty God, called to go into the world to save the lost, to make disciples of the people, to BE disciples. We have to think of what we are portraying in everything, even something as simple as going to lunch with our families.

Please. For the sake of the hurting. If your server forgets to put lemon in your water or it takes a bit longer than you’d like to receive your dinner, please remember who you are called to be like. Who you are called to represent. And who the server in front of you could become for Christ if they were just shown a bit of Grace and Mercy in the name of a Holy God.

 

Love to my loves,

Cate