Category: life

If you read through my blog, you might remember when I declared at the end of 2017 that 2018 was the best year of my life even though I hadn’t seen the year yet. I’m here to report that 2018 did not disappoint. I’ve had more joy and personal fulfillment in 2018 than any of my previous years combined.

Not that the enemy did not try.

We went through a nearly fatal car-accident, loved ones were hospitalized with less than favorable diagnosis and we had our low points but in the midst of it all, God has been more than faithful. The year 2018 saw me living my dreams for the first time in over 11 years. I no longer felt like a walking advertisement of all of my personal failures. In 2018, I made significant  headway into becoming the woman I know that God desires for me to be.

2019 is an intentional year for me and my family. It’s the year that I’ve determined to build on the successes of 2018 and see breakthrough in old areas of stagnation by God’s grace. January gave me one of my biggest wins, the opportunity to move up professionally and earn a salary that could help my husband go back to school. Exactly two weeks after I was given the opportunity, I experienced the biggest blow of my career. A setback so devastating it seemed likely to swallow up everything I’ve worked for over the last 15 years of my life since I started on this career path.

Naturally, I’m a worrier. If we are late on a bill, I immediately imagine the worst – foreclosure, repossession, homelessness, being destitute on the street with nothing to show for our years of work. That’s how my natural mind is inclined – to imagine the worst and worry myself into an ulcer. It has taken years of training and retraining my mind away from imagining the worst when challenges present themselves to get to a place of peace. As someone who has been traumatized by lack, loss and life changes, any deviation from what I call the norm makes me nervous.

When this potential setback presented itself, my world crumbled around me. I had my first full-blown panic attack in years. I was screaming and shaking so violently that I scared my children (sorry, boys). Here was a manifestation of all my worst nightmares come to life – the thought that I could work hard for years to make a life for myself and those that I love and something can swoop down and steal it all away within seconds, never to be recovered again. To say that I was devastated is putting it lightly. I was absolutely inconsolably. I imagined all the ways my life would be forever changed and destroyed from that point on. I thought about all the people I would no longer be able to help because I couldn’t even help myself. I imagined all the dreams that would go unfulfilled in my life because surely, this is the end for me.

Faith, in that moment, had been swallowed up completely by fear. After having my initial meltdown, I started reaching for those whose faith could bolster mine when my heart was failing. I called my husband at work (for the first time ever). I called my best friends and then I called my army – the circle of prayer  warriors that I have been cultivating pretty much all my life. My mom, one of my best friends in Rhode Island, and my mentor in Maryland. Over the course of the weekend, I poured my heart out to these ladies  and received words of life. They reminded me who I was and what God has promised over me. They spoke the verses that had long fled my mind in a moment’s panic. They prayed and prophesied until my shrinking heart received new courage. I went in – a quivering mass of fear, but I came out a slightly shaky but steadfast woman of courage. Through it all, God has remained constant. When worry tried to overtake me, I would blast my music at full volume with lyrics that declare the faithfulness, might and sovereignty of God. When fear would peak around the corner, I began declaring to my own hearing “I choose faith over fear!” I repeated it so often it became a mantra. I’m sure I looked every bit of unstable to those on the outside looking in. I was literally walking through my day speaking audibly that “I choose faith over fear!” I was talking to myself!

I laugh now but whatever it would take for me to keep my mental health thriving and keep my heart from giving into defeat, that’s what I’ve had to do. I am still walking through the fire. I am still traveling through my storm. But the God who has promised me that the fire will not consume me and the flood will not overwhelm me is walking with me. I will not be afraid. I choose faith over fear.

More than anything else, my current place in life represents the fear I have allowed to grow into the Boogey Monster of failure and reproach. I thought since I conquered my fear of failure by taking bold steps of faith, I no longer had an issue with fear. It turns out that I only conquered one kind of fear in my life, not all of them. Certain things seem unlikely to happen so I’ve never had to question my disproportionate fear of the unknown until the unknown presented itself in such a threatening and forceful manner. The truth is that this fear is crippling – for it to trigger an anxiety attack that felt like I was drowning in air and moments away from a heart attack – this is not an every-day response. I am wholly convinced that the Lord is using this opportunity to deliver me from this fear. I have created a monster in my own mind and when a shadow that resembles my fear manifested itself, it literally almost took me out.

I refuse to be conquered by something without teeth, without claws and without form. As I walk this particular valley, I am looking forward to my victory over fear. Regardless of the outcome, I know that God will not allow anything in my life that He cannot use for my good and His glory. I’m not excited to be tried by fire. I know there are many more battles for me to win in this war and I’m sure there will be casualties as well as scars, but nevertheless I will not back down from the fight. I refuse to just curl up and die. I will come through the fire, and by God’s grace I know that I will not be destroyed.

No! Rather I will be refined as gold.

The most beautiful part of life in Christ is the daily, hour by hour growth that occurs when we are consciously committed to walking with the Lord. The topic I want address is actually already here in the form of a previous post. You can go read my post “For the Daughters of Eve” written in 2016 here:

https://naijabeauty.wordpress.com/2016/12/14/for-the-daughters-of-eve/

It is password protected because it was only meant for women I trusted with an issue that was painful to discuss. The sting is gone so I’m free to share with any of you that’s interested (password Sisterhood).

When I wrote the previous post, I was dealing with a lingering sense of inadequacy.

It started when I graduated law school and was unable to find a job for six grueling months so necessity led me to open my own practice. It deepened when I was engaged to my husband and some of my pastors told me in no uncertain terms that a woman without an income was a liability to her man. It grew wings after my first born when my husband expressed that my time as a stay at home mom was not only hindering us financially but also showed a lack of care concerning his attempts to provide for our family. Each of these episodes shook me in different ways and I endured a tedious process to heal from their unintended consequences.  The last time I tackled this feeling of inadequacy was a few months after our second son was born. All around me women I knew were working and providing for their families or themselves. These same women whose opinions I valued and whose lives bore godly fruit were also telling me that any wife or mother who was successful at home but without her own business, enterprise or  income was incomplete. Their words added salt to an open wound. It seemed no matter how much I grew in my character or how much I contributed as a wife and mother in my home, if my income did not reach a certain amount, I was failing. I took the sentiment personally and honestly it broke me.

Today, my story has changed. When God delivered me from the fear of failure, He gave me a boldness and assurance that I did not have  before. That is where I want to draw from to encourage you, my readers.

A woman who agrees with her husband to stay at home to raise her family and forego a paycheck as part of her reasonable service should not be penalized with our disdain simply because it is a choice other women would never make. She’s doing what God has asked of her in her own home even if God does not require the exact same choice from me or you.

Most women I know would never openly condemn a stay at home mother for not working but still they say things like “I didn’t get all this education to stay home and raise some kids” (actual comment directed my way). Comments like these did much to damage my perception of my worth before I found my assurance in Christ. After my second son was born, my income was non-existence. I had missed months of work and declined taking on new clients as I grappled with the sickness of pregnancy. As a business owner, my maternity leave was at my discretion but woefully unpaid. So I did in fact acquire all of my education to “stay home and raise some kids,” at least for the first six months of each of their lives. As believers we pay much lip service to the dignity of mothers and wives, but in my own experience, we are often demeaned by the very body of believers with whom we belong. We are excused while pregnant or immediately after giving birth because of course we need some time for our bodies to heal and to bond with our newborns.

”When are you going back to work?”

Because raising children is not enough “work” by itself and nobody is going to pay you to raise your own children. And of course, you can’t possibly expect your husband to be the only one who earns an income. You can’t afford it.

Only millionaires are entitled to raise their own children as they see fit. The rest of us need to keep our nose to the grindstones and pay others to care for our children while we do the more important task of keeping food, shelter and clothing readily available.

I am being facetious.

A wife and mother who earns an income by working either within or outside her home, for herself or for another is doing a dignified service. She is supporting her husband’s responsibility to provide for his family. Her help is indispensable to her family. Most households could not survive without dual income so a wife’s paycheck is a physical representation of what her support means within her family.

Likewise, a woman who stays at home and does the dignified work of raising her family in the fear and knowledge of the Lord is doing a work that cannot be quantified. Her role in her family cannot be overemphasized. Without the unwavering support of a wife who sacrifices to be the primary caregiver of their children, many husbands could never earn the income they use to provide for their families. Without a wife who can oversee parent-teacher conferences, doctors appointments, family meals and household budgets, most men with children would not have the time to earn the income their families require.

But you are more than the income you earn or the measurable help you can provide at home. You are literally made in the image of God for His divine purposes. To quote a social meme “there’s no way you were put on this earth to just pay bills and die!” There’s immeasurably more to you than your roles at home, no matter how invaluable you are in those roles.

The reason those past quantification of my worth based on my income hurt so deeply was because I had lost my personal sense of purpose. I knew God would not have created me if He did not have a specific purpose in mind for my life. But in the years lost in self-doubt, I also lost my sense of passion, and thus my sense of direction. I was not the wife who couldn’t properly help her husband because her income was limited. And I was not the mother who could not provide the needs of her children if they ever depended on her. I am my husband’s strongest ally; his favor from God in human form because I am uniquely equipped to help him bring his God-given vision to pass. I am my children’s protector and first example of a godly woman. I am their window into the heart of God towards them as I love them with God-given grace.

I am more than my income. I am more than my roles at home. I am more than my title and I am more than the work of my hand. I am God’s beloved. And I choose to rest in that knowledge.

I invite you to do the same. You are more!

 

 

 

A friend loves at all times, And a brother is born for adversity.

Proverbs 17:17

Moving continents away from everything and (almost) everyone I knew at the age of ten gave me a deep sense of longing to “belong” somewhere with someone. Coming to the United States from Nigeria meant that my close-knit family would finally be together under one roof but it also meant losing every friend I ever had, except my older brother. In middle school I struggled to make meaningful connections with my classmates who didn’t quite understand why I was so “dark-skinned” or why my shoes weren’t name brand, or why I “spoke funny,”  and a host of other things. Thankfully, my community had a close-knit Nigerian population and I was able to make friends my own age who were either immigrants or children of immigrants from my homeland. The first two friends I made within the Nigerian community became more like sisters to me and we journeyed through my teenage years arm in arm – forming our own three-strand cord that was meant to be unbreakable. We called ourselves – Three B – I was Brown Sugar, and my lovely sisters were Baby Girl and Baby Boo (LOL!) Cheesy right? But we loved it! So much so that I still have an email account dedicated to our little sisterhood (anyone of yall ever emailed me at threeb_forlife@yahoo.com – now you know where that name came from lol. Give me a break – I was 15).

When Baby Girl moved from North Carolina to Michigan, our little lives were rocked but we were determined to stay best friends. Baby Boo and I clung to each other as the remaining North Carolinians and made it a point to call, write and keep in touch with our long-distant sister. Other friends who became sisters came along and added much joy and richness to all of our separate lives but for me, there was no replacing my Baby Girl and Baby Boo.

I finished middle school, graduated from high school, finished law school and passed the bar exam to become an attorney and the three of us were still as thick as thieves. My two sisters went on to college, one gained a track scholarship, one was pre-law and pre-med (lol yes the same person) and many more adventures and accolades along the way. Through it all, we had each other’s back.

Baby Boo became my unofficial little sister in the eyes of the watching world. We stopped introducing one another as “cousins” and simply told those we asked that we were siblings. I took my position as big sis very seriously – doing things like hosting 90% of Baby Boo’s birthday celebrations from the age of 13 till she turned the big 21. We were inseparable. Baby Girl, although still living in Michigan, would come to visit periodically and solidify the bonds of our three-way friendship. As far as I was concerned, we were unbreakable.

When I came to Christ four years ago, Baby Boo and I were still closer than sisters and more like twins separated by years. We had expanded our friendship to include another childhood friend who deemed herself both of our best friends. I was happy with our group. Both girls were to be my sisters just like it had been with Three B. A year or so before I came fully to Christ, I was experiencing some pangs of jealousy over the friendship between Baby Boo and our new sister – they seemed to be forming a duo that excluded me and I didn’t like that – at all. I kept most of those feelings at bay and we went on in our friendship unhindered.

After I came to Christ, I recognized with a deep sense of urgency that my lukewarm ways had set a very bad example for my two sisters, both of whom were younger than me. I was in a hurry to make amends and get my sisters on the path of purity and holiness with me. Rather than trusting that the God who convicted me of my sin and brought my heart to repentance would capture my sisters hearts as well, I started trying to manipulate their friendships and relationships to cause rips between them and anyone I felt was a bad influence. My attempts at trying to play God in the lives of my two sisters, especially Baby Boo, backfired on me big time and we lost a lot of our friendship for the next following months and even years. Our newest sister had her own instance of betraying Baby Boo’s trust and that friendship fell apart as well.

I was devastated by the loss of both friendships. Baby Boo had been my constant companion and listening ear for fifteen years at the time. Not having her to call on, laugh with, and share with broke my heart. My other sister that fell by the way side was someone I had confided in time and time again. I had given her my secrets, my deepest darkest fears, the things I dared not repeat to anyone else for fear of being shunned, and she had dropped out of my life without a word. The most devastating part of that loss was this – when we last spoke of our friendship she told me that she “heard” some things about me that made it difficult for her look at me in the same way and thus continue a friendship. She wouldn’t fill me in on the details. Hearing those words from someone I had entrusted with the most vulnerable parts of myself also broke my heart.

So as a new Christian, I was flying solo; my most treasured friendships had fallen apart and I had nowhere else to turn. I had other sisters and friends who were still in my life but most did not understand my new walk with Christ. Many were cool with me being a real Christian but were not ready to live their own lives solely to please God. The others, like Baby Girl in Michigan, were separated from me by distance that made it difficult for me to effectively communicate the new things that God was doing in my life.  After almost twelve months of what became the loneliest time of my life, God graciously brought like-minded women into my life through Bethel Campus Fellowship (a college ministry that has played an intricate part of my growth in Christ), and through my home church – as more of the young ladies in my own age group caught the vision of a life sold out to Christ.

I was (and am)  so grateful for my new sisters in Christ. With them I learned that transparency can bring healing; I learned to love sacrificially and unconditionally and to rebuke rather than entertain jealousy in the midst of a friendship. Even with these new friends, a part of me still desperately missed my Baby Boo. We had become more like strangers, acquaintances on a good day – but not sisters. It was hard to watch her go on to make new “best friends” and share her thoughts and secrets with others who hadn’t been a part of our 17-year history. But I prayed for God to give me a heart that would love her without limit, even if she never reciprocated. And I prayed for God to restore our friendship, if it was His will for it to continue.

Once again, God’s mercy and grace prevailed. My prayers were answered at a pivotal point in my life – right after  I got engaged. My two sisters, Baby Boo and Baby Girl flocked to my side and were bridesmaids, listening ears, shoulders to cry on, prayer partners and much more as I prepared to become a wife. I am so grateful for the restoration of these friendships and the deepening of our sisterhood. By God’s grace, I pray to continue to be a great sister, friend and example to these ladies who have journeyed with me since I was barely eleven years old.

Now, let’s switch gears.

Coming out of my loneliest year, I had yet another friend who was more like a sister. She and I had known each other for more than four years at the time. She supported my law school accomplishments and was one of my biggest cheerleaders during my courtship with my husband. This particular sister-friend was special to me because so many people were rooting against our friendship, yet we prevailed. People didn’t understand what we had in common and why we would even like each other. Nonetheless, we thrived. I loved her and I did my best to support her as she had supported me – through school, graduation, courtship and marriage. I had one insecurity with this particular friend – I was never sure if her friends liked me for me or tolerated me for her sake. Having others constantly question our friendship make it hard for me to fully trust that others were rooting for us. Without getting into the details, I managed to offend this friend, in a major way. I wasn’t immediately aware of my offense but once I realized the rift between us, I made efforts to mend the bridges. Because the manner in which I offended my friend also affected her family, it was difficult for her to overlook and rightfully, it took some time for her to heal. I fully trusted that this friendship would be restored once I had given my friend enough time to search her heart and make peace with me. I was dealt a deathly blow when in the midst of my hopes for reconciliation this friend of mine told me that my behavior confirmed every (negative) thing she had heard (and overlooked) about my past.

I was devastated. This was someone I had shared my heart with. This was someone who knew me before I came to Christ and who witnessed, first-hand,  the woman I became after I gave my heart to the Lord. This was someone the Holy Spirit had used to rebuke and correct me in the past concerning my areas of failing. This was someone I thought was invested in my growth in Christ. I kept trying and trying to make peace with the fact that I had lost a friend but my mind would replay those hurtful last words repeatedly. It made it difficult to accept my new role as “acquaintance” rather than sister to my lost friend. I kept praying about the friendship, wondering if there was more I could have done to seek restoration, more I could have said to communicate my regret and beg (yet again) for forgiveness. God, through my husband, eventually gave me peace about this friendship. I didn’t have to continue to grovel and beg and plead to be accepted once again by this lost friend. I didn’t have to be resentful about being an acquaintance rather than an ally to this sister. I can rest assured that, yes, I made a mistake and I will probably fail in my friendships in other ways, but the God who forgives does not intend for me to continue to punish myself for my bad judgment in my past dealings. I can make peace with the fact that friendship is a two-way street. Just because I want reconciliation does not mean that this sister is ready for it. I don’t know what her personal struggles might be and I cannot impose my will upon her. This sister does not HAVE to embrace me. After all, she was the one betrayed. Perhaps wisdom on her end dictates that she keeps me at arm’s length in order to prevent being further offended and losing her own peace with God.

And guess what? For the first time in eight months. I’m okay with that.

I pray this post has spoken to your heart. Many of us have lost friendships that we still look back on with regret; we are unable to fully move forward in life because we keep revisiting the past. Some with regret, some with resentment. As someone who has had many seasons of losing and gaining friends, I’m here to tell you that dwelling on the past is not worth it. You can’t undo what has been done, all you can do is trust God. If you are the offending party, make every effort to make peace, seek forgiveness from God and from the one you have offended and, above all else forgive yourself. If you are the party offended, seek forgiveness from God for any resentment that you may have held on to, clear your heart of any trace of unforgiveness and seek God’s wisdom on whether He would have you continue in your friendship or move on to have peace with Him. It is not always possible to regain what was lost in a friendship, but there are times when God’s desire is to completely restore what was once broken. Be open to either and let God’s voice dictate and His will prevail.

A closing thought – This post is coming from a place of transparency about my own failings in friendships. Nothing written here was meant to embarrass or dig up dirt on any of my sisters. I did my best to apply wisdom in using identifying language concerning the persons to whom my unique circumstances refer. I freely used the identifiable nicknames Baby Girl and Baby Boo because these are my trusted sisters; they know my heart and they trust me not to besmirch their good names and I believe I have kept that trust. To everyone else who may have been referenced in this post, my goal was to share my heart and my life from my perspective, not to place blame or cause controversy. I pray that you see that clearly as you read through the entire (lengthy) post. God bless you.

To everyone else who is struggling from the pain of a lost friendship, I pray that the peace of God rules over your heart and mind. I pray that the Holy Spirit equips you with all that you need to continue to have flourishing friendships that will not be hindered by the hurts of the past. Trust God to give you like-minded friends, and refuse to be anxious for anything, even if life at the moment is very lonely.

Feel free to email me at threeb_forlife@yahoo.com with any prayer requests regarding this or any other topic discussed on this blog. Thank you for reading; please share and/or comment as you feel led. God bless you once again.

Yours in Christ,

Omowunmi

For we dare not class ourselves or compare ourselves with those who commend themselves. But they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.

(2 Corinthians 10:12)

When I was about twelve or thirteen, my cousin and I were best friends (still more like sisters than cousins till this day). We did everything together and shared every secret with one another. One week she came to spend spring break with me after I hadn’t seen her in a while. At that time one of my biggest sources of teenage accomplishment was how well my hair was growing. I was quite pleased with myself. Well my cousin arrived at my house sporting her hair in two simple braided ponytails on each side of her head. I was both shocked and dismayed to see that my cousin’s hair (her actual hair) was down her back, almost waist-length.

Wait a minute.

How did she achieve such an awesome amount of growth when my hair hadn’t even reached shoulder length? For the rest of the week, I would stare and obsess over my cousin’s hair. I could barely enjoy the time we had together because I was so focused on the fact that her hair was so much longer than mine. I would ask her questions about her hair care regiment while trying not to seem too interested. At one point, I considered cutting off her ponytail while she slept (I didn’t DO IT! Lol, I just thought about it a lot). Comparing my hair growth to my cousin’s left me jealous, totally dissatisfied and borderline resentful of someone I considered one of my best friends.

That little anecdote is my way of sharing with you that I have struggled with the need to compare myself to others for a very long time. Regardless of what the object of comparison happened to be, the result was usually the same – I was left dissatisfied, envious and borderline resentful if I found my portion inadequate in comparison to another’s.

There were very very rare times when I would find myself the “winner’ of these contests that take place in my mind. One of the things I’ve always been grateful for is a slender and athletic physique that takes little effort to maintain. Once I reached adolescence and realized that I would never be one of the girls with the perfect hour glass figure, the one with the biggest breasts or most shapely backside, the best I could do was strive to be the most slender and athletically built. I was on a constant venture of comparing and contrasting my body to ANY other woman who crossed my path. If I find my competition to be a bit more rounded or less toned than me, then I WON! I was more beautiful than whoever this other woman might be and I could go about my day gloating inwardly about my success. This mindset made my body a source of pride and obsession. I HAD to stay skinny. I would FREAK OUT if people told me that I looked like I gained weight. Nine times out of ten they meant it to be complimentary but I would not see it as so. I couldn’t be “average” weight and built. I HAD TO BE SLENDER! That was all I had going for me and I had every intention of holding on to my title.

Comparing my life to others left me with one of two options – envy or pride. When I came to Christ, I found my worth in who God says that I am and in what Christ has done to redeem me. I no longer needed to compare my physical attributes with those of other women. So I moved on to spiritual attributes. All around me were women who were serving Christ diligently. Some of them had the love and respect of people whose approval I had chased after for years and never received it. Were these women somehow more godly than me? Were they more loving, more beautiful in their service of our Lord? Was that why everyone who didn’t seem to care one way or the other about me seemed to flock to their sides? What about their spiritual gifts? Weren’t theirs somehow “better” than mine since I was new in Christ and they had operated in these miraculous callings for years? The results of these “secret” competitions in my mind were the same as they were before i came to Christ. I would find myself envious when I didn’t measure up or prideful when I “won”. Comparing spiritual attributes and not physical one was no less sinful in the eyes of God nor did it yield any less destructive results. I was still weighed down by  feelings of inadequacy that stemmed from my constant comparing to others in and out of the body of Christ. I was still operating in false humility (pride) when I found myself “better” in areas of my walk than other Christians.

There was no way I could ever see the fullness of God in my life if something did not change about my petulance for comparing all aspects of my life to others. God used one of my sisters in Christ to call me on my pride about two years ago. That conversation was a slap in the face and a reality check that I badly needed. I sat down with the Holy Spirit as He began to expose me to me. Around the same time I started reading a book that exposed the demonic foundation of the spirit of comparison. The angel Lucifer who became satan began his fall from grace by comparing himself to God, becoming both prideful as well as envious and trying to be as God in the Heavens (Isaiah 14:12-21). The fact that the attributes that I was manifesting as I compared myself looked A LOT like the enemy and nothing like Christ was a shock and a blow! I fell on my knees in repentance and asked God for the grace to stop comparing my live with others. I asked for a heart of thankfulness about the things He has given me. I asked Him to help me humble myself before He had to step in and humble me (when God HAS TO humble you, the pain of brokenness is NO JOKE!). All this didn’t happen in one moment; rather it’s a continuous work that the Holy Spirit has to do with me as He continues to refine me in my walk with Christ.

I am grateful to the Lord for teaching me just how demonic comparison is. This lesson has made it easier for me not to envy any other person’s portion, no matter how many wonderful pictures they post on Instagram, how many “likes” their thoughts receive on Facebook or how many gushing approval their tweets garner on Twitter. I am ever grateful to God for my portion. I am learning by His grace to rejoice in EVERYTHING I have and not worry about what I do not have. I serve the God who owns the Heavens and the Earth; no good thing will He withhold from me because my delight is in Him and Him alone.

I am thankful for my physical attributes because God gave me enough of what I needed to serve Him and feel beautiful in that service – any more and I would be worshipping my looks, any less and I would be obsessed with a sense of inadequacy. I am thankful for my marriage and my amazing husband. If you ask any of my married girlfriends you would think we are all married to the same man because each one of us is convinced that her husband is the best man in the entire universe lol. It’s not because our men are perfect; it’s because we have chosen to celebrate the marriage and the lives that God has graced us with and refuse to be discontent in any of it. Whatever is not going as it ought has been submitted to Christ daily and we trust Him to have His way in those areas.

I pray that this post will cause you, my wonderful readers, to abandon the spirit of comparison and pray for a heart of thankfulness. Your joys will be multiplied and your sorrows divided as you learn to thank God for His many blessings upon your life.