Jessie Alexander

I've been waiting.  The summer was a struggle here at Hull Street. We battled illness and mental health and spiritual realms. I don't fully understand the plan God has for us, but it doesn't seem easy or comfortable. Only a month after these trials, we all are under the weather again and it seems to affect me psychologically this time. I feel a nearly PTSD-like response in my body. I am triggered by loud noises, or chaos in my environment. I like control of my space but can't seem to control my own body or self. I eat lots of sugar even though I want to discipline more in this area. My flesh is desiring too much. My soul is weary under its weight.  God showed me it wasn't the summer ending that would change me or my life. It was Him. Waiting on Him. He is near the broken hearted, the downcast spirit, and the lowly.  I'm all of that and more. He is not.  Wait on the Lord. We have a choice to surrender and praise Him, to His glory, forever. Or we wait ...

🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡 I'm disorganized. I'm millennial. It bothers me. Since pregnancy, I've consistently stopped cleaning, tidying, grooming, or decorating. I can't be blamed. Liam, my sweet son, made it greatly impossible to bend down to load dryers, pick up items off of the floor, shave legs, or bend over the couch to nail a framed picture on the wall. Not much has changed for me since two years ago when I was in my second trimester.  When you visit, you'll unashamedly see dishes in the sink. Not me. I'll be blushing. You'll joke and smile that it's totally normal. All the while I'm holding back tears of fearing you'll never return. The next room of torture (after your nose clears from the off-smelling kitchen) will be the living room. The random piles of junk. The popcorn in the floor. Yes, stuck in the carpet. The cat will be scratching the living daylights out of our beloved couch. I might spray him with water to train him to s...