Be careful. If you walk too close to me you might smell a hint of swagger. I have a good reason.

The truth is that I choose not to splurge on girly body wash or shaving cream for shaving my legs. Why would I when I have shampoo that makes enough suds necessary for a good shave? 

My Swagger scent emerged in the past couple of months when I bought a nice economical bottle of Old Spice Swagger shampoo for Jason to use and it just so happened to have a pump. (That pump is so convenient.)  Hence I use it for shaving instead of my girl shampoo that used to do the trick, minus the pump. My feminine aroma is usually, hopefully, recovered by the use of some Dove deodorant and the perfume I grab off the dresser and spray on my way out. 

Where am I going with all this?, you ask.

I don't have a fetish for beauty or hygiene products. Something (anything) soapy works for my skin. As far as my face, I slap on a little bit of concealer, some eyeliner,  mascara and brow filler and some brown-toned lipstick and I'm "leave-the-house" ready. 

 My daughter fancies these things. Makeup is her birthday and Christmas wish list. She has two toolboxes and a number of drawers full of makeup, makeup tools and face creams. On a few occasions I've sneaked into her room when she's gone to play dress up, trying out the smokey eye with her newest pigmented palette. 

Primping isn't high on my life budget. 
And I'm pleased with that because inner beauty is more important...blah, blah, blah. The thing is, I may spend an appropriate measure on beauty products, but I can think of other areas in my life where I'm utterly wasteful. I spend too much love on things. I spend too many calories on Dr. Pepper. I waste a ridiculous amount of time on social media. I give too much passion in areas which don't need my response. 

In some areas of my life budget I succeed, in others I fail. 

My decisions, the way I handle myself, lacks good judgement. In this recognition lies the desire to choose better. God has been generous in granting me life with permission to spend as I see fit. The problem is, what I see fit, is faulty. 

Because of grace, as much as I've spent life foolishly based on my desires, I still have time, love and passion left to spend (and at least two of those three I know I have in abundance). 

My wisely spent today speaks of the faith I have in the riches of tomorrow. 

/swag.ger/-How one presents him or her self to the world. Swagger is shown from how the person handles a situation. It can also be shown in the person's walk. (According to the Urban Dictionary)

The Google dictionary tells us that swagger is a confident way of walking. 

How's your walk? 

Though you fail, do you have confidence?  You won't always smell like roses. That's ok. You can smell like swagger. 

...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

Last August I decided to put together a book for middle school girls. I talked about it excitedly at first and then things like laundry, and working, and cooking...and Christmas, and 2017 got in the way. 

The good news is I didn't totally ditch the project, the work has just been slow and steady like a stream of cold molasses (Maybe the work has been more gloppy-like in small plops.) 

I won't bore you with the details. (Oh yes I will! But not all of them.)
If it's been so long that you've forgotten, or you somehow missed my constant chatter about it last fall, here's a rundown on the what's and the why's regarding the book. 

• Rylie, our youngest, started middle school this past August and I trembled remembering how it was a difficult time for me when our oldest daughter (Hallie) was in middle school. (Oh yeah, it was hard for Hallie too.)
• After seeing Rylie struggle through a social situation with peers, Hallie and I decided to make a Handbook of sorts for Rylie with letters of advice and encouragement from both us and other loved ones. 

• She thought we were the smartest and best people ever (the day we gave it to her), so we decided a book should be made for other middle school-aged girls. 

• The book's title will be The Village Girl Handbook.
• It will focus on struggles and experiences common to girls in sections titled 

1. You
2. Your Hut
3. Your Tribe
4. Your Village
5. Bigger Than That

• Both people I know and people I've never met have written contributions on subjects ranging from Being Adopted to Bullying. The submissions are tip-top!
• The Village Girl Handbook is also devotional in style, with quizzes, devotion questions and challenge questions. It also has interviews.  The book owner will seek out older girls and women for interviews; forging healthy relationships that promote understanding and inspiration. 

Here's where I'd appreciate prayer. 

1. Figuring out the foreign nature of self-publishing and adding illustrations. (I have a low tech IQ). 
2. Pray that I will remember to seek God at every turn; to the completion of this book and beyond. 
3. Pray for middle school girls. It's an important, and often difficult time, where identity is ill-informed. Girls look to their peers to find security. Unfortunately, they're typically looking to others who are insecure. 
4. Pray that this book will make it into hands that can benefit from it. 
5. Pray that this book might be a tool that allows girls to see their need for women (who've been girls before) and their need for God. 
6. Pray about what God would have you do regarding being a village member who helps raise up godly girls.  

This shoe sits by the front front door this morning awaiting its calling. I put it there to remind me to bring it with me when I go to pick the girls up after school for a doctor appointment. In the meantime, Hallie, our oldest daughter is wearing two right shoes. (We have two pair of black Converse tennis shoes and she got the right shoe of each pair in her rush). If we hadn't been running late this morning, we'd have come back to the house to correct the error. Instead, she's probably longing for rescue. 

I've received several pertinent reminders lately of just how consistent and abundant our need is for rescue. I've mourned with someone who feels alone.  Another faces a big day and they're scared. There's one who is broken and has lost faith in the person they trusted the most.  Still, another is the person who broke trust and seeks a way out the chains that have been holding her so long. Others need answers to hard questions. 

This ratty shoe hardly looks to be a hero. For our aid, we'd much rather a glass slipper; a dazzling piece of "arrive at the desperate scene" footwear that serves as our instant ticket out of misery.  We put it on...and Poof!...All of the ugly people are gone from our lives. They're replaced by a prince and loyal subjects. No more being neglected, despised or locked up. With a glass slipper, the answer to our problems becomes as crystal clear as the shoe that's just been placed on our perfect-sized foot.  

We hope for our glass slipper We look to people or things to fill a void or gaping wound. We make them our salvation, mistakingly believing that which is fragile can bear us up. A glass slipper could be a friend, or that special someone, you trust to fill your loneliness. You may attempt to improve your appearance (through exercise or more effort fixing up) believing it's the answer to your insecurity.  We can even be guilty of praying regarding our trouble and then turning right around and looking for worldly rescue. 

Better is a shoe that's walked all the places. We need a shoe that can endure shaky,  fall out from under our feet, kind of ground. We need one that can support any weight we put on it. 

He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.  Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. Isaiah 53:3

We need the shoes of one who's walked in ours. We can be hopeful for a loving, fulfilling relationship or an easy answer to our health scare. We can be grateful for that which we've been given. But all we have and hope for is naught if we're not aware of the one who goes before us and with us. 

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. Psalm 20:7

We've no need for teetering footwear. Peace that fills the voids and allows you to endure is waiting for you at the door. 
Stand firm then...with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. Ephesians 6:14a, 15

What glass slipper have you put your hope in? 

My sixteen year old has finally gotten to a point where she lets me in on the goings on in her life.  This is a big score considering she was incredibly private and independent as a toddler. When she was three she put herself in time out. When I tried to talk to her, she told me while pointing her chubby finger, You go in there, I'm in time out. The fact that she recently started inviting me on ride arounds just to talk, thrills me. We still have our moments, but even when she reverts to thinking I'm controlling or critical, we work through those things. I realize that things could change before the day's over, but right now I'm kind of her person. Check mark. 

So you'd think I've got it made when it comes to parenting my girls. After all, I've got a picture of a pretty pink teapot that says Love you Mom on the fridge that our eleven year old made me last year. She's our hugger and the one who likes to bake.  I've heard Don't Stop Believing more times this week than I did during the eighties. (She likes singing.)

But what she really likes these days is her dad. This year he's been given the sole privilege of signing his name to her agenda which must be checked and signed daily. If he forgets, or isn't at the house in the morning, I'm typically allowed to be his substitute. Not this morning. He teased her that he wouldn't sign it. She pushed. He pushed back. Instead of asking me to come to the rescue with my John Hancock, she told me to make him do it saying, What am I supposed to do if he won't sign it?  Apparently my signature, Chopped Liver, doesn't cut it anymore. The girl loves her dad; she loves him number one,  loves him. 

As I'm searching for consolation this morning, I tell myself that Hallie, our oldest daughter went through a season where she specifically needed her dad. Ironically, it was around the same time as our youngest, in her middle school years.
 She requested a daddy, daughter work day one summer, to which Jason happily obliged. In this season she heartily ate up his compliments and laughed at all his jokes, even the silly ones that were at her expense. It seems that adolescence is a time where girls really need their dads. They're discovering who they are. They're defining their worth. Who better to proudly sign his name saying he's a part of that agenda than their daddy? 

Ruth Graham, wife of Billy Graham, was once asked which of her children she loved the most. She replied,  The one who needs me the most. Our daughters, and sons, I believe, go through seasons where they love the parent the most, that they need the most. Our job as mothers is obviously to continue to love and support our daughters on days and in seasons when we're not number one.  It's also important that we support our husbands as they fill the need our daughters have to be specially loved through seasons of growing. 

In those times as moms where we feel like chopped liver let's remember to

• Be patient- Girls need affirmation from their dads; in some seasons more than others. Try not to see their need for their dad as a lack of need for you. Most likely, your daughter knows you're there for them. You probably do spend the most time with them. Be gracious in allowing them their own special relationship that in some small way excludes you. 

• Be grateful. There are so many ways your daughter could be seeking approval. Better that she's seeking her father's love versus approval that's wrapped up in the wavering, faulty opinion of her peers. 

• Continue to be there for her. You may not currently be the superstar of the family. Your jokes may not be as funny; your advice might not be as sought. But be available and be encouraging even when you feel the sacrifice of your time and energy isn't understood or appreciated. 

• Assist their dad. Whether it be filling him in on things you notice she's going through or helping him make time for a quick ice cream date, be his support so that he can be a better support to her. Laugh at his jokes with her, thankful that she's laughing in a season where she spends a lot of time worrying. 

• Pray for their relationship. We know to pray for our daughters. And we pray for their dads. Don't forget to lift up the special relationship between the two. Fathers have a big responsibility in helping daughters know their worth.  Fathers, who are typically fix-it and move on creatures, are assigned a duty that requires they handle delicate issues that demand time when they often have little to spare. Fathers are called to endure emotion that's often foreign to them. 

You probably won't always be chopped liver. Just keep in mind while you are, that chopped liver is good for her. The next thing you know it may be you she's asking to take her out for ice cream. 

Bet you didn't know the recipe for failure includes milk and yogurt. 

I didn't until this morning when I made morning smoothies. Rylie has me make them every morning for breakfast. She drinks hers on the way to school, usually from a tall decorative cup with a lid. Smoothies are one of the few efforts I've agreed to make at the crack of dawn. I let my efforts slide this morning. 

Instead of a dapper to-go cup for her breakfast, I chose a red Solo cup. (The cute cup we usually use is hard to wash after seven hours in her locker.) Knowing she'd probably spill it, I secured the wide-open top with a rather large square of Saran Wrap. Then I stuck a straw in it, unbeknownst to me that Rylie would receive it similar to the way I received the peach and brown swimsuit my mom bought me from Bill's Dollar Store in fifth grade when moths had eaten my much cuter swimsuit. Rylie smiled and said thanks, but I could tell she was underwhelmed. 
As if it weren't enough that her smoothie didn't look cute, her first taste would prove that things were worse than I'd gauged. Behind her, while throwing her hair into a quick ponytail, I could feel the grimace. The taste equaled the presentation.  The cup mischoosing wasn't the only place I went wrong. 

Being that her sister Hallie enjoys a breakfast smoothie herself, I decided to stretch the fruit portion. In my more genius days, I divided a large bag of frozen fruit into individual-sized portions, adding banana. I put each portion into a ziplock, which I pull out and pop into my Ninja for morning magic. Disregarding Ecclesiastal advice which tells us two is better than one, I used one bag of fruit for both smoothies this morning because I'd chosen to be economical, stretching my most costly resource. The smoothies in the past have been too thick for quick slurping, and fruit is the number one thick ingredient, so I skimped. 

I was told by Rylie's chauffeur that this morning's smoothie tasted like strawberry milk. (Oh yeah, I also added a little more milk and yogurt than usual, disposing her need for a spoon.) What way for a middle school kid to start a Monday. Thank goodness I didn't pull that junk tomorrow, on STAAR Day. 

Lesson learned. 

Or shall I say, lessons. 

I'm reflecting on a few important realities today. 

• Use careful consideration before ditching cute. Hang on to that uncomfortable pair of wedges and that blouse that hardly gets worn.  Keep that deviled egg tray at the back of your cabinet.  Presentation, sometimes, matters. Smoothie cups matter. 

• Make the best use of your costly resources. Stretch what you can. With those things that are more valuable in nature, apply a liberal mindset.  Realize the worth of those ingredients in smoothies, ...and in life. Time is costly. How are you using it? 

• Last and maybe most important, I'm learning it might be time the kids start making their own breakfast. 

Smoothie recipe (the acceptable one)

1 ziplock bag of frozen fruit (2 if you're making for two picky kids)

1 banana

1 cup of ice

A splash of milk (unless you like them runny)

3 TB yogurt

Honey (to taste)

Blend. 

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at your computer?"

 She must have looked at it for ten seconds before addressing me while I waited at the front desk. She wasn't the first person I was agitated with this morning (though I hope she'll be the last). One of the kids interrupted my prayer time this morning because they'd forgotten something they really needed at school and my fragile apple cart was upset. 

I need my prayer time. Besides all the utterances during the day, those short and desperate pleas sprung by impatience or worry, I long for that time in the morning when I get to talk to God about how grateful I am to know Him and how astounded I am at how much more of Him there is to know.

 I desire that daily opportunity to lift my family and loved ones up, requesting safety and health, and above all, a growing relationship with the one who loves them best. Overstuffed pages in spirals and scrawled notecards are full of favored verses and requests I make on behalf of those God has graciously placed in my life.  Much of my daily prayer echoes the one I said the day before. Allow Jason time with just you. Keep Hayden safe. Help Hallie to look to you for her worth.  Help Rylie be content and devoted in the friendships she has. Heal "so and so"...Comfort her...  Encourage him. 

This morning, after my prayer and after running some unexpected errands, I needfully tacked on an important prayer addendum.  In it, I prayed for myself. 

I don't always do that. Scanning my prayer journal, it's not often enough that I see words concerning myself that reach beyond what I'm grateful for. Do I think it's prideful or self-centered to pray for myself? It could be if I were praying for things that would only benefit me, but as I'm reminded this morning, there are a multitude of things I need to be praying for me that will benefit, not only me, but the very people I'm praying for.  Going to God in focused prayer for myself will bless my children. As I pray that God would rid me of the need to be busy, ...as I pray that God would relieve my anxiety, I'll be better able to listen to my children, becoming more aware of how to care for them and how I ought to pray for them. Praying against my imptatience will benefit the interactions I have with ladies who don't help me fast enough at counters. 

I can be a Xena prayer warrior for everybody on the planet and still be miserably lacking when I forget to ask God to help me where I fall short. In scripture we find David, the man after God's own heart, continually pouring out his heart to God concerning his needs. In Psalm 86, though it's only seventeen verses, David uses the words me, my, and I, thirty-one times, not including when he refers to himself as your servant. 

While praying for those we love is something we're supposed to be doing, it's not a litany of intercessory prayers for others that we read in the Psalms.  King David is aware of his own powerlessness to be good and do good on his own.   Chapter after chapter, we read how he goes to God in prayer, asking to be made whole, asking to be made new. 

While we pray for others, like the toddler in a recently viral YouTube video announced, You got to take care of you own self.  

As we devote time in prayer for ourselves, we can trust that God will equip us to be better wives, better mothers, better sisters, better pray-ers.  In praying for own transformation, we recognize and make known our desire that we be fashioned into better daughters of the One True King, our being better daughters brings well-deserved glory to God. 

Hear, O LORD, and answer me, for I am poor and needy. 

Bring joy to your servant, for to you, O LORD, I lift up my soul.

Psalm 86: 1, 4

Dear Hallie,

I'm listening to Griffin shuffle around in his kennel this morning. I can hear him better than usual because I'm downstairs and, like him, I can't sleep. 

Today's your birthday, your sixteenth birthday. But I don't have to tell you that. You've given me the countdown for weeks. 

It's two weeks until my birthday. It's ten days until my birthday. It's two days until my birthday...

You're way more excited than I am. I'm a little bummed. On top of you turning sixteen, you're getting mail every month from colleges reminding, you and I both, that your future is right around the corner. 
Then there's the whole driver's license thing. What better way to rub it in, that it's your hands that go on the wheel, than for the societal norm to boss us that it's time to drive at sixteen. Whose idea was that? 

You talked about painting your room pink a couple of months ago, but decided against it because you wouldn't be at home that much longer. Well I did some math we can walk through. (As you're learning, math is important.)  

In two years you'll turn eighteen. That gives you 730 days. Then you'll have March through (part of) August before you go off to college ( if you go off..., I hear there's a college ten minutes from here). Think about it. 

Anyway, that gives you something like 898 days in that tiny room of yours before that first fall semester of college. Even though you chose not to paint it,  I bought you something pink. I got you something that I'm hoping will make your room feel more girly and home-y. It's something that I hope will say, Make yourself comfortable, You're still here!  

But at the same time, it's the color pink that (I believe) girl dreams are made of. 

You weren't made to be confined to that little room of yours forever. You've been practicing this growing up thing since you started wobbling around in those plastic high heels in your pull-up and pearls.  You bossed us from the get-go with your chubby two-year old finger usurping authority over as much of your life as we'd allow. 

You outgrew your raggedy feather boas and tutus faster than I could blink, and moms hardly blink! You've probably outgrown those funky-colored bandana curtains we made and that huge vase with your rock collection that are still in your room too. You were made to grow. 

You were made to grow, without losing home. 

Home grows. 

In the past few years I've watch you grow at home on stage in theater. You've grown more serious about your education. You've grown at home with your youth group and with new friends. Though comfortable in your own small circle,  you've grown better about meeting and embracing new people.  You've grown at home with yourself, better learning that you were lovingly created to be unique and secure (in Him). 

Along with your gift of pink, I give you permission, and my blessing, to keep growing. Grow wiser. Grow in grace. Grow more able to see God working in all things. 

Happy sixteenth. And one to grow on. 

And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment...Philippians 1:9

Love you, 

Mom

Let's Stay Connected

I said yes to Jason on August 28, 1994, just three months after he graduated from high school. I'd graduated a year before. (Yep. I robbed the cradle.) He asked me to marry him in my dorm room after eating at Steak and Ale for our two year dating anniversary. 

Less than ten months later I said yes again in the form of I do. We went home to a kitchen I'd decorated entirely with sunflowers and to navy and white checkered monogrammed pillowcases. I was beside myself that I was getting to play house with the person who taught me how to look people in the eye. He was someone I was comfortable enough to sing in front of. (It was a good thing too because my heart was full of song). 

Sixteen months later, I held my nine month earlier yes in a small bundle where blue eyes peeked out, and knew life would never be the same. Little did I realize that a simple yes and a lot of love weren't the sole ingredients to parenthood (and marriage for that matter). 

Committed relationships aren't easy. They're not. Regardless of how easy some make it look, regardless of how exciting the initial yes is, marriage is hard work, just like most anything we'll say yes to that matters. 

Marriage is a gift. But it comes with instructions that we're often either too busy to read or in a language that's difficult, if not near impossible to understand. It calls us to be vulnerable and selfless, attentive, and at the same time, at ease. That's not the language of the world we live in. 

We make a commitment, unsure of what circumstances will test it. And certainly difficulties and circumstances will test it, if not flat out try to destroy it. 

Several months ago the importance (and difficulty) of marriage was on my heart; so much so that I went to Jason and told him that there had to be something God wanted us to do besides pray for marriages. 

It was either the next day (or two days later) that an old friend of ours sent a Facebook message asking if Jason and I would be interested in putting together a marriage retreat. 

It was one of the quickest and most obvious answers to prayer I think I've ever received. Since then we've been preparing by the way of study and prayer. I've also done a little laughing at the irony of difficulties that have inserted themselves, reminding me of struggle, providing us with marriage material to share. 

My easy yeses always prove to be more difficult than I perceived. 

Saying yes:

• Requires follow through- Saying yes is easy. It's sticking with your commitment that can prove difficult; especially when your yes turns out to be more than you bargained for. It takes more time, energy and heart than you might have initially understood. 

• Saying yes requires saying no- Saying yes means that you will inevitably say no to something else. When you make a commitment, your time is switched (to some extent) from something that was receiving your devotion to this new thing.  Sometimes you feel torn. You may begrudge what your yes demands you say no to. 

• It requires faith-When you say yes, you are only in control over your decisions. You must hope that others will do their part and that nature will cooperate. More important, you trust that God will work things out for his good purpose. Most often his purpose doesn't look the way you planned. His purpose can cause discomfort, doubt and a holy stretching of what you thought you agreed to. 

 ...But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ Matthew 5:37

Jason and I are on our way to the marriage retreat in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We'd ask for your prayers for safety on the road. Pray for our kiddos. I'd ask too that you remember us as we lead. We ask that you'd pray for the couples that will attend. Pray that God will be heard...and believed. 

Pray for those you know who will soon wed; that they will acknowledge that commitment to God is vital to a healthy marriage. Lift up those who are struggling; that they would continue to fight through the hard part of I do, and I will. 

Help us all to put pride, indifference and defeat on the back shelf, seeking help in our marriage when help isn't desired or convenient. Pray that we all would experience a marriage that reminds us that God is faithful and renewing and ever abounding in love. 

One of our favorite stories to tell about Hallie is how she tied Rylie up one time with a jump rope. Hallie was around seven and Rylie, three. They shared a bedroom and a bed, much to Hallie's disdain. I'm quite sure Rylie was invading Hallie's space by playing with her toys, or maybe even just by being in the room so she tied her to the bed post. Rylie still encroaches on Hallie's chosen boundaries by boisterously singing Christian choruses in the car (and sometimes by just being alive). 

I try to aid the kids in establishing healthy boundaries both inside and outside of home. I teach them to say no to those things which are harmful. Don't let someone cheat off of you. Don't let someone talk you into doing something you know you shouldn't be doing. Hallie, our teenager isn't allowed to have a boy in her room. Rylie, who has saved up money through hard work, has been instructed to talk to us before she gives money to a cause. Otherwise, she'd give it all away in one pop. Hayden, who now lives, mostly independently, in the apartment behind our house, recently learned on his own that having bacon (and only bacon) for every meal of the day can have adverse effects on your health. 

Our kids have boundaries when it comes to how they relate with one another (and with their dad and I), when they can talk on the phone, and with the activities they're allowed to schedule. 

Boundaries are fashioned to keep us healthy and safe. They also make it possible for us to keep open opportunity to engage in the purposeful activity we're meant to be a part of. Well created and kept boundaries enhance our lives, the lives of those we love and those who we maintain boundaries with. 

This being said, I've lived an exhausting life ignoring (and then sometimes battling) the need to set up proper guidelines for myself. 

My general rule has been 

Someone needs me= I must help them. 

I say yes because saying no 

• is difficult 
• Makes me feel unkind (being kind is biblical) 
• Makes me feel guilty 
• Might hurt the feelings of the person I said no to 
• May leave the person I say no to in a difficult situation 

This practice of saying yes when I should have said no has caused me 

• To be so busy that I become ineffective in places that matter most (parenting, serving...)
• To be burned out 
• To do whatever it is I'm doing in a less than stellar/enthusiastic manner because I feel I shouldn't be doing it in the first place 
• To feel resentful toward the person who asked me 
• To spend time finding a way to get out of whatever it is I agreed to when saying no would have been much quicker (and possibly kinder for the person I'm bailing out on) 
• To fill a job, taking away the opportunity for someone else who may have been more equipped or passionate
• To get involved in unhealthy relationships that affect my emotional health and eventually the health of my family 

Several months ago it was suggested by two people that I read a book called Boundaries. Of course I agreed. Remember? I always say yes. Not typically one for self-help books, this book was a breath of fresh air. Authors Henry Cloud and John Townsend explain how maintaining appropriate boundaries can be freeing, kind and biblical. 

I've agreed to lead a Bible study starting next Sunday, February 12 at 6:00 at FBC Nederland. The study will contain nine, hour-long sessions. Anyone is welcome to attend. Those of you who have a difficult time saying no are strongly encouraged (but can still say no 🙂 ) Kim Rightmer will have activities going on for children at this time. If this isn't the study for you be sure to check the church newsletter or call the church (722-0263) for other studies that will be going on at the same time. 

Boundaries

FBC Nederland-Edu 102

Beginning February 12 at 6:00

No cost. A book isn't necessary. 

Hope to see you there. 

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Let's Stay Connected.