My friend Kelly calls words and phrases unique to her family the “NutHatch Dictionary.” 

It got me thinking of my own family's unique vocabulary.  My great-grandmother (Nanny) was forever saying she was getting fatter than a “butcher's dog." I picked up the phrase when I was about four years old and used it for all manner of things—I got as "tired as a butcher's dog," as "hungry as a butcher's dog" and so on. Apparently only a butcher's dog could relate to whatever state of hunger, thirst or exhaustion I was feeling at the time. It wasn't until years later that I understood why my use of it cracked my family up so much.

Nanny wouldn't hesitate to label anyone exhibiting less than desirable behavior as “horse's rosettes.” I adopted this quaint little moniker as well.

How about "there's more than one way to skin a cat"? Eeew. I used that gruesome phrase recently when we were running short on cookies. I told a passenger I’d bring him extra cookies after the service. The other passengers in his row declined the offer of a snack, so he slyly interjected they'd changed their minds... they both wanted cookies. I smiled and said, “I guess there's more than one way to skin a cat.” What?? Where did that come from? Who knew that was even in my repertoire of phrases?

My dad used to call people always on the cusp of inappropriate behavior “loose cannons” who go off “half-cocked.”

I'm not even sure what a "whip stitch” is—but I've heard it all my life and I use it every whip stitch.

My mom would threaten to knock us into the “middle of next week”— which I thought might be a nice place to be (under the circumstances).

My brother Craig used to come up with some outlandish facts. When my parents would ask him how he came upon his knowledge his answer was always the same, "A kid at school told me." It became our family's response to anyone who came up with questionable facts—”Did a kid at school tell you that?"

If we asked Dad if he had time to help us with something, he'd often answer, "What's time to a pig?" It always made him chuckle but I never understood why. I just recently learned it's a line from a joke: An old farmer walked his pigs a long way to drink from the river. When a neighbor offered to run a pipe from the river to the farmer's house, the farmer wasn't interested. When the neighbor explained how much time it would save, the farmer responded, "What's time to a pig?"

Another phrase, "You guessed it Nester!" It's the equivalent of "Well...duh!" If I put my uniform on and I’m asked if I'm going to work, I answer, "You guessed it Nester!" 

I could fill pages with phrases like "Did a kid at school tell you that?" that would only be funny to my family.

I’m so thankful God designed us to be placed in families. Sadly, many of my family's funniest storytellers have gone to be with the Lord. I miss them more than ever, but I take great comfort knowing their stories will continue to be told generation after generation and therefore never be forgotten.

I bought the "One Year Bible" several years ago with the intention of, you know, reading it in one year. Unfortunately, I didn't achieve my goal. But from the first verse I started counting how many times the Bible tells us not to be afraid. The number reached well into the hundreds before I was even a third of the way through.

Every time an angel appeared with a message for someone, the angel's first words were inevitably "fear not." Understandably! If an angelic being suddenly appeared in front of me, I doubt a "fear not" would be enough to stop the screaming.

God knew what scaredy-cats we were going to be and how fear would be used to immobilize us and make us buy all sorts of things we don't need.

About 30 some years ago I was walking through the "aisles of beauty" at Hudson's. The Estee Lauder counter had some kind of machine you could look into to that supposedly revealed what you'd look like in 25 years. I couldn't resist looking into it and was justifiably horrified at the image looking back at me. Though it was frightening, it didn't scare me enough to stay out of the sun (or buy the age defying product they were hawking). Consequently, the multi-spotted, severely sleep deprived image I saw that day is pretty much what I see in the mirror today.

There are literally hundreds of phobias. I used to question the very faith of those who are afraid of flying. To be fair, most would say it's not the flying they are afraid of but rather the crashing. Don't these people realize they're not in control? That when their time comes it doesn't really matter where they are, or how they chose to get there?

But when I think of my own irrational fears (I honestly feel I might die if saw a mouse in my hotel room), I humbly realize all of our fears involve some degree of faithlessness.

In spite of all God's assurances, I still experience anxiety attacks and needlessly worry and fret about things I have zero control over. Another oft repeated command tells us what to set our hearts and minds on, and it isn't on this present, flawed world--it's on Him.

The crux of my anxiety stems from looking at my future without Him in it, which is obviously impossible. Some of Jesus' last words before he descended back into Heaven were that He would never leave us or forsake us...even to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20) 

One of my mom's most oft repeated phrases was, "The Lord knows all about it." It's only now that I recognize how truly profound and comforting these words are. When anxious thoughts start to overwhelm me, I whisper my mom's words back to myself and it’s almost like she’s still her here with me, comforting me like only she could.