Last summer, my life was the picture of stability — we had just bought a house, and every picture frame and throw pillow was in its place. Our schedules were filled with the usual business trips and dentist appointments, and we were expecting another child.
…And then within a month, everything went from steady and stable, to a rickety, nausea-inducing carnival ride that seemed to plummet off the rails.
( The only thing leaving me more shaken than the actual turn of events, was what God had said the morning before they unfolded…)
Continue reading What would God say the morning before the $#*% hit the fan?
God has a tendency of uprooting my life. Just when I feel like I can take a breath, make a friend or two, or even try to do something exceptionally nutty and try to have a baby or something, God decides to throw my eggs in the creek.
Let me explain…
Continue reading The most meaningful lesson about God (And arguably, one of the most painful)
When my life fell to pieces everyone disappeared.
My 950 friends on Facebook, pointless. My blog, a mere platform for the curious. And the women I once regarded as ‘besties’ bolted, seemingly putting their priority elsewhere and not on helping me pick up the (broken) pieces of my life.
Looking back, I needed someone to see me; to bring me a meal, to show up at my door unannounced and drag me out of bed — and on an especially bad day, to a mental hospital!
Hear me when I say, I am in no way angry or bitter. (Far from it.) In fact, I am grateful; grateful to have survived that dark time, and even more grateful to have learned such valuable lessons, not in spite of the people who failed me, but because of them.
Continue reading Lessons Learned From The People Who Failed Me
It had been there for as long as I could remember. We would see it whenever we came back from the pool, our bodies sopping wet as we made our way into the house after a long day of swimming. And again, while hunched over my grandma, watching as she tightened a loose button or hemmed an Easter Dress…
There it was, in my grandmother’s sewing room, taped onto the side of her sewing machine; A picture of The Good Shepherd.
Each time I caught a glimpse of it, I’d stare at it for a moment, taking note of both the tenderness in Jesus’ eyes, and the way the picture had faded in the sunlight.
Cute… I’d think to myself.
But I saw no need for such a sissy-looking Jesus.
…That is, until, my daddy issues started to surface.
Continue reading On sheep, daddy issues & having no need for a Sissy Jesus