Posted in Friends

Find Out Who Your Friends Are

I was running late to somewhere. Who knows where. But I remember I’d sat at a stoplight for a full 10 minutes before I realized I was going to be late. The stoplights had malfunctioned at the worst time of day in the worst intersection in town. And there I sat – cross-traffic whizzing by as their light was apparently stuck on green while mine was glaring red. People honked. And swore. And played on their cell phones. The traffic jam was now jamming up two city blocks. I called the police non-emergency number to report the issue. 5 minutes later, the city truck pulled up and I was on my way. Late, but en route.

I was talking with a friend from high school this week. Our conversation reminded me of the scenario above. “Melissa,” she said, “I feel stuck. My life just isn’t turning out like I’d hoped. I mean, I love my house, my husband, our kids – I just wish I had a different career and lived in a different location. I feel like I’m late to what I really want to do in life.”

Have you ever just felt stuck? As I’ve listened lately, I’ve heard varying versions of this friend’s story. I have felt this way lately too. I’ve been waiting for something, have realized it isn’t likely going to go the way I’ve dreamed it would, and have just been sitting here for a while, honking, screaming ugly, frustrated thoughts, playing on my phone, hoping the light will change from red to green.

Anybody? Just me?

So what, then, do we do to get unstuck?

Well I may be old school, as the kids say, but my best advice would include taking a lesson from Pooh Bear, and the friend I mentioned earlier, and call on some friends to help us out.

Pooh Bear’s ordeal was, in fact, his own fault. He’d eaten too much honey and found himself stuck in Rabbit’s front door. One by one his friends come by, but it’s not until they all formed a chain and pulled together that Pooh went flying across the Hundred Acre Wood.

At the stoplight, the situation didn’t get fixed until I called for help.

This is your sign. This is me giving you official permission to call for help. In fact, make sure you call a whole team for help.

I have a few really close friends that I know I can count on when I’m stuck. Sometimes I just need to talk it out. Usually one or all will remind me to count my blessings or pray or just stop doing or thinking (fill in the blank), or to change something or other that I hadn’t thought of because I can’t see my situation clearly from my own perspective.

It really is okay to ask for help. Sometimes our real friends see we’re stuck and are actually hoping we’ll ask. Real friends will come at 2am, or when you need to move, or, like mine this week, when you just need an impromptu dinner after work because one of you is going through something hard and just needs to talk.

It’s frustrating to feel like everyone else I know is in the cross-traffic with never-ending green lights while I’m stuck on a side-street.

Stuck happens.

It helps to intentionally surround yourself with good friends.

Find out who your friends are.

Silly Old Bear.

Posted in family, Life Lessons, Love, Parenting, Word, Word, Truth, Life, Love

Minutes or Moments?

180731_170208_collage-11755689728.jpgA new dad waiting for his first baby to be born understands the value of a minute.
A new dad hearing that baby’s first cry understands the value of a moment.

Lately I’ve been pondering the difference between minutes and moments.

I don’t know about at your house, but at my house we seem to talk about time – a lot. It’s time for bed! Time to get up! Hurry up! Time’s a wastin’. Bathtime! Dinnertime. Storytime. Time out. Time’s up!

In the Beginning…

In my cover-to-cover trek through the Bible I’ve just finished reading Genesis and Exodus. The first concept introduced in Genesis, besides God as Creator, is time. Time is necessary. Its parameters were among the first set in motion in the beginning. By the end of the first chapter, the first 6 days have occurred. Ask my 10-year-old what happens in Genesis chapter 1 and he’ll surmise that God created the heavens and the earth in 6 days and he rested on the 7th.

Ask my poet’s heart and I’ll tell you that the first chapter takes much longer than a week to ponder. Why? Because I stop and wonder what it was like to bow in reverence at that first sunrise. I want to grab a blanket and go sit in an open field and marvel at the sea of stars overhead. I want to be there as the first waves tumbled to the shore. I want to see the dolphins jump and hear the wolves howl. My heart wants to savor every single moment.

So why don’t I? Why don’t I savor each moment? Why do I waste so much life enslaved to my planner when I could be living and doing and savoring?

A New Approach

My end-goal for this blog is not another 350 words on a page that take up more of your time. My end-goal is that we approach life in a new way.

Let’s savor our moments.

A collection of moments makes up a beautiful life. Don’t miss a single one. Be present.

Posted in Life Lessons, Word

Startled – What is This?

What is This?

You’re sitting there, tears falling over freshly dried tears, wondering how on earth you got to this place. Whatever your this is, it feels like hell. It feels like nothing is ever going to be right again. Maybe you’ve done everything right. Maybe you’ve done everything wrong. I’ve been on both sides of the right or the wrong of the “this.”

Whatever happened, this was nowhere in the original plan. Whatever happened, you’ve been finally, fully startled awake.

My THIS List:

Here is my lifetime “this” list (so far):

  • Divorce
  • Sexual assault
  • Financial ruin
  • Being cheated on
  • Being deceived
  • Deceiving others
  • Facing Cancer
  • Losing a job
  • Losing family members
  • Almost losing a child to suicide
  • Losing a ministry
  • Being in an abusive relationship

That’s the short list.

Moving Forward

I was talking with a friend recently and he gave me some amazing advice that I want to pass along.

  • People change only when there are no more options.
  • Start forgiving right now so you can start to heal. Don’t wait.
  • Move on.

My Dad always taught me that I need to:

  • “face reality squarely,” (Job 38)
  • “live a life that pleases God,” (Colossians 1:10), and
  • “separate the precious from the worthless.” (Jeremiah 15:19)

So I’m suggesting that right this minute you should begin to sift through the rubble, call it what it is – rubble, own your part in what happened, retrieve the precious, and walk away from the worthless.

I’ve learned by experience (mostly by falling on my face) that the Lord really does work all things for my good because he has called me according to his purpose and I’ve tried to live my life with a “yes, Lord” posture. (Romans 8:28)

Sift. Separate. Own your part. Pray. Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Do it quickly. Ask God “what’s next?”. Move forward.

This, too, really shall pass. But you’ve got to get up out of the rubble.

And if you need to talk, my ears are always open and I’m always up for some good conversation over a skinny vanilla latte.

Posted in Love

When the Day Settles

At the end of the day you don’t hear my prayers for the ones I love who are agonizing over broken hearts.

At the end of the day you don’t feel my tears brought on by self-inflicted wounds.

At the end of the day you don’t see the ring with 4 corners where the fighters are me and me and the tale-of-the-tape doesn’t matter because a simultaneous KO is coming. And I’m down for the count.

At the end of the day part of me hopes you see victory, courage, strength, endurance, and love. Because I’ve won many rounds, been brave, gathered my strength, stayed the course, and loved well far more often than not.

But part of me hopes you look deeper and recognize pain behind the deep blue water in my eyes. That you see that sometimes everything is not okay at the moment, and remind me to back up, be still, and rest.

At the end of the day I long to be loved the way I love. To feel the way I do when I see the sunset or feel the breeze in summer or hear my children laugh.

At the end of the day I look like my Momma and sound like my Grandma. I’m a Momma of three, a pastor’s daughter, a best friend, a truth fighter, an encourager, a mentor, a thinker, a poet, and a writer.

But don’t let this piece of writing that seems to be all about me fool you. Because the truth is…

At the end of the day I’ll love you even if it hurts me. I’ll help you out even if I can’t afford to. I’ll pray for you even if you hurt me. I’ll put you first even if you only ever take and never give back. Because when the day settles, it’s not about me.

It’s about how well I love you.

Posted in Life Lessons

Just Get in the Game

Yesterday my son taught me yet another valuable lesson.

We were sitting quietly on a hill yesterday afternoon waiting for the fireworks to begin. Just the two of us. Out of the blue he said, “Mom, next time lets bring a football.” I’d been lost somewhere in my own thoughts and this brought me back to reality.

A football. Yes. Next time son.

Then I sat up and pointed to a group of boys his age tossing a football around. I encouraged him to join them. He hesitated at first, pondered the situation, then said, “Yeah – okay, I think I will.”

Anything athletic for him brings with it anxiety. He was born with a coordination disorder called Dyspraxia. It leaves him a beat behind the rest of the boys. But within the first five minutes of a guy showing him throwing techniques, he was throwing a spiral with the rest of them. I’ll admit to a Momma tear as I watched from my blanket on the hill. Okay, maybe two.

Today I recorded a radio interview with some good friends of mine. I was giving my testimony. I feel so much passion about speaking to single moms. But speaking to a broad audience brings me anxiety, whereas I’m better mentoring someone one-on-one. I tend to get my words mixed up. It’s odd how the thoughts in my head when I’m writing are crystal clear, fluid, and on point. But when I open my mouth to speak, I feel like I’ve got nothing to say that anyone would want to hear, and it casues me to second-guess every single word I say. It all just comes out wrong.

I came home from the radio interview a bit discouraged.

As we were making dinner, I asked my son what it was inside of him that gave him courage to go play with those boys yesterday. He said this:

“I just remembered that when I was in 1st grade it was fun to play. No one made fun of me. It was just fun. And I wanted to get into the game and have fun.”

So there you have it.

I just need to remember to do things in life for the fun of it.

My anxieties would lessen if I’d quit worrying about my precision with and my execution of things (speaking, working, pursuing my passions, etc.) and just start enjoying each moment. So what if I don’t throw a perfect spiral the first time. At least I’m enjoying the game.

Life is short. Have fun. Be present.

Posted in Life Lessons

Staying the Course

This blog is about how my son taught me a valuable lesson. Stick with this one to the end.

But first, if you’re keeping up, this was my first week back at work post-hysterectomy. It’s been 6 weeks since surgery and I’m getting better gradually. My strength is far from where it needs to be. My incision isn’t healing well, but my spirits are up (well, except for today).

I struggled today. I quietly wrestle with feelings of unworthiness, being picked last, being unlovable. Today I struggled harder than usual.

I sat in the back of Gavin’s Vacation Bible School closing service tonight and cried. I’ll save the details about why for my personal journal. I just couldn’t stop. (I cried so much tonight I ripped one contact, ruined the other, and gave myself a full-on migraine. I had to switch to glasses for the drive home.)

Anyway, as I’m sitting there, the messages I kept hearing in the service were all about the Bible story of a shepherd who had 100 sheep and lost one, so he left the 99 to go find the one he lost. It’s a powerful story that illustrates how God loves us. The VBS theme was Game On – so we watched videos of kids struggling through being picked last for teams. Kids who lacked the ability for sports, but wanted to belong.

Do you see how my struggles (self-worth, feeling unloveable, being picked last) + these videos and messages were NOT helping me try to hide that I was crying? No – I just cried more.

So rah rah – VBS pep rally is over, outside for popcorn, bouncy water slides and obstacle courses.

While I struggled with torn contacts, Gavin went down the waterslide a couple of times. He was in 10-year-old bliss. And then came the obstacle course bounce house. Before I know it he’s through the first hole, up and over the next obstacle, and he began to climb. He got to the top and stopped (see his pic above), as kid after kid flew past him over the top and down the other side. But not Gavin. He’s stuck. I see the panic starting. I hear the kids taunting: “Hurry up. Let’s go already.” As they easily move around him and climb over the top.

I know what’s in his mind – fear.

Here’s what’s going on in his body: Gavin has a Developmental Coordination Disorder called Dyspraxia. His brain doesn’t send his muscles the right signals at the right time. He struggles with balance, strength, and coordination. But not willpower.

This means that while every other kid flies through the course, he’s trying 50 times harder and making 50% less progress.

After a long struggle, he looked at me, said: “I’m not gonna make it,” climbed down, and reversed himself all the way back out of the course.

When he got to me, he hugged me and said: “let’s go home.”

Now – I’m not a man, but I know when a man needs a man to talk to, so I found one in the form of my dear friend Pastor Lucas Pinckard.

He took Gavin aside and talked to him. I’m not sure what they said, I stepped out so they could talk. What matters here is this:

  • News Flash for single moms (boy moms especially): you’re not a man. Surround yourself with men of character who will mentor your son.
  • When you’re in a situation where everyone else is getting ahead and you feel powerless, find someone to talk to before you go home with your head down.
  • Try again.

See, because what happened next spoke volumes to my heart:

He went back and COMPLETED the obstacle course. He did the dang thing. He got to the end and said – “NOW we can go home.”

On the drive home I thought back over my day and the unforseen moment that made me cry for hours.

It wasn’t that anything had changed, not really. It’s just..I had climbed through some pretty scary obstacles lately, I found myself at the top of things today, felt amazing and like I was about to make it over, and suddenly, realized I may not make it over after all. I got discouraged. It felt like a punch to my soul. I could hear the voices in my head taunting: “She’ll always be prettier. You’re just not marriage material. Why do you even try anymore? Who would want YOU, anyway? Just face reality – you’re always gonna be alone.”

I know what’s in my mind – fear.

I also know what kind of God I serve and what he has promised me. And I’m still gonna stand on his promise.

But if you’ll excuse me, I just need a moment. I need to regroup and refocus. I’ll be calling my girlfriends for coffee this week. Be ready ladies.

But mark my words – I’m gonna conquer that course.

Because I AM good enough. Because I AM pretty enough. But mostly because I know what God promised – and he always keeps his word.

Thank you, Pastor Lucas and the VBS team at First Baptist Church in Lake Dallas.

I appreciate you.

Posted in Cancer, Life Lessons, Love, Parenting, Poetry, Uncategorized, Word, Word, Truth, Life, Love

Playing Hide-and-Seek (my life story)

I was out shopping with the most beautiful girl in the world. She was 3 years old – with gorgeous red curls and bright, happy green eyes. We were at a major department store looking for a size 3T Easter dress – with extra frills, ruffle-butt tights, and those fold-down socks with the lace that look beautiful in patent leather Mary-Janes.

She kept running off – looking at the tiny purses and teddy bears. I was afraid I would lose her. So I did what any good mom would do to teach an object-lesson: I let her get lost.


This was the perfect moment – no one else was in this section. I got really quiet and just let her wander from rack to rack. Books. Toys. Purses. I didn’t let her see me. I kept hiding until I watched panic slowly set in – all over her tiny little body. Her eyes got wide. Her feet starting running. Her eyes darted all around looking for safety. Her little voice began calling out – “Mommy. Mommy? MOMMY!”

I let that go on for about 30 seconds before I scooped her up in my arms and said, “It’s okay, Baby Doll. You’re safe. Mommy’s gotcha.” And she looked up at me with her big green eyes and said, “I lost you, Mommy. I thought you were gone.”

She didn’t lose me. She only thought she did. I was right there all the time.

I’ve felt this level of panic set in before. Have you?

The first time I felt something like this I was 7. My 2 brothers and sister were all playing together behind the apartment building and I wasn’t allowed to play. They had formed a “no-Melissas allowed” club. I ran around the building to try to play anyway. They circled up. I just couldn’t believe it. Panic set in as I realized that I was alone – and left out. Big tears formed in the depths of my universe. Something shattered. I remember this being the first time I found solace in making up a story in my mind as a form of self-comfort. This was the beginning of writing for me. My parents figured out what was going on and they formed a “let’s-walk-to-7-11-to-get-a-Slurpee-club” that my siblings weren’t invited to. I learned from this to run to my authority figures for comfort. As an adult, I remember this incident when I feel left out and it reminds me to turn to God. I’m always welcome in his club.

The next time I felt like this, I was in high school. At age 16, a boy I liked from school took an interest in me. I was over-the-moon excited. I had “his-initials-plus-my-initials” written all over my school notebooks. One afternoon, when I was home alone after school, he came to my house. I was so excited that I ignored the rule about not having friends over when my parents were gone. I let him in – only to find out that he had come with 5 grown men. They made me go to my room and would not let me out. One-by-one they came in and took turns doing awful things to me. The boy who I thought liked me left me humiliated, ashamed, and feeling very alone. They warned me they would hurt my family if I told. I never told. Not anyone. This may actually be the first time my family is reading about this.

In the middle of the whole thing, one of the guys told me he loved me. This shattered my heart. If that was love – and love was what I was so desperately longing for – I didn’t really want to be loved anymore. I wasn’t sure I really even wanted to live anymore. It was at this point when I made an attempt on my own life.

I looked around and couldn’t find anyone there to rescue me. The shame, embarrassment, and guilt led me to keep this a secret – even from God. Through counseling years later I was able to open this horrible memory up and see that God was there in the room with me that day. He was screaming at those men – STOP. THIS IS MY DAUGHTER. YOU SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS.

But His voice was drowned out by the voices of Lust, Desire, Control, and Greed simultaneously screaming – DO WHAT YOU WANT, TAKE WHAT YOU WANT, SHE’S JUST THERE FOR YOU TO USE.

God showed me that He was there that night to comfort me. He was my pink teddy bear and the blanket I slept with over my head. He was there then and on so many other nights when I cried myself to sleep and felt alone in my shame. I didn’t lose him – he was right there all along.

These incidents plus the fact that my bio-dad left before I was born caused me to have a decades-long thought pattern that said – “You’re not good enough. You’re not worthy of real love. You’re just an after-thought, a second choice. You’re not wanted. Get lost – no one wants you around here anyway. If you want love, you’ll have to do something to earn it.”

Lies. All lies.

I had a fairy-tale wedding right out of high school that resulted in two beautiful redheaded daughters.

One day my husband came home and was acting strangely. We’d had a great first 7 years. We had our moments, but it wasn’t anything major. But I’d noticed that he had become violent with his words and sometimes with his hands. I confronted him and he said he did not love me anymore. His porn habit had turned into real affairs over the last 3 years of our marriage – resulting in his latest girlfriend becoming pregnant. I didn’t know. I guess I didn’t want to know. Devastated doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. Some words I have for the next months after that are numb, lifeless, severely depressed, and hopeless. Once again the voices crept back into my thought-space.

I was angry. Very angry. I was angry at my husband for hurting me in this way, angry at myself for not having seen this coming, angry at God for knowing this was coming and not letting me know for 3 years, and angry at life in general. I had to move out of my home and back in with my parents while he moved his pregnant girlfriend into my home. It was humiliating.

So how does youth minister/housewife cope with this kind of tragedy? In my case – I did not cope very well. I began a secret life of binge drinking on weekends when my kids were gone to their father’s house. They say bitterness is a poison you give yourself – hoping the other person will suffer. My drinking and lifestyle of masking my pain through any means necessary was a poison. I felt unlovable. I was taking out all of my frustrations alright – but all that I was doing was only hurting ME.

The lowest point for me was in the middle of the divorce. I was at a party one night at an apartment when everyone all went home at once – everyone but me and the guy who lived there. He kept pouring and I had kept drinking, but that last drink after everyone left must have had something in it – because the room began to wobble and I only remember bits and pieces of a torturous, sick, violent rape that must have lasted a couple of hours – and I was powerless to stop it. I woke up in an upstairs room – alone. I stumbled around, found my keys, and left – still full of liquor, or whatever it was I’d been given. I honestly think an angel rode in the passenger seat while I drove home that night – because how I got myself and my car home in one piece is a mystery. I decided that night I wanted to try to reconcile with my husband and make things right with my little family again. My kids deserved a whole family – and I was hell-bent on making sure they had one – even if it meant I had to do a makeover on my marriage. My husband agreed – but he had already told my parents about my having gone to a party and that I’d been drinking – so they kicked me out and, because I had no other alternative, I could not take my kids. I tried to explain about the night before and my transformed heart, but it was too late – the decision had been made. I was furious with what had just happened to me, and now I was furious that my desire to start over had failed. I lived the next two weeks out of my car, in the backroom of the store I managed, one night at a laundry mat, and at different friend’s apartments. After two long miserable weeks, I told my dad I was coming home – taking my kids, getting a divorce, and moving into an apartment. Enough was enough. I stopped drinking, reconciled with God, and tried to get my life back in order.

If I’m with you and you have a glass of wine and I politely decline, this is why. I’m not judging, it’s just that it reminds me of where I’ve been – and that’s a place I’d rather not remember.

Three years later I was back on my feet, studying for my undergrad in English at the local university, and raising my two girls. We moved out of the apartment after a year and back in with my folks so that I could focus on my studies.

During my time at the university, my brother died of cancer and my sister decided to leave the family – for good. Just because I don’t give these incidents many words here doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt me to my core.

Life thus far had been a hide-and-seek game with God – mostly hide. But what happened in 2007 changed the entire course of my life.

It was July 2007, right in the middle of my summer session at the university. I was taking what amounted to Poetry 101 and it was my day to be “workshopped.” I had printed enough copies of my poem for each member of the class and was expected to distribute them and have everyone critique my words. I was nervous. It was Texas Summer hot outside. I was suddenly overcome with nausea. Breakfast became a memory.
After the grueling 90-minute poetry workshop where my writing was called mediocre, at best, I made my way to the on-campus medical clinic.
I gave blood, endured the necessary pee-in-this-cup moment, laid down on the paper-covered table, and waited.
I must have fallen asleep because the Nurse Practitioner shook my shoulder.
Miss Fairchild?
I figured out what’s wrong.
You’re pregnant.
I almost fell off the table.
My mind raced to an awful night four months before. I looked at her calendar and pointed to the date.
Yes – I remember. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was just one lonely moment during March Madness. Just one.

I pulled into my driveway 15 minutes later and spied my Mom on the porch swing reading to my 6-year-old, whose auburn pigtails wobbled as she flew into my arms. My 11-year-old was inside getting ready for the water park trip I’d promised them that afternoon.
Mommy’s home!
My heart felt sick. How do I explain this to my girls? How in the world was I going to make ends meet with another kiddo on the way?
I sent the kids to their bedroom to finish getting ready for the water park and began to weep uncontrollably. My parents noticed.
All I could think was – my folks are gonna kill me. They are pastors at a local church. How do you tell your Dad, who is also your pastor, that you’re unmarried and pregnant?
Between sobs, I finally formed the words – I’m pregnant.
The truth escaped my mouth with finality. I repeated it to myself. Wow.
Mom started to ask several questions all at once, but Dad quieted the room.
He looked at me, right into my heart, and he slowly and deliberately spoke these words:
“You are my daughter, and I love you.

In one sentence, years worth of feeling less-than, feeling used, abandoned, abused, picked last, feeling unlovable, unforgivable, unworthy, and like I just didn’t belong came to a grinding halt.

In one sentence I felt God speaking through my father’s mouth.

He spoke to my identity “You are my daughter,…”

He spoke to his identity “…and I love you.”

I belong to him and am fully loved because he IS love.

I’ve had many more adventures and mishaps since this day. I’ve written or will write about most of them—just look back or wait for the next blog if you want to see what else has happened in my crazy life. But since that day I’ve had a deep-seated knowing in my gut that I’m not alone. And I’m not alone because God is with me. And because God is with me, he won’t let me panic for too long.

And in the times where I’ve panicked and looked around, frantically searching for God where I’ve thought – “I lost you, God. I thought you were gone,” He has been so faithful to remind me that I didn’t lose him. I only thought I did. He was right there all the time.

I hope you feel God speaking to you from your screen, “You are my daughter (son), and I love you.”

And I hope your life will change – starting today.

If you’re going through any of the things I’ve gone through – please email me or message me and let’s talk about it. I’m always good for coffee and conversation.

And if you don’t know the God I’ve been writing about, please let me introduce you.

He’s a good, good Father. The best way to find him is to stop hiding and start seeking. Let’s seek him – together.

Posted in Letters

Dear Me(lissa),

Tonight I allowed my heart
To envision myself
As I sometimes envision
My daughters:
7-year-old dimples with
Auburn ringlets
Spilling out of a
Bobby-pinned bun
With tattered ballet slippers
And a fresh recital bouquet.
Carefree, joyful, graceful feet
Pirouetting across the stage.

Grandma used to say
“Beauty is only skin deep –
Ugly goes to the bone.”
But she meant bitter.
Bitter lives inside and eats a person up
Until callous actions flow out of a
Bitter, hard heart.

Beauty bursts out through the
Kind of smile you can see
In someone’s eyes.
Beauty lives inside a heart
But can’t be contained, so it
Flutters out in
Thoughtful words and kind gestures.

So I wrote myself a letter that I should probably re-read often:

Dear 7-year-old-me,
Your heart is full of kindness and grace.
You are worth fighting for, being faithful to, and being loved unconditionally. You never have to chase love or earn it. You don’t have to give anything to receive it.
God IS Love.
Love created one unique Melissa with a blonde mane, ocean-water eyes, and a sassy, creative, caring personality.
He didn’t mess up.
He didn’t give you used parts.
He methodically, wonderfully designed you exactly like he wanted.

Unfortunately, this world has made a mess out of what God designed. Because of this you will be hurt, abandoned, used, discarded, abused, and rejected.
God didn’t order any of this, but when it happens he promises he can bring beauty, growth, love, acceptance, grace, peace, solace, order and joy from it.
But hear me – you have to let him.

Don’t let bitter dwell within.
Don’t even let it knock at your door.
Bitter (ugly) takes up residence in you when you:

  • Delay grieving
  • Keep reminding yourself you got hurt
  • Stay in a bad situation too long
  • Take on responsibilities that belong to others, not you
  • Willfully sin
  • Join in with mockers
  • Close your mouth in prayer but open it to gossip
  • Fail to guard your eyes, ears, and heart
  • Keep your Bible closed, but your TV on
  • Rely on yourself rather than him

You’ll have 3 amazing kids, adorable future grandkids, and be a bonus mom to so many hearts in need of a mother’s love.
Above all, baby doll, remember to walk in beauty.
Remember you are worthy of love – in fact – you were born with both a capacity for receiving love and the capability of giving love.

Keep walking with God and never get too old to enjoy the promise and beauty of a sunset.
Go be amazing.

Posted in Life Lessons, Love

Just Start Walking – Together

The longer I spend walking beside someone through life, the more comfortable we get with each other. The more comfortable we get, the more we find we have in common. Eventually we find we’re sharing all of the important things with each other. Eventually even the shared silences are comfortable and being present with each other is enough. Sometimes we get a ways into our walk before we realize just how comfortable we are and how much better our lives are for walking beside each other.

This accurately describes my walk with Jesus lately. Sharing, laughing, being quiet, loving, talking, sharing sunsets. The more we walk together, the deeper I fall in love with Him.

If you don’t talk with someone daily, it’s a lot harder to really know each other.

So I challenge you today to just start walking and talking, and then wait and see what happens.

Posted in Life Lessons, Love

We Just Don’t Clique

This piece is about women – but if you’re a man – please read all the way to the bottom – I need your help.

Enemy Tactics

Lately I’ve seen one main tactic of the devil against women: ISOLATION. And I’m about to throw it down and stomp all over it. Read on.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I’ve felt like this: “I just don’t fit in. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough. I’m sure not skinny enough. My clothes/shoes/accessories/car are not fashionable enough. I’m not ‘extra’ enough. I’m not up-to-date enough. I’m just not enough.”

I’m about to take a sledgehammer to all of that nonsense.

These aren’t thoughts. These are enemy-grade tactics whispered into our minds so often we think it’s truth.

Last month was my daughter’s junior prom. She looked forward to it and she looked spectacular. She made plans to go with a group since she didn’t have a date. A week before prom, her friends said they weren’t going as a group anymore since they all had dates. No problem. She’d meet them there.

Prom night came. I did a photo shoot with her. My 10-year-old son surprised her by putting on a suit and bringing her a single rose. It was awesome.

And then there was social media. She began seeing pictures of her friends.

Getting ready – as a group.
Having dinner – as a group.
Riding in a Limo – as a group.

She didn’t have a date – so she’d been left out. I took her to prom and she texted me to pick her up 45 minutes later. She was in tears.

This is what the enemy does – he picks us off, isolates us, lies to us, gets our hopes up, thwarts our plans, and then kicks us while we’re down.

Battle Plans

I spent the next 2 hours on a park-bench-swing holding her hand – her in her beautiful dress with mascara-stained cheeks. We cried together until we were laughing again. TOGETHER.

This is our battle plan:

We do life together.

We laugh, cry, partake in retail therapy, do dishes, take road trips, go to the bathroom, eat too much ice cream to console ourselves, pray, encourage…BUT WE DO IT TOGETHER. We must.


I want to address something here.

Friendships are great. Cliques are not.

Cliques isolate. They leave people out. They don’t allow others to join.

I remember that when I got divorced I lost most of my friends. Married people groups are necessary. They help strengthen marriages. Married friends who exclude just-divorced friends – now that’s just mean. Especially if the divorce just happened. That’s kicking someone when they’re down.

Cliques happen at schools, in churches, at the workplace, and even in families.

Even social media circles can be cliquish. They can isolate. Think all the way around a post before you post it. Social media can be Mean-Girls kinda hurtful.

So I teach my girls: Sweeties – we just don’t clique.


I have a strong circle of BFFs. We are mostly a crafty, goofy, transparent crazy bunch of mommas. That doesn’t mean I’m not really close with other people. And that doesn’t mean you’re not welcome to join us.

Every woman I meet is a friendship waiting to blossom.

BFFs are necessary and cool.

Leaving people out intentionally because they are not whatever enough – not so cool.

Being Intentional

At the first of the year I set a goal to be more intentional with friendships. Guess what happened? I have more friends that I’m close to.

I realized I was half of the problem. I would see groups of friends having fun and think – I guess they don’t want me around. I’m not fill-in-the-blank enough. I won’t even try.

And I’d walk away bitter.

There’s only one letter between bitter and better – and that letter is half of the word “me”.

This year I decided I am enough and I’m going to act like it, and the result is – I have laughed and made deeper friendships this year than ever before.

Huddle Up Fellas

I sat at Zera’s coffee shop one Saturday morning waiting for a new friend. We met at church one Sunday and decided to have coffee the next week. How’s that for intentional?

I went an hour early to do my Bible Study and overheard a group of married men talking about how to be better men and better husbands. As I refilled my cup I walked by and casually thanked them for being great men of God. I said that it was refreshing as a single mom trying to raise a son to hear men of good character discussing prayer, purity, and the Word.

My friend came and as we began to talk the men came and huddled around us. One by one they prayed over me. That I’d be a strong mother. That my son would have a strong father in the near future. That I’d find a godly husband.

Men: do this for us (especially for my single-mom friends. Open your Bible in public. Pray with other men of God. Pray boldly against this isolation tactic the devil is using against us. Refuse to use (and further isolate) women. Make a covenant with your eyes not to look lustfully at a woman (because lustful looking also isolates women).

Will you pray for your sisters?


My email is open. My Facebook page is open. My blog comments are open. My instagram feed is open. My Saturday mornings are usually open.

So let’s get to know each other ladies. Let’s connect – because I don’t know many people with whom I don’t click.