It’s been a long time since my last post. As in months. Just like riding a bike, some things have stayed with me. Like a need to tell my story. And friends who won’t let me forget that I have a story to tell. Also, I hit the half way point in my thirties last week and that gave me some things on which to look back.

So I’m back. And with me is that old nagging sensation of fear. I’ve learned a few things about fear. I know it has no place here. If I choose to walk in victory, then fear will flee. I’ve also learned that naming the fear makes it smaller.

For my first blog post in a long while, I’m gonna list the reasons I’m afraid to write and share my thoughts. Maybe knowing I have fears will help you face yours.

1. What if someone else has the same thing to say and they say it better?

2. What if no one cares?

3. What if someone cares a lot on the opposite end of the spectrum from me? And then they tell me?

4. What if I disappoint someone?

5. What if I stop again?

Those are the big five. So they’re out there for everyone to see. And I’m punching them in the face.

See you next time



Bedtime, or as I like to call it, Dread time

It’s 8:51PM EST in my neck of the woods. I just finished putting the kids to bed. Anyone with a child will tell you that once your child can start communicating with you, or responding back to your communication with them, bed time becomes a struggle. The demands and promises being thrown around are nothing less than what a peace treaty negotiation must be like at the United Nations. I get why we all need a glass of wine, piece of chocolate or an episode of Scandal. Anything that requires that much work deserves a reward. 

With the older two they don’t always put up a fight. Once they learned how to read, things got a little better. Now they can go read in bed for about fifteen minutes. But then it’s the just let me finish this page or let me finish this comic I have read at least one thousand times and I forget how it ends. Or now that you are here to tuck me in, I need a drink, or I have to go to the bathroom. Oh by the way it’s pajama day at school and I want to wear the ones that are at the bottom of the laundry basket. Or maybe there is a long list of grievances of unmet promises that were made throughout the day. I have now learned to say we MAY do something and not we WILL do something. The middle child is especially good at remembering everything. We call him our elephant brain child. 

There can be sweet moments, but by the end of the forty-five minute struggle, it’s time for bed. With a capital “B”. 

The littlest one is the trickiest. Because she still has that sweet baby voice and big blue eyes. She even leans her head to the side oh so coquettishly and makes here sweet little requests. Just one more song, I need all my stuffed animals, I need to go to the bafroom. All said in her sweet little sing song. And if we dare deny her it’s instant tears and the dragon emerges. But none of that lasts long. We just shut the door and walk away. 

At the end of it all I know there will come a day I will miss this, but for now, my husband and I are in a battle royale with the little squirts. We will be victorious! 

It is time

Random tidbit: I started and stopped this blog post four times. Correction, five times.

Have you seen the Lion King? There’s a king and he has a son. Thru difficult circumstances the young prince runs away from his kingdom. But then a wise adviser in the guise of monkey finds the young prince and encourages the prince to return to his homeland. Rafiki (the monkey) says, “It is time”. It’s one of my most favorite parts of the movie.

Last Saturday, as in five days ago, I attended an event our church holds about once a quarter. It’s called Kingdom Encounters: A celebration among women of the Living God in song, Scripture and Stories. It’s a tremendous morning full of the goodness of God. I have been to a few of them and always leave feeling confident in the power of God. This past Saturday was no different. I left that morning filled with God’s goodness. But there was also something else stirring in my heart.

As I have sat and listened to each woman share that morning, one of the ladies said this, “God gives us a story to share.” Then, I heard that sweet small voice of our great and grand God say in my heart, “So share it, sweetheart.” I had to write it down. So I did.

It’s not that I have never given my testimony. Or shared my story with other people. But there has always been something that holds me back. I know what it is. It’s a desire to appear ‘put together’. To not let others see the real ugly parts of me. Part of it was a fear that others would judge me for my sins. Part of it was a life long habit of keeping secrets. All of the holding back caused damage in family and friendships.

It’s only been in the last few years that I have truly been able to share with others. Some people know the whole story. Others have gleaned bits and pieces. Each time I have shared a part of this story that I am living, God has blessed me, the teller, and the listener. The fears I had of being judged and condemned were wiped out more and more.

With each telling of my tale I am growing a little bolder. More confident that how God has protected the fragile little person inside of me is the same way He will continue to protect me. That the events of my life DO have purpose and that sharing my trials with others so they may find encouragement is a big part of God’s work in my life.

So it’s time for me to be a little more public with my story telling. Different venues will provide opportunities to encourage others. The same is true for you. God is writing your story as well. He wants us to share it when He prompts us to. This is how we overcome. By the blood of the Lamb and the Word of our testimony.