The scariest thing about talking to God… is that He actually listens.
And for some reason, when I asked Him to draw me closer, grow me stronger, and teach me more, I still wasn’t prepared to learn how to move mountains. But He’s doing it anyway.
I’ve been journalling and scribbling for as long as I can remember – dollar store diaries, summer camp pen pals, and stories about talking goldfish and ham sandwiches – but now He’s reminding me that words have more power in our lives than we give them credit for.
So this is where I take the medium that I feel most comfortable in, and find myself stretching until the growth marks scar and the laugh lines deepen. And wow, does it ever hurt.
It doesn’t matter what stage of life I’m in – single, married, teaching, mothering – some days just aren’t the kind I want to remember. They’re raw and painful and full of the “everyday” moments.
But they’re often the most important.
Because life is messy. Annoying. Resinous. Sleep deprived. Illogical. And full of post-live’m parentheses and mixed tenses. But it’s God-given and God-graced.
(And I love that).
Fast Facts:
- Wife, Mother, Daughter of the King
- I’ve taught Junior High… and survived
- A fan of vanilla, coffee, and cheesecake
- Nothing but bare feet in the vegetable garden
- Let’s talk about fairytales, history and the cultures of the world
- There’s a corner of my heart in the Philippines
- Anne of Green Gables is my heroine
- Proverbs 3:5-7
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