I'm so excited to share that I'm now a regular monthly contributor over at Red Tent Living! This month, their theme is, "What If?" Here's where that prompt took me: Questions Worth Asking Growing up, my siblings and I had a narrow summertime wardrobe: pajamas and bathing suits. Our days were spent playing in our backyard pool—Marco Polo, DIY whirlpools, and cannonball contests.These were fun and relaxing days, but life wasn’t all carefree for me. I learned how to worry at a young age. I still . . .
We know very little about her story. All we really know is that she sinned. She was caught and she was about to die. Not really an experience any of us strive for. Not a legacy that we hope to leave. But this piece of her story—this is all we know of her. The scene is set: Jesus has spent some time away at the Mount of Olives. Early in the morning, He comes down to the temple and the Bible says, “All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them.” As he is teaching, the scribes and . . .
I understand that each week holds the same number of hours, but some weeks seem significantly shorter than others. Do you feel that, too? I'm having one of those particularly short weeks right now. FEAR NOT, however. I've pocketed enough time to share a couple of pieces with you. My friends at iBelieve.com have been kind enough to publish two of my posts recently, and I wanted to share them with you. We're talking habits that can hurt a marriage and things we should avoid saying to women without . . .
I nearly skipped down the big steps leading to the front of the venue. I was laughing and making jokes with a friend, giddy with excitement that this day—the wedding day of my dear friends—was finally here. A few members of the wedding party sat in the seats that would soon be taken by friends and family. I continued laughing lightheartedly, about to greet the small group with a hearty hello before suddenly noticing their tears and somber tone. Immediately, I felt snapped back to the reality of . . .
It was a typical early Wednesday morning in our home. I was sitting on the couch with the dog, watching the TODAY show and catching up on emails (a work-from-home perk). Suddenly, I heard some wild commotion coming from the kitchen. My husband, a beautiful and even-tempered man, was not happy. I stood up and headed towards him to see the offense: our typically white kitchen was now mostly green. A very vibrant green. Two days ago, my husband and I were cooking dinner together and I made . . .
The blinking cursor on my blank document seems particularly demanding this morning. I had a piece written last week that was set to go out today, but every time I think to click “Publish,” I know in my spirit that it’s the wrong move. So I return to the blank document with the boldly blinking cursor that asks: WHAT. WILL. YOU. SAY. I cannot publish a post this week that doesn’t speak to what has happened in Charlottesville. Silence is loud in events like this one. As I wrote on my social . . .