On forgiveness

My mom and I haven't spoken in years. I've lost count of how many. There has been a lot of hurt, a lot of lies, and just a lack of "healthy" in our relationship. But you know what's funny? When I think of her, I still remember the good times. I remember going to the beach with her growing up, and how much fun it was. I remember going to aerobics classes together and laughing so hard at each others lack of coordination that we couldn't speak. I remember sleeping in her bed until I was way too old. I like to think of the good in her, and not the bad. And the other day it dawned on me that this is how Jesus sees me. Sure, He knows what I have done and He knows my thoughts, but He loves me just the same. And He forgives me.  He sees the good in me. The bad is there, but its not magnified. And if I let Him, He will use the bad for good. 

So this year, I'm working on forgiving my Mom. Not because she does or doesn't deserve it, but because that's what I'm called to do. Extend compassion where He has shown me compassion. Extend grace where He has shown me grace. My mom may never even know that I have forgiven her, but I'm doing it anyway. I'm choosing grace.  I'm choosing love. Because its what Jesus did for me. 

Love is a verb

Yesterday when I dropped Abbie off at school, I realized it was bike day for her class. All of her friends had brought their bikes but I had missed the memo.  She looked a little sad but didn’t say anything. I hugged her goodbye and as soon as I left the school I knew I needed to go get hers. So I went home, got the bike, and brought it back to her school. When I walked in with it she was SO excited. She gave me a huge hug, said thank you, showed all of her friends, and then went over to one of her best friends and said “Don’t you wish you lived at my house??!”

My heart melted. And then and there I realized that I can tell my children and my husband I love them all day long (and I do),  but showing them that I love them? Wow, what an impact.

Spring Break Memory

It was 1999. I was a senior in college. I had just ended a silly “relationship” with someone, if you can call it that, where basically I thought it was something more than it was, and well, you know the drill. I was a little done with boys for the moment, to say the least. I was really looking forward to spending some time with my best girlfriends on a trip to Daytona Beach. My friend Rachel’s parents owned a house down there, so it was a perfect place to go. I remember being there one of the very first days, and hearing about how Rachel had invited an old friend she grew up with to stay at the house, and how he was also bringing a friend. And I remember the first time I saw that friend. It was kind of early one morning, and all of us girls were getting ready to walk across the street to the beach, and he was getting ready to go fish (imagine that!) He was sitting on the back of his buddy’s truck bed, shirt off, sunglasses on, and before I knew it, he was pulling away for the day. That’s my first memory of Wes. It might be kind of cool if I could say that the rest of that week in Florida, our friendship grew, and we hung out all week, etc, etc. But that’s not exactly what happened. Instead, I had a great time with my friends, and really didn’t see much of Wes the rest of that week, and before we could blink, as it always does, Spring Break had ended and it was time to go back to school.


When we got back, this boy who I had literally never seen on campus before that I can remember, all of a sudden started showing up everywhere. One day I walk into the gym. I hear a whistle. Of course who, when they hear a whistle, doesn’t first wonder, was that for me? So that’s what I wonder, and then slowly look around. And there he is again, lifting weights across the room. It got my attention. He was really really cute. And very tan still from our week in Florida. So anyways, a few more small meetings like this occur over the next few weeks, and before I know it we are in that wonderful whirlwind where you barely need to eat or sleep because for a little bit you feel like that person is all you need to survive. And I’m falling fast. Too fast probably, if I had to admit it. And I’m sure people warned me. But look where we ended up. Fourteen years later, almost thirteen years of marriage, two wonderful kids – a life with that boy from the beach. We’ve made it. So every year when March comes around, and college kids everywhere are headed somewhere warm, I can’t help but think back to that one Spring Break, where maybe, just maybe, if our paths had directed us different ways, we might never have met.

I cried at the gun range

Last week Wes and I took a trip to the gun range. It was my first time going to an actual gun range and shooting at targets. Wes has had guns for a while now, and he wanted me to be familiar with them enough that if someone were to come into our house and he wasn’t around, I could feel confident enough to protect myself and the kids from harm. To be honest, when he asked me to go, I was kind of looking forward to it. I thought it would be something we could enjoy together. So I had no second thoughts about going. We got to the range, I signed a consent form, watched a safety video, got my ear and eye protection on, and we were ready to go in. The range was crowded. We walked through the two doors and down to our lane. I immediately felt sick. My head started spinning. All around me were shells flying everywhere, and shots so loud I couldn’t think. My heart raced. Wes started getting his guns ready, and I just stood there watching, but mostly listening. My mind immediately went to the Sandy Hook shooting. All I could think of were the parents who had lost their precious children, and how those precious children probably heard something similar to what I was hearing right then. Tears stung my eyes. Wes looked at me and said “Are you ready?” “No” I replied. “I can’t do this.” From there my wonderful husband walked me out of the gun range and into a place where we could talk about why I was so upset. I cried at the shooting range. I bet that doesn’t happen much. Or maybe it does. But either way, I didn’t expect it. After all, I think guns can be a good thing. They are meant to protect us. Not to be used against helpless, defenseless people and children.


Like a lot of us lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about gun control, what the right solution is, what the law should be, etc. I don’t have the answers. But I know this. I know that no gun law is going to stop a crazy person from shooting someone. If a certain kind of gun had been illegal that December day, I don’t think that would have mattered to Adam Lanza. Maybe he would have used a different gun. But I believe he still would have done it. I don’t believe any law made is going to change society. If that were true, well we wouldn’t have homocides, drug users, sex trafficking, child abuse, rape, and the list goes on. People are going to make bad choices. It’s up to us, as adults and parents raising children, to educate our youth. To instill in them the value of human life, to hold them accountable for their actions, to discipline them when they do wrong. We must teach them respect. We must be the crazy Mom and Dad that asks questions and knows every family our child spends time with. They are impressionable. Everything that is poured into our children will come out one way or the other. We must be deliberate with what they hear, see, and do. This is a big responsibility. One we can’t take lightly. President Obama said in a recent speech that he would do everything in his power to prevent the lives of innocent children being lost. That’s great, Mr. President, but every single one of us has the power to prevent this. We can’t count on our government to make the laws that will protect our children. Insanity doesn’t happen overnight. Disregard for human life doesn’t happen overnight. Every person that has ever shot someone has a Mom and a Dad, whether they were in the home or not. It hits home a lot more when you think of it that way. They were someone’s innocent child at one time.

Change in society starts in the home. It starts with family. It starts with a strong foundation.

I hope to return to the gun range soon. I hope to educate my children when they are old enough about the proper use of guns. I will do my best to show them how to love and respect others by doing it myself. And I will pray. Oh how I will pray for my kids. I will pray that when they move out of the shelter of our authority, they will remember what we taught them. How we lived. We don’t need more laws. It starts with us. IT STARTS WITH US.

My cup runneth over

I don't know how else to say it. My cup is pretty darn full right now. Our 2nd year in Atlanta has been a good one. God has answered prayers in ways I never would have thought. He's given us health, two wonderful kids, provided finances, a great school for the kids, and lastly has truly answered my prayer to make friends. Not just friends. But friends I can share my faith with. So yes it's been a good,  actually a great year. As we begin 2013, we have uncertainties. But I can't help but believe everything will be ok. I have to right? I know who goes before me, I know who stands behind. He is on my side. So whatever this coming year brings, we will face it, but I'm thankful that we don't have to face it alone. And if anyone still reads this, happy new year!! And leave a comment if you'd like : )