Welcome to Crazy Town

I love those moments when I think I have my life together. All 45 seconds of them. I savor them – and then I return to my chaos. I return to my crazy fairly easily most days because my ADHD kicks in and my unmedicated brain rushes off to the next priority. This is my reality.

Most days, I revel in the insanity of the day. I mean, it’s my world. What’s the saying? “They know me here.” Oh yeah. Fer sher.

So most days are chaotic, hectic, and demanding, but I have adjusted well to this little piece of paradise. Overall, anyway. But there are some days…. Weeks, even….

Every so often, there is a series of days where just getting out bed and putting on pants seem impossible. Everything is a challenge. The chaos is crippling. The insanity clings to you like my sweaty, overweight thighs stick to a plastic lawn chair on a late-July day in Ohio.

The worst part of those days isn’t the crazy stuff, though. It’s the unshakable feeling of being alone. Everyone seems to pull away, no one reaches out, and no one seems to even remember you’re alive. Or so it seems.

Take a quick ride on the crazy train with me, won’t you? First stop: Lunaticville. All aboard!

Picture it. Ohio. 2018….

Desperate for human contact, you text someone and you never get a reply, so surely you must have done something bad. If you do connect, that pal never notices you were in a bad place. Now no one wants to talk to you because everyone must know what a horrible human being you are, so grabbing the Halloween candy and eating your weight in carbs must surely be the answer.

When you wake up the next day, you realize irrationality is not your best look, so you decide to live today in the moment and not accept the lies. Your determination is set! You’ve got this! Then your teenager has a meltdown because their favorite hoodie never made it to the hamper and is dirty, so that downward spiral begins again. Now your friends are not only avoiding you – you’re also the world’s worst mother. Clearly.

As you sob uncontrollably on your commute to work, you decide that work at least comes easily and things will be fine. You dive in with a fake smile on your face (#fakeittilyoumakeit, right?), only to be chastised for things you didn’t do by multiple people. By lunchtime, you’re numb. Done. Dead inside. You head home and crash from exhaustion.

Sometimes these days play on a seemingly endless loop. One bad day after another. Other times, they are isolated incidents. What remains the same is this fact: we have all been there, friend. All of us. Probably in the last 24 hours, as a matter of fact. Some people hide it better than others, but we all deal with this crap and we all lose our shhhhtuff. I’m a go-big-or-go-home kind of gal, so I don’t hide my loss of sanity well and tend to just let it fly. I like to remove all doubt that my sanity is on shaky ground. I’m working on that part. #dontjudgeme

When we realize we have all been to Crazy Town in recent days, it becomes easier to reach out to others. Most of the time, people sincerely have no idea what you’re dealing with because they are dealing with their own version of insanity. But, sweet friend, believe me when I say they truly DO care!

When a sistah realizes you’re hurting, she will drop her remaining marbles to help you find yours. She will gather you in for a hug that melts your heart and leaves no room for doubt that you are loved, valued, important, special, and cherished. She will grab your hands and pray for you. She will look you in the eyes and tell you you’re full of it and listening to lies.

When we lower our walls and allow people to see who we are and where we are – especially in our brokenness – love rushes in. Love unapologetically, uncontrollably, forcefully floods into our hearts and fills our souls, reminding us of God’s grace that enters the same way. We do these things to show the Father’s love to one another. We build each other up and remind our sisters of their purpose. We are invested in each other’s lives because we understand the struggle.

Be a blessing to someone today. Reach out to someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Let them know when they cross your mind. Remind them of whose they are, and how important they are to you.


“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NIV

Peace and Truth

That peace and calmness when you should be trembling. That comment that died in your mind before exiting through your mouth as a comment. That feeling that you’re not alone when you are the only person in the room. The voice that speaks confidently when it should waver. When all reason points to a flight response, but you remain in place.

Have you ever experienced these things, or something similar?

We have been promised “a peace beyond all understanding” (Phil 4:7, CSB). Peace when we should expect chaos. Peace when we are weary. Peace when our fleshly response would indicate a much different response.

When we react in the ways listed above – when our response defies reason – we should remember that God is with us. Standing beside us. Helping us. Comforting us.

In our daily lives, we should be reaching out to Him with our hopes, fears, struggles, desires, but how often are we limited because we are “too busy”?

Our devotions are put off until “later”, but “later” becomes a week without devotions. Reading the Word will happen when we have some quiet or alone time, but then we are pulled into one thing after another. Or maybe we can just handle this “one little thing” ourselves. Our attention becomes divided between the world and the truth.

Eventually, we end up reacting in the flesh because we are not rooted in His words, thoughts, and commands. We quickly spiral out of His will and into fleshly reaponses, then we wonder how we got to this point.

We hear talk of how the “little things” matter, and that is true God as well. The “little things” like skipping a devotion or mediating on scripture allow our sinful nature to take over. Soon we are a blubbering mess crying out to our Savior and asking Him to pick up the pieces and come to our rescue.

He does that, certainly. Repeatedly. Sometimes multiple times in a day. Why? Because He loves us more than we can fathom. He wants us to ask for help so that He can step in. Even when we disregard Him. Even when we go out on our own. Even when we choose a TV show over spending time getting to know Him.

I’ve been convicted over this thought lately. There are many days I plan to do my devotions and contemplate His words in scripture, but something else always needs my attention. Yet I know He has my back. I know I’m forgiven. I know He will swoop in and protect my heart.

So why is it that I should be forgiven and bailed out over and over again – more times than I can count – even though I didn’t make time for Him?

I know He is always working His plan, but shouldn’t I be more centered on the One who loves me enough to clean up my messes? Who wants nothing more than to know me? Who wants to show me His goodness in everyday blessings?

I fall short more times than I care to admit, but I must be honest with myself – and with Him! He knows my thoughts and loves me anyway. There is nothing I can possibly do to change His love for me. That love is irrevocable, indefinable, unchangeable, and unrelenting.

Yes, He will certainly step in when I ask Him to do so, but my conviction stems from the fact that I still choose other activities over spending time in His presence and learning more about Him some days (or many days, depending on my week).

I pray that each of us will feel the conviction of the Holy Spirit this week as we move through our days and that we will heed that call to stop what we are doing and spend some time getting to know Him. I pray that before falling asleep we would all cry out to Him and ask for forgiveness (again), along with the ability to put Him first, just as He puts us first. I pray that the peace offered to every one us is received. I pray that we would focus on the good He offers because of who He is, rather than because of who we are.


“Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses every thought, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable — if there is any moral excellence and if there is any praise — dwell on these things. Do what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”
Philippians 4:6‭-‬9 HCSB

A Case of the Mondays

You know those days where you question everything? When everything seems to be falling apart? When you’re busting your hiney to make sure everything is done right so you have no surprises, but everything is a surprise? When you’re exhausted before you open your eyes and the only physical response you can muster is tears? Yeah. Me, too. I think those days are called “Mondays”.

Some weeks, you may have 8 Mondays in a row. Some weeks, even Monday is a breeze. Some days you’re the windshield, but some days you’re the unfortunate bug. This was my day. My last several weeks, actually.

Uncle. I’m out. Done. Finito. Deuces. Peace out.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to come out on top. Its frustrating, irritating, and a bunch of other adjectives that are perhaps not appropriate for a Christian blog.

Yet here I am, at the end of this particular Monday. Still exhausted, overwhelmed, and cranky. So I write.

It’s therapeutic in many ways. It helps me free my thoughts from the prison of my mind and release them as the words appear on paper (or a screen). When the words are free, they cannot harm me. They lose the power that they would have had as thoughts in my head, ammunition I would have used to berate and belittle myself.

Does everyone like me? No. Is everyone pleased with me? Nope. Does everyone have an opinion about how I could do things better? Yep. Yet, before I go to bed at night and when I wake up in the morning, I still know I have done my best. Someone else’s best? Perhaps not, but MY best.

We make decisions with the knowledge we have at that time and move forward. We do our best. Worrying about what everyone else would do or what everyone else thinks would paralyze us.

Even though I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring my way, I do know that I can face myself because I tried to act in kindness and fairness to those around me.

It’s easy to toss out an email throwing people under the proverbial bus or criticizing every action someone makes, but what good does that serve? It doesn’t serve any purpose, other than spouting off words that hurt and cannot be retrieved.

As a Christian, I have a choice to make in every situation: to show love as Christ has shown me, or to trample upon someone’s feelings and destroy their self image.

Am I perfect? Um. No. Not even close, bruh. Do I try to be better? Every single day.

The Christian life is not one of judgment, regardless of what others may think. It’s about loving people where they are for who they are in that moment. Do we have to agree? Absolutely not, but it is about speaking truth and love in a dark world, despite differences. We are to love as Christ loves each and every single one of us.

It’s also not allowing yourself to be a doormat. It’s about loving others and forgiving them – even when they are not sorry. Forgiving is solely for your own mental health and is not about excusing behavior. It’s about standing firm on the foundation of His word, the indisputable truth.

I have so much work to do in so many areas, but I try to act out of kindness. Yes, I have issues and falter daily. I get road rage walking behind people who are walking slow, or driving at a snail’s pace because it is RAINING. My first instinct is to retaliate with a snarky response sometimes (or a lot of times), but I am working on that issue. I know my limits and refuse to respond out of anger whenever I can. I try to pause and give my hotheaded German-Irish self a hot minute before I shoot off my mouth or hit “reply” or respond to a text.

Again, I am soooo definitely not perfect, but I am better than I used to be. If I can make improvements each day, maybe a fiery retort won’t be my first thought. Oh, I cannot wait for that day!

In the meantime, however, I have to give myself grace, apologize when appropriate, and repent for my hasty replies. I need to show grace to others, and show them love when I don’t think they deserve it (because what do I know?).

I have to keep fighting myself and do the right thing, rather than what makes me feel better in the moment, but could damage another person.


“The word of the Lord came to Zechariah: The Lord of Hosts says this: Make fair decisions. Show faithful love and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor, and do not plot evil in your hearts against one another.”
Zechariah 7:8‭-‬10 HCSB

“I give you a new command: Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you must also love one another.”
John 13:34 HCSB

Surrounded by Beauty

What do you see when you think of beauty?

Close your eyes and picture the most beautiful sight you can imagine. Is it a sunset? The smile of a loved one? A pristine snow-covered path in the woods? An icicle gleaming with the colors of the world around it? The pure, cerulean blue sea meeting porcelain sands on a tropical island? The rugged cliffs on a mountain cloaked in evergreens? A sea of red and black in a quad Script Ohio at Ohio Stadium (The ‘Shoe)?

There is beauty all around us. We just have to take the time to notice it. During our busy days. When we are exhausted. While we feel less than stellar. The beauty is still there.

While we define what we find most beautiful, there is no right or wrong. In fact, one can argue that everything is beautiful in its own right.

Yet I wonder: how many of you thought about the reflection in the mirror? That face that stares back at you is filled with beauty as well, but I’d wager that not one of you listed yourself as a source of beauty. Not one of you even thought about it.

For years, I refused to really look into a mirror. I checked to make sure I didn’t look overly frightening, but never really paid attention. A few years ago, I finally looked. I really saw my reflection.

There between the gray hairs and wrinkles (and random obnoxious course black hairs that seem to grow 18 inches overnight) was a woman I hadn’t considered much. There was joy in those eyes. There was a genuine smile. There was a sassy haircut, usually covered by a ball cap.

The woman gazing back at me had aged and grown an extra chin (or several) since the last time I had truly seen her, but it dawned on me that she also had a story to tell. Those lines and wrinkles were from many things, some happiness and laughter, some disappointment and sadness. They spoke of a life that may not have been all I had desired, but was still blessed.

My friend, this world’s beauty includes us! Our stories make us even more beautiful. The survivors of abuse, neglect, disappointment, sadness, loss, gain, and ridicule are to be celebrated! We have survived and used the lessons we have learned to grow and help others.

I think we are like that icicle I mentioned earlier. On a clear, sunny, cold winter’s day, that icicle sparkles and displays only the colors of what is close to – or inside of – it. Such is the case with us. Our beauty sparkles and reflects what we hold close to – or have inside of – our hearts.

By pulling close to others and God, we radiate unadulterated beauty that shines clearly through us to reach others. That beauty draws the attention of others, but not in a romantic sort of way. This beauty is so much deeper and shines like a beacon for others who need to see it.

Hanging from a high point, that icicle looks flawless, smooth and free from imperfection. However, when you look closely, you will see bumps, pits, and other flaws. Yet you’ve already seen the beauty! Does it become ugly after you look closely? No. At least not for me. I find the beauty becomes more evident because of the imperfections.

I think the same is true for us. Our stories and blemishes make us even more beautiful because that is how we reach people, which creates community. We are certainly all flawed, but our beauty is even more pronounced when we let go of the drive for perfection and appreciate the beauty within ourselves. We are each fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God.


“For it was You who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well.”
Psalms 139:13‭-‬14 HCSB

Who? Me?

Over the past several months, my passion has become helping people see who they truly are, according to God’s word. He says you are beloved, chosen, precious, able, favored, protected, created in His image, created for a purpose, friend, redeemed, free, righteous, accepted, His child. This is just the highlight reel, friends. You are everything to Him.

The first Bible study I “led” (me “leading” a Bible study was a miracle in it’s own right) caused a shift in my mind and heart. Everything the author said could have been written about me. Everything. From the assumptions that I was being judged (by people who likely never even noticed me) to the worthless feelings of self loathing. Boy, did she cover it ALL. There were a lot of tears and discoveries in that group. Not just by me, but by everyone in it. God was working in each of us.

When I said I would lead a women’s group, I honestly expected no one to sign up. Why not? Um. Because it was unqualfied me running a group. I had no experience, and I had an immature faith. But I was obedient, and God was faithful.

All of the women who signed up for my group were mature Christians. They knew the Bible, they walked with Him – and they honestly intimidated me. What could I ever dream of teaching them that they didn’t already know? Wouldn’t they see right through me and my kindergartner knowledge of His will?

One would think, right? That’s what made this group special: right in line with the message from the book, they loved and accepted me for who I was at that moment. They looked at my heart. They didn’t judge me. They. Accepted. Me. ME. All because they knew Him.

A large group of women met weekly to share their struggles and triumphs because I was obedient. Lasting friendships were formed. Battles were fought through prayer. I was blessed to learn that one especially heartfelt prayer from that first group come to fruition just yesterday as an adoption was finalized.

As the group progressed, God showed me that I wasn’t supposed to teach them anything. I was to merely be obedient, start the video, make sure the conversation got going, and listen. Wow, did I ever listen. I learned so much more from them than they could ever learn from me.

From these women, I learned about so many things. I learned we all struggle with the same feelings of not belonging, being left out, feeling worthless, and not being “enough”. If these beautiful women felt that way, why did I expect to feel any differently?

This is not to say that remembering who God created me to be and how much He loves me are now a given. I still struggle. I still feel useless. I still feel stupid. Unattractive. Unwanted. Unloved. Uninvited. But (and here’s the kicker)! I no longer wallow in it because I know I am not the only one who feels this way.

When I am struggling on a particularly hard day, I now have friends that will speak truth to me, even when it’s hard. People that have my back. People who pray for me.

Somewhere along the path, I became vulnerable. I opened my heart. A heart that had become so hardened against anything good by lies spoken over me that I allowed myself to believe. By letting these women in, I have learned that I just need to reach out. I’m safe in His love and these women point me back to Him.

I now “lead” (but not really) women’s groups without hesitation most times they are offered, and, as was the case over the summer, even when they are not planned to be offered. We created a group and made it happen, and, as a result, I have a larger pack of prayer warriors armed with God’s truths to set me straight when I stumble.

I want others to experience the same freedom I have found (at least on most days) and to encounter the love of God in new and profound ways whenever possible.

I may be listed as the “leader” of a group, but I can honestly say that I don’t lead. Ever. I may start a conversation and push play on a video. That is it. Humor is such an important part of study, and I am always amazed at the humorous women He places in my path.

I end up blessed. Encouraged. Reminded of who I am according to His truth. My faith grows exponentially. I yearn for His wisdom and voice. More often than not, I find Him in the voices of the women He places in community with me.

As you head to sleep tonight, take a moment to reflect on who HE says you are, rather than who YOU (or others) think you are. Surrender the lies that others have spoken over you to your Lord and Savior and seek His presence for a peace that surpasses all understanding.


“It may feel like I’m surrounded, but I’m surrounded by You.” – Elyssa Smith

“I am chosen, not forsaken, I am who You say I am.” – Ben Fielding & Reuben Morgan

You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
You say I am held when I am falling short
When I don’t belong, oh You say that I am Yours” – Lauren Daigle

I chose you before I formed you in the womb; I set you apart before you were born. I appointed you a prophet to the nations.Jeremiah 1:5, HCSB

Never Forget

The morning started like any other morning. I’m sure I’d argued with my son about hurrying up and that – yes, pants were required – because I needed to get to work. A normal morning. Routine. I had no inkling of the horror about to unfold.

As I sat at work in the pre-smartphone and pre-streaming era, after getting my kindergartner safely to school, I received a phone call from a coworker. She was in shock and told me she would be late because a plane had just flown into one of the towers at the World Trade Center and she was watching the news.

My first thought was disbelief, but my mind quickly moved to the how. How could a plane hit something so huge? Surely, there must have been some kind of catastrophic mechanical failure. I believe we even talked about that, but cannot be sure. I was the only person in that office that knew that anything had happened and now I had to tell the others when I had no answers.

As I spoke, she broke off midsentence and started crying and screaming, “Oh my God! It happened again! Another plane just hit the other tower! What the hell?! What the **** is happening?” Those are the only words I remember clearly from that conversation.

I switched on the radio on my desk and heard the radio account. The normally boisterous DJs were sullen and reserved. Reverent. Shocked. I ran from my desk and told the others what was happening.

To my knowledge, we had only one TV in that building. It was in the head honcho’s office. Several of us bolted up to that office to learn any new information that was available. As we stood around, I remember the tears starting to fall. I don’t remember any words being spoken.

As the events of the day unfolded, we learned of missing planes found: one at the Pentagon, one in a field. We learned of the heroes on board those planes. We learned of their phone calls and their families.

Being in a military town, everything closed. People were afraid to move around. Airspace was closed. I left to pick up my son, who asked me why someone would do that to people. I had no answers. None of us did.

An eerie silence filled the next few days. There were no planes, other than fighter jets ceaselessly patrolling. Getting on base was a several-hours-long effort. Retail stores were closed.

We had tickets to an outdoor concert that was turned into a benefit concert. We attended and I still remember the fighter jets flying overhead. People were generous and gave all they could spare to help, people were kind, and people were respectful of others. People hugged veterans and thanked them for their service.

The images on the television were haunting. The stories of the people began to surface. The country was suddenly united in an undeniable way.

Through it all, we learned the true meaning of the word “hero”. They were the first responders. They were the search and rescue groups, dogs and humans alike. They were the relief first responders who left their families to help their first responder brothers and sisters. They were the military police who kept the bases safe. They were the fighter pilots on endless patrol. They were the passengers and crew who saved lives by diverting another large-scale attack by crashing into a desolate field. They were the survivors.

Our country is divided, but my prayer is this: on the anniversary of these horrific events, may we remember the lives lost and the solidarity of the American people as we searched for answers and comfort together 17 years ago.

My daughter was born after 9/11. She has never traveled without TSA or without the threat of shattered peace and comfort. She understands the tears on some level because she has seen the images, but to her, it’s history. She will never be able to grasp the realization that life changed that morning forever.

I still think about those who were directly impacted by death that day. The children who grew up without a parent. The spouses who became widows. The first responders who witnessed the aftermath firsthand, and breathed the air thick with dust and flames. The search and rescue personnel who dedicated so many sleepless days to find missing loved ones.

Be a hero today. Forgive someone who isn’t sorry. Tell someone you love them. Help someone in need. Be a friend. Be generous. Life is fleeting and can vanish in an instant. Honor those lives lost and transformed almost two decades ago. Never forget.

Who Told You?

After a long week filled with so many perceived failures, I “lost my crap” Saturday. After a relatively sleepless week filled with way too many demands from multiple directions, I “lost my crap” Saturday. After a week of believing the lies spoken over and to me (see sleepless comment above), I “lost my crap” Saturday. After a week of unstoppable pain, I “lost my crap” Saturday. I lost it. Breaking point. “Hello, life? This is crazy person.” Done. Past the limit.

Between work and personal obligations, I was pulled thin. I was exhausted, in pain, confused, frustrated, hurt, and criticized. Usually, I am able to remember whose I am, but the lack if sleep made me forget, and I began to compare.

Comparing myself to the “good moms”. Comparing myself to the “people who can function without a list”. Comparing myself to the ones who look beautiful. Comparing myself to the ones who seem unflappable. Comparing and ashamed.

I love authenticity, but I found myself despising my authentic self. The real me suddenly was less than enough after breaking through that barrier months ago.

Life deals us a doozy of a hand sometimes. We lose focus. We wallow in self pity. We find ourselves too exhausted to pick up the pieces.

After I “lost my crap”, the guilt set in. Guilt is debilitating for me. I blame myself for my struggles, for the struggles of others, for the Cuban Missile Crisis…. Irrational guilt.

Guilt is from the enemy. Conviction is from God. These things I know, yet head knowledge is different from heart knowledge. Guilt tells you that you are less than, worthless, an idiot. Conviction tells you to repent and you’ll be forgiven because you are loved.

I found myself calling myself names and beating myself up over exhaustion. I’ve heard a couple of amazing sermons based on Genesis passages lately that relate to this stellar display of shame (*eyeroll*).

God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. “And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.” (Genesis 2:25 NKJV)

After eating from the only tree that was forbidden, their tune changed. God was walking in the garden, but Adam and Eve were hiding. When God asked why, Adam replied, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” (Genesis 3:10 NIV). They were ashamed.

God asked Adam, “…Who told you that you were naked?” (Genesis 3:11 NIV)

A story I’ve known my entire life, yet the question, “Who told you?” finally clicked. Who. Told. Me? Who told me I was worthless? Who told me I was stupid? Who told me I was less than? Who told me I was ugly? Who told me I was a disgrace? Who told me I was a bad mom? Who told me? Who. Told. Me?

I did. I told myself those things. Planted by others along the way, yes, but I chose to believe those lies. I’m sure the enemy was dancing a jig because believing those lies thwarts my walk toward my purpose.

We have free will. We can choose to believe falsehoods, or we can choose to rebuke them. I made the wrong choice on Saturday, and I paid for that choice.

Truths: God created us in His image. Not ours. His. We are his beloved children. We are His masterpiece. We are enough. There is no reason to be ashamed.

I’ve spent the past few days trying to pick up the pieces of that mistake and have repented for that choice. He has forgiven me. I’m sure tears fell from His eyes as He watched that episode. But, if I choose to relive that mistake, I am overcome with guilt and shame. Guilt and shame that He didn’t give me. Guilt and shame that try to pull me farther from Him.

Friends, the next time you “lose your crap” and attack yourself and encounter shame, I pray that you hear the question: “Who told you?” Not God. I pray that you are able to feel the presence of God reminding you that you are His. That you are loved. That you are chosen, called, capable. Lay the guilt at His feet and pick up His promises. March forward unashamed.

A Note on Forgiveness

When we are hurt, it can eat us alive on the inside. Thoughts like, “How could they?”, “What did I do to deserve this?”, and “What is wrong with me?” play an incessant loop in our heads. We are sure that the ones who have wronged us are pleased with themselves and eagerly plotting their next attack.

Sure, sometimes that’s true and those habitual offenders are just mean, nasty, and hateful. Sometimes, however, the people who have wronged us had no intention of hurting us and even unaware of our hurt.

Either way, hurt is hurt. We may nurse our wounds, plot revenge, hold grudges, or shut down. We may even remove ourselves from their lives. None of these approaches are incredibly healthy because none of them make the pain disappear.

It is only through forgiveness that we are released from the pain caused by others.

Many of us are hesitant to forgive because we feel it excuses bad behavior, but that’s not accurate. When we forgive someone, we are simply freeing ourselves from the power they hold over us.

Forgiveness is something we must do for ourselves. It isn’t done for the other person. In fact, sometimes those who hurt us have no desire to be forgiven. It just doesn’t matter to them at all.

We have a choice to make in order to forgive: do I want to allow this person to continue living rent free in my head and creating toxic thoughts, or do I want to move forward with my life? The choice belongs to no one but us.

When we refuse to forgive someone, we are actually only hurting ourselves. We replay the incident over and over while our anger/fear/insecurities build continuously. We harbor animosity over something that may not have even been intentional. We rob ourselves of an abundant life because we focus on the wrong things.

When we choose to forgive, we free ourselves from the prison of living inside our heads, as well as from the power the other person has over our thoughts. We are able to focus on the right things and move past those painful events.

However, just because we forgive someone does not mean we open ourselves back up to be hurt again in the same way by that person. We can – and should – create realistic boundaries to keep ourselves safe from harm, but not at the expense of isolating ourselves.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing abuse, nor does it mean forgetting the offense. Forgiveness merely means letting go of the hurt and choosing to live an abundant life with an open heart. It means choosing the high road. It means blessing others. It means choosing peace for yourself.

I Dreamed a Dream….

Last night, I had a vivid dream. I was watching myself walk through my life and make the poor decisions as I made them. I felt the emotion of those events, as well as the emotions I faced after the events happened.

It wasn’t a “you idiot” kind of dream. Not even a little bit. It was a heartwrenching “oh, sweetie – you have no idea” dream.

As I retraced my steps of the past, my heart shattered several times, but it also danced with joy on occasion. I watched a young girl – desperate for acceptance – face her defeats – and her victories – from an outsider’s perspective. Since I was that girl, I also experienced every emotion as she faced these events.

My entire life was a struggle for acceptance and needing to feel like I was enough. Even the victories came from that place. The drive, the fear, the panic, the anxiety. They bombarded me as I slept.

I watched as this younger, thinner, prettier version of me repeatedly fell for the wrong guys, then faltered as she tried to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. Even as a thin (yet muscular) teenager/twentysomething, nothing was ever enough. I was never enough. I was terrified of being second best (or worse).

In a class of 398, I was upset that I wasn’t in the top ten (I think I was 17 in the rankings). I went into a frenzy if I didn’t have straight A’s. I panicked if I was second chair in band. I saw a fat chick in the mirror even when I could see collarbones (I remember collarbones – and I miss them terribly). I never gave myself the benefit of the doubt.

As I watched this replay, I repeatedly thought, “Oh, honey. You just don’t understand. You don’t see how much you are loved. How much you are enough. Look up. Just. Look. Up.” I didn’t judge my younger self, though. I just wished she had seen herself for who she was then: a child of God, created in His image.

I think that’s the biggest issue: we don’t see ourselves for who (and whose) we are. We don’t understand that being created in the image of God makes us beautiful, amazing, and incredible. It makes us enough.

God sees us for who we were, are, and will be. I’m pretty sure He smiles at us. I’m positive He laughs and has a sense of humor. He must have a sense of humor if He created that quality, right?

I’m learning that all we have to be is His child. If we seek Him in all we do – taking our issues and joys to Him daily – then He will take care of the rest. The hard part is understanding how to trust Him with it all, but He created the universe, so I’m certain He can handle it all. But, oh! It’s so incredibly hard! We want to handle it all. We hide when we make mistakes. Maybe we feel insignificant in this huge world. Perhaps we are angry with Him over what has happened.

We can take all of these things to Him in prayer. Even the anger, confusion, and uncertainty. We just have to lay it down and let Him pick it up. He knows anyway, and hiding only increases the distance between us and God, so talk to Him.

This is a journey, but one that we don’t make alone. He is beside us. He shows His love for us in so many ways. A smile from a stranger. A breathtaking sunset. (I hear sunrises are pretty awesome, too, but I tend to sleep through most of those unless I’m at the beach). The face of a baby deer peering at you with curiosity. The love of a pet. Those are all gifts most of us take for granted, but they are His love in action.

When you think back on your past, give yourself some of the grace He has shown you. You’re forgiven for what you have done. Those mistakes form the person you have become, as well as equip you for your purpose. Nothing is wasted in the hands of God.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Romans 8:28 NIV


Arise, sleeping warrior

The time has come to fight

Shake the fog from your mind

Upon Jesus fix your sight

The enemy has no place

In the house of the Lord

Bind up your hearts

And ready your sword

Let no evil darkness

Pierce through your light

Feel His strength

In His glory and might

No source but the truth

No outcome but peace

When His armor surrounds us

The enemy has to flee

We lean upon the Father

And rest in His great strength

His love will always heal us

Despite the mistakes we’ve made

Lay your grief and sorrows

At the foot of the cross

Take up His grace

Freely offered to the lost

Embrace the mercy extended

Grace offered to all

Arise, dear warrior

The Lord won’t let you fall

Arise, dear child of God

Arise, my warrior friend

Arise….. arise

And rest in Him.

– Stephanie Weber 09.25.2017