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Anxiety, That Old Beast

Anxiety, That Old Beast

Anxiety, that old beast.

It looms heavy over my head and heart, making me feel paralyzed. It wraps its arms around my lungs and squeezes so tightly my breathing becomes labored. It reaches into my entire being and makes me tremble with fear.

I’m always surprised at how quickly I can go from being completely fine to spiraling into wishing for relief from the weight of it all—the weight of this life.

This life, with all its beauty and joy drowned out by the screaming voice in my head that fights for my full attention like my toddler when my focus is elsewhere. It throws a tantrum in my brain and leaves me depleted of energy to fight.

And I wish I was easily comforted by the simple command to “trust God.” I know all the right truths and yet I find they aren’t magically taking it all away. Why won’t you take it away, Lord?…

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Nothing Bitter, Only Sweet

Nothing Bitter, Only Sweet

My view from the couch was perfect. Ahead of me were one set of big arms and one set of little arms, clapping and shaking high above the heads that belonged to each body. Legs jumped and shuffled to the music and an unbreakable smile spread across my face. Joy. 

The arms and legs in question belonged to my dear husband and our sweet baby boy. Only, he’s not so much a baby now. He’s two, and those once chubby legs and arms have lengthened and grown skinnier, reminding me that time flies and everything changes.

Me? Well, my extremities are the same, but my belly is rounding out again, telling to the world around me a story of creation and life and love. In just five short months (Lord willing), another baby will emerge from my cramped and dark womb and enter a bright and big world. Obviously, this is exciting news.…

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When a Writer Can’t Write

When a Writer Can’t Write

I haven’t watered my plants in weeks. As I type, yellow leaves dangle in the wind moving back and forth, hanging by a thread until finally giving up. Next to the leaves, bright red peppers rot right on the vine. Somehow, despite the lack of water, fresh green leaves with tiny buds adorn the top. My half-dead plants remind me of my writing life lately. I’ve got ideas and words and phrases hanging out in my head but no energy to bring them earthbound. Most of the lessons are still being learned and I simply find myself being unable to share much. 

What does a writer write about when she can’t say much?

I could write about grief, hurt, confusion, and discouragement.
I could write about how it feels like my body is failing in my 30s.
I could write about mom guilt and worry over missed milestones and social struggles.…

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Church Search is the Worst Search

Church Search is the Worst Search

Recently, I shared on Instagram that my husband and I left the church we never thought we’d leave and are searching for a new one. A gal who follows me requested I share about our church search in my newsletter. As I thought about it, I realized I don’t have much to say as of yet. The only words I can seem to find are, it’s hard. Like seriously, it’s really stinkin’ hard.

It’s hard to feel peace over leaving but not know where you’re going yet. It’s hard knowing people don’t understand and not being at liberty to provide explanations (We did not leave because of Covid disagreements, I’ll at least lay that potential rumor to rest here.). It’s hard and yet inevitable that assumptions will be made and even gossip could be spread as you make your exit. The hardest part? Leaving a family of believers you love and never ever thought you’d leave.…

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Spiritual Weariness and Chasing a Feeling

Spiritual Weariness and Chasing a Feeling

I did what they told me to do. I left my phone lying around forgotten, I read more, I tried to be present, I took naps. But at the end of vacation, my eyes were wet with tears as I poured out my heart to my sweet husband. I was both longing for the normalcy of home and dreading it. I didn’t feel inspired or ready to get back to work. I’m still burnt out. 

This summer, I’ve read more posts than ever about the rest people find in doing these things. They make it seem like the key to rest is getting off social media, trading in your phone for a book, and savoring what’s in front of you. These are great disciplines. But it left me wondering why it didn’t work for me? Why do I feel like my soul can’t quiet itself? Why, after a beach vacation and nearly zero screen time do I still feel restless?…

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How Deep the Father’s Love is for You

How Deep the Father’s Love is for You

The scent of fresh honeysuckle filled my nose, touching my soul with joy and thankfulness. Kneeling next to my son, I said, “Hey Theo, can you smell the honeysuckle?” All at once, he bent his knees, stuck his nose to the white petals, and sniffed as hard as he could. Tears glistened in my eyes and I kissed his nearly bald head and said, “I love you, Bug.” Giggling, he ran across the yard to keep exploring.

I didn’t desire nor did I expect an “I love you mama” in return—he has few words to offer right now and the ones in that phrase aren’t among them. Still, I probably declare that I love him at least twenty times each day. My love for that boy is deep and abiding. I can’t help but want him to know how very loved he is.

But I know there’s a greater love than a parent’s love for their child.…

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