My car needs a bath. I noticed on the on my way to work the other day how distracting the windshield is. The dead bugs and the bird poop aren’t blocking my line of sight; they are blocking my view. When I’m driving, I can’t help but continually notice the
I was struggling and I knew it. My emotions were all over the map, I was teetering on the precipice of depression as I huddled in my corner alone. I longingly desired to say the simple words: pray for me. I couldn’t. My mind shouted lies at me: you
Mother’s Day is fast approaching. The local Wal-Mart has boxes filled with flowers. Every type of store has a collection of cards. Childcare providers are planning art activities with macaroni and yarn. Fathers are beginning to panic because they aren’t sure what will make mom happiest. Mother’s Day is
I work at a retail store and the shelves are crowded with Fourth of July decorations. Customers are stocking up on flags and stars and decorated little red trucks. I admit I’ve purchased my own little stash. There is no doubt we are longing to celebrate the idea of freedom.
Confession: I ate a piece of cake. It was delicious. It made my mouth so happy; I ate a second piece of cake. I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t need the additional slice to give me sustenance or tie me over till my next meal. I desired the taste, and
I remember when we first moved to the small town of Ontario from Salt Lake City. The kids and I arrived first because school was starting. My Pastor husband didn’t start his new job for at least a month, so every weekend we would head back to SLC. Tim
I haven’t been writing much lately. I admit that life threw me some curveballs and I didn’t do well with catching them, hitting them or even sloppily juggling them. I dropped balls left and right as I scrambled to emotionally handle what was. In July, my mother-in-law began
It started on Halloween; now it’s Christmas music until January. I don’t hate it. Growing up, the rule was no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. I’ve fudged that rule several times over my life for a day here and there. Basically, I follow the rule that my father laid down
I kept telling myself I was doing something I loved to do. It just didn’t feel like it anymore. I tried to psych myself up by reminding my mind and heart of all the positives I got to enjoy: I loved the opportunity to be creative, I loved who I
I found myself in a conversation last week that made me feel uncomfortable. The other person wasn’t attacking me or saying anything exceptionally crude; I felt an unsettling attitude behind the words being spoken. I sensed defensiveness, some anger and a lot of “I want to be right.” I didn’t
