Last spring, a mother goose, unaware of my presence, encouraged her goslings to jump out from under her pinions.

I was in awe. I’ve never experienced the sight.

The sheltering wing that she used to hide her goslings from the elements, and from their predators, was the clearest visual of what we are offered.

As a mother, I would do anything for my children.

I would sacrifice my life for them.

If dying in their place was an option, it would take less than a second to decide.

Psalm 91:4

With a renewed mind, she re-entered her past.

Without fear, she won the spelling bee… wrote the school newspaper… tried out for the volleyball team… said hello to people she wanted to befriend.

Instead of  the hair wet from swim class, head down in art class, people-pleasing mentality, she held her head high, smiled, and lived freely. She no longer needed acceptance from the world.

She knew it was a temporary visit, so she focused on the path that was laid out for her.

She spoke boldly. To everyone she met.

She offered an open invitation to the world she belonged to.

She wore an infectious, contagious smile that emanated from her optimistic outlook.

She changed the world, without fear. Just as she was called to do.

She is holding onto the memories.  Reliving them as often as possible. Longing to go back to  what once was.

Living each day as the gift that it is – experiencing each moment in its richness and fullness, knowing how precious each person, and each breath, is.

Her laughter is a sound that I never want to forget.  It should be bottled up and shared, daily, until we all walk home, together.

Her tears fall often because she truly feels life in such a raw way.

Her love is beyond words.  Nothing is sufficient enough to explain the depth, the enormity, the purity of her love.

She is fighting for her life.  We are holding her up.  Fully armored.

We are keeping the moments close.

Forbidden to be stolen.

Accept the unexpected.

Cherish the small moments.  Those moments when time stands still, and you’re able to peek inside and see yourself… experience yourself in your essence.

Look for the rainbows.

Seek your ambition. Dig deep inside and find your drive.  It has been woven into you, even before you were born!

These are the things that hindered me from embracing my circumstances over the years:

I allowed what I did not have (a husband, a “family,” and financial freedoms) to determine my choices.

I closed so many doors due to my choice to overlook the things I had (great kids, a FAMILY, and financial stability).

I realized that the life I was determined to live was right in front of me.

Instead of sitting on the swing above the path, watching it go by, I jumped down and became a part of it all.

I embraced it.

Through it all, I see strength.

My mother’s strength is not common.  It was created from a drive to “BE”.

She refused to accept her circumstances, and never gave up on her dreams.

When the happenings of her past attempted to drown her in darkness, she broke free, choosing to see beauty.  Her optimism survived the storms.

The gift was yearning to be set free, so she kept pushing forward until the opportunity arrived.

Her artwork tells her story even when that is not her intention.   The canvas is her invitation to a journey toward peace.

Welcome Page

My mom wrote a letter, to my future self, on the last page of my baby book, when I was two years old.

“Honey, be careful – don’t trust everyone you meet the way I did.”  As a parent, I’ve learned that no matter what you say to your kids, they only hear what you do.  So, I trusted everyone I met, just like she told me not to.

I’ve tried not to.  It runs deep, passed on for generations.

My great grandma passed it on to my mom.  She loved everyone in the most compassionate way.  It poured out of her endlessly, overflowing.  She was the kind of person that others longed to be around, just to feel completely loved for a little while.  I believe that she was my first glimpse of who Jesus really is, how much He truly loves me.

My mom also wrote this to me: “Remember that God will always be there for you.  He will smooth out the rough spots.”

I attended a healing seminar recently.  The speaker took us back to the first traumatic memory that came to mind.  She didn’t allow us to stay there long, because the purpose was to bring the memory back again, looking for Jesus there.

My sister and I were fighting one day, ages 6 and 7.  Who knows what the fight was about.  I had a temper, and that day it came on full force, toward my sister’s neck.  My hands wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed. I know that my intention was not to hurt her.  I just wanted to get my way.  My stepdad saw me with my hands around her neck.  He yanked me away, lifted me up high, and then threw me across the room.  As I flew through the room without wings, I felt shame, unworthy, and unimportant.  I don’t remember hitting the floor.

The speaker stopped me before I could feel the pain again.  She urged me to revisit the memory, but this time, look for Jesus.

He was there.  He sat on the floor, knowing where I’d be landing.  I fell into His lap and He held me.  He looked at me, the way my great grandma used to, and loved me.  He saw the fear, unworthy,  and unimportant feelings that attached themselves to me as I flew through the air.  He gently wiped them off, and replaced them with worthy, important, and adored.

I locked myself in the bathroom, knowing that the moment that broke me had arrived.
I stayed there, for days it felt like, until the earth slowed from its rapid spinning.
Even then, I couldn’t comprehend words spoken to me. I knew the faces staring at me, but I wasn’t able to produce a response to their inquiries.
It felt as if I was moving in slow motion, and the rest in fast forward.
Confusion. Anger. Numb. Defeat.
These emotions were on repeat. For several years.
I made mistakes. I wasn’t me.
Upon my return, 10 years later, I’ve arrived.
Bold. Independent. Real. New.
I know a peace that cannot be attained unless that broken moment was experienced.
I have arrived. I’m the only me I’ll ever be.
Accepted. Conquered. Loved. Me.

I was 22 when I was set free the first time.

My life was out of control.  It felt like every decision I made was a bad one.  My “rock bottom” occurred when I went through a devastating break up with the first guy I thought I was in love with.

My step-brother and his best friend were my best friends at the time.   Their lives were radically changing while I was wasting away in self pity.  They started going to church and talking about Jesus.  My step-brother said he saw this Jesus in a dream, and He offered him a golden heart if he followed Him.

I don’t remember all the details now, 20 years later, but I decided to follow Him too.  I confessed my sins, repented, and started living differently.  I thought.

Looking back, I realize it was a shallow, conditional relationship, on my part.  I “agreed” to follow Jesus since He seemed safe.  I thought that if I read the Bible, prayed, and went to church that I would be SAFE.  INVINCIBLE.

It was this false sense of who Jesus was and what He would do for me that led me to marry my ex-husband.  Invincible, to me, meant divorce-proof.  I actually said, out loud, to close family and friends that “God will take care of everything.”  I thought of God as the boisterous genie in Aladdin, except he had limitless “wishes to grant,” IF I did my part.  I didn’t realize that God isn’t our puppet master.

My mom saw the red flags and warned me.  She put HUGE ORANGE CAUTION BARRELS on my path, but I stubbornly knocked them down and allowed my false sense of who God was to pierce the barrels with my ignorance.

We dated for one month before we were engaged, and six months later we were married.  One month after our wedding day, I was pregnant.  9 months later, pregnant again, and then again, and then one last time.

Free will, no strings for the imagined puppet master, a broken childhood, and several other unknown reasons drove my ex-husband to commit adultery.  It destroyed me…