Just Jesus
Girls in SUVs Talking Out Loud to Jesus: How to Perfect Your Prayer Life
Girls in SUVs Talking Out Loud to Jesus: How to Perfect Your Prayer Life I know. It has been a while. I opened my laptop and stared at the blank screen for what seemed an eternity. A writer can get caught up in a personal head game of writer’s block and easily confuse it with…
Read MorePraying the Wrong Prayers: How to Talk to the Father
Praying the Wrong Prayers: How to Talk to the Father It is late; I might have blogger’s remorse in the morning. It is the walk of shame many a female blogger has walked, the morning after the epiphany; “Crap, did I hit publish? Where is my bra? Oh no… did I order pizza…are those Snicker’s…
Read MoreWhen Life Gives You Lemons… Pucker Up Buttercup
When Life Gives You Lemons… Pucker Up Buttercup Oh, my stars. I don’t think I can make lemonade or lemon pie, or lemon… anything but fresh tears. It can’t get any messier. Actually, if that is a challenge to the universe, what I meant to say was, UNCLE! White flag. Tap out. Remember the Alamo……
Read MoreClosed Doors, Open Windows: If God Were My Handy Man I Would’ve Fired Him Already
Closed Doors, Open Windows: If God Were My Handy Man I Would’ve Fired Him Already I am not a huge fan of the saying, “God won’t close a door without opening a window.” I mean, it’s a lovely thought. That He, the God of all, is up on high organizing bigger and better things… with…
Read MoreA Jesus Girl’s Guide to Soul Care: A Pedicure for the Soul
A Jesus Girl’s Guide to Soul Care: A Pedicure for the Soul If I tripped and fell on the impossibly tiny Vietnamese manicurist, as I climbed into the indulgent massage/Chinese torture/space chair, she’d die. Instantly. When I get a pedicure, I feel like a giant. Every inch of my Scottish-Norwegian-Nordic-Goddess village pillaging size 9 ¾…
Read MoreSelf Hate, Stinking Thinking, and the Habits I Love to Loathe
Self Hate, Stinking Thinking, and the Habits I Love to Loathe It is quite easy, much easier to think about the bad. The bad comes easy, sticky happens, and from that place of brokenness, it seems to get even more broken, and more sticky. Our youngest son, Charlie, is four. He is a fascinating little…
Read MorePlan B: My Baby Ishmael Backup Plan for When God Forgets
Plan B: My Baby Ishmael Backup Plan for When God Forgets Do you have one of those women in your life that says unreachable and outlandish, slay you when you need it, but really don’t want it, things? I have one. Katie. I have only met her in person once. She may not know it,…
Read MoreDear Jesus, Don’t Answer Me, Not Just Yet….
Dear Jesus, Don’t Answer Me, Not Just Yet…. Among the broken, distraught, and altogether rotten brats I must encounter each day, as their mother, I am the worst of these. I want what I want when I want it. That means now. I want my café mocha, “skinny, extra hot, with an extra shot, and yes…
Read MoreStop the Ride I want to Get Off… Wait, Nevermind
Stop the Ride I want to Get Off… Wait, Nevermind When our second oldest son, Luke was five, he had a best friend, Rebecca. The fair-haired duo sported wide eyes, toothless grins and belly laughs that left them breathless and delirious. The moment the two younglings were in each other’s midst they would laugh until…
Read MoreThe Smelly Part of Loving Jesus: Patience is a Bird Too
The Smelly Part of Loving Jesus: Patience is a Bird Too As I compose this I find myself altogether sad, and yet I am okay. No, things are not going well. Not at all. As I tucked in my young sons, Sam and Charlie, who we affectionately call the Vandals, I lost my head and…
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