Beddy's Review + WFHM life

Summer is in full swing over here. And as a "Work From Home Mom,"  that means that I've attempted to write this post approximately 1,345,687 times.   Whoever said working from home is glamorous, did not see the last ditch efforts of movie promising and hiding in different rooms with a lap top in attempts to get one more word, one more thought out on paper. We are surviving over here, people. But at least it's warm! And sunny! And at least this $30 blow up pool holds just the right of amount of class and respectability as my kids scream at the top of their lungs in pure excitement. Sorry neighbors, mama has to get things DONE.


But in all seriousness, I have attempted to find easy solutions to keep our family organized and put together this summer and well, life in general.  Let me be honest with you, organization is not my strong suit. And therefore, the organizational gene has not been passed down to our beloved children.  (yikes)

I hear people tell me it starts in the morning and it starts with making your bed. Bla bla bla, what do those people know, anyway. 

However, I have seen so many posts about Beddys Zipper bedding.  What intrigued me is the no hassle of a under sheet that separated from the comforter and the fact that my kids could easily make their bed on their own.  And let's all note that, YES, it is possible that our kids can make their own beds without using a simpler zipper approach.  However, the end result makes my eye twitch as it does not look like the picturesque, crisp lines that I prefer.  Because obviously this ISN'T CONTRADICTORY to my unorganized lifestyle or my current unmade bed. I have issues. 

Either way, you know what looks perfect right now? My kid's beds.  Because after receiving Beddy's zipper bedding, it has become a game changer for our family.  And not to mention, they are the CUTEST patterns i've ever seen.

My kids are 8 & 5 and they share a room. We have this crazy large room in the back of the house that would be absurd for one child, so we decided several years ago to put them together.  For our family, it has been so fruitful. I truly believe that sharing a room not only brings humility, as they are required to share what they have, but also brings a bond over late night conversations and plotting for who is going to  get out of the bed to interrupt mom and dad for the billionth time.  These are the memories that will last forever and will no doubt be talked about in their adult years of "remember when mom would go NUTS on us when we would sneak out?" I will have PTSD, but they will more than likely laugh as the cycle of sibling-hood rights of passage evolve. And that, in it's own way, makes me so happy.

However, the challenges of making it their own space for a boy and a girl are quite challenging.  How do we give our son , his own space while our daughter does not feel like she is in his world? They used to have bunk beds, which was so great for the time being but as they got older, they needed their own "sides."


So when I ordered their bedding, I bought it to match their little personalities, while also being aesthetically pleasing. Our family leans towards the neutrals. And by my family, I mean me. If it were left up to my daughter, her room would be filled with hot pink and sparkles. A cast of characters would plague every ounce of cotton and I would slowly die inside. JAY KAY. 

Well, kind of.  And before you begin to judge me for not allowing her the unicorn vomit of color, I for sure let her have it everywhere else. Just not in her bedding, that is adjacent to her 8 year old brother. We all make sacrifices...


For my daughter we chose THIS.  I knew that we could EASILY put a feminine spin on it with some pillows from Target and a canopy from IKEA.


For my son, we chose THIS.  I do love a log cabin, so really I just try to relay that to my kids as much as possible :)  We also hung some pennants of places that we have traveled, and things we love over his bed.  The ceiling is laced with planets and stars and his Tae Kwon Do Belts are hung on racks at the foot of his bed.   I really do love being able to put individual touches on their sides.  I want them to know and feel like they have their own, even though they share almost everything else. 


Once I put their beds together, they were so excited.  The quality of the bedding is amazing. Like, we are talking super soft.  The whole bed zips from each side with an extra sheet flat that gives it the feel as though it is an actual sheet with comforter. But the best part? When they wake up in the morning, they can zip it up on their own, leaving the pristine look that my dreams are made of.   Seriously, the next morning, my FIVE year old daughter made her bed exactly how I had put it together the day before. And why? Because all she had to do was zip up the sides and put her pillows back.  What is not pictured is the approximate 1, 456, 568 stuffed animals that are currently on top of her bed. 


Same goes for my son.  Him and I speak the same language and are often distracted with the next thing. However, this has given him an easy discipline to accomplish every morning.  It looks perfect at the end, because of the easy zipping, and it sets him up for success for the rest of the day. Because he is able to make his bed and make it look good, he is able to take more steps in the day with affirmation because he has seen what can happen when he sets out to accomplish something.  

Yes kids could do this without a zip up bedding and can learn the old school way. But why not help our kids with an ally-oop ?  Sometimes we just need to learn the basic art of discipline before we move on to specifics.


I cannot recommend THESE to you enough.  While I have gotten to collaborate with Beddy's, I assure you that my thoughts and opinion of them are solely my own.  Their price matches the quality.  And the fact that they are all one piece, without having to buy  the sheets, comforter, pillow cases, shams with every other bedding- the prices are comparable. Yet, Beddys, in my opinion has been the best avenue for our kids.  

Here's to organized beds and fresh starts in the morning! Now I just need to figure out how to throw away all of the toys. Just kidding. 

Kind of.... 




Beds: Made by my husband

Bedding: Beddys

Canopy: IKEA

Flower crown: EE Teepees

Pennants: Oxford Pennant

Curtains: Target


Pain in Healing

I watched him cower to the ground as he held his hand. He held it close and looked down as I began to walk towards him.  The morning had started like every other, but one step on a skateboard with a slip and fall ended with his hand grazing a rogue nail in the base of his bed.  I saw the whole thing and knew instantly that this wound was going to be a little deeper than a scratch.

As I walked towards him, tears began to well as he drew the courage to look at his hand. Blood was flowing and his panic began to set in.  He drew his hand in even tighter into his chest as I led him to the bathroom to coerce him into letting me look at it. 

Isn't that always how it works?  The fear of looking at the wound overwhelms our desire to treat the wound. 

As I sat him down, I quickly grabbed a wet rag to clear away the blood so I could know what I was dealing with.  It was deep. He was panicking and I was in my "mom" mode of making sure he felt peace but knowing this wound would need something more invasive than a bandaid and Neosporin. I cleaned up the blood and began to put pressure on it as it would not quit bleeding.  This was a great job for my son as he needed something to focus on.

"Hold that rag tight on your thumb, buddy. I'm going to take care of you."

We quickly grabbed our things and hopped in the car.  I could tell the shock of the initial hit was wearing off and the pain of the wound was starting to elevate.  What I found more interesting was the increase of fear over what would need to be done to heal his bleeding hand. He began to panic over the thought of stitches. After all, this was all so unknown to him.  Our first trip to the ER, his first encounter with stitches. His first wound that needed something more excessive than a Scooby doo bandaid.  If left up to him, he would have turned around and gone back home in hopes that he could wrap it up and have it magically disappear. 

Don't we all do this with our wounds?  And I mean the sin kind of wounding.  The sin of our families, the sin from others, our own sin, the sin from this world. This brokenness and the wounds that are inflicted.   Eminem said it eloquently in a rap lyric from one of his songs, "It's a steal knife in my windpipe."  While I don't think Eminem was specifically talking about sin, it really was the perfect imagery for it.  Most of the time, we think about Sin in the idea of our own.  In other words, we think more about our own sins, rather than how other's sin has wounded us.   Sin is damaging. We all know this.  It is the disease that infects this world. It is what Jesus died on the cross for to save us from. 

But quite frankly, It feels like a steel knife in your windpipe when someone sins against you.  It is a direct assault. Not necessarily from your own doing, but from someone else. A wound we didn't see coming.   These tend to be the wounds that we cower down and hold onto as to not panic from the reality of the blow.  There is no explanation, nothing we can do to keep it from happening again, unless we go into self protection mode. Using a bandaid and Neosporin (maybe) when we actually need something more invasive to stop the bleeding. 

But as we all know, wounds do not magically disappear. Severe wounds, if left untreated, can lead to further damage, even death.  So here we are, holding our pain in, covering it up and hoping it will magically disappear. 

Because, after all, the fear of looking at the wound overwhelms our desire to treat the wound. 

We pulled in the front row of the parking lot to the Emergency Room.  The Lord was near and smoothing our way to treatment. (psalm 142:3 When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way) 

I signed him in and we were immediately taken back.  As they sat him on the bed and checked his vitals, I could see the fear mounting up in his eyes.  He was trying to stay strong, but I knew he was waiting for everyone to leave to release his anxiety.  

There is something so sacred with a mom experiencing the unabridged, guards down moments with her children.  Whether it produces anger, anxiety, joy, laughter. We get to witness the "let-down, the release" in our children.  Whether good or ugly, it is sacred. It's a chance to experience a glimpse of the unconditional, never failing love of our Heavenly Father.  Our good God who says, give me your let down. Give me your release. I can take it and I will never let go.  (Psalm 144:2, Psalm 139, psalm 107:14-16,  to name a few)

Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all you who remain of the house of Israel, you whom I have upheld since you were conceived, and have carried since your birth.  Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he.  I am he who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue." Isaiah 46:3-4

It was a teaching hospital, so there were several doctors coming in to examine and inspect the severity of the wound and determine how the wound would need to be healed properly.  Our sweet boy held my hand as we sat and answered questions and talked about what happened. They finally decided that he would need two stitches and some derma-bond. But before they could close it up, they had to clean it out.

Maybe this is what is so scary. I know it was scary for my son.  He was hearing that they were going to need look at it.  Touch it. And not just touch it, but be somewhat invasive in order to clean it.  After all, if they didn't clean it out, it would lead to the possibility of infection down the road. 

I kept thinking, "I wonder how many people are walking around with some shoddy, closed up infected wounds.  After all,  sin will have the same ramifications as an infection producing, rusted nail.

I wonder how many people have simply "shoved it under the rug."  How many people have taken the blow of sin, and quickly had to learn how to walk with a limp.  Because here is some truth. We all have sinned, and we have all been sinned against. We handle it in different ways, but what is true about every single person in this world is that we have to HANDLE IT.  

I wonder, how do you handle it?

Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Maybe it's food or drink or humor to distract. Maybe it's boiled up anger. Maybe it comes out in your relationships? Maybe it comes out in other areas of your life to overcompensate what had tried to cripple you long ago?  How do you handle it?  How do you handle that sin, those wounds?  Because remember, they just don't magically disappear. 

So there we were, cleaning out the wound as he gripped my hand, tears streaming down his face. Thankful for modern medicine, they proceeded with stitches under the care of some pain numbing shots.

You know, it seems like the healing process looks like this:

Pain from the wound. Moment of rest before the clean out. Pain from the clean out. Moment of rest before the shot. Pain from the shot. Moment of rest from the pain because of the shot. Moment of pain from the visual of the stitches. Moment of rest from the numbness.  Then a dull pain from the the pain meds wearing off and the stitches holding your wound together.  

This process alone can feel daunting. But then again, is the pain and process greater than the unhealed wound you've been carrying around, quite possibly for a good portion of your life?

In this moment, my son could not understand how this was "healing."  It was painful. It was intrusive. It did not feel good and it truly was terrifying to him.  All I could do was hold his hand, pull him in and remind him that this had to be done so that his skin would heal up perfect and whole again with the possibility of a tiny scar.  But what he needed to know was, the scar would only be a memory of what happened. It would not hurt like it hurt when the wound formed. The healing would make sure of that. 

I have found that people tend to want to live in the pain of the wound rather than doing the work of the healing to alleviate the pain.  I certainly can relate with this. After all, I spent many years cowered over, holding my wounds as they began to bleed out. I was covering spouts as new leaks began to burst open.  I had two options: Bleed out, or go through the intrusive process of healing.

Life or death.

When I began to go through the healing process of dealing with my past wounding, the story of Eustace, the boy who turned into a dragon as a result of his own greed and selfishness came to mind.  As he tried to tear his dragon skin off on his own, it simply came back thicker and knobbier than before. He was helpless as all of his efforts to turn himself back into a boy were futile. That is , until Aslan the Lion, came. Greater measurements were needed to turn Eustace back into the boy he was. I imagine our wounding in life contributes to our sort of dragon skin. We try a million ways to take it off or pretend like it's not there, but as the years go on, it just gets thicker and knobbier..

“Then the lion said — but I don’t know if it spoke — You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.  You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place.  It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Edmund.

“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass, only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on — and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me . . . in new clothes."

After I read this excerpt, I cried. The kind of large hot tears that are produced in our greatest releases. I realized that if I ever wanted to come back to myself, If I ever wanted to be healed, I was going to need the Lord to look at it. Touch it. Invade it.

And it hurt.

Watching my son go through this process of stitches, I was reminded of what this looked like in my life. Except it wasn't my thumb.  It was an open heart surgery of sorts, and the Lord was stitching me back up again. The wounds that had broken me and left me feeling worthless and empty, He was clearing it out and binding me up. (Isaiah 61)


Sweet one, I cannot sit here and tell you that the healing is without pain. It is uncomfortable. It means, being known by others. It means being known to yourself and letting the Lord cut in and remove some layers for new skin to form.

But what I can tell you from personal experience, is the kind of freedom you feel when the stitches are taken out and new skin closes the wound. 

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

It is a broken chains, unburdened, kind of freedom. It is a healed and whole feeling. But of course, this does not mean the scar is not there. Many times a scar is necessary in the process. Sometimes the wound is so great and so deep that there is no way to not have one.  But like I told my son,  the scar would only be a memory of what happened. It would not hurt like it hurt when the wound formed. The healing would make sure of that. 

After all, "A scar does not form on the dying.  A scar means, "I survived." Quote from "Little Bee"

"He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains.  Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he breaks down gates of bronze and cuts through bars of Iron. Psalm 107: 14-16

You have a God who is so In love with you, that not even bars of iron and bronze can keep Him from your heart. He will stop at nothing to have all of you. He will stop at nothing to heal those dark wounds and bind you up. He is the God who shouts "SHE IS MINE! HE IS MINE!" He will not sit back and watch you bleed out. Our great surgeon who cuts in, heals and binds you up. He brings beauty from our ashes and there is no pain too great for him. 

Freedom and healing is attainable my friends. Do not let the enemy tell you otherwise. 

I am happy to report that his stitches are out and our son is on the road to full recovery.

Maybe you might start your road to recovery today?  The Lord is going before you and fighting for you. Come taste the freedom.  It's time to stand up and let your Jesus heal those wounds; the enemy doesn't get the opportunity to chain you down anymore. Jesus made sure of that on the cross.



To us, you are perfect

A love letter: On behalf of all small business owners in Lexington and across the world, thank you.   Thank you for shopping small all year and especially this holiday season.  Happy thanksgiving, we are so deeply grateful for you.

opportunities to serve- Downtown Lexington (Holiday edition)

Hey Lexington!

Our church partners with several ministries downtown that serve those in need in downtown Lexington. Our family has been fortunate enough to serve with these organizations in the past and it has been such an honor to tangibly love those in our community.  What better way to start this holiday season, than to help those in need? So I thought I would provide you with two opportunities to serve in this season:


Lighthouse Ministries Thanksgiving Dinner:

When:   Saturday, November 18th at 3pm
Where:  Sayre School Buttery

  • Volunteers are required to arrive at 1:45pm and expected to stay around 4-5 hours
  • You must be 11 years old to volunteer
  • There is no seating available for our volunteers
  • We need our volunteers to stay for clean-up 
  • Each person must fill out a Volunteer Registration Form (link below), even if your with a group
  • We are asking volunteers to donate $5 to help support the Lighthouse 

For more information, email


The Nest's Reindeer Express

The Nest's 40th annual Reindeer Express event is right around the corner on December 15th!  This year will serve 600 families with children five-years-old and under...that is nearly 900 children! During the event, the families will be provided with brand new toys, winter coats, books, and art supplies for their young children, as well as a food box for the whole family.

There are several ways to donate:

1) You can purchase items from the Reindeer Express Amazon Wishlist and have them sent directly to The Nest!  Just follow this link:

2) You can personally bring donated items to The Nest by Thursday, December 14th, which is open from 9:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. Monday – Thursday.  

3) You can make a financial contribution designated to be used solely for Reindeer Express on The Nest website:

If you are interested in volunteering for Reindeer Express, there are several opportunities in the weeks and days leading up to the event, as well as during the event and the day after.  Please click this link for more information and to sign-up to volunteer:


"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.  And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.  If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?  Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:16-18


Lets not just talk about it this season, lets get out and do.

The week I quit social media and no one noticed

I felt it stirring within me for a while:  This unsettled feeling in my heart. Before this week, I could not really put it into words. I just knew that when people would ask me how I was doing, or how work was going, I would respond with "it's fine."  But deep down, I knew something was not fine.  To be honest, I just felt "lost." And that is what I started to replace "fine" with. 

I needed direction. I needed to find my calling and figure out the "thing" that was going to thrust me forward in life.  I was coming up empty with my creativity and I was coming up empty with my relationships.  Nothing seemed enough and I was drowning in my flood of needing more.

We've been listening to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone on audio books lately. I have found myself getting lost in the story again while I'm doing the dishes and cleaning the house.  There is just something about this story that has me raptured. Mostly because of how much it points to the gospel : The battle between good and evil. Light and dark. 

As we were listening one day, It came to the part where Harry found the "Mirror of Erised," which is essentially a mirror that allows the looker to view themselves how they want to see themselves. When Ron, Harry's friend, looked in the mirror, He saw himself as the head boy while holding the Quidditch cup trophy.  When Harry looked in the mirror, He saw his entire family.  Mainly, He saw himself with his mom and dad.  The thing to remember about the Mirror is that it showed you what you wanted to see. It showed you what you dreamed you would see.  You see, Harry's mom and dad died when He was a baby. So to sit there and stare at this mirror that showed himself as something He so desperately wanted- well,  He never wanted to leave. I imagine he felt stuck to the floor.  As he was there one night,  Dumbledore showed up and gave the famous line to Harry as he warned him to not stay put there. There was life to live and he could not stay in front of this mirror dreaming about what could have been or what could be.

And so Dumbledore told Harry, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."


As soon as I heard these words, it kind of stopped me in my tracks.  After all, It kind of summed up my life. I am a dreamer. Heck, about 99% of small business owners on social media platforms such as Instagram pivot their marketing around being those "dreamers, movers, shakers."  And by all means, they are. We are. But what I fear is that this special platform of social media and the culture we live in, is the ability to form an outside world completely under your control, which in turn, completely undermines your actual real life, day to day activities.   You find yourself longing to check your posts, your likes, your comments, your followers. You find yourself checking your phone in every stale moment and dreaming of the next worthy moment to capture and tell your friends. All of a sudden your life is measured on a scale of checks and balances. Real relationships are thrown out the window for a perfectly aligned mirage of beautifully placed pictures and a perfectly wrapped package of your "life" to either affirm or destroy your self worth: your place in this world.  After all, if it's not captured, did it really happen?  

And not to spoil the ending or anything but, YES. It did happen. Even if you didn't get a picture of it. Or talk about it. It seems like in today's culture we are needing affirmations for our experiences when our experiences were always made to just be an experience for ourselves. When I was ten,  I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time. lt forever changed me and stirred this adventurous spirit inside of me to go and explore and do.  I have a picture from that moment with my brother and sister sitting dangerously close to the edge with a mouth full of braces.  It is one of my favorite pictures because it was a moment I will never forget.   However I feel like if that picture were to happen today, that magical moment would get smeared when I publish that picture on social media and begin to see who all responds. My thoughts are no longer on the moment-  my thoughts are also, who thinks this moment is great?  I need to find joy in my experience, not find joy in what other's think of my experience. 


I recently read an  article about "Recapturing the Joy of Awe."  A man named Mike Cosper was interviewed about his book entitled " Recapturing the Wonder: Transcendent Faith in a Disenchanted World"  (I have not read this book, just this article).  He gave some wise insight as to our struggle to find contentment and joy in today's society.

"We are inherently religious creatures. Every culture finds a way to be religious, whether it’s by worshiping a lizard god, worshiping impersonal forces, or making gods out of human beings—god kings, priests, oracles, and so on. The transactional nature of religion is always the same: worshipers make an offering of some sort in exchange for a blessing. The gods promise health/fertility/power/safety, and we seek those blessings through various sacrifices.......

.....Another has evolved with social media, where every post is sort of an offering seeking the approval of the “mob.” The offering goes out, and the mob, we hope, smiles back with “likes” and “favorites,” demonstrating approval of our lives.

In a way, it’s an anxiety-reliever. We need to know we’re in good standing with the world—and, without transcendent categories, we can only gain that affirmation from one another. I believe it’s what makes social media so addictive, and so predictable. Selfies, food photos (I’m guilty there), vacation photos, sunsets—they’re all a way of saying, “My life is good; my life is interesting.” And the likes and favorites are a way of hearing back from the mob, “Amen. Go in peace.” 


This was a swift punch in my gut. As an artist and someone who uses Instagram as a platform to show my work as well as a platform to talk about Jesus- the lines get murky sometimes. Sometimes I make things for myself and show it to talk about what the Lord is doing in my life. What I found was happening, was that as soon as I would show it, it was no longer about what the Lord did. It was about what others thought of what I just wrote about. You should just know, that this is not easy to write out. And honestly, It's a little embarrassing.  I always prided myself in not caring what others thought and using my platform as a way to reach the masses and to be a voice of transparency and authenticity and hope.  But what I found was that I was  beginning to pull my worth from what others thought and how they responded. And slowly but surely this began to deteriorate my creativity and my drive to speak hope. It began to deteriorate my worth. It did start my drive to find "instagram worthy" photos. It did start to drive this anxiety within me to have the "next big thing." Or to keep up the pace.  And before I realized it, I was that of a homeless beggar asking for more while continuously empty. 

As I began to reveal this new found revelation to my husband and my neighborhood group at church, it became very clear that I needed to step away for a time in order to give my heart and worth back over to the One who rightfully owns it. 

"But my people have exchanged their Glory for worthless idols.  Be appalled at this, O heavens, and shudder with great horror," declares the Lord.  "My people have committed two sins: they have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water." Jeremiah 2: 12-13

I found myself digging a broken cistern in Instagram and social media and coming up as dry as the desert. I am just like the Israelites. "They followed worthless idols and became worthless themselves." Jeremiah 2: 5.  My worth had become black and blue by the blows of what I wanted  the world to think of me. I gave my worth over to Instagram and took it away from the spring of living water that made me, formed me and breathed life into my lifeless body.  

So there I was, holding my battered and bruised heart and walking back to my unfailing love.  

With my head down, laying my phone on the floor, the Lord lifted me up saying "Return, faithless people," declares the LORD, "For I am your husband. I WILL CHOOSE YOU."  

The Lord was giving me my worth back, but not without feeling the sting of the damage I had done. On my first day of "no social media," I felt the need to tell everyone what I was going to do. After all, they would probably wonder what was going on, right? But you know what? I didn't. Mainly because I knew my own wretched heart and my motives. If I was going to give it up, it needed to be about handing my worth back to Jesus and not care what anyone else thought. Even if that meant that I was putting my business in "jeopardy" or heaven forbid, becoming someone that people would forget about. 

And the beauty of it all? No one cared. I left for a week with no words, no pictures, no updates.  And not one response in return. It was a fitting image of what I was giving my heart to, and what I was finding my worth in.  After all, social media was no longer being a platform to share my heart of what The Lord was doing in me. It had become a feeding ground for my worth and accomplishments.

I believe the first day I picked up my phone to check it almost every hour. I caved twice the first day and opened it up to see the first image, immediately feeling shame for needing to know what was going on.  It was like a microscope into my heart. I had no idea how much damage had been done that it would leave me desiring social media like a hungry man desires food. It became the steak on a plate that I feel like I needed to survive.

After the first day, I half expected the Lord to dig in with "how could you's" and shame.  But what I received was quite the opposite. What I received was a slow and steady pour of water.  He was filling my cup and reminding me where my worth was found. The absence of my phone was allowing opportunities for the Lord to speak into me through His word, music and a overwhelming wave of grace over my life as I began to create again. I picked up a paint brush and I began to therapeutically spend time with my creator while I did what I loved. He was meeting me where I was at and calling me close to Him in the process.  As if He was saying "let ME fill you up, let ME show you your worth, let ME love you unconditionally."

I spent the week in repentance as I realized this strange thing of social media had become an idol I was worshipping.  And in the middle of the week with not one person noticing it became obvious I was wounded and there would be no healing found from my abuser, my idol. I handed my worth over to an Idol that would never fill me the way I needed to be filled.  What better place in scripture to figure out what was happening, than in Jeremiah.

"This is what the LORD says:

Your wound is incurable, your injury beyond healing.  There is no one to plead your cause, no remedy for your sore, no healing for you.  All your allies (our idols) have forgotten you; they care nothing for you... Jeremiah 30:12-14

 V. 17 But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds, declares the Lord.

I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful" Jeremiah 31: 3-4

My joy that had been slowly deteriorating from my need to find worth in what other people thought was being restored by my God who loves with an everlasting love. My God who notices me. My God who loves me with a jealous love that will not stand for His beloved being enticed by other lovers. 

So here I am, at the end of this fast. I am filled up. But I would be lying to you if I told you that I wasn't nervous about entering the world of social media again. What If my heart threatens to be unfaithful again? O Lord, Bind it.  Now please hear me on this. Social media is not evil. It truly can be such a place to glorify the Lord, live in community and encourage those around us. I truly believe this.   But in all things, we must not forget our first love. I must not forget the truth of where my hope and worth is found.  In the words of Dumbledore, "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to LIVE." It's all great to dream and pray over what the Lord has for my life and this tiny space on the internet, and my tiny space on this earth. But I must not let that overwhelm my living. It must not overwhelm my day to day life of loving Jesus and loving others.  If my social media use is a means to create an image of how I want to appear, then I am better off signing off forever.  This thing of social media cannot be my Mirror of Erised.  It will surely destroy me.  

After all, His love is better than life, and my image is found in Him and what He is doing in my life. Right now.  I am writing these words down to remember. So that when my idols threaten to take hold of my heart again (and I know they will), I will remember what the Lord did here. And for you, I pray that these words would be a healing balm to your battered heart. Sometimes the worst damage is done when we don't even realize it's happening.  Dear friend, Let us take back our hearts from the idols that abuse us.

And for this space? I promise to continue to run after Jesus. Therefore I promise to always keep this thing called "social media" in check. Because Real life is worth it. Real Joy is worth it.  Real love and real worth is...... worth it.  Jesus' love and authority over my life is way better than any Mirror of Erised could ever offer me.

To the survivors

Did you know that 1 out of every 6 american women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime?  That statistic makes it clear to me that a good portion of you know what I am talking about. More importantly, you not only know what i'm talking about but you have survived a horrific part of your story. Not the whole story, but a part of it.  And what i've noticed more, is that there are not enough christians talking about it.  We need more people to stand up and say "ME TOO," because how are we supposed to know that we are not alone and that even this most deafening hole inside of us can be healed?  Justice is needed and the Lord knows I will go down fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. But sometimes, we need to know that at the other end of it, there is healing; there is peace.

I recently watched Kesha's new music video, "praying."  I was not prepared for my emotions that came while I watched it. After all, I understood it.  I was watching so many emotions being played out in this music video.  She is a survivor. And we get it, don't we?

And I was so thankful that I could relate with someone. After all, sexual assault is not something people talk about. I had no idea how much I needed to hear some words that I could relate with in my day to day living.  Now, I am normally not a fan of Kesha. But as you know, I can get down with some words that ring true. And these words, I could resonate with.  But what you also need to know, is that they only resonated with me because of John 10:10.


I could relate because I actually felt the words that she sang:

"I am proud of who I am. No more monsters, I can breathe again. And you said I was done, well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come."

I felt them every time Satan lied to me saying that I was "done."  That I was "not worthy." I felt them every time I told myself that I was not worth loving and that I was damaged goods.  I felt them every time I turned to every single thing or person that would numb the pain that I was feeling.  To fill the void that my attacker dug deep into me. 

I felt them every time I heard the Lord give me a promise that the best was yet to come:

"He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness of the prisoners... to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a plantain got the LORD for the display of his splendor.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.  They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated" Isaiah 61: 1-4

"For I, the LORD, love justice; I hate robbery and iniquity.  In my faithfulness I will reward them and make an everlasting covenant with them." Isaiah 61: 8

"Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desrt and speak tenderly to her.  There I will give her back her vineyards, and will amok the Valley of Achor a door of HOPE.  There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of egypt.  " In that day," declares the LORD, "you will call me "my husband" Hosea 2:14-16

Dear sweet loved one who has survived an unthinkable horror, you are LOVED. Not the cheap kind. But the authentic, whole hearted, no strings attached love.  You are loved by the God who hates what has happened to you. You are loved by the God who fights for you.  The God who holds you close as he heals all of your dark and broken places.

Because dear one, you need to know that there is not enough justice in the world that will compensate what has been done to you. 

You need to know that justice is worth fighting for. But more importantly, healing is attainable and worth running after. Real healing; the kind of healing that takes your deepest pain and turns it into the most beautiful story. One of freedom and redemption.  Healing that takes your chains that have so tightly held you down, and throws them the hell off.   You know that deep pit of emptiness you feel? You don't have to feel like that again.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

Do you know that is why I made this temporary tattoo? Because Christ has given me this freedom that I thought was stolen from me when I was 18 years old.  Because this Love grabbed my heart and did not settle until every ounce of it was His. Dear one, there is freedom to be had.  You have a God who not only wants to heal these dark wounds, but wants to REDEEM you.  Not just this one horrific thing that happened, but every single wound that has ever been inflicted on you.  He wants to give back what your attackers took. And he does, my friends. He truly does. It's about time you heard from more people about the God who passionately wants your heart and redeems all the places that were once devastated by the sin of this world.  

The enemy will try to steal and kill and destroy you. He will try to tell you that you are worthless. That God does not care. That how could a good God let something like this happen?  But you need to know the truth that these are LIES. After all,  satan is the father of lies. But what you need to know MORE is the truth. The truth that your Good God loves and adores you. And He is Hell bent on setting you free. He gave His own life so that you would not have to spend one more more second in this earthly hell.  

"I am proud of who i am. No more monsters, I can breathe again."

Jesus has come to give you life to the FULL. And that means a full and healed life.  A life where you can breathe again.  And my sweet friends, what better place to receive breath, than the God who put it in you to begin with.

Breathe easy sweet survivors, The Lord will fight for you. You need only to be still. (exodus 14:14) Freedom is waiting. 

grave clothes

John 11: 1-43

As I sat down this morning to read, I was raptured by this story of Lazarus. But not just with Lazarus; specifically with Mary.  

Mary, whom we would later know as the woman who busted in to a party with Jesus and his friends, only to break the most expensive of perfume (probably her life savings) at Jesus' feet and then proceed to wipe his feet with her hair.  An extravagant act to match a deep Love that she had for her Savior.  

An obedience and passion that would also lead to her being known as the woman who sat at Jesus' feet, listening to all He had to say.  All while her sister Martha, would be busy preparing for the party complaining of Mary not helping.  What I find interesting about this, is Jesus' response : "Martha, martha," The Lord answered, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:41-42)  Martha did not seem urgent for Jesus, which will counter her response to John's account of her brother, Lazarus.  We'll get back to that in a moment.

In John 11, we find out that Mary and Martha's brother is on his death bed.

 "So the sisters sent word to Jesus, "Lord, the one you love is sick."  

And His response? "This sickness will not end in death. No it is for God's glory so that God's son may be glorified through it."  John, the writer, goes on to clarify how much Jesus loves mary and martha as well.

So here we are. We know Jesus loves Lazarus. We even know He loves Martha and Mary. 

His response must then be to cure their brother. Right?  At least that is our belief in our most honest and vulnerable state. We associate God's love for us, with what good is happening in our lives at the moment.  Things are going so bad- God must not be there.  Things are good- God must love me.  

We know Jesus loves Lazarus. We know He loves Martha and Mary.  

Yet, Jesus let Lazarus die.

He died. I wonder what Mary thought the moment her brother gasped for his last breathe.  Or as she wrapped him in grave clothes. Or when 4 days had passed and people were starting to move on.  Where is Jesus?  How could He let this happen? I wonder if she started to question every claim he had given.  I wonder if  her trust for her Savior faltered when He was not there to save her brother.

I wonder if this is where bitter roots start to form?  When bad things happen and we allow the seeds of distrust to enter in.  After all, distrust causes us to retreat.  Which is the opposite of barging in on Jesus and his friends to pour your life's savings at His feet. 

But as it goes on, it confirms all things I know to be true. We are not God and we are not in control. Jesus' response was to go four days AFTER he died. "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but i am going there to wake him up."  His response was the opposite of human logic.

These words have to be some of my favorite. Here Jesus absolutely flips it on his disciples and soon to be Mary and Martha.  It's hard to relate to Lazarus being rose from the actual dead.  It's hard to imagine the possibility of life after 4 days dead, in a tomb, covered from head to toe in grave clothes.  

But what is not necessarily hard to imagine, but hard to believe, is feeling so far gone spiritually, that there is just no redemption.   No redemption for our friend who could not be further from believing the truth of Jesus.  No redemption for our lost family member who would believe in Big Foot before believing in a Savior who died to save you from your sins. No redemption for our own sinful lives; dead to feeling and hope.

But Jesus. (don't you love that sentence?)

Jesus goes to WAKE HIM UP. I don't know about you, but I know this feeling of being woken up.  And listen,  I was ASLEEP (so to speak). The lost cause. The adulteress woman.  I was Hosea who sought after lovers. And My Jesus said "NO. MY FRIEND ANGIE HAS FALLEN ASLEEP, BUT I AM GOING TO WAKE HER UP." I get emotional every time I see this verse. You are never too far gone. He will never stop his fight to WAKE YOU UP.

But it's here that I notice how good our God is at multitasking.  He is on his way to raise Lazarus, literally, from the dead. But on his way, He wakes up Mary and Martha as well. 

"On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days.  Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. " John 11:17-19

When He arrived in Bethany at the home of Mary and Martha, Martha came out to greet him immediately. The same woman who was too concerned with "doing" rather than "being" with Jesus. The same woman who seemed to have lost her need for Jesus, was running out to greet Him with anxious expectation.  

But the line I noticed the most was this:  "When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed home." John 11: 20

Mary stayed home. She retreated.  It's like you can see her hardening up to the Jesus she once loved as her world comes crashing down. As I read these words this morning, an overwhelming feeling of "me too" came over me. I understood it, after all. I understood the retreat. I understood the "stand still" as maybe she debated whether or not Jesus could be trusted.  How often do I let my fear or distrust sit me back down- cutting me off from my run to my Savior. 

"Lord , Martha said to Jesus, "if you had been here, my brother would not have died.  But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask." 

Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again."

 Martha answered, "I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day. "Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.  Do you believe this? " 

"Yes, Lord," she told him, "I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world." 

And after she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside.  "The teacher is here," she said, "and is asking for you."  When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him.


And she didn't just go to him. She ran to Him and fell at his feet. You see, when Jesus calls you; you run. There is so much comfort in that. My own sin, my own junk. My own trust issues. There is nothing that will stop Jesus from calling your name and calling you back. 

Even in our disbelief and distrust, Jesus still pursues and calls us by name. 

He can take it. After all, this all proceeded what would be the most ultimate act of love in the face of our ugliest of sin. But in the midst of all this, he goes directly to the tomb of Lazarus and calls him out. 

"So they took away the stone.  Then jesus looked up and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me.  I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me. 

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!"  The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. 

Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go."

I think sometimes our distrust in the Lord can send our hearts straight to the grave of numbing bitterness. Maybe things in your life have led you to believe that God is not good or that he cannot be trusted. After all, your story may not have ended up exactly like Lazarus and Mary's. However what is true and what I will shout at the top of my lungs, is that Jesus is after us. All of us.  All of Mary. All of Lazarus. All of us.  

He wants to unstrip the layers for us to raise our hands again.

To raise our hands to our God that loves us and is holding us tightly in our hands. The God who held my friend Jenna as she went to be with him this past October. The God who healed my best friend's son in nothing short of a miracle.  He is good.  And He can be trusted. And he's big enough to take your fears, doubts, anxiety and everything in between.  I once heard Louie Giglio say, "Jesus is not offended by your stink."  He calls you out to wake you up.  Whether your stench smells like mary's distrust, or the threat of spiritual death and decay. 

He will never stop calling you by name. Reminding you of His unfailing Love and his promise to never leave us or forsake us.  Through the Good, the bad and the decay. .