I saw a meme the other day that said, “You don’t always have to tell your side of the story.”

Isn’t that the truth? But it’s oh, so hard.

A person who doesn’t feel the need to defend herself is someone who has complete and utter security in the Lord. Someone who knows she’s a daughter of the king, righteous, and accepted. Someone full of grace and power and position.

I want to be that person.

All too often, I’m quick to defend, quick to justify—even if only in my head.

And when I do open my mouth to share my defense, I usually end up adding a line or two that I regret.

The root of defensiveness is insecurity, and the root of insecurity is a missing or mistaken identity.

We’ve misidentified who God is—and who He says we are.

Over and over again, the Word tells us He is our defender, our protector, our shield, our salvation. He is our refuge, our hiding place, our strong tower, our shelter.

He never asked us to self-protect.

He might give us wisdom to set boundaries. And certainly He’s asked us to guard our hearts, which is an action on our part.

But overwhelmingly in Scripture, we see that He is the one who fights for us (Exodus 14:14), who places a shield around us (Psalm 3:3), who hems us in, behind and before (Psalm 139:5).

Right now, there’s so much noise in the world, so many people trying to tell their side of the story.

Sometimes all we need to do is listen. And in listening, we find empathy and compassion and a capacity to love as Christ does.

My parents were big on having us memorize Bible verses when we got in trouble. These two have stayed with me (maybe because most of my tallies in elementary school were for talking J):

“Whoever guards his mouth preserves his life” (Proverbs 13:3).

“Whoever restrains his lips is prudent” (Proverbs 10:19).

We don’t have to open our mouths every time we feel threatened by what someone else says. We don’t have to give our opinion just because someone has a different one. And we don’t always have to defend our position. Because, let’s face it, sometimes we are wrong.

And sometimes, even when we’re right, we might win in the long run by listening first.

So, let’s be prudent, life-preserving people who walk in the security and confidence of our Christ-given identity and who bring life and joy to the world around us.

Fear of Man: Part Two

“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trust in the Lord is safe.” – Proverbs 29:25.

In the book Stop Calling Me Beautiful, Masonheimer reminds us that this verse doesn’t say the fear of man is a snare, but rather the fear of man lays a snare. She calls the fear of man the trapper, not the trap. I’m paraphrasing here, but she basically says the trapper deceives, hides the trap, makes it blend into the surroundings, feels normal so you’ll feel safe to walk in that direction.

Wow.

The fear of man is a burden I don’t want to carry anymore. It has weighed me down in some seasons more than others, but I want to be free. Don’t you?

What’s the opposite of being taken in by the trapper? Trusting the Lord. That’s how we stay safe.

As an example, I’m thinking about my writing, my platform, and the whole process of trying to gain the approval an editor.

I changed genres from what I first set out to write because someone in the industry suggested it—telling me my genre (women’s fiction / contemporary fiction) won’t sell and suggesting instead that the manuscript be something else. So I re-wrote that entire book to make it a romance because romance sells.

Fast forward seven years, and I just finished re-writing that book (again) back to women’s fiction because when I returned to God’s words to me, what He has spoken over me about my writing, I remember that He called my work to be real and relatable, to write about people, families, marriages that are authentic and flawed but so capable of being redeemed.

Of course, I love a good love story—and my work will probably always have some element of that because the gospel is the greatest love story ever written. But my heart has always been to write about women and overcoming their struggles within themselves and in all relationships—marriage, family, friendships.

I have also shied away from really writing some of the stories on my heart because I get so worried about other people’s opinion. I shared this with Howell for the first time last year when I told him, if I write about a failing marriage, will people assume it’s ours? If I write about sisters who hate each other, will people think I’m harboring some deep resentment toward my own sister? If I write about a mom/daughter or dad/daughter conflict, if I write about blending families or divorced parents, will people question my own family, my own relationships? Will people think I’m writing about them if their story is similar?

Maybe this is a normal concern for writers who are getting started, but I have felt so trapped by these fears for a while, and I think making the decision to re-write my manuscript last fall was my first step toward freedom.

But the fear of man is not just about my writing. I’ve entered a new season with a renewed desire to deepen the friendships I have—to invest in new ones and to return to being real and vulnerable with the old ones.

No area of people pleasing / people fearing affects me more than communities of women. Friendships.

This is not to say I can’t fall into the trap with my family or in my marriage, but there’s a certain level of security there, right? I have confidence in their love for me, no matter what I do or say.

The commitment to be friends—and stay friends—is not as certain.

And that uncertainty makes me feel insecure.

And insecurity makes me want to control.

And sometimes control looks like not engaging, because I’ll just get hurt.

Can you relate?

I like how it feels to be on the inside, but any reminder that I’m really just on the fringe makes me feel insecure. And the people I work the hardest to please and worry the most about disappointing are often not even really my friends. They’re acquaintances at best and strangers at worst.

I can sometimes get so caught up in wondering and trying to anticipate what other people want or think that I lose sight of what I even want or think.

And even more muddied from what I want or think becomes deciphering what God wants or thinks about me.

Isn’t that what happened with my writing and the back-and-forth genre struggle?

Isn’t that what happens when I shrink back from other women, when I choose not to engage, when I avoid getting hurt?

But if I listen to what God thinks about me, I would know He’s already pleased. I have his full approval. I’m accepted and loved. I have need of nothing else because nothing else can really top that.

The fear of man lays a snare, but I choose not to let the trapper trick me. Not this year.

I will trust the Lord. I will believe what He says about me. I will listen for his voice above the noise.

What about you, friends?

P.S. If you missed Part One, check it out here. 

Peace or Fear: Part One

“I don’t want to die.”

These are my forced, barely whispered words between gasps for air as Howell and I argued (again) about whether to call an ambulance and have (another) visit to the ER.

It sounds dramatic, but even now, weeks later I can still remember the fear that gripped me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t think straight.

Because the only thoughts running through my brain were 1) our hospitals are over maxed capacity; 2) if I go to the hospital, they’ll put me on a ventilator; and 3) if I go in, I might not come out.

Fear. Fear. Fear.

I was truly terrified.

Obviously, I didn’t die, though I did feel like death for a while.

And while I did have COVID pneumonia, my symptoms weren’t actually related to the virus.

And while all of this did lead to another surgery this year (after the almost baseball-sized tumor on my thyroid this summer), I did not have to stay in the hospital this time.

But I keep coming back to that moment, to those words, to that level of gut-wrenching fear.

What if I don’t come home? What if I never see Howell’s face again? Never hold my girl?

I can think of at least two other life-threatening moments I have experienced (this was not), and the stark contrast between my fear here and the peace I felt in those moments is astounding.

Peace or fear. I get to choose, right?

I have experienced and witnessed a lot of fear lately.

Fear falls into two camps, one related to our (potential) circumstances and one related to people. I’m hoping to dive into this second one in a Part 2 post, but for now—and for this specific situation—my fear was definitely about a potential circumstance. What might happen.

Years ago, Jackie Mize called FEAR False Evidence Against Reality.

Isn’t that so true? What we fear almost never comes to reality.

Kris Vallotton says it like this: “Fear is imagining the future without God.”

Let’s look at Jesus’s words to us in John 14:27. He says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled; neither let them be afraid.”

How can He tell us not to have troubled hearts, not to be afraid?

Because He has given us his peace.

We have the peace of Jesus.

We have the gift of the Holy Spirit’s presence at all times.

We have the promise of God’s goodness and faithfulness always.

What better news could He give us? His Word tells us that no weapon formed against us shall prosper (IS. 54:17).

But here’s the question… Here’s where we have to get real: Do we really believe His word? Do we believe what He says is true?

I have struggled with this question more in the last year than most recent years, specifically in the area of healing.

Because sometimes God doesn’t heal in the way we want or ask, no matter how firmly we believed or how repeatedly we prayed.

And because sometimes hard stuff still happens to us, even when we prayed it wouldn’t.

In these moments, it feels like God’s word isn’t true.

But we have to choose. We choose to say yes to His word, yes to His nature, yes to His character. We stand on His faithfulness in the past. We stand on His sovereignty and the good plans He has for us.

It’s okay to ask the hard questions. How are you being real with Him if you don’t?

Ask and listen—and then trust and believe.

And if you find your heart troubled by present or potential circumstances, don’t give in to the fear. Embrace the peace that is available.

 

p.s. If you need a pep talk for overcoming fear and embracing what God says about you, read Romans 8 every day this week. I promise you’ll be encouraged.

Got Plans?

Sometimes it's easier to think our plans are better than God's--that we know better, and if only He'd listen and do things our way, He would see how great our ideas are.

Ever been there? I know I have--and it's a battle to remind myself that He knows better. He sees our future.

Miles Sweeney preached at our church last fall, and at one point in his sermon, he said, "God enters our life from the future."

There's a Casting Crowns song that says it like this: "To you my future is a memory."

Over and over again, God's word is clear that He has good plans for us, that He determines our steps, that He leads us to the best place--green pastures and still waters.

And in my life, I can recall example after example where God had a better way. Like the time I really wanted to go to A&M and study journalism. And God wanted me to go to Angelo State instead--a much better plan for my life because it's where I met Howell.

Speaking of my hubs reminds me of  another one of my plans. It was my senior year at Angelo, and I was going to grad school the next fall, moving back to Lubbock. I had it all figured out--and my plan did not include dating. What a distraction! I told the Lord I didn't want to date until I finished my PhD.

Then enter Howell, stage left.

He was not part of my plan. His timing was all wrong.

How could we date if I was moving?

How we could get married if we lived three hours apart?

How could I be married if I wanted to focus on grad school?

I'm so glad when I graduated with my PhD in 2012, Howell and I had been married for four years. What a blessing he was to me during one of the harder seasons of my life.

Sometimes I took at my life, and I think: this is not what I planned--thirty-two, ten years of marriage, and an empty five-bedroom house.

It's easy to say, this is not how it was supposed to work out. It's not how we planned it.

I have to remember--to remind myself--God knows the best way, the best plan, the best timing, the best story.

He writes far better than I do, and He's got a great plot in mind.

I don't know it. I can't predict it. I can't see it right now.

But He does. He sees from the future to now, and already, He's called it good.

What about you, friends? Is there something in your life you're waiting for? Is there a dream that's delayed?

Are you facing circumstances that feel unfair? Or life's not what you would've wanted? Not how you would've written this chapter?

Take heart. Take courage.

God's plans are far superior to ours, and we really can trust Him. He is good.

My prayer for 2019 is "lead me." Lead me to green pastures. Lead me beside still waters. Lead me to the path everlasting.

Fav Reads of 2018

Y'all, 2018 was a good year for books. I surpassed my reading goal for the year (and devoured six books in ten days over my Christmas break! :)) Today, I'm sharing my top-five favorite fiction I read in 2018 and my top five from the TBR pile for 2019.

Favorite Books I read in 2018:

5. Things I Never Told You by Beth Vogt

4. The Nightingale by Kristen Hannah

3. A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner

2. Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate

1. Katherine Reay. Yes--not a book, just an author because in 2018, I read everything she's ever written (so far!), and I can't pick just one favorite (Dear Mr. Knightly and Lizzy and Jane and The Austen Escape and The Bronte Plot and A Portrait of Emily Price)

Books I'm excited to read in 2019:

1. The Rancher's Unexpected Baby by Jill Lynn (release date: January 15). (Spoiler alert--I already read this and loved it, but it's not out for all of you until TODAY--Jan 15--so go get a copy! :))











2. The Printed Letter Bookshop by Katherine Reay (release date: May 14)












3. Moments We Forget by Beth Vogt (release date: May 7)

4. The Memory House by Rachel Hauck (release date: April 2)

5. Summer by the Tides by Denise Hunter (release date: May 21)











What about you, friend? What do you recommend that you read last year? And what books are on your TBR pile for 2019?

Top Nine of 2018

Happy New Year, friends! I couldn't figure out how everyone was posting their top nine in a single photo on social media, but I wanted to share mine with you:

We went to San Diego in March for a conference and found $13 lobster! I was completely freaked out to eat it, but I love this picture because it reminds me that my precious hubs makes me brave. (p.s. It was delicious!)

We lost Charlie in April, and I still miss him. He was an incredible dog. We didn't rescue him; he rescued us! 

We went to Charleston in June for our 10-year anniversary.

My hubs always makes me feel special on my birthday, but I especially love the faith he has for our family. 

Giving my thank-you speech for the ACFW Genesis Award was definitely a highlight of 2018.

We took our annual family trip to Wimberley, and this was one of my fav pics from the weekend. Canyon's face is priceless. (Don't worry, Doc got Canyon a telescope for Christmas. :))

We spend as much time with our nephews as possible, but our day at the Corn Maize may be one of my favorites in 2018.

Our only TTU Football game of 2018 (and a disappointment at that)--but my family is my favorite. I'm so glad I have a sister because I'll always have a friend.

I don't even know how to caption this. We spent a lot of time at Caprock Canyons this summer and fall. Camping. Hiking. Disconnecting from the world and connecting with our maker. I can't put into words how grateful I am for this man. I will follow him always. 

How was your 2018? What're your top nine pics--or memories?

Merry Christmas!

Every December, we take a break from the blog to focus on our families and refuel for the new year. From the Brandenburgs--including Rizzoli--we hope you have a wonderful Christmas!

Check back in January for new posts--and in the meantime, catch up on old posts:

#MarriageMonday

#TransparentTuesdays

Most Popular:

- He's in the Waiting

- His Joy Comes in the Morning

- Swinging Pendulum

- Having Faith in the Gap

- Planting Seeds of Faith: Reminders this Harvest Season

When it doesn't feel okay...

I have had this quote running through my head for weeks: “Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” 

If it’s not okay, IT’S NOT THE END.

I am a sucker for happy endings. I like it when the guy and girl get together. When the family is reunited. When the team wins. When the hero succeeds and the enemy is defeated.

I love it all.

Sometimes the sad ending is the realistic one—but I’ve been thinking lately, even if it’s sad, it’s not over; it’s not the end. There’s tomorrow, there’s next year, there’s another season, another chance. Even in the face of death, there’s life for those who remain.

Isn’t that the truth of God’s redemptive story for us?

We have hope—always—because it’s not the end. And when it is the end, it’s going to be good, victorious, glorious.

That’s why His hope never disappoints (Rom 5:8), why it is an anchor for our soul (Heb. 6:19)—both sure and steadfast.

The other day, I feel like the Lord reminded me that anyone who is destined for greatness must have a good story. And any good story requires an obstacle, a conflict, an unfulfilled dream.

Maybe you need to hear that today. You’re destined for greatness in God’s kingdom—and He’s writing a good story in your life.

How can we be sure?

Because God’s word is true, and He’s promised His plans for us are good—to give us a hope and a future (Jer. 29:11).

What’s your obstacle right now? Whatever it is, it’s not permanent. 

Take heart, my friend, if you’re struggling today. It’s only for a season, a chapter, a section, a volume—but it’s not forever, and it’s not the end.

A Heart of Sacrifice

Last weekend I spoke at a breakout session at our church’s women’s event, and I wanted to share just a small part of my talk for this week’s post because God put this message on my heart—and I hope it’ll challenge you like it’s challenged me.

My message was about giving, and what I wanted to get at was the idea that giving is more about our heart than it is about money. Money is just the means, the tool that gets talked about the most. But a heart of giving is really tied to a heart of sacrifice.

Remember Abraham’s story—when God asked him to sacrifice Isaac?

The story is in Genesis 22 (read the whole chapter here). The summary version is God says, hey, Abraham, take your son, your only son whom you love, and offer him to me as a burnt offering. And Abraham rose early the next morning to do it. He didn’t wait. He didn’t delay. He just got up and went. And he doesn’t just go—he makes preparation for the offering.

I’m sure most of you have heard this story’s ending, right? God sees Abraham’s obedience, his willingness to sacrifice his son—his only son—and so God provides a ram instead.

Abraham calls this place Jehovah Jirah—which we translate as the Lord who provides. The literal meaning here is the Lord who sees to it. I love that. God sees to it that Abraham is provided for—but only AFTER he was willing to sacrifice what he valued. 

What do you value most in this life? Now imagine that God asked you to give it up, to give away the most precious thing in your life. And not just give it up, but literally sacrifice it on the altar.

Was your most valuable thing a person? Your children or your spouse?

I can’t even comprehend how hard it would be to sacrifice my husband. I literally can’t imagine my life without him. And we don’t have children, but like Abraham, we have promises from God. Abraham waited 25 years for his promised son. We’ve only waited 7, and it feels like a lifetime sometimes. What if God asked me to sacrifice my baby that I’ve waited seven, eight, ten years for?

Abraham didn’t question God. None of it makes sense. This is his promised son we’re talking about. But he didn’t argue. He keeps going—and trusting. 

We read this story already knowing the outcome, but HE DID NOT KNOW THE OUTCOME, y’all. He thought he was about to kill his son. And he was willing to do it because it was what God had asked him to do.

This story is all about Abraham’s willingness to give up something he loved and valued as an act of worship and obedience.

A heart of giving is more about surrender than anything else. And it’s not really surrender or sacrifice unless it hurts a little, unless it tugs at you—you know what I mean? Like ouch, that’s hard to give up.

But here’s the blessing when we do—remember God’s words to Abraham? He promised to bless him, to multiply his offspring, to give them the land of their enemies, to bless the nations through his children. That’s a pretty massive promise.

God has been dealing with me on this message—are there places in my life, areas of value that I hold back, dreams I haven’t given Him?

If he asked me to sacrifice my greatest desire, would I do be willing?

What about you, friends? Is there anything you are holding back? Anything closed fisted?

I pray we would open our heart, be generous, and be willing to say yes.

A Letter to the Not-Yet Mom

To the Not-Yet Mom from a Not-Yet Mom:

I’ve been on this not-yet journey for seven years, and I was thinking recently about how much pressure I have felt—and sometimes still feel—about all the things I could “do” to make this desire in my heart a reality. (As if I am sovereign, and He is not.)

Do you ever feel that way?

Well-intentioned people will have plenty of suggestions about what you could or should do, like stay away from plastic, gluten, dairy, sugar, diet drinks, and so on. Or they'll suggest a variety of products, vitamins, regimens, etc. because of someone they know who did X or Y, and SHE got pregnant.

That doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the fertility conversation—what doctor to go to, what hormones to take, what procedures to do.

Here’s the truth: People mean well—they really do. And for the most part, they don’t know what to say or how to help, so they fall back on what they know or have heard, especially if they haven’t actually walked through infertility.

But friends, can I be real with you?

It’s way too easy to get sucked into the “if I do this, then” trap.

Bottom line?

Women get pregnant every day—because God opens their womb and causes them to carry a baby.

The Bible is very clear that God creates and sustains life. No one else. Nothing else. Period.

Read your Sarah stories and Rachel stories and Hannah stories and Elizabeth stories. Want to know why they conceived? Because God opened their womb at the exact moment, at the exact time He said He would.

I’m not saying you can’t take the pills and eat the diet—or even that those things don’t help. (Trust me, I've done them—and am doing them.)

But what I want for you, and for me, is FREEDOM from the pressure that we have to do or be or say just the right things to MAKE this happen in our bodies.

Be prayerful about what you do or don’t do—but the only voice of wisdom you have to hear from is God’s. And fortunately for us, He’s promised to give us wisdom anytime we ask for it (James 1:5).

Rest, my friend, in God’s goodness and in His perfect plan. I know the LAST thing you want to hear right now is to wait on His timing. Believe me, I went through a season where I loathed the phrase. But it’s the truth—He knows what He’s doing.

I’m here if you need me. And I’m always praying—for you and for me.

~

Laura

That's a Wrap - ACFW 2018

Another great ACFW conference is in the books. I will try to hit the highlights like I do every year post-conference (see 2015 and 2017), though I am not sure I can do them justice this year.

1. Debbie Macomber delivered our keynote sessions, and y’all she is as cute as her Hallmark movies. While I’ve read a few of her series, I did not know much about her personally, and I so enjoyed her transparency and humor and heart for the Lord.

2. Liz Curtis Higgs received the Lifetime Achievement Award and led part of the workshop track I attended on Friday AND showed up at our Hartline Literary Agency dinner on Friday night (her hubs is represented by Hartline). I tamed my fangirl feels (I think), but I did manage to sneak not one but two pictures with her! Ha!

3. As always, I learned A TON! But my two favorite sessions: getting to hear from the editors at three different publishing houses talk candidly about expectations and preferences and attending Julie Gwin’s session on proposals. I still have much to apply, but I’m grateful for the knowledge!

4. Every year, I make new friends, and this year was no exception. I’m grateful for the catch-up time with my critique partner and the new friendships formed—some of which were social media friends I finally got to meet in person.

5. The Gala must be mentioned because it was so fun! My agent won Agent of the Year, and the shock on his face was priceless. He is a humble man, but so very deserving! Tamera Alexander sat at our same table, and I got to see her win not one but two Carol awards. And I’m still pinching myself two days later that I won the Genesis for the Short Novel category. What a dream come true!

My hubs went with me to Nashville, and even before we left, he kept asking if I was going to prepare an acceptance speech. I dismissed the idea, thinking there’s no way I actually will win. I was pleased to just be a finalist this year. But he continued to say, I really think you should write something down.

When I went to the rehearsal on Saturday afternoon, I was chatting with a fellow finalist, who had won Genesis in a previous year, and she asked if I’d written anything down. When I said no, she said, you really ought to because when I won, I hadn’t prepared anything, and once I got up on stage, in front of all those people, I wished I had.

So, you know, an hour before the Gala, I’m getting ready and jotting down some notes. No time like the last minute, right?!

When the announcer called my name, Howell leans over to whisper “I knew it!” in my ear. He captured the entire speech and had texted it out to everyone we know before I could even get back to my seat. I sure love him and love his support for me. (If you want to see the video, it's on Facebook here).

I’ve been overwhelmed by the congratulations I’ve received, the videos and text messages and social media comments. God really does get 100% of the credit in my mind. It’s His gift and all for His glory!

If you attended this year, what are your favorite moments? 

Any #ACFW2018 First Timers?

My first experience with the ACFW conference could best be described as 90% terror and maybe 10% excitement. I’ll never forget when Howell dropped me off at the airport. Maybe because it was some ungodly hour in the morning or maybe because he wasn’t going to be with me for the first two days of the conference (and he is my security blanket!)—it’s hard to say. All I know is when I made it through security, I stopped to set my stuff down in a chair and re-group. And then out of nowhere, my eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t stop crying.

I won’t call it a full-blown panic attack—that might be a bit overdramatic, and I know those are a real thing for some people—but let’s just say, my breath was caught in my chest. Here I am, in front of God and everyone, bawling my eyes out. I fumbled my phone before typing in Howell’s number. He hadn’t even left the parking lot, and already, I’m telling him I can’t do this. It’s too hard. Too scary. Too much.

Meet with agents and editors?

Show my work that has been only closely shared with friends and family?

Small talk with strangers?

Step into massive rooms with large crowds?

Blend in and stand out among a thousand other conference-goers?

No. Nope. Not me.

I will be FOREVER grateful that my sweet hubs talked me off the ledge. I boarded the plane. I took great, huge gulps of breath. And I attended my first ACFW conference.

The relationships I formed that year cannot be measured. I made great friends, some who were exactly where I was at that stage and others who were ahead of me in the game. Both sets of contacts have become invaluable to me.

Because of ACFW, I have learned more than I could have without their resources. The conference workshops and sessions have taught me so much about the craft of writing and the publishing process.  I’ve been in critique groups, met my WONDERFUL critique partner, and found an agent. And I've discovered mentors and friends I might not have met otherwise. 

This year I feel so honored and humbled to be a Genesis finalist, and I know that while God gets 100% of the credit for anything good I write, ACFW gets a smidge on top of that too.

If you’re new to ACFW this year, what are you most afraid of?

If you’re a veteran member, what was your first experience like?

When the Words Won't Come

I've learned something new about myself this summer: when my mental capacity is full (i.e. I'm stressed), my creativity is completely stifled.

I don't suppose this is earth-shattering to most of you. It seems logical, right?

But what's a girl to do when she can't write?

I thought writing might work like this:

But the reality looks a little more like this:

And this:

The truth is, sometimes I just have to write--whether it feels particularly creative or masterful or whatever. There's a certain necessity to just get words on the page.

The other side of that, though, is to stop and reflect on whether I'm writing with God or just striving with my own effort to get this new book written. (A great reminder I recently ran across while reviewing my notes from the 2016 "Write in the Springs" session with Allen Arnold. Wow--what a weekend!)

Too often, if I feel like the words won't come, it has more to do with the state of my heart, my connection to my Creator, than the state of my mind.

And when I get connected to my Creator, who gives me all the inspiration I'll ever need, I realize something else too.

These things that occupy my mind and have me stressed out--yeah, those. Did God put them on my plate or did I? What can I say 'no' to? What have I prioritized--and is that in line with my life's purpose and calling?

Most likely it means some things may have to go. And what stays must be surrendered to Him.

Then my mind is free, my words ready, my page eager and fresh.

How about you, friends? Do you write well under stress? Or does it paralyze you? What wisdom might you share with me? 

Who's the Leader?

My best friend and I like to joke about who is the leader. We've been friends a long time, and over the years, we have bragging rights about who discovered a certain restaurant first or introduced us to a certain pop-culture icon, like a media platform or Netflix show or an artist (FYI - I still get dibs on Snapchat and Adele ;)).

When we're deciding what to do while hanging out, one of us will joke that we should go with X or Y plan because "I'm the leader."

More recently, we were hiking in Palo Duro Canyon over the summer with our husbands, and we were in front with the boys behind us. We'd playfully edge in front of each other and say, "No, you're following me. I'm the leader."

Of course, our running banter is all in good jest, but the Lord reminded me of it, especially our silliness while hiking, as I've been mediating on Mark 8:34, where Jesus says to take up your cross daily and follow me.

My friend and I at the Canyon that day no doubt provide a picture of my heart sometimes, wrestling with Jesus to be first, to be in control, to be the leader.

But you know what the Lord gently whispered? You can't lead when you're following.

The very principal of following Jesus means I'm not leading--He is. 

He is the King of this Kingdom, and yes, I am His daughter, and yes, He has given me an inheritance and status and all the riches of His glorious hope.

But I'm still to be submitted to Him. He's in charge.

This verse says to take up our cross daily, I think, because we need to remember to choose submission to His authority every day, every moment.

The Lord always amazes me. Even when I'm trying to be in control, and it's falling apart, I can usually look back and later see how He actually orchestrated an even greater plan.

So, Lord, let me--let us--remember today: there's only one leader in this relationship, and it's You.

May we choose to follow you daily.

Break it Down...

...Stop! Hammer time...  :)

You know what? Breaks are good for our soul, so Howell and I are taking July off--as usual--from the blog world. Every year, we take December and sometimes July off, which gives us a chance to catch up and get refreshed and hear new words from God for this space.

As I was thinking about our break, I was thinking about you, readers. Maybe this is a busy season, and you need a second to stop, to slow down, to sit on the beach--whether that's literally or metaphorically.

I know it's where I'll be, if only in my heart. Til August, friends....

Recommended Reading--June

We're halfway through the year. Hard to believe, huh?

I've shared with you already how reading is changing my writing. Books have always been my thing. In fact, as a kid, I was grounded from reading--the only consequence my parents could think of that removed what was dearest to me.

But now I'm reading as a writer, and it's rocking my world, in a good way. :) I set a goal to read 50 books this year, and I'm already at 35 books--70% of that goal. (Time to up it?) I've read all five of the books on my "can't wait to read in 2018" list, and they did not disappoint.

It'll be hard to narrow 35 books to my top five favorites, but here's what I'd recommend so far:

1. Dear Mr. Knightly by Katherine Reay. I am so glad someone recommended Reay to me. I am in love with her books and am tearing through everything she's written. So, so good. Unique. Clever. Well-written. If you have any affection for Jane Austen or British literature references, you'll love these books.

2. Lizzy and Jane by Katherine Reay. Read this one with a Kleenex, but the emotions are so worth it. My family has experienced breast cancer, and Reay captures this journey well.

3. Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate. I loved the way this plot was presented with two story lines. I couldn't put it down. Heart-wrenching, especially that it's as much fact as fiction. But a powerful ending.

4. Sweetbriar Cottage by Denise Hunter. I loved both of these characters immediately and wanted them to make it. A great message of hope for marriage, even when it feels hopeless.










5. A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner. Similar to the Before We Were Yours contemporary / historical flashback style, the plot for this book is brilliant, weaving one thread through 100 years. My heart ached for the 9/11 connections, but beauty despite tragedy is a powerful message.











What about you, friends? What are you reading right now? What's on your "to be read" list?

Smells like Skunk...Again

Last weekend, Rizzoli was sprayed by a skunk. Again. It wasn't quite so bad this time. We think she was running away (lesson learned?) and was only slightly dusted.

But the experience reminded me of this old post, which my heart needed to read this morning, even if it makes me miss my Charlie.

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Do you see these two? Don’t they look like angels?

Perfect angels, right?

We all remember Rizzoli’s three near-death experiences, so maybe only one of them fits that description. Unfortunately, even Charlie, “the good kid,” was on my bad list a few weeks ago when both of our dogs got sprayed by a skunk in our backyard.

IN OUR BACKYARD.

They had the creature cornered where he could not escape, and they were not deterred by the stinky smells at all. We’re convinced they got sprayed more than once at close range.

It took about four days to get the smell out of the house—and even still, I swear it lingers in a few places.

We gave the dogs 11 baths (Rizzoli, the lucky one, receiving one more bath than Charlie) with all kinds of home remedies, Pinterest suggestions, old wives tales, and vet-recommended solutions. Nothing helped with the smell—at least not on first application. We did have some success with the de-skunk shampoo the vet’s office sells, but it took three applications each.

Even now, almost two weeks later, I still smell it when Rizzoli shakes her ears, her now-shedding hair flying in the air, and I groan.

What a mess!

The timing was terrible, of course. It initially happened just before bed, on a night when we were already getting in bed late.

I fell into bed at 1:00 a.m., exhausted.

The next day we were leaving town, and I just wanted to give up, to lay down and say, “I can’t do this.”

(For the record, my hubs, as usual, was the rockstar. I think he gave 5 or 6 baths in a short span of a few hours.)

Two days later, the smell wasn’t better—for the dogs or our house. I felt so discouraged.

We’d light candles and spray aromas and bought every imaginable wall plug, but all of that only temporarily masked the smell.

Now that I’ve had some time and space from what really was an unpleasant experience at an inopportune time, I feel like the Lord has used that to speak spiritual truth to my heart.

Y’all, maybe I’ve only been masking the smell, but this has been a challenging six months. I’ve been tested to what feels like my core. My patience. My attitude. My humility. My leadership.

Even my values have been tested.

What’s more important: What God says about me or what people say? Pleasing God or pleasing man?

What’s do I value most: Being recognized, validated, defended, appreciated? Or being a daughter, accepted and beloved?

It’s been tough, and I’ve seen my flesh on a new level.

I felt like the Lord reminded me that when I try to do this life stuff on my own, it’s like spraying Fabreeze around my house and hoping it will make the smell go away.

Funny, right? Because it’s so foolish.

Only the Holy Spirit can do the real work, the under-the-surface work, where the skunk’s poison resides, where it’s settled and seeped into pores and pockets.

I recently had someone speak a word over me, and he said that I needed to unyoke myself to the things that trouble my heart. Howell told me afterward that he immediately felt like that meant unyoking myself to other people’s opinions of me.

This isn’t new information or a new struggle—of course I shouldn’t care what others think, and I’ve known this is a habit of mine for a while.

But something about that phrase—unyoke yourself—really got my attention.

I always thought of the “do not be yoked” verses as relating to marriage or relationships. But Howell’s exactly right. I’ve yoked myself to what other people think of me rather than yoking myself to the Lord and letting His opinion rule.

If there’s a spiritual smell to being yoked to others’ opinions, I guarantee it’s worse than a skunk.

What about you, friends? Do you struggle with performing, pleasing, striving?

I understand completely! Let’s let Holy do a major detox in our hearts today.