Little Moments-Big Dreams

I was raised in the much misunderstood homeschooling world of ATI, IBLP and navy & white. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, that’s ok. If you do know what I’m talking about, that’s ok too.) I grew up wearing ankle length skirts, baking lots of whole wheat bread, watching no TV, doing W isdom searches, and meditation worksheets, and of course traveling to Knoxville each summer. (I spent more time in the Tennessee Vols basketball arena than any other sports venue, and yet I never really followed the sport.) I began conversations with other homeschoolers by asking, “What’s your spiritual gift?”  I avoided boys like the plague, both because I was shy, and also because too much time or eye contact with them could form an emotional bond and damage my courtship spirit. So, in a sense, I understand the long Facebook venting posts, the complete rejection of anything remotely associated with the program, and the need to form new identities. We as "ATI-ers" lived

My love and I got married on January 4 th , 2014 at 2 pm. It was a cold, sunny, white wedding day. Perfect for some fun pictures in the snow! My cousin and aunt drove down from Michigan two days before the wedding and arranged all the flowers. I had ordered white roses, carnations, baby’s breath and greenery from Sam’s club as well as some extra carnations from Kroger. I was nervous about how the flowers would look coming in the mail, but they turned out stunning! My cousin and aunt fashioned the most amazing bouquets, corsages, boutonnieres and flower arrangements I’d ever seen. They took my breath away. My bouquet was a hand tied bouquet of 30 white roses studded with baby’s breath and sparkly silver and pearl jewels. My bridesmaids bouquets were white carnations tied with beautiful navy blue and silver ribbon. I found the bridesmaid dresses on davidsbridal.com for under $50. They were dark blue, sleeveless, knee length a line dresses. The brides

What is it like being a Pastor’s Wife? This is not an easy question to answer. There are so many layers to this role. Sometimes it feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Other times, it seems like the best, most rewarding job. But I want to peel away all the layers and look at the heart of what it means to be a pastor’s wife. I’ve only been a wife for a little over a year. And, consequently, because I married a man who is a pastor, I’ve also been a pastor’s wife for a little over a year. In other words, the man I fell in love with was already a pastor. He was not my pastor at the time. In fact, I was a member of a much larger church in another city. The story of how we met and fell in love is sweet and romantic, but for now, I’ll just say I was swept off my feet quickly by this man. I didn’t love him because he was a pastor. I loved him because I looked into his wonderful blue eyes and saw a sweet soul that I could love forever. Our relationship was not based on t

Things happen for a reason. And God uses all kinds of people and situations to speak truth into our lives. One Saturday morning, a few months into our marriage, my husband walked into the utility room and discovered that there was a pool of water on the floor. Turns out our hot water heater was leaking. My husband called the landlord who called the plumber and eventually we knew that we would be without hot water for the weekend. Trying to be the cheerful one, I suggested that there must be a purpose for this little trial. Deep down, I had no idea if that was for real. Did God really care that a newly married couple would have to rough it without showers for a couple days? What was the point? The weekend came and went. We survived and even were able to get cleaned up at my parent’s house on Sunday. Monday evening, I arrived home from work. The plumber’s pickup truck was in the driveway. I walked inside the house about the same time as he was leaving to go to the hard

I always knew I wanted to get married in my early twenties and have four or five kids.   When I was probably 15 or 16, I dedicated my single years to serve God without distraction until I was 23. I don’t know why I chose 23. I guess it sounded so noble to wait two whole years past 21 to marry prince charming! The year I turned 23, I was in Bible College. When I turned 24, I had recently graduated and I started to get concerned. There was no man on the horizon and I was back at home with no idea what to do next. Then I turned 25.   Still no man. Another year came and went and I was 26. Same story. Then I turned 27. Same story, more concern. Another year, another birthday, and I turned 28. Same story and I was beginning to really worry. In those years of singleness, I had many frustrating thoughts: was it my fault that no one had come along? What was wrong with me? Was I too shy/too bossy? Was I too heavy? Was my personality too bland? I questioned myself, and then

I first wrote this post over a year ago. I could never get up the courage to publish it at the time. But now, somehow, a year later, after I've walked through even more sorrow, I feel the time is right to let loose of these words I typed out so many months ago. May they bless someone. On January 4, 2014, I got married. I met my future husband on a chilly February evening last year and after an awkward, halting start, our romance took off and flew much faster than either of us had anticipated. (I will write more about that another day). On our honeymoon, we walked on a beach in Florida and talked about our future. We both knew we wanted children. but we were not for sure when . Then, my husband pulled me close, and there by the ocean's edge,we gave our future family to God. We had a plan somewhat in place but ultimately, whether or not our plan for our future panned out, we wanted God to be glorified. Now, here we are, three months later. It has been the best three mon