Faith, Life

How Did They Meet?

Who doesn’t love a good love story? Rom coms and romance novels are plentiful! Hallmark keeps pumping out movies with the same boy meets girl, relationship-nearly-falls-apart-because-of-a-misunderstanding-yet-ends-happily-ever-after plot line year after year—and we keep watching. Why? Because they capture what we all want: love and a happily ever after.

Never watched a Hallmark movie? Watch this parody!

Maybe you’ve found love and are living your happily ever after, and watching movies of others falling in love and finding what you have brings you joy. Maybe you’re still waiting, and watching rom coms or reading romance novels gives you hope—until the book or movie ends, and you’re left wondering, “When is it going to be my turn? And how do people meet?!”

I’m in camp living-my-happily-ever-after, but my days of waiting weren’t that long ago. I got married at age 26. If you’re not familiar with midwestern Christian culture, that was a good three to five years older than most of my friends were when they got married. Basically, I felt like I was sailing straight towards being an old maid.

I vividly remember wondering just how people met. Several people tried setting me up with their friends’ sons, grandsons, and other seemingly eligible young men. Every time, I would get hopeful. Every time, I would get disappointed. Either they rejected me within minutes of our introduction or conversation dragged.

Rejection stung and made me wonder what was wrong with me. Disappointment made me wish the matchmakers would quit trying. But…it wasn’t like I was surrounded by potential husbands. The church I worked at and attended was primarily comprised of people 25+ years older than I was, and I was in a degree completion program with married and/or older men.

How did people meet? And once they met, how did they decide they liked the other person enough to say “til death do us part”?

Whether you are still waiting or you are living your happily ever after, I’m excited to bring a new series of posts to you! The series is called How Did They Meet? I will be presenting several different answers to this question! I’ll share how my husband and I (finally) met, and how some of my friends met their husbands. I’m excited to hear their love stories, and I hope you follow along!

How Did They Meet? Part 2

Faith, Life

Past Reflections and Future Hopes

It seems like only yesterday we were celebrating the end of 2019 and the start of 2020. Yet, here we are at the end of 2021, reflecting on the past year, and looking forward to the next. What were your highlights? What were your lows? What words would you use to describe 2021?

My year was a bit of a blur. But I would use the words expectancy, joy, and provision. I spent the majority of 2021 joyfully expecting the baby I had spent 13 months waiting for and praying for. I saw God’s provision, and I’m still in awe of His blessings.

I would also use the words sickness, isolation, and loneliness. My family and I were sick at least once a month starting in July, and then all five of us got Covid, and I was in quarantine for a solid month. That month was clearly isolating and lonely, but so was the year as a whole.

In many ways, 2021 was a lot easier than 2020, but a few things continued over. One of the main things was my community or lack thereof.

In 2019 to the first few months of 2020, I felt like I had finally found my people. I had stay at home mom friends I could get together with for play dates with our kids. I had working friends I could get coffee with. It was what I had dreamed about since I was a little Air Force Brat who moved every two to three year and never really found a place to belong.

Then 2020 hit, and everything just kind of fell apart. Everyone had different comfort levels, different opinions, different approaches to the world around us, and my community just drifted away. When things settled down a bit, I was dealing with morning sickness and kids that that talk me out and drain me of the majority of the energy needed to carry on a conversation via texting (if you haven’t gotten responses from me, I still love you, I just don’t always have the energy at the end of the day, when the kids are in bed, to respond, or l saw your message when I was in the middle of something and I forget to respond..)

I realized how isolated I was when I met my two youngest brothers’ girlfriends this summer. One of them called me “ma’am” and the other girlfriend’s mom is younger than my husband. I felt old, and I didn’t have anyone I immediately thought to text about it. My kids had maybe three or four playdates all year. Overall it was an isolating year.

As I look forward to 2022, my hope for this coming year is for community. Community for me, my husband and my kids.

We need each other. We were made to live in community, not alone.

It’s a little scary, these days! Pre-2020 there were things like: do you keep your kids rear facing past 22lbs, two years, or until the reach the upper weight limit? Do you vaccinate your kids according to the recommended schedule, a delayed schedule, or at all? Do you give your kids sugar, red dye,dairy, GMOs? Do you let your kids watch TV? All things we may have had differing opinions on, but for the most part, we knew we were all doing what we thought was best.

Now, things get heated. Are you vaccinated? Are you current on your boosters? Do you wear a mask? Do you social distance? Where have you been? The risk of rejection seems higher now as our opinions and previously private decisions are now used as criteria for whether or not we associate with others or whether or not they associate with us. The lines of personal decision and public health have been blurred over the last two years. We think we have a right to know where each other stand, and then decisions are made with that information. I know of family members who are refusing to see unvaccinated family members, and if family members are excommunicating each other, what do friends do? It’s scary!

I don’t have all of the answers. But I do know that we were made to live in community.

We need to put people above politics.

We need to love despite our differences—and maybe because of them.

As long as decisions and actions are not sinful or contrary to God’s Word, we need to respect the decisions made by others and trust that that they are doing their best with information they have, as it is processed through the lens of their experiences.

We need to give grace.

We need to pray.

We need to walk in humility, recognizing we don’t have all of the answers.

We need to try.

We need each other.

As a friend, I want to be a safe place. Vaccinated or unvaccinated, agree or disagree, I love you. I might not text back right away, but I still love you.

Let’s get coffee.

Let’s plan a play date.

What are your hopes for the coming year?

Faith, Life, Momming

Secrets to Tell

Hello! It’s been a minute since I last posted. There’s a reason for that. For those of you who don’t know me in person, I’ve been keeping a secret.

I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t find a way to share my news. The longer I waited to share, the more of a challenge it became. But, I’m ready now.

In January my family and I visited my parents’ for a long overdue sibling reunion. At the time of our visit, we were on month thirteen of praying, trying, and waiting for baby #3.

My husband had been diagnosed with male factor infertility, and I was a month away from having an appointment with my ob/gyn to start trying to see what, if any, other issues we were dealing with. A few days before we left for my parents’ I had a time of deep, fervent prayer.

I had been listening to Genesis, and had, for some reason, been reading in 1 Samuel. Over and over, I had heard about women whose wombs were opened and who had then conceived. I brought their stories before God. If He could do it for them, He could do it for me. I pleaded with Him to allow just one sperm to reach an egg—knowing that nothing is impossible for God.

As I prayed, a word popped into my mind: Jezreel. My first thought was, “Am I supposed to name a baby Jezreel?” I quickly decided that was not it, and grabbed my phone to find out just what the word meant. I cried as I read that it means “God will sow.” My husband’s main fertility issue was immotility. God sowing was exactly what we needed.

I was cautiously hopeful. I didn’t want to be disappointed, but I felt certain I had heard from God. But what if He hadn’t meant He’d sow that particular month?

While at my parents’, I had some spotting, and I knew we were about to begin month fourteen of waiting. I was very upset and very emotional. I spent time praying and journaling. I was ready to be done trying, done hoping, done being disappointed. In addition to being tired, I was also so confused.

While I was still pregnant with my daughter, I told my mom and my husband that if we had a third, I thought it would be a boy. At some point towards the end of my pregnancy, I’d had a vision. A split second picture in my mind of sitting with my feet on an ottoman, with my son facing me on my left, and my daughter facing me on my right. My daughter had light hair, and it was pulled back into a ponytail. On my lap, I held a tiny, dark haired baby boy, and he was dressed in warm weather clothing.

My husband and I both have dark hair, so having a blonde wasn’t even on my radar. Shortly after she was born, her dark hair fell out, and was replaced by blonde curls. My conviction that the picture had come from God grew. In the months that followed my daughter’s birth, that mental image had become a source of hope.

As I walked through the nightmare of postpartum anxiety and OCD with terrifying intrusive thoughts, that picture gave me hope that I had a future. Not only would my life not end because of my postpartum nightmare, but I would recover and have a third. I held on to that vision.

So when thirteen months went by without a baby on the way, I struggled to make sense. Was the vision from God? Was I supposed to keep waiting for it to be fulfilled? Could I, should I, surrender the vision and live outside of the hopeful expectation for its fulfillment? I could have been content with my two kids if not for the vision of a third.

After spending time crying and praying at my parents’ on what I was convinced was the eve of month fourteen, I talked with my husband who suggested I take a pregnancy test. So my sister and I went to Walmart late that night. I was too impatient to wait until morning to test, and I prepared myself for the possibility that if it was negative, it could be a false negative because I was testing at night.

I was stunned to see a positive.

Elijah Michael was born last week. His name is a declaration.

Elijah: My God is Yahweh.

Michael: Who is like God?

He is indeed tiny, the smallest of my babies. He has dark hair, and it is still hot outside.

I am overjoyed and overwhelmed. I now have absolutely no doubt that my vision was from God, and I’m still in awe that God showed him to me three years before he was born.

My God is Yahweh. Who is like God?

If you are walking through the valley of infertility, I would be honored to pray for you. Be encouraged and know that nothing is impossible for God.


Sick Kids, Sleepless Nights, and Spiraling Thoughts

It’s 6:30 AM, and I’ve been woken up by sick kids again. I know many people are regularly up at this time and earlier, but I was awake well after midnight with garage sale prep buzzing around my mind. Garage sale prep and…a bit of fear. To provide my working husband with a little better chance at sleep, our daughter has been sleeping in our bed, and my husband has been sleeping in her room/our guest room. She sleeps with her feet propped up on me. It would be a gross overstatement to say our last few nights have been restful. I’m going to need coffee and a nap today.

Yet despite the late bedtime and interrupted sleep, when my son woke up crying (and quickly went back to sleep), my brain decided to turn on, and to fill up with fear mixed with a little bit of mourning. With my thoughts racing, I was reminded to fix my eyes on Jesus. Philippians 4:6,7 came to mind, and rather than simply repeating the verse in my mind, I leaned into it.

In Philippians 4:6,7, Paul writes, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”‭‭

It’s easy to read words like, “Do not be anxious about anything”, and to hear echoes of a fish singing, “Don’t worry, be happy!” ( But Paul is not a Big Mouth Bass, and Philippians was not written by a man vacationing on a tropical beach. Paul was a man well acquainted with circumstances we would say could have warranted anxiety.

Years earlier, Paul had written about his experiences to the church in Corinth. He wrote, “I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers. I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.” (2 Corinthians‬ ‭11:23-27‬)

When Paul writes, “Do not be anxious about anything,” he writes with a resume of troubles past and present.

As he wrote, “Do not be anxious about anything,” Paul was sitting in prison in Rome, rather than on a tropical beach. His words to the Philippians are not just some idealistic instructions meant to calm his readers. His words carry the weight of experience.

After telling his readers what not to do, he tells them, and us, what to do instead and what will happen.

He writes, “… but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Rather than having anxiety about any given situation, Paul says to pray and petition, and with thankful hearts, to present our requests to God. When we’re walking through scary, anxiety inducing things, it can be hard to be thankful. When I’m worrying, I tend to have my situation in focus, and thanksgiving is far from my mind. Having a heart of thanksgiving, while challenging, is so important.

With a heart of thanksgiving, our hearts and minds are brought to a place of remembering. We remember who God is: all-knowing, all-powerful, present everywhere, never changing, holy, righteous, gracious, kind, faithful, etc,. We remember what He has already done. With thanksgiving, our eyes are taken off of our situations or the things causing us to worry, and they shift towards our sovereign, able God.

With hearts of thanksgiving and eyes on God, we are told to present our requests to God. The result? “…the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Faith, Life, Momming


We all have unpleasant memories. We’ve all experienced painful situations and seasons. One of my most terrifying experiences happened two years ago, and the worst of it started around Mother’s Day weekend. This isn’t your typical Mother’s Day blog post, but this is a story that needs to be told.

I was the stereotypical girly-girl growing up. I loved dresses, playing dress up in my mom’s old formal gowns, having tea parties, painting my nails, and playing with dolls. I dreamed of getting married and having kids. My dream of being a mom came true a couple of weeks before my 28th birthday. Six months after my son was born, I discovered I was expecting a second baby.

My kids are two of the greatest joys in my life, and I am honored to be there mom. However, after my daughter was born, I began experiencing postpartum anxiety and terrifying intrusive thoughts about the potential dangers for my new baby and the harm I had the power to cause. These horrible, unwanted thoughts led me to have thoughts of harming myself, lest I harm my precious daughter. I suffered in silence for many weeks out of fear that my children would be taken away. I knew I had to get help when I found myself crying in our bathroom closet.

I reached out to my midwife, began medication, and got into therapy. For the first few moths of medication and therapy, I felt broken and afraid I would never feel whole or normal ever again. I leaned on and clung to God. I filled my mind with His truth, and gradually the intrusive thoughts faded.

Two years later, I can finally say I’m beginning to feel “normal” again. Certain situations still trigger memories of the thoughts I had during my nightmare, but they no longer control me, paralyze me with fear, cause me to question myself and my identity, or cover me in waves of anxiety. In time, my scars may fade, and the memories of my nightmare may become dim and dull. But for now, I redeem my nightmare. I do not let it shame me into silence. If one woman finds hope and the courage to reach out for help because of my story, it will all have been worth it.

Postpartum anxiety is eclipsed by postpartum depression. We hear about postpartum depression, we’re given signs to watch for, but until two years ago, this mama had no idea to watch for anxiety or OCD in the months following the births of my children. Maybe this is the first time you’ve heard of anything besides postpartum depression. I highly encourage you to research it and to learn what to watch for in yourself and/or in the women around you.

This Mother’s Day weekend, if you are struggling in the postpartum phase, please reach out to your OB/GYN or midwife and a therapist. Do not let fear isolate you. You do not have to fight alone. There is hope, and you will be able to celebrate being a mother in time.