There is something crazy about the power of our memories and the fact that we were created to make them that amazes me. I can still remember the encouragement and smile of my first grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson. I just don’t remember it … I feel the memory … the way her affirmation felt and the way my heart responded to it are forever seared in my memory. That’s just one ‘feel good’ memory that could be framed and placed next to other loving memories on the mantle of my heart. It would be really fabulous if all we had were stellar memories of growing up and of life’s struggles, but the truth is that as diverse as all our lives are, each one of us has had painful memories ...

I have a pre-teen-er. He is a boy. He is in that age window between 10-12 years old. Cartoons have lost their edge, on most days, and his draw to music and activities that express his individuality have begun to define his interests. He is not a little boy anymore but he is also not a teenager. I totally don’t mind the new pre-teen definition because finally there is a spot for these kids that they can own without feeling like they are striving for that ‘teenager’ status which they can’t make come any sooner even if they try. I like the idea of respecting this season and enjoying the transition into more maturity on the outside and the inside. So, when Gateway Create from ...

So many times in life we have an end in mind, a desired result. For some things, we don’t have to wait long. For others, we spend half a lifetime dreaming and preparing and hoping and praying that the end will be like what we have seen in our hearts all this time. Marriage is one of those things. As a little girl I daydreamed about what it would be like: what he would be like, what love for us would look like. It is not a weakness in a woman to long for her husband. It is her strength to embrace God’s original design and trust Him to bring the right imperfect person to make her life beautiful and fulfilling, yielding to God's expression of oneness. Marriage is God’s design ...

The. Gracious. Wife. Those words alone may provoke the idea that I’m about to toss June Cleaver’s apron over your neck and begin tying a tight bow around your waist with new expectations to add to your list of being the perfect wife until you gasp for air. Except that I’m not that gal and this is not that article. As cute as June’s vintage shoes were, I wouldn’t want to wear them. I’ve found the word ‘perfect’ to be like a girdle that suffocates under a pretty dress and a fixed smile. It never quite fits, but man it looks good from the outside. Perfect is a façade; as women and wives it wants to allure us to choose a pretty lie over a gorgeous dress free of confining ...

“Inside every women is a little girl. We must have the courage to go back and let her tell her story.” ~ Nancy Houston They fell slowly, each word suspended in air until the weight of their simple truth radiated through my heart in waves. I was sitting in a classroom when I first heard those words from Nancy as she taught a class called “She Rises—women rising from the ashes of sexual woundedness”. My chest was turning red, and man was the room getting hot. My eyes were getting glossy as my mind began to recall her … years have gone by but my mind could recall her exactly as she was. I saw her clearly, her clothes, her wispy straight hair, her forlorn looks and the way her ...

When I was in college, I dated this guy. He played the guitar really well; actually he could play everything--and he sang too. Yes, he was that guy. I love music. I’m not going to lie, I thought it was really cool that he could do all that. More than that … I really liked him. But I had a dilemma. I don’t do any of that--that being ANYTHING musical. That’s right, not one thing. Not a thing. Nothing. At all. I know, I know … I can almost hear the sweet gracious older woman saying it now: “Don’t say things like that. Everyone can sing, darling.” I get that. And that is sweet, but I still prefer to keep my friends by keeping my concert skills to the ‘eyes’ of my ...

When I was a little girl I used to wake up in the middle of the night in tears, complaining to my mother of dull aching pains in both of my legs. My mom would massage my legs, tuck me back into my bed and assure me that it was none other than ‘growing pains’. Being an imaginative child, as I curled up into a ball pulling my hurting legs into my chest, I would envision my bones growing. Somehow encouraging myself that all the pain would be well worth it: one day I’d grow up, look a lot like my mom with long brown hair and long limbs measuring an acceptably average height of 5’5”. Years have passed now, and all those evening aches and pains clearly did not translate into my ...

It was a true Texas-warm September day. I was sitting with my roomie Ashley, in my Bible College apartment room (probably eating a poor-college-student pop tart snack), when our other roommate Rachel (envision wind blowing through her hair) burst through the door on a mission. Rachel was a really fun, full of life, beautiful girl. Her personality was sunshine. She had a very special way of disarming anyone with her touch, making them feel completely loved. I LOVED that about her. She also had a special knack for writing silly songs, crazy prank calling skills and a special talent for developing one-act comedies for our answering machine message. She plopped down next to us on the couch ...

Control Freak. Those words either resonate with you or they don’t. Of course, there are various levels to the madness in which control can manifest in a person’s life. It’s a sneaky little fella, that’s for sure. Dressed up and disguised as just wanting to do the right thing … kind of trying to make others do it, too.  Sometimes disguised as good goals until they feel like they are going to kill you. Other times being driven and not driving this life we live. Some people want to control their weight; some their environment (everything being perfectly in order to feel in order). Some control situations so others can’t hurt them. For me it was wrapped up in love … I could ...

So there they were, standing in the Garden God had created. Beautiful beyond what we could imagine. God had crafted and created them Himself, in His image. They were the first supporting actors in the epic story of time, in scene one, in the first chapters, in the first book of the BIG book of the BIG story that we are now a part of. Their names were Adam and Eve. And they were … naked. “And the man and his wife were both naked and were not embarrassed or ashamed in each other's presence.” ~ Genesis 2:25 (AMP) I was pondering said true story while driving my minivan to get coffee after I dropped my boys off at school one morning. Then came the crazy thought, interrupting my sweet ...