Turn on Your Porch Light

Today is Halloween. As I sit here in my Mustard outfit beside our Hotdog dachsador waiting for Ketchup to get home, I can’t help but be reminded of an amazing thing called community. Every year we were in Nashville, we eagerly awaited Trunk or Treat night at our church. Hundreds of church members would deck themselves and their cars out to welcome folks from the neighborhood. It was always fun to see who everybody picked to dress up as. We saw everyone from Justin Beiber to Flo, the Progressive Insurance Lady, to paper dolls to Prince William and Princess Kate (that was us last year). This year, we are experiencing Halloween as adults in a different way. People will come to our home and we will hand out candy. But we will still be surrounded by community. God’s been reminding me a lot about His own community since moving to a new one.

When we moved here this go around, we were grateful that we still had a few friends and family left in the area, but were nervous about starting all over again. We are still in the beginning stages of getting re-acclimated, but we’ve already had people, who were perfect strangers to us just three months ago, reach out to make sure we know that there is a spot for us here in this conglomeration of people. You see, they were in the spot that we are just a couple years ago only they didn’t know anybody at all. When you’ve been at your loneliest, you start to be very aware of those that might just feel the same way you did once. Our sisters and brothers in the Lord who have gone out of their way to include us have given testimony that each believer fits in the body of Christ no matter who they are or where they come from.  Why is it so hard for the rest of us to remember that sometimes? Why do we treat people as misfits when they have a spot that was made for them to perfectly fit into?

I had lunch today for the first time with my Nashville Pastor’s sister, who lives just down the street from us. I texted her niece, my friend Marianne, and told her that their family’s hospitality just keeps on following us. A mutual friend connected us because she wanted me to know another wonderful member of the community of Christ in our area. It just so happens that when we first started visiting our church in Tennessee, Marianne was the very first person my age to reach out to me and make me feel welcome. A big reason why we ended up at our church there was because of the kindness of her family. In turn, we were able to be a part of a wonderful congregation of people who truly cared for each other and their neighbors. We may never have known the warmth of that church family if it hadn’t been for the hospitality of their family. Here we are again, only this time we are in Virginia experiencing a warm handshake from the same family- not just because they’re part of the same blood line, but because they’re all washed by the same blood.

Well, hotdog and I have had several batches of trick or treaters come in search of some tasty morsels. The lamps are lit to welcome them to receive a gift from a perfect stranger. I can’t help but wonder why so many of us let our hearts stay under lock and key when we have the chance to turn our porch lights on and warmly open up to masked or unmasked faces alike who are just looking for the sweetness of life.  Oh, the sweet name and love we have to share. As for me, I hope the porch light of my soul is always turned on as a welcoming gesture to let people know that there is a spot for them just like there’s one for me in the community of Christ.   

When Grace and Gratitude Collide

“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.”  Psalm 107:1

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Gratitude is something that the Lord is teaching me about during this season of my life. Sure, I am thankful for the things that He has done and given me. I even say, “Thank you,” to Him and tell others about how I am grateful for what He has done. But am I living in a spirit of gratitude? While looking up verses about thanks and gratitude in my concordance, I realized that another gr- word was close by: grace; graciousness. I love language. The History of the English language was my very favorite class in my undergraduate studies. (Even though it was a killer class!) So, my curiosity led me to google, of course. Please forgive the terrible works cited here. I’m pretty sure what I have found is reliable, though, based on my recollection from studying Martin Luther and language.

The root for gratitude comes from the Latin word, “gratus” - meaning, “thankful” or “pleasing.” The Latin root for grace is “gratia”, which means “grace” or “gratitude”. When exploring a little further about the word “grace,”  I consistently saw that it had a lot to do with having a pleasing quality, thanks, and pardon.  As I suspected, the two words and their meanings are very intertwined.

A couple weekends ago, I was really upset because the back up to our back up to our back up fall break trip fell through. I was desperate to escape our overly busy life and enjoy some quality time with my husband while embarking on an adventure.  My last nerve was struck when we found out that Plan C was foiled due to all the hotels being booked in that particular area because of a stinking home football game. So, to put it mildly, after some tears were shed, my more than gracious husband calmed me down and we came up with a plan D. I still had a little bit of an attitude and crushed heart when we rolled out of the driveway, but I figured at least we were together and getting away.

After dropping the dog off at his sister’s house, we set off for a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Hunger pains were encroaching upon us, so we stopped at an old roadside store for lunch. When we walked in, my attitude immediately changed. There was no way I could be upset anymore because the joyful spirits of the ladies running the place were far too contagious. They were so friendly and we enjoyed the nicest small talk with them. It felt like we had stepped into the Whistle Stop Cafe from Fried Green Tomatoes. (Secret’s in the sauce, baby). We took our chili dogs and coconut pie outside to enjoy lunch the sunshine. After we took our trays back in, the 96 year old woman, who originally owned the building with her husband and had run it as a grocery called for me to come over to her. She said in her rustic southern drawl, “Honey, I can tell this must be the first time y’all have eaten with us. I want you to have one of my pot holders. Go over there and pick one out for yourself and you remember me by it.” Her daughter that now runs the place told me that her mama made those on her original Singer sewing machine with the built in foot pedal and all! What an honor. My day was made.

Later that day, however, I experienced a different kind of “check yourself” moment as we walked over from our fancy hotel that I begged to stay at to grab something to eat. As we were crossing the street, we passed by one of the saddest looking homeless women I have ever seen. The Holy Spirit cut right through the scum of my heart and said loud and clear, “You have a roof over your head. You are about to fill your belly with food. You have a husband. You aren’t alone in this world. You also have me. You have all that you need and more. Look at her. Are you still upset that your dream getaway didn’t work out this time?” Ouch. I had to turn to David and apologize. Again. This time for being ungrateful.

These two women made me realize a lot about living in gratitude. My 96 year old friend certainly is living a life of gratitude, exemplified by her graciousness. Those pot holders were $8 a piece. She didn’t have to give one to a perfect stranger that she had spoken to for less than 5 minutes. But she did so out of thanks. She was thankful that we were supporting her daughter’s business and she wanted to show that it pleased her that we had shown up that day. That’s southern hospitality for you- being a gracious host or hostess. Now I know far more about what being gracious means. It means overflowing with gratitude.

That’s how I want to live. For all that the Lord has done in my life, I’m grateful. But, I don’t need all the things that He has given me to be grateful. I could just start and stop with the number one reason why He deserves thanks: He is good. He deserves an eternity of thanks, though, so I’ll have to add some more to that.  What if I was in that homeless lady’s shoes? I really should have been there the past couple years. But the Lord saw fit to extend an extra measure of His mercy, goodness and graciousness to me. He is good and gracious to her too. We just have been given contrasting stories to experience different intricacies of His goodness and are each responsible for the the thanks we give back to Him no matter what circumstance we are in. Unbeknownst to her, God used the intersection our paths came to, to teach me to live a life that reflects the grace that has been given to me through a spirit of gratitude. Through my spirit of ingratitude and temporary failure to extend grace for things beyond our control, God set us on a little adventure  so that grace and gratitude would collide and I would see it. Now onward to live it...

(PS- Squint hard enough in my cover photo for this piece and you’ll see a basket that says “Give Thanks” that I just noticed after writing this. Think God’s trying to get me to look a little harder into that area of my life or what?!)

Johnny Comes Marching Home with Truth

Several guys named John have gotten me thinking about character lately. (Granted, not all of them spell their names the same way, but still.) A Johnny Cash Song started it, Jonathan Falwell marinated it, and John the disciple cooked it through.

Have you ever had someone (we will call him John Doe to keep with the theme here) make a mistake, then try to drag you through the mud and turn your name into just that? It hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts when someone you trust turns their back on you and tries to cover up their own mistakes by putting the blame and consequences on you. I’ve been there several times and oh boy, did it hurt. It still does, actually, when I think about it. When people have tried to protect their own reputations by attacking me or my loved ones with falsities, it shot flaming arrows with poison directly at our hearts.  But one thing remained constant: our character. And it wasn’t because of our own build up. It was because we are living, breathing members of a body that belongs not to ourselves, but to Christ. And His spirit lives in and through us.

When we were in the middle of one of these situations, an old Johnny Cash song came to my mind. I was angry. I mean really angry. I was thinking about joining a gym with a slam man or a punching bag because I was so ticked off at the treatment being dished out to my core family. I listened to this song over and over as a battle cry responding to the shots fired against us:

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Workin' in the dark against your fellow man

But as sure as God made black and white

What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar

Go and tell that midnight rider

Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter

Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down

Now, I don’t think it would be the right thing to go chase the folks that hurt us with their lies and throw the fact that God’s going to cut them down at them. But I do know, that their character has been exposed. God already knows their character, but now we do too. What has been done in the dark will indeed be brought to the light. They will have to deal with the consequences of that eventually.The same is true on our side. The things we have done in secret will one day be luminously exposed. Have we made mistakes? Yes- huge and minute ones alike. But are we to try to cover those things up to make ourselves look like infallible humans?

Maybe that’s one part of worship a lot of us overlook.  Accepting responsibility when we make mistakes, rather than shifting the blame on someone else to try to protect our reputation, brings an admission to the world that we are not perfect. Are we to be more concerned about protecting our own reputation than the reputation of Christ? If He is living in us, then our character should reflect His. We won’t assume His full constitution, though, until we are in His presence. But in our weaknesses and mistakes, we can abide by the most important aspect of His character: truth. If truth isn’t the key element to His make up, then what’s the point? The way and the life are irrelevant if He is not the truth. By walking in truth, we admit that we are not nearly as important as we or anyone else think we are, and the reputation of the one who’s name we bear is paramount to our own. Pastor Jonathan Falwell put it best when he said, “Character is far more important than reputation.”

The disciple John seals the deal in His third chapter, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God” (v.20-21).  You better believe it when I say that I hate when the spotlight is on me at the time I make a mistake. I just want to evaporate and have the world forget me. But when I am authentic even after I have done something wrong, a wonderful thing happens. The abundant forgiveness that my redeemer has given me stands taller than I do in the radiance of truth. When you’re having a conflict like this with a mixture of believers and non-believers, it isn’t expected that those who don’t carry His name would understand this. But the way you respond and the life that you live catches the reflection of the light of the world. Whether that John Doe in your life likes it or not, he will see true character defined. And that can never tarnish your reputation.

Beating Resistance at Its Own Game

A run with a friend was on my morning agenda. Let’s just be honest, I was dreading it because I haven’t run in months. According to the scales, I really needed the exercise, so I agreed to go. However, when I woke up this morning, it was pouring rain. The run wasn’t to be for a few hours, so I went ahead and put on my workout clothes just in case it cleared up because I didn’t want to be a weenie and go ahead and call it off. Well, the rain is still pouring.  Hallelujah. So here I sit still in my leggings under my shorts and lightweight sweatshirt without a drop of sweat on me. The thing is, those extra pounds that this summer’s move have brought me aren’t so lightweight. The next few thoughts would relate a whole lot more to this little All Points Bulletin about my cancelled run if it was actually an APB about the run that I did have. I’ve run before, though, and I can sure remember how it felt.

The novelty of a fresh start in round two of living in the same place is starting to wear off. I’m homesick for Nashville. Don’t get me wrong, we have complete confirmation that this is where we are supposed to be and are loving the things that we are called to do here as well as the friendships we are making and living so close to family again.  It’s just that I miss the cool place with the great relationships and endless entertainment options that we have called home for the past three and a half years.

Last night, David and I were chatting about this. He shared that he, too, was feeling homesick. In our conversation, he pointed out that the way he keeps going in situations like we are in is by comparing them to exercise. When you first get going, you feel great- as if you could run up the stairs like Rocky without breaking a sweat. You get a great stride when you first start out. Then, the further you go, you start to feel the resistance. You start thinking about the stuff you left behind and maybe even about just turning right around. We have made great strides, but oh wait, that stuff behind us is sounding mighty good now compared to the strain to keep pace. Resistance is pulling like a rubber band.

The thing about a rubber band when it is being pulled is that it can either be a lame backwards flop or a powerful shot across the room. It just depends on how hard you fight back against the pull. The more you battle against the pull of friction from the opposite direction, the stronger you get and the harder you can run toward your goal. With this in mind, the thought of quitting begins to dwindle. You begin to realize that this is how you get in shape. If you have run before, you know that it will be scary and that very piece of knowledge alone can psych you out before your race even begins if you let it. When you actually start, though, you go in with the spirit of optimism that you can really do this. As you go along, you begin to feel like a wounded warrior who wants to fight, but is tired and hurting all the same. If you push through, though, you’ll gain something that you would have greatly missed if you had given into the resistance and quit. You’ll gain the heart of a champion. It’s not possible to keep the heart of a champion, though, unless you really are a champion. So that means, you have to finish the race that is set before you if you really want to come out a victor.

Are you running a race right now that has you feeling tired and wondering if it’s worth going forward toward the finish line, though you are miles away? Be encouraged. With each stride you make, you are gaining strength to make it to your finish line. Fight the resistance. Don’t let it send you in a lame backwards flop. Use the force from the friction to shoot you toward your target. You are going to feel tired. You are going to feel week. You are going to want to give up. But don’t. Keep running. Keep exercising with the discipline required to reach your goal. Appreciate where you’ve come from, but when you are putting those feet to the trail laid before you, focus on what’s ahead of you instead of what is behind you. Let what is in the past be a memory. Whether it’s a good or bad memory, it’s a marker in the distance that has motivated you to run the race you are on. Don’t make this run about yourself. Make about the one who straightens your path. When you do that, the sweat you are losing will be exchanged for the strength you need for this breathtaking journey you are on. And when you reach the end, the breath that was taken away from you by the race will be replaced by the fresh breath of life.

Think I should go put these exercise clothes to their intended use now? Yeah. Me too.

Knock at Your Own Front Door

Do you ever hear a knock or a ring at the door and try to ignore it because you look like a hot mess? I must admit, I do this a lot. Especially since we’ve been getting settled into our new house. My personal appearance has been the last thing on my mind.  I’ve been embarrassed for anyone to see the house or myself because both of us were looking pretty rough. Last Thursday, my house was not too terribly messy, but I was very substandard in my personal presentation. I had on my strawberry shortcake pajama bottoms (embarrassing admission for a 28 year old), my big baggy gray Liberty Sweatshirt and caaaarazzzzzy looking hair just thrown up on my head with no particular commitment to style. Not to mention- no make up. I was sick and feeling pretty puny with my sinus infection. The only strength I had was to drag myself out of bed and onto the couch to partake in some serious chick flick ingestion. Then it happened. The doorbell rang. The dog barked. And I was left in a quandary- should I answer looking like this or not?

So, what did I do? I tiptoed over to the door so I could take a look out the peep hole to see who it was. I could have gotten away with it if our house weren’t so full of creaky floors and if we didn’t have a mail slot in our door to let the sound escape. As I peered out the tiny little hole, I saw a woman that I believed to be our next door neighbor. We had not met yet. While I was standing there trying to figure out what to do, she rang the bell again. So, I brushed myself off and took a deep breath to face my humiliation from the way the I looked.

I opened the door and she said, “Hi, Emily, I’m Ella! Oh no...is this a bad time?” Oh my. What a first impression I was making. “At least I have an excuse about how I look this time," I thought to myself. I explained that I was sick and going to the doctor that afternoon and was so sorry that we were meeting with me looking so horrible. She responded by saying, “Oh, honey, that’s my uniform around the house too. I’m just so sorry you are sick. I wanted to come finally introduce myself because it is such a beautiful day that I just knew you’d be out.”  I really don’t know if I have met a nicer person on the planet.  We chatted a few more minutes, agreed that we would get together soon, and off she went back next door. Off I went to survey myself in the mirror and see how bad it really was. I looked for a rock to crawl under, but couldn’t find one big enough.

A little while later, I got to thinking. Ella reminded me of another unexpected knock on my door that I received back in 1988. It’s from the same neighbor many of you have received a knock from and had the choice as to whether you would open the door or not. It was from Jesus. You see, more often than not, Jesus shows up and rings our doorbell without warning- no matter what we look like or what condition our home is in. If we are smart enough to at least sheepishly open the door, He says to us, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve worn what you have on too. I'm so sorry you are sick. I just wanted to stop by and meet you to let you know that I’m right beside you- ready to become your friend. Don’t worry. I’ll come back, all I need you to do is to open the door.”

The thing is, once you’ve met Jesus, you plan on looking better the next time you see Him because you want to look more like Him and less like the sick, sloppy looking person you were when He first met you. Your embarrassment turns into a catalyst for changing the way you once were. Next time I see Ella, I’m planning on looking my best because of how nice she looked. Jesus beckons us to come out and enjoy the beautiful day that should already be drawing us out of our dark, lonely places that we call home. He shows up to tell us about what He has in mind. If you’re sick- no worries- He will heal you and get you out into the healthy life He intends for you to have. The best part is, you’ll have a new buddy to walk down the sidewalk with while partaking in your unique place in the beautiful world He has created that lies just beyond your doorstep. Maybe Ella and I will become walking buddies too. Guess I’ll only find out if I step beyond the threshold of my own front door.

In the Presence of Greatness

 
 
Today I was in the presence of greatness as I heard Donald Trump present an address to Liberty University. Since hearing that he would appear in convocation this year, I have been inexplicably eager to witness this event. Other than the fact that I’ve been inside his Fifth Avenue tower in New York City, I guess the main reason for my excitement is that well...it’s just plain cool. He’s world renowned for many different reasons, but mostly because he’s a billionaire. How often do you get to be in the same room as a billionaire anyway? I also like his spunk.

The 10,000 seat arena was overflowing. We sat on the steps to listen to his address. We had all shown up to be in the presence of greatness. As we sat there, I recognized a particular young man with his camera. He shoots for the University and he was of course photographing The Don as he spoke. I thought back to April when my husband came as a guest lecturer from Nashville to address a senior class in the Graphics Design department. This same photographer shot him that day because somebody deemed David as “great” as well. I sat there connecting these two events in my mind thinking about why both of these men were considered great. Donald Trump certainly has given back in many different ways to the world through his riches. But mostly, I think he is considered great because of the wealthy empire and name he has built for himself. He has worked hard to get there and much can be learned from his business experience and advice. Why was David considered great enough to be photographed by the same person who covered Donald, though? That just blows my mind.

To sum it up, it was because of the work that he has done for others and the way that he got there.  The story that David shared when he visited in April was of how he responded and the actions he took two and a half years ago when he was given the news that he was being laid off from a failing small business. Through a hard work ethic on an uphill struggle, God provided many amazing opportunities for him to build his career, ultimately leading to a job with a very well recognized rock and roll band. Donald mentioned something very true today- if you’re going to make it in your industry- you have to be able to handle pressure. Chancellor Jerry Falwell, Jr. piped up and reminded us of what his father, the late Dr.Jerry Falwell, Sr., always used to say, “You do not determine a man’s greatness by his wealth, as the world does, but rather by what it takes to discourage him.” Considering the many times I heard him say those words while he was still living, I don’t think I really ever understood what that meant until today.  

Of course David experienced many moments of discouragement as he ran into closed doors or even walls. But he never gave up. He never reached the point of discouragement to just throw in the towel. He kept pressing on to find a way to support his family. At times he felt guilty that he was not able to provide the support we needed all on his own. He even felt like a failure sometimes. He didn’t give up, though. Along the way, he learned a lesson that money cannot buy- his success is not measured by how he can provide for his family, but by the impact he leaves on this earth for eternity. Yes, providing for his family is a very real goal of his, but he came to realize that everything we have is from the Lord and we are held accountable for how we choose to use it. As the journey out of unemployment progressed for him, because of the talent he displayed as well as humility, he was chosen out of two hundred people for a great job that led to another great job which is in fact, the Lord’s provision for us. The actuality that he got these two jobs isn’t what makes him feel successful, though, it’s knowing that he is able to help build an empire and a name greater than his own- one that will last for eternity-one that is made by putting his own agenda aside and investing in the lives of others. Rather than being bitter about the choice a few people made to end his paycheck, he has vocalized that the best way to get revenge is by how you choose to live your life.

By the world’s standards, Donald Trump has it all. He is considered great for that. But by his own admission today, those riches of his are “peanuts” compared to his faith and family. I hope he really means that. Really I do. Because in the end, all of our greatness falls short compared to the only one whose greatness is truly significant- our great God. The single aspect of a great man that truly matters is what he does for eternity. Our Pastor back in Nashville always encourages us to go beyond the table of common grace and to dine at the table of amazing grace. David commented today that Trump just has a bit of a larger portion at the table of common grace- where the standard gifts of survival that the Lord gives to humanity comes from. However, our daily meal reservations are at the table of amazing grace. We never go hungry no matter how much money is or isn’t in our bank account or how loud our stomachs may growl. We feast on the Bread of Life. We hope that Trump is more than a billionaire. We hope that he is as rich as we are.

The words of Mrs.Rhea F. Miller and melody that George Beverly Shea put to them sang in my heart as I listened to one of the wealthiest men on the planet,

“I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold; I’d rather be His than have riches untold: I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands. I’d rather be led by His nail-pierced hand. Than to be the king of a vast domain or be held in sin’s dread sway. I’d rather have Jesus than anything this world affords today.”

The same shutter snapped photographs of both of these two great men. Yet, only the photographs of he who is great because of the sake of the unending domain of Christ will remain visible in the frames of eternity. The only one who will be looking at those frames, though, is the one whose reflection is caught in their glass as He says, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant...You have made me great.” The rest of us will simply be looking at Him (that is if our faces aren’t flat on the ground already) because we are finally in the presence of true greatness.

Reaching Beyond My Reach

Last week you read that we’ve moved to Virginia. So, now what? What sort of work am I going to be doing while David is off being a rock star professor? I’m about to tell you, but I feel like a major phony just thinking about typing these words. I am going to be a writer. This is where I should do something clever like draw a line through that last sentence and say, “Scratch that, I am a writer.” It’s true. I am a writer. Now, if I can just get myself to believe that, we’ll be in business.

I have trouble believing it, because I think people see that as a nice way of saying that I’m going to be a housewife...a lady of leisure... a kept woman. Granted, most of my family and closest friends have been more than supportive and encouraging about this announcement. The thing is, it is scary. I’ve had a lot of moments where I have almost psyched myself out of this whole Big Hairy Audacious Goal (BHAG) because I believed that people would not view this as a real job since I’m not going to get paid for now. But, it is. Writing is what I am called to do.

I’ve been writing at least since the second grade when I somehow convinced my teacher to let me direct my own version of The Little Mermaid during school in front of an audience of those in my class who weren’t acting in the play and some of our parents. I even convinced her to let us have brownies. Oh. And then there was third grade, when I wrote an Emily Pereira original, “The Lost Sea Captain,” and held practices at my classmate, Matt’s, house and then put on the production in front of the entire elementary school during chapel. Personal poems and short stories were sprinkled throughout my elementary age writing career as well. I’m having an “aha” moment as I reminisce over these early foundations in my call to writing. It would seem that the reason why these teachers let me get away with these things was because they believed in me. Wow. Why has it taken me 18 years to realize this? Those sneaky little things...making me feel like I was being the sneaky one by convincing them to let me shut down class time to show my productions... all along they were encouraging my call to writing.

Can I just pause to say that I’m sorry for using the word, “I” so much in this entry? It’s just inevitable for this week. Next week, hopefully that word will appear a lot less. (See that...I’m tricking myself by putting in a commitment to show up again next week. There it is, for all the world to see.  I have to come back next week. Hopefully you’ll come too).

When I started college, I was going to be a History major because I loved the subject. After a semester of staying up until 4 AM memorizing dates and facts, Elementary Education had me at “Hello, cute arts and crafts”. As I got into it, I didn’t really feel as if I was like the rest of the elementary ed majors. I just wasn’t as into it as they were. Those Standards Of Learning lesson plans just plain out made me uncomfortable because I was afraid that the kids I taught would miss out on something the government wanted them to know and it would be all my fault. I wanted to teach kids so I could have an impact on them like my teachers had had on me. I didn’t know how to mix teaching the facts with teaching life lessons like so many talented teachers do.  

So, why do I believe that writing is my calling? After all, it’s been nearly two decades since my whole interest in this trade started and I'm not really that interested in writing fiction anymore. Life is far more attention grabbing than fiction to me these days. The truth is, I didn’t realize that it was what God had for me until He developed my story just a little further. Further till the point of crisis. My crisis started when I got the phone call from my Daddy the last week of my Freshman year of college after he told me that he had stage four osteosarcoma and that the doctors had given him six months to live. I was literally sitting by his deathbed coloring pages for my elementary education notebook final that was due when I realized that I had a much more pressing calling on my life. I had the calling to share the stories of God’s faithfulness through some of the darkest moments of my life with the rest of the world- even if just one person could be encouraged and know that there is a way full of hope out of the pit of despair. Even if that person was just...well...me. That’s when I decided to become an English major.

Since then, I’ve had several different jobs. They have been great learning experiences and opportunities to impact the world around me. But all along, I have said, “Well, I was an English major because I want to be a writer some day, but something has to pay the bills in the meantime and I see this as a time to gain stuff to write about.” Someday is here and it scares the stew out of me. But it’s time to put that training into action and to do what the co-founder of my Alma Mater, Elmer Towns, challenged this particular student in his class with, “If you want to reach beyond your reach, write.” So here I am, reaching beyond my reach. Get ready to read more from the “ink” of the (web) pages that are to come. And know this- what I want to reach you and anyone else out there with is the message that no matter what hurt or change you are going through, the one who I have drawn hope from in my most vulnerable, lonely days is the same one you can draw hope from because He never alters and He knows your pain. His name is Jesus and if you don’t know Him, allow me to introduce you to Him. He’s my most loyal friend and I know He would love to be yours.

Right now, all I can reach is a mouse and a keyboard. Here goes reaching beyond my reach.