Hold on to me…

A baby
placed into your life,
Vulnerability and defenselessness
The purest form,
You wouldn’t give
You only took
She was there
Bare and begging
Empty and alone
He broke her
He stripped her
She lost herself
He ruined her
You did nothing.

You were blind
Pretending you could see
You saw
And did nothing.
You heard her cries
Your own needs
They screamed louder
You turned away
You never looked back
And when she was gone
You pointed your finger
She was the pain

How could you?
She stayed quiet
That wasn’t enough.
She sought you out
You regretted nothing.
She spoke the words
That pissed you off.
You blamed the darkness
You learned nothing.
You shut her down
She walked off.

She was unsteady
She was unsure
You yelled at her
Trust her?
You couldn’t.
Look at her.
Just look at her.
You said it.
You didn’t get the emotion.
You scared her…
She just wanted love.

Hold her…
She wanted you to touch her.
Love her…
She wanted to be special.
Kiss her…
She wanted to be loved.
He did…
He stole from her
Your love… was replaced
By trickery and confusion
You mocked her
You punched her with your words
She was broken
And you stepped on her pieces

You had peace
But where was hers.
You forgave yourself
But never showed her
You moved on
You left her
She was wounded
And you were gone.

Daddy, your daughter needed you.
Mama, I was all alone.
Our house never felt like home.
I needed you to be there
I was shaken and alone
You moved on.
Mother you hated him
It was all you could see
But I was there
Wishing you’d come to me
Father, you weren’t there
You abandoned us all
You left me scared.

Move on.
But you haven’t.

You’re still putting your responsibility on me.  Sitting in silence as if you don’t know.

He disrespected, deceived, and confused me and now you do the same.

Don’t you see? Don’t you see me and what you’re doing?

Blame me… but I won’t apologize for reacting to what you’ve done.
This isn’t about the past. This is about today.

You were never there… and you’re still not.

Your words hurt me and now your lack of them hurt me…

Say something.

Say the right thing.

And mean it.


Being Who I am…

I’m sitting here, listening to Karyn talk to herself as she plays… she’s so imaginative and creative, with so much enthusiasm… and Christopher just started talking to himself too… he’s sitting next to her and playing with his Mario toys, making them excitedly do math… neither of them are hesitant, embarrassed, hiding behind what is or isn’t cool or socially acceptable…

I’m so thankful for that…

I still remember, over 20 years later, when I made my stuffed animals talk to each other as I played by myself and someone coming up behind me and laughing at me. Poking fun at me that I was talking to myself. For all I know, they thought I was cute… but the impact left me embarrassed and paranoid that I was immature. I was just a kid being a kid, and I was embarrassed that I was being weird and different.

It’s spilled over into other areas of my life… how I clean my house, how I dress, how I walk to my vehicle or down the road or across a parking lot… it led me to stop wearing ski pants to go sledding because it made me look like a kid…

but I was a kid…

I’m so glad my kids are being kids and feel free within that realm of their childhood. They aren’t thinking about being kids… they just are.

I want to be that type of woman… not thinking about being who I am… just being who I am.


I watched a show where the mother of an adult woman passed away. They were close and had a friendship that I’ve never had with my parents… and I found myself grieving what I never had, and what I could never have, even if it’s another 30+ years before my parents pass away because that relationship of trust and security was never established.

Something I said to my husband the other night about it… I’m the grown up now and I have little ones looking to me to be what they need as their parents. I can’t dwell in what I didn’t/don’t have because it’s on me to provide it for these precious people. I’ve spent over a decade since becoming an adult searching, yearning, and desiring more from my parents, and now I feel I have to close that chapter and move on.

The desire isn’t gone, there is certainly overlap where I see myself momming my own little ones. With my oldest just a couple months from becoming a teenager, which was the most pivotal time in my young life and when everything fell apart, I see the need to let the broken and hurting parts of myself and the relationships it stems from to slip away. It’s not a lack of love, a lack of interest, or a lack of forgiveness… just simply less love and less interest, and a less important relationship to work through than the value in the one I have before me with my children. Nothing is more urgent than the energy and love I have to offer the babies that the Lord has entrusted to my care and if I’ve learned nothing from what I never had, it’s that no one can make that choice to be the parent that I needed, that my children needed, than the parent themselves. Me.

Parentless with parents was always a difficult position to be in… my parents live 10mins from me. They gladly, willingly, and even joyfully open their door to my growing family… they are there but there is a detachment present. Perhaps not for them, perhaps they don’t feel the disconnect and it’s something they don’t understand. I was oblivious to my need for them until my safety was shattered and all I wanted was them to fix what was broken… I was 13, searching for stable footing. Perhaps they could never repair it, no matter how they tried. All I know is that all I had was The Rock that I was standing on… I didn’t even acknowledge it was there, because I could only see the vast waters that surrounded me, empty but suffocating whenever I tried to step off. The only safety was on that Rock…

God was always just sitting there with me, and often I never noticed, much like a toddler keeps watch of their parents as they play but doesn’t notice their presence so much until they’ve returned from a trip to the store, and realized they weren’t right there, and how much they needed/wanted them. Sometimes this made me angry, because I longed to be scooped up and hugged, held, and loved on, showered with affectionate words of how special and important I was… but my parents were supposed to do that… instead, they had no idea how much I needed it and I had so many others filling my head that I was a horrible human.

I definitely fall short of where I could be, but I’m learning more and more of being comfortable in my skin and simply desiring to grow because that is inevitably what happens when you seek to be healthy and whole – not because I need to be better, not because I’m not good enough, not because I’m dirty or ruined. Simply because growing is what you do when you are loved and have value… and I am. I am loved. I am precious.

My parents were children once… they had siblings and they had to grow up and figure things out for themselves too. They had children and faced each other in marriage as they sought to survive and thrive and impart what they felt was best for their own family. I have compassion on them and what they had to work through… and I hope my children will give me grace and love through all my daily mess ups.

I envision the future with my children, seeing them marrying and having babies of their own, spending time with them and playing with them, passing on a legacy of love and compassion, hoping the message of their value in Christ sticks. I envision how I might respond to the mistakes I’ve made if they were to confront me with them and how I definitely wouldn’t respond. I don’t need validation anymore, but I did. I needed my parents to let me be angry at them and to say they were sorry. I needed them to say they wish they had done some things differently.

I don’t need that now. I still have anger, but I don’t need validation anymore. I don’t need them anymore… and now I’m faced with ‘what if they die’ what will I do. Will I be okay? Will I have wished I done things differently. Should I give them the time with my kids before they die? Am I hurting my kids if I don’t give that relationship to them? I’m left wondering what the right things to do are,what would make me a good daughter or a good mother or a good person? But ultimately, I just think about what’s going to help my family thrive.

I can’t be everything to everyone, and I am struggling with that, but I’m trying to embrace it. I’m simply not strong enough to be the daughter without what I need, as well as the mother I never had, for the children I’ve been given… trying to give all I am to them so they are not children without what they need… and perhaps this is how I’m without to begin with, because my parents couldn’t give me what they didn’t have themselves and were searching for it as well… but alas, that doesn’t change anything other than perspective, which is good because it leaves me aware but in the same place.

This is a moment… and I leave room for everything to change in any such moment… but I also acknowledge where I am in every moment also and this is where I am, counting each moment as precious in the lives of my children above all else as I walk out God’s calling on my life – to be a mother. The hardest, most rewarding, most challenging, most crazy-making thing I do… and right now, that’s all I have time for.

If someone makes it like I’m in a bad place or that I’m thoughtless of their own needs, then they don’t have my own kids’ needs in mind and they can wait. Anyone else who gets it, will get it and support that, and will wait willingly.

I am taking all I have to be closer to Jesus and pour everything I have into what God calls me to. It’s all about Him.

Nine Years of Blogging

Nine years ago I started blogging. I began journaling four years before that, but truly, ever since I was a teenager I’ve found writing to be an easier way of expressing my thoughts. I’ve gotten better at communicating, but with PTSD and anxiety, I found myself unable to put all my thoughts in order.

I often described my mind like alphabet soup, except with words. I felt like I had to fish for what I was thinking in a sea of thoughts. When I was upset or hurting or angry, I would have to pull out thoughts and work through process of elimination to figure out why I was feeling the way I was feeling. I had no idea that I was dealing with PTSD or anxiety, and for the longest time I believed I was over-sensitive, over-emotional, and emotionally erratic, and I felt ashamed for it. Words can’t express how freeing it is to know I’m not those things and to find strength in the truth of who I really am.

Once I found blogging, it just felt like a fit. I enjoy typing and I can type much faster than I can write. When I began to blog, I felt like I could share what I was working through, so if one other person was interested with what I was learning or could relate in some way, than God could use it all for His glory and for the good of His children.

I found order to my thoughts, and once I found order to my thoughts, I could put the pieces together to find the truth. I’m thankful to be on the continued search of truth after living with so many lies that I’d been believing. I still deal with the PTSD and anxiety when circumstances that somehow remind my mind of my trauma, trigger a physical response, but knowing what it is I’m working through has helped in such a huge way.

When you’ve been convinced that you could become mentally ill at any moment, you believe everything is a sign that you’re crazy. So to realize I’m not crazy, but that my body is responding to the traumas that I experienced in my past, means everything.

Nine years of growing and learning, and I still am on that journey of healing and learning the truth, but I can see all the amazing things God has done so far; and I’m excited to see what other great things He is doing as He brings me through. ♥

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

Finding Empowerment

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As a woman, I’ve found a need to discover empowerment through the truths in the Word:









Not the confusion of the world:






Too much time stressing about outer appearance and comparing myself to men has done nothing to make me feel strong… and I can see a similar response in others. It doesn’t empower me in a way that benefits the kingdom, my family, or myself. Empowering women as the beautiful daughters of God that they are. Now that, that is where they find their true value and worth.

I see memes that are catchy…


Women must rally together. Put childish things away and support other women: empower each other by building up in strengths and bearing burdens with one another.


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It’s not an exclusive club to women. We should also empower our men to live out the call of God on their lives as well.











Let us be women as Titus 2 talks of:



Let us as older women be the example for the younger women,
and let us as younger women look to the older women as the example.







Be There

It astounds me how long a person can go without contacting their child, especially when one has taken any issue with the lack of care from their own parent. Truly astounds me.

You are a parent. Be the person you hoped you had in your own life. Be a friend. Be there.

I know so many people who don’t have a relationship with their parents. It’s so perplexing. I don’t have adult children… but I can’t imagine never attempting to connect and see how their doing and just being a part of their world. You know? It’s just weird.

Why do I blog?

Why do I blog? I have asked myself why I feel that blogging is better than journaling… well, not better, but easier for me. Why do I post my thoughts and feelings openly on the web and not write in a journal (or even type in a private journal).

I think what it boils down to are the following:

One – I type way faster than I write and about as fast as I think. LOL I learned how to type without looking when I was a freshmen in high school and I’m so so glad I did. I’ve practiced it more and more as the years have gone by and can type at a really fast pace. I also can save it all in one place and not misplace journals or find myself using it for grocery lists. lol I’m not the most organized of people so it helps to keep my thoughts all in one place.

Two – I’ve had a private journal for years, but the most wonderful places I’ve gleaned from in my own growth as a child of God, a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend were from reading and hearing other peoples experiences. I connect with people and I can relate and understand and I process and I apply what and where I feel led to do so. So if that is the case for me, maybe it will be for someone else too. If anything I’ve experienced or processed through can cause someone else to think their own next thought and process through their own stuff or to view a perspective that they hadn’t thought of, or simply see they aren’t alone going through these things, then it’s worth sharing my private thoughts that are floating in my head – even if random, even if weird, even if rambly. haha

Three – With a blog, I can type in a search on a certain topic to see what I’ve processed through in the past and be reminded. In some older blog posts, I have things the Lord has shown me and certain entries will come to mind at certain times in my life and I’ll just have to search the title or time period. It’s helpful when I just need a refresher on what the Lord has taught me or when I’m looking for wisdom in how to talk to one of my kids or friends about something they are struggling with.

So yea, I blog because it’s easier, it might be helpful to someone, and I feel like it opens me up to more opportunities to be reminded what God has shown me. If no one read, I’d be just as pleased with blogging. Blogging is a place for me to be real and raw and honest as I work through all my random thoughts (without annoying, burdening, or overwhelming all my friends who’d gladly be there for me if I asked them to be so I can process through what’s in my head haha). 🙂