My why…

Page 45 of my soon to be released book:

John 21:25

Jesus also did many other things. If they were all written down, I suppose the whole world could not contain the books that would be written.

Can you imagine? There are so many unanswered questions, and so much I want to know about Jesus’s life. The disciples recorded a few snippets of his life, but writing was not as accessible 2000 years ago. I am grateful for the words we have.

One reason I am writing this book is to encourage you to read for yourself. The stories we do have document the love, grace, and mercy Jesus offers.

The Bible is no ordinary book but has withstood the test of time. Scrolls were protected and hidden so the Words of Life would be preserved for future generations. Copies were hand-crafted by men dedicated to God. Authenticity of the Gospel has been provided by eyewitness accounts of the life and miracles of Jesus.

Even the Jews and Muslims regard Jesus as a prophet. His works and existence cannot be refuted. Sadly, they still seek another Messiah. As Christians, we must strive to show Jesus to others through our daily lives and everyday actions.

Live a life of love.

What you do not expect when you’re expecting…

I remember it well even though 26 years have passed. At the experienced, or not so experienced, age of 22, my list of traumatic events included teenage heart ache and abstract algebra. Little did I know the happiest moment of my life would soon become the most frightening.

August 1, 1992

overflowed with excitement. The day began celebrating my niece, Sabrina’s, seventh birthday. My parents hosted a swim party and all of our family attended. Following the swim party, my elementary school teachers threw me a baby shower. The generosity and kindnesses were overwhelming. Such a wonderful day!

Then, my water broke. It was too soon. My due date wasn’t for 5 to 6 more weeks! Nervously, we called the doctor, and sure enough, we had to drive the hour long journey to Tyler.

My personal doctor was not on call this Saturday evening, and my insecurities increased as I visited with the doctor on call. She said she believed my baby’s lungs were not developed enough, so I needed to transfer to a Dallas hospital for delivery. She explained I would be care-flighted to Methodist Hospital. Your dad would not be permitted to ride in the helicopter with me. I imagined being alone, and my anxiety grew. I refused the helicopter ride and opted for an ambulance ride where your dad rode shotgun. It was on the two hour ambulance ride that my contractions began. I was indeed in labor.

Mama Mc and Grandmother rode in the car with Big Mc. He followed swiftly behind the ambulance, so they arrived at the hospital alongside us. Uncle Paul and Aunt Debbie came, too. It seemed that Sabrina might get her birthday wish of a new cousin on her birthday! I wish she wished she had never made after a few years of joint parties! LOL!

I long and painful night ensued. Labor is called labor for good reason. I’ll save the details of all that and sum it up like this:

When you get to the point where you are certain you are about to die, that’s when you have the baby. And, at 5:33 AM, August 2, 1992, you were born.

Our little miracle baby. All of our questions as to why you came early were answered when the young doctor announced your umbilical cord was in a complete knot. She actually asked if she could keep it. Ha! She explained that if you had grown to full-term your supply would have been cut off, and you probably would have died. Praise the Lord for breaking my water!

You scared your daddy upon birth, too. Your head pointed more than normal due to passing through the birth canal early. His first thought upon seeing you: “We are going to be on Geraldo for cone headed babies!” He almost passed out. The nurse reassured him that your head would return to normal shape.

I barely saw your face, and they swept you away to the NICU. As soon as allowed, I went to see you. You were so tiny and frail. Disheartened I gazed at your preemie body hooked up to so many machines. Worried your lungs were under developed, they kept you in the incubator.

Within hours they discovered your lungs just had fluid on them but were developed. The NICU nurse finally wrapped you in a blanket and handed you to me. You felt so small. Nervously I wrapped my arms around you, and I never wanted to let you go. Every time we walked away from the NICU, I cried.

I was released from the hospital the next day, but I would not leave. Dad and I took all of our bags and camped in the waiting room. One of the nurses noticed and offered us a night in a transition room because we thought you were going to graduate from the NICU. Disappointment flooded in when we discovered you indeed were moved to a new bed but could not stay with us because you were jaundiced and required to stay under a blue light. Seeing the small blindfold taped to your cheeks to cover your eyes brought me to tears again. We spent another lonely night away from you, but setting our alarm every three hours we would come hold you and feed you.

The third day another family needed the transition room, so Dad and I moved our things back to the waiting room. As often as we were allowed, we visited you. Another nurse discovered our plans to sleep in the waiting room, and the hospital offered us a room in the old section where traveling nurses stayed. Thankfully we had beds to sleep in free of charge and still in the hospital, so we regularly visited you for feedings.

All the while, we stood upon the scripture Psalm 138:8:

The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me….”

The word “perfect” means bring to full maturity. Over and over we sang the chorus of James Payne’s song, “I’m Persuaded”, which we later learned Steven and Camilla Charles wrote.

I’m persuaded

He is able

He’s able to do exceedingly

More than all I ask

Or even think is possible

According to the power

That’s in me.

This became our testimony song concerning you because on day four, straight out of the hospital nursery, they released you to come home. Filled with joy and thanksgiving, Dad and I brought you home from the hospital.

Aunt Jill and Aunt Debbie had prepared the way by cleaning the house, putting the cradle and changing table together, and buying groceries. You were so early, I just was not prepared. Mama Mc came and stayed the first week with us (One of the best weeks of my life ☺️), cooked for us, did laundry, and helped with everything.

You fought jaundice for another couple of weeks. We took you for heel pricks seven days in a row. It was terrible. Your little feet were tender and bruised. We laid you in front of the window in only a diaper to let the sun shine on you. I feared you being admitted into the hospital again. Fortunately, you improved.

Through the years, you’ve brought such joy into our lives. Certainly, we’ve had our moments. You are a lot like me, you know. I know I expected perfection for you. Many times I determined my will power to be stronger than yours. I was young and idealic. I look back and see somethings could have been different, however, I look at you today and believe I did something right.

I am proud of the man you are. The circumstances surrounding your birth fell short of the expectant mother’s handbook, but who you are today has far exceeded my expectations. You are exceedingly, abundantly more than I could have asked for.

Happy Birthday Jacob❣️


Shame. The emotion floods in as strong today as it did over twenty years ago. As if time and life haven’t continued to move, as if I’m the only one to have ever made a mistake, as if I haven’t successfully helped others through similar situations, as if I’ve never done anything “good”, the shame hangs over me like a weight.

Naive. Could I have been any more gullible? I was always a little boy crazy and eager for that first kiss. Always overweight and worried I wasn’t pretty enough for the boys to like me. Always flirting, hoping for attention, and afraid of rejection. So whenever attention came my way, I clung to it like a lifeline unaware of the intentions behind the attentions.

Unrestricted. I had no rules. Always the “goody two-shoes” growing up, I expanded my horizons upon entering college. I had never attended a party where alcohol was accessible. It intrigued me. All of my new “friends” were familiar with this scene. I learned to play the drinking game, quarters. I didn’t care for the taste of beer, but I played along for the fun, and it was fun. Drinking was not always involved. We went dancing until late in the night and just enjoyed hanging out. I pledged a sorority.

Frat brothers. As a member of the band, our sorority was nerdy. It was our new goal in life to turn it into a cool sorority on campus. The fraternity associated with us had some cool guys, who were also members of another frat house on campus. This opened doors to meet even more guys: boy crazy, remember. As a pledge, their wish was my command.

The president. When the president of the fraternity paid special attention to me, I was flattered. He flirted and made a point to always hang out with me. I encountered him multiple times a day in the band hall for rehearsals but also in the student union among his other frat brothers. He asked me to visit with him at his grandmother’s house on a couple of occasions. Coincidentally his grandmother had lived in my hometown and had a historical book in which my relatives were mentioned. He kissed me and would try to touch me in inappropriate places, but I was able to resist him. However, desires were ignited inside me from the new touches.

Temptation. The Bible says in 1 Corinthians 10:13, “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” I had a way of escape. I don’t know if I didn’t realize that this night was different than the other nights when I had been able to resist him. But, this night I did not escape. I recall a portrait hanging on the wall in the room where I was waiting to make-out. In the portrait, Jesus is standing at the door knocking, and I realize now that should have been my sign to escape.

Overpowered. Being a child of the 80s, I was not familiar with the term “date rape”. It was not something I had ever considered. Looking back, I know this happened to me. I do not recollect many details from that night. I remember crying. I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, it was morning. I was nude, in a twin sized bed with “John”, and I was bloody. Later, I discovered bruises on the inside of both thighs. I can only suppose that he had to hold my legs open due to my resistance.

Blame. I did not blame “John”. I blamed myself. I attended the party; I drank alcohol; and, I wanted to make-out. I should not have been drinking. As the years have passed, I have realized that my fault stops there. I know that I did not consent to sex. If only I would have asked for help.

Disappointment. The reason I did not ask for help was because I did not want to see the look of disappointment in the faces of my family. I still don’t. I remember telling my high school friends that I had lost my virginity and the shocked look that filled their faces. I don’t think I ever told them the whole dirty story.

Details. The “walk of shame” accompanying my story cannot be diminished until I stop traveling that path. Revelations 11:12 says, “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.” I believe my release is in my testimony, every ugly detail. My closest friends were not at this particular party. Perhaps if they had been there I would have a different story to tell. We were at a fraternity pledge’s house. His parents were out of town for the weekend. We played quarters, and I may have had a beer. I do not remember drinking too much, and now I know I was drugged. I know we went into one of the bedrooms to make-out. Apparently he had grander plans. Details are fuzzy, and I actually remember very little. I can remember crying. I don’t recall undressing, so I must have passed out. I awoke the next morning, naked, nervous, and confused. I slipped out of the bed and noticed my clothes in a pile on the floor along with a used condom. I dressed quickly and headed straight to the bathroom. I cleaned up as best I could, but I was bleeding and never stopped for an entire week. I supposed the incident must have triggered my monthly cycle. I went back to the bedroom and surveyed the site before me. There on the bottom twin sized bunk lies “John” and a bloody mess. Humiliated as I feel, I am compelled to clean up the mess. I struggle to pull the sheets from around and under him. I search the house to find the laundry room. I just start the load washing and am startled by “Tommy”. This is his house. I imagine he wonders what I am doing, but I know he probably knows. I wish I could have fallen into his arms, cried, and told him I needed rescued.

Lost. I want to get away from here as fast as I can, but I have no idea where I am. I drove my car, but I just followed directions and really paid no attention to where I was going, so I’m stuck waiting on “John”. As I wait to remake the bed, “John” wakes up, and we talk a little. I do not remember what we spoke to each other, but I can remember being disgusted. I could see dried blood around his fingernails. I wanted to scream, “Go wash your hands!” We tried to clean the mattress before remaking the bed. The blood stains were stubborn, so we flipped the mattress and made it up. I cannot count the number of times I have imagined that family discovering the stained mattress.

Damaged. How can one night change everything? Lesson learned, I suppose. I gave up boys. Saying no was not a problem for me after losing my virginity. I realized that the boys really were only interested in sex and not me. “John” continued to plague me even though he never asked me out again. He would come up behind me at band functions and make noises in my ear. Noises he said I made during that night. This damaged me, for years after being married, I tried very hard not to make noises during sex. My husband thought he was doing something wrong because he wanted to hear the sounds of my pleasure. My personal hang ups took patience and years of love to overcome. I still have moments I struggle.
Found. With my decision made to forget boys, I was invited by friends to a Christian fraternity party. Soon after, I ran into a boy I met from the party, and he asked me for my phone number. So much for forgetting guys! We hit it off! Everything seemed to click. I was smitten.

Confessions. Our relationship escalated quickly. My new love interest is a preacher, a man of God, and from a preacher’s family. I love Jesus, and my entire life I could picture myself in full time ministry. I am falling fast in love. But, I’m faced with a great fear: “Will he still want me when he finds out I’m not a virgin?” I remember the day: we were sitting in the front circle drive, and before I could go any further in our relationship, I had to tell him the truth. It was one of the most difficult conversations of my life. Just saying the words tortured my soul. My heart broke telling this man, who I hoped would be my future husband, that I was used. I felt remorse, humiliation, fear, and sadness.

Redemption. He never blamed me, and he desperately encouraged me not to blame myself. His love for me was greater than any confession I might have. He loved me anyway. In spite of my circumstances, he showed me mercy. Instead of throwing out the pieces of my broken heart, he began the diligent process of putting the pieces back together again. I am loved.

Husbands. Ephesians 5:25-28 says, “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself.” Jesus loves us so much that He gave the ultimate gift of His life. He died that we might live. It’s unconditional love personified. We deserve death, but if we accept His free gift, we are granted life and life more abundantly. My husband loves me with that unconditional love. I live an abundant life with no fear. In the eyes of my husband, I am blameless. His love is greater than my sin.

Nothing. Romans 8:38-39: “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Nothing can separate us from the love of God. God would not have any to perish and that’s why He sent Jesus to offer hope. (John 3:16) However, we have the choice. We must choose Christ, believe He is God’s son, and live for Him. His love is there for the taking. Only we have to accept it. It is easy to live with regret and unworthiness.

Everything. Matthew 11:28: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” There is an old song that says, “Take your burdens to the Lord and leave them there.” We carry our sins like a heavy weight, as if they define who we are. We can be so much more! “…let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.”(Hebrews 12:1-2) Lay your past and present burdens at the feet of Jesus. He will restore everything you feel you have lost.

Shameless. Merriam-Webster puts it simply: “having no shame”. Romans 8:1 puts it: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus….” You ask God for forgiveness, He forgives and forgets, and that is important for your eternal life in Heaven. Now, you need to forgive yourself because that is important for the rest of your life on earth. Past mistakes and circumstances certainly have a hand in molding us to the people we become, but they don’t need to define the people we are today. Who you are today is determined by what you choose to do today. “Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed.” (Romans 10:11) I encourage you to let go of the past and begin to live a shameless life today!

Mini Cooper Phenom

Galatians 6:4 (NLT)

Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else.

Glamour. Prestige. Power. It’s the stuff movies and books are made of. My friend embodies this lifestyle. She possesses strength, wit, and book smarts. Her successful career has been achieved through diligence and sacrifice. She has ups, and she has downs; but, her sheer determination and seemingly fearless work ethic propel her forward. What’s more, she is not finished. The best is yet to come. Each day, every experience, a stepping stone building the firm foundation for her next level.

Wife. Mother. Homemaker. Far from the hustle and bustle of the corporate world, my life could not be any more different than my friend’s. However, as a mother, sacrifices are made to ensure the successes of my children. I, too, experience the ups and downs along this roller coaster ride known as life. Maybe we aren’t so different, after all. Kindergarten through college, we share a plethora of memories: boys, friends, laughter, tears, and the occasional half gallon of Blue Bell. Almost 30 years have gone by, and the winds of time shape and mold us into different people. The memories linger. Reunited, the conversation flows, and though our paths differ, we remain connected.

We both drive Mini Coopers. Yes, we are not that different, after all.

It’s Exactly the Right Time

I remember vividly standing in line at Toys R Us to purchase only a package of diapers for which I held a coupon. Jacob sat in the buggy screaming and pitching a fit, and I could hear the ladies in line behind me discussing how “he’s too old to be acting that way…”. I am embarrassed and mad and just want to get out of that store!

“Too Old!?!” Jacob was not too old, as a matter fact, he was two years old. The exact age “to be acting that way”. People even call them the terrible twos for that exact reason!!! I made up my mind that day to never judge a young mother when her child throws a fit in public. Some moments are uncontrollable. Or…are they???

As I reflect upon that day, what could I have done differently? What prompted the fit in the beginning? Well, I was in Toys R Us with a two-year-old, enough said, but I will explain further. My mission was to purchase diapers, that’s all, nothing more. Jacob wanted to stop and play with the toys (the large cars and the Little Tikes brand displays). I was only thinking about diapers and said, “no”. Upon reflection, I should have taken five minutes and enjoyed the toys with my son.

One piece of advice with which I encourage all new parents is to enjoy each moment. The kids grow so fast, and you can never get those moments back. Hopefully, I learned from this experience and made some different choices after that.

For each moment in time, there is an exact right time for you to be present and involved. Some times are sad, and other times are happy. As long as you are breathing, this is your time.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

…a time to every purpose under the heaven…

Embrace today! Live in this moment. Grieve in times of sadness. Rejoice in times of joy. Laugh in the goofy times. Cry in the hurting times. Just be. Don’t wish today away longing for the past or the future. Be present, now. It’s your time.

Bangs or No Bangs

The deed is done. There is not much use in asking now. But, the question plagued me from the moment I decided to try to grow out my bangs. It seems like such a small decision. Is it really that important of issue? It’s only hair! Or is it?

Toward July’s end, you might recall pictures of my highlighted hair. I like to refer to that stage as my “skunk style” because to me the large, chunky highlights looked more like streaks. It was not my finest hour. It was unplanned and not what I wanted, but I agreed to a “few highlights”. My mom texted me, “Don’t you know how to say ‘no’?”

Do I? This is difficult for me. I have a hard time saying “no”.

I tend to second-guess my decisions. I worry about what other people think. As I reflect upon my life, I recognize that many of my choices have been made based on others and not my own wants or desires.

As my bangs grew, before I had time to get a trim, I pinned them back out of my face. Sidenote: I cannot stand my hair in my eyes. I received a few compliments on my new style. Who doesn’t like compliments?

So, the next time I went for my trim, my stylist suggested that she liked my bangs off of my face, too. So, I agreed to let them grow, but it was a difficult choice because I prefer bangs.

I brought this up in a counseling session I attended. “I have a hard time making decisions.” The male counselor wanted an example, so I referred to my bangs. The funny part is that he had no idea what bangs are, so I had to give an entire explanation. I suppose it does sound confusing to think that bangs are actually created by cutting the hair. Generally, things that are cut off no longer exist, but in order for bangs to exist, you must cut them off. Interesting, huh? LOL.

Well, his advice for me was to look in the mirror over the next couple of weeks and decide what I like. I must not think of others, only myself. It sounds selfish, but in reality, who does my hair effect? Only me.

Guess what? I like bangs! On my face, I need my hair to be out of my eyes. Otherwise, I pin it back every day, or it drives me crazy. So, bangs it is.

Does this hair raising story have a point?

Even though there are times to prefer others and consider others’ feelings, it is important to make choices based upon what I like. I am the one who has to live with my choices, not others. My opinion matters. I can have a voice. I like what I like, and it may not be what you like, but that’s OK.

2 Corinthians 10:12

For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with them that commend themselves: but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

In last weeks blog, I referred to the term “po cat”, which was recently brought to my attention as not even being a term at all! The actual skunk reference is polecat. The polecat is an animal species in the weasel family, found in Europe, and only associated with our common skunk in that they both secrete a stinky smell from their anal glands. Isn’t it interesting how we can mishear a word or phrase?

For me, po cat was not my first mishearing, nor my last. As a young girl, I enjoyed singing along with country music at the top of my lungs. Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits was among my favorites list. And, I’m sure you remember the song, “Lucille”. The chorus went like this:

You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille

with 400 children and a crop in the field

I’ve had some bad times, lived through some sad times

this time the hurtin’ won’t heal

You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille

Well, maybe it was four hungry children, but not to my ten year old ears.

Perhaps, I haven’t grown much because I still tend to mishear. Anyone who knows me, knows I am not prejudice, at all, however, if you walked in on me singing Gwen Stefani‘s, Hollaback Girl, you would hear me saying, “I ain’t no Harlem black girl.” (Disclaimer: don’t google the lyrics because the gym version is much tamer than the real version 😳).

So, as you can see, we often don’t hear things the way they are intended. As a matter fact, I’ve heard it said, “Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.” Perception altars views. Sometimes we need to take a step back and look from a new angle. I experienced this recently. For 29 years, I have had a false impression of the following picture:

Do You See What I See?

Our past experiences have a way of warping our views. Our perception can be skewed because much like a cataract, our past hinders our vision. We need the cataracts removed and healing to take place, so we can see clearly.

In 1988, I went off to college. Footloose and fancy free, I was young and naïve to the ways of the big city (to me, Tyler was a big city). I met new people and forged new relationships. I attended some college parties & encountered a different scene. I dabbled in alcohol drinking games with some of these new “friends”. It seemed innocent enough at the time.

After a few weeks of college, one of the upperclassmen asked me to go out a couple of times. We would just hang out together. Once, he even went with me to a football game at my alma mater. So, we had been dating exclusively for a few weeks, when he invited me to a party at a mutual friend’s house.

It was at this party, he date-raped me. I didn’t tell anyone. In the late 80s, date-rape was not a common term. And I always felt like it was my fault because I attended the party. (I will share more about this experience in later writings, but today I want to focus on this picture of Jesus standing at the door knocking.)

This portrait hung on the wall in the bedroom where I was raped. I don’t have a great recollection of the night’s events because I was drugged, but I plainly remember this picture of Jesus. For 29 years, this picture has brought me feelings of condemnation and shame. My mind told me that this was my way of escape. I would think of the rape and imagine Jesus there saying, “get out of this room”. As if, the portrait should have been a warning sign.

This past week, however, I had an epiphany! I have been researching during my Bible study time about our eyes and how we see (2 Kings 6:8-23, 2 Corinthians 3:12-18, Revelations 3:14-22). I have been asking Jesus to let me see how He sees.

The relevance of Jesus’ portrait in the room completely changed in my eyes. I no longer see a condemning Jesus, but I see that Jesus was with me in the room the entire time. In that dark moment of my life, Jesus was right there. In the midst of my pain, Jesus never left me. When I was blind and could not see, Jesus was still present.

He is here all the time. He never stops knocking. He just waits for us to open the door.

What a revelation! That portrait was not ever meant to be a source of condemnation! That portrait was meant to assure me that I was never alone. Jesus was there!

Mark 4:22-23 (NLT)

For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light. Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand.

Dear Lord, help us hear and see with our spiritual ears and eyes, so we can understand Your love for us. Amen.

I am a who, not a what!

What a revelation! Unfortunately, it took me almost 43 years to come to this realization. I am a people pleaser by nature. Growing up I maintained a reputation of a good girl because I made choices I knew would please others. 

Don’t get me wrong! This is not a bad quality. It’s a quality that has served me well. My work ethic is strong; my credit score is high; and my word is true. 

But along the way, my choices were often made in conflict. I am from a family of educators: my dad, my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law, my aunt, my cousin, and countless close family friends. I am a teacher, too. As small children, my sister and I would play school. We would write, color, draw, teach  & discipline each other, and decorate our room like a classroom. Teaching is a gift from God (1 Corinthians 12:28), a high calling, and being a teacher makes me proud. I have defined myself that way: “Hello. My name is Amy, and I am a teacher.” 

However, if you look upon my teaching career, it appears a bit wishy-washy. My experience: 

One year at Edgewood, one year at Robert E. Lee, one year at Winona, two and a half years at Literacy Council, five years at Christian Heritage, four years at Lindale, and countless extended stints as a substitute. 

I felt a tug upon my heart to stay home with my children and work alongside my husband pastoring the church. Each time I quit teaching, I faced a real struggle within myself trying to define what I was. If not a teacher, then what?

It has taken years to hearken to the voice of the Lord, and regardless of my insecurities, step out by faith and follow him. That tug upon my heart to step out of the role of math teacher was God’s voice. His direction for me is different than the direction I think best. If not a math teacher, then who? That’s a better question.

I am a daughter of the most high God. I am redeemed from a life of sin. I am a testimony for others to see the salvation of God. I am loved unconditionally, therefore, I am able to love others. I am a pastor’s wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a faithful friend. I am a writer. And, yes, I am a teacher, too. 

Romans 1:16 …I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ….

Romans 8:38-39 …I am persuaded that [nothing] … shall be able to separate us from the love of God….

1 Corinthians 11:1 …I am [a follower] of Christ. 

1 Corinthians 13:2 …[without love] I am nothing.

1 Corinthians 15:10 But by the grace of God I am what I am….

2 Corinthians 7:4 …I am exceeding joyful….

2 Corinthians 11:21 … I am bold….

2 Corinthians 12:10 …when I am weak, then am I strong.

Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ….

Colossians 1:25 …I am a minister….

Step out by faith and embrace WHO you are today!