Can't Help Lovin' dat Man

He's not "scurred"!!!

This weekend (well, Thursday through Sunday) was full.  It was not just our bellies that experienced a filling, but our beings.  We were thankful.  We celebrated.  We had birthday parties and went to Disneyland.


One of the birthday's happened to be Fly's.  He turned 30.  (Yes, I am older, but only by 18 days; these are the longest 18 days of my life!)


In honor of his big 3-0 here are 30 reasons why I love my Fly and am so blessed to do life with him:



1.  He humors my love for musicals and by default has learned the songs to most of my favorites.
2.  He washes my car every Saturday and cleans out the inside...this sometimes pains him but he still does it.  (The inside of my car can often resemble the closet of a messy teenager.)
3.  He's the most loyal man I know.
4.  He looks good in every picture:)...he's so photogenic.
5.  Being an uncle changed him for good...being a dad made him that much better.  His nieces and his kids have no doubt in their minds that Uncle or Daddy love them and will go to the end of the world for each of them.
6.  He sees right through fake concern.  His a pretty discerning guy.
7.  He can make our babies fall asleep in seconds in his arms.
8.  He is full of adventure.  Ask him about how he illegally rode a turtle in Maui and sought out the hammerheads...not a good idea if you ask me...but adventurous just the same.
9.  He's not just adventurous.  He is brave.  I am never afraid when he is with me.
10.  He sings silly songs.  He changes all the lyrics to different songs to be silly...and sometimes slightly inapporpriate.
11.  He surprises me because he knows I love surprises.
12.  He is a planner.
13.  He is a saver.
14.  He hugs me and his kids.
15.  He tells each of us he loves us...often.
16.  He doesn't care what people think about him...he always does what he thinks is right.
17.  He does dishes and laundry without complaint or a second thought.
18.  He loves music.  Music speaks to him.  I'm pretty sure that's how God gets his attention:).
19.  He loves gummy bears...and has passed his love for them to The Bug.
20.  I love how I fit right under his head.  He is a whole foot taller than me so my head hits his chest.  It's my favorite place.
21.  He knows when I need a Starbucks.
22.  He is my pillar of strength. 
23.  He loves God and is an example of God's love to me and our kids.
24.  He's selfless.  When there are five coconut crusted shrimp he always lets me have three and he eats two.  In all the time that I have know him he has never eaten the third one.  I have tried everything.  He will even let me throw it away because he knows I really want it and I won't just let it go to waste!
25.  He doesn't watch scary shows and movies when I am around because he knows I don't like them.
26.  He reads my blog...every entry.
27.  He supports me and my dreams for our future, even the unconventional ones.
28.  He makes me laugh.  He makes me laugh all the time.
29.  He sees us as teammates; we are in this game together.
30.  He doesn't pretend to be perfect...instead he practices grace.  For that, I am most thankful.

Silly Daddy

The nieces and the Bug

It's a good list.  However, there are days when I forget these things and my heart becomes embittered with him.  I am not proud of those days.  But, if you ask any married couple, it's a part of the journey.  On those days I try to remember that my daddy always told me not to go to bed angry with someone.  So, I often try to forgive before we fall asleep.  I touch my toes to his to signal the I'm sorry's and I forgive you's.  And, if we've had enough time that's all it takes.  We choose grace; we choose it for ourselves and each other.  If God's mercies are new every morning who are we to hold a grudge.  That's our secret...that's why we still like each other.

The 30 year olds

So selfless, that for his birthday he got me my new wedding ring.  (A bad guy stole my original...if you don't know the story you can read it here The Glad Game)  It was a stunning surprise.

My prayer is that 30 years from now it is as easy to come up with 60 reasons why I love this man as it was to come up with 30.  I pray that there will be at least another 30 years of silly songs, coconut shrimp and toe touching.


I love you Fly.  Happy Birthday.

Sowing Season

So...I'm learning to sew.  That's right ladies and gentlemen,  I am slowly but surely domesticating.

Last year for my birthday I asked for a sewing machine.  I had these beautiful images conjured up in this dreamy little head of mine of me, late at night, sitting at my sewing machine, creating masterpieces...costumes, curtains, pillowcases and anything else I could do with paisley fabric.

The Machine

However, no one told me that being pregnant with a toddler who could run circles around you on your good day would mean that every chance I could sit I did just that.  Often that sitting turned into laying down.  The laying down caused my eyelids to get heavy.  The rest is history.  The moment that kiddo would go down for a nap I was out.  Being pregnant is hard work.  Being the Bug's mama is hard work.  Put the two together and I remember why it's difficult for me to form coherent sentences after 6pm.

So...the sewing machine...sat in it's box for a year and week or so until finally, this week, I did it.  I opened the box.  I slid the squeaky Styrofoam right out of that box.  I opened the directions and started with page one.  I took a deep breath and began to read word for word the description of each little piece and what it's function was.  It kind of felt like reading Spanish.  I took enough Spanish in high school and college to make out the gist of what something says...granted it takes me a while.  I know enough "head knowledge" about sewing to know things like the bobbin is an important feature.  I'm not really sure what it does but I know that without it, there will be no sewing.  (My friends who do sew....or have tried to teach me little bits are laughing at me now.)

To date I have not turned it on or has a piece of fabric graced the "Needle Plate"  but it is out of the box.  And that, my friends, is a victory in itself.

Out of the box!!!

What was it that inspired me to finally dive in and at least look at the real thing rather than stare at the picture every time I came across it?  First, I am in the process of some de-cluttering and the sewing machine lives in the cluttered, catch all, guest room.  Second, I was working on a Bible Study I have been doing on my own in the book of Ruth and it reintroduced the idea of "sowing and reaping" to me.  The study asked me a question, "Are you in a season of sowing or reaping?"  It stumped me...but it also made me think of that machine...sitting in it's box...waiting to be used.

Am I in a season of sowing or reaping?  The Bible uses these terms in a variety of passages.  The idea comes from the farming process of sowing seed and reaping harvest.  God's Word likens it to our journey through life.  There are seasons of pouring in...into ourselves, our relationships, our community, our world and so on.  Then there are seasons of reaping when we see all of our hard work pay off.

The study brought me to Psalm 126.  Verses 5 and 6 say this,

 ⁵ Those who sow in tears
         Shall reap in joy.
 ⁶ He who continually goes forth weeping,
         Bearing seed for sowing,
         Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
         Bringing his sheaves with him.

This is the New King James Version...it's my favorite because it sounds so much like Shakespeare:).  Don't judge...I love Shakespeare.

This passage reminded me that the season of sowing is a hard one.  It reminded me that it takes blood, sweat and tears  for a harvest to be produced.  It reminded me that even though I may have many tears throughout my life my God can use them to produce harvest.  This was a good reminder.

It was a good reminder because after some reflection I realized that I am in a sowing season...a sowing season that may actually be one of the very hardest I will ever face.  I like to call this sowing season, "Motherhood."

Me and Little Man

This is a season in which God has entrusted me with His creations.  He has equipped me to guide them and teach them.  He has given me the ability to nourish not only their bellies but also their minds and their hearts.  He has given me the chance to sow into these little ones the truths, the convictions, the passions, the desires to be people who live for the plan He has for each of them; a plan that is designed to reap more than just their own personal successes.

I sat with the Psalm for a little while...marinating in the words.  I thought about tears...my tears.  I have a lot of tears.  My tear button is so sensitive that sometimes I think it malfunctions.  I can be doing dishes and all of sudden tears are streaming down my face.  The funny thing is that a sentence like that is usually followed with a "for no reason at all"...no, my malfunctioning comes from my reasoning.  I may be crying while I'm doing the dishes out of joy because the Bug finally ate a vegetable I didn't have to hide.  It's a sign of growing, maturing...I small sign of reaping from all the sowing I have been doing to get her to eat healthy foods.

So full of Life.

I'm serious, people.  Real tears.

This, as hormone induced as it might sound, is not a new thing for me.  My mother has said for a very long time, "Allison wears her heart on her sleeve."  This is code for, "Allison cries...a lot."  People that know me well...or even just sort of well...are nodding their heads in agreement.

But, I'm not ashamed.  My tears are what bring me to my knees, whether it be out of desperation or joy...celebration or repentance.  My tears shape my prayers and my relationship with God.  My tears are the only way I know how to express my deep passions and compassion.  After reading this Psalm I now know that my tears are not in vain.  They are not just a girl thing.  My tears are part of the sowing process.  My tears, followed with authentic intention and action can reap a harvest of joy.

I have only been a mother for 2 years, 6 months and 13 days.  In that time have cried a lot.  I have prayed a lot.  I have taught my little ones a lot.  However, this is just the beginning.  I know these years are dear and precious and even easy compared to what is to come.

Awesome Hair Day

Therefore, my prayer for this season is that I learn to sow. 

I pray that I learn to sow into my children the knowledge that there is a God that loves them, who created them with a plan and a purpose.  This purpose is beyond themselves.  I want to sow into them a deep compassion for others; a true knowledge and understanding of the power of God's Word to heal and make whole.  I want to sow in them life lessons that will help them make wise decisions.  I want to sow in them the tangible experience of grace.  I want them to know they will make mistakes...their parents will make mistakes, but grace, grace is why we are able to pick ourselves up, forgive, and see all circumstances as opportunities to experience more of who God is.

This is a lot of responsibility. 

I am thankful that I am not alone in the process.  I have the Fly...who is awesome.  He really is.  He loves his kids in a way that I could not have foreseen.  I knew he would be a good dad but he is a GREAT dad.  I am so thankful that I get to partner with him in this sowing season.  I could not do it without him.  When he digs deep for the extra patience or when he rolls around on the ground producing deep belly laughs I feel the tears well up and I thank God.

Love that "Fly Guy"

I am in a sowing season...probably the hardest...but also rewarding.  I move forward knowing my tears have the ability to produce something if they compel me to act intentionally.  I hope they do.  I want to take my sowing seriously so that I can rejoice at the Harvest.

Melts me.

With all this said, I still want to learn how to actually sew.  I have often experienced what is going on with me Spiritually manifest physically:).  So...maybe in this sowing season...I will sew.  And I pray, as my sewing skills increase my "sowing skills" will reap with joy.

Blessed to Bless

I'm feeling inspired. Stirred up.

When people are using their lives to be blessings to other people I get excited.  It makes me remember that we are capable of good.

I read on an email devotional something along these lines, "I am blessed to be a blessing."

It made me think.  It made me pray.  Then my eyes began to catch glimpses of this very idea.  Like when I wear a piece of shiny jewelry and it catches the sunlight, I began to see people and hear people talk about the way they live this out.  So, I decided since it is November, I would take the next few posts to mash up opportunities of thanks and giving....


Today, I am thankful to have the privilege of knowing a beautiful woman named Juli.  She has been living in Kenya for a number of years being a blessing.  She recently founded a ministry call Living Room Ministries.  Through her vision and the help of others, Kimbilio Hospice was built.  It is a 24 bed inpatient hospice that houses adults and children living with terminal illness.


Last weekend I had the privilege of hearing Juli tell stories about the people she has the honor of blessing.  Every once in a while we get to hear what has been going on at Kimbilio (which means refuge in Swahili)  at Hillside Community Church when she visits the states.


Two things she said that day have been dancing around my head since her words fell on my ears.


1)  She talked about the fact that access and availability of pain medications, such as morphine, are a major challenge in Kenya.  She shared, "For a population of nearly 40 million people, it is reported that only seven of Kenya's approximate 250 government hospitals have morphine."


When I was pregnant with the Little Man I had to rush to the hospital one afternoon because of some unrelenting stomach pains.  They hurt me so badly.  The doctor gave me a dose of morphine and the pain went away.  They were never able to diagnose the problem but Little Man was fine and it seemed I was too.

The number of cancer patients in Kenya is climbing.  Cancer is painful.  It is chronically painful.  I can't help but think about how desperate people are just to manage their pain...and how without a second thought I was able to have mine relieved.


Juli said that morphine is actually very inexpensive to provide...about $5.  That is one less Starbucks drink.  Imagine...$5 can offer relief.  This has stirred me.


2)  Juli told a story about a mother who traveled over 100 miles to get her son to a well-known herbalist that is near Kimbilio in Kipkaren.  The little boy had a tumor appear on his face and his mother had heard that this herbalist may be able to do something for them.  After a long journey for help none was found with the herbalist.  The mother, not knowing where to go, caught a ride on the back of a motor bike.  The driver told her he would take her to a place where they help people...where people get healed.  He took her to Kimbilio.  You can read the full story here.



As Juli was talking all I could think about was the name of her ministry...The Living Room.  She had envisioned it to be a place that would offer compassion and care to the dying...what she did not know at the time was that God had so much life he would bring to those who came to her.  When you hear her tell stories of people who came and were healed, people who came and were loved and left this world you can't help but be moved.


Her flier says, "On a daily basis the Living Room team extends compassion to the lives of the lonely and forgotten that God has never been able to forget."


God's words, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," have been very present in my life since September 14th of this year.  That day I realized how fragile life is, how bad people can be but also through so many, how much good can come from pain, heartache and dire circumstances.


Juli reminds me that I have been given today and that makes me capable of giving.  I can give my children hugs.  I can give my husband my support.  I can give the man who digs in the trash every trash day my bag of recyclables so he doesn't have to dig in one more can.  I can give up my Starbucks tomorrow so my neighbor on the other side of the ocean can be relieved of pain.  I can give more.  There are opportunities everywhere, everyday I am given.


I don't know about you but I have been making a mental Christmas list.  I have been thinking about what I want and need...now, I am not saying presents are wrong...but what if I needed and wanted a little less this year?  Maybe I could be a blessing to someone else. 


450 of you read my Glad Game post where I told the story of what happened on September 14th.  If 450 people follow this link to Living Room Ministries and give $5 each that is $2,250.  That's a lot of Morphine...that's a blessing.

Kimbilio "Refuge"

Chepchumba
On March 4th, this little girl arrived to Kimbilio Hospice. 8 years old and weighing a mere 13 pounds. Special feedings, medical treatment and constant care were implemented; and by God’s grace, she has come back to life.

 

30

Today is the day.  I am 30.  I have to tell the truth and say that I really was not looking forward to today.  But, now that it is here, I am embracing it and truly feel excited about what it represents. 

For a while there 30 scared me.  My preconceived ideas were made up of images of myself as a much less attractive and much more boring version of myself.  I really don't where these thoughts and images came from because when I look at my friends who are in there 30's, 40's and even 50's and 60's, I see beautiful women and attractive men who carry themselves with confidence.  I see men and women who have lived life and have learned lessons.  I see men and women who have lines on their faces that could represent their age but could also represent how often they've laughed and smiled. 

And  let me tell you, my friends, both, the men and women that have entered the decades past the twenties are so NOT boring.  Actually they are far more interesting because the speak and live out of experience. 

When I look back at the last decade I see 10 years of, "A Beautiful Mess."  I started the decade as a young woman who had just fallen in love...with that man I would spend the rest of my life with and with my Savior.  I was young, immature, bold in my dreams, confident that God had a great plan for me and a bit more arrogant and selfish than I would like to admit.

Those first 3 years of my twenties were crazy!  I learned about my God and who He created me to be at an exponential rate.  He set me on the fast track for sure.  Thanks to my amazing university, Azusa Pacific University (Woot!  Woot!) and the community I found there, and thanks to Hillside Community Church (Woot!  Woot!)  and the community I found there, I had people surrounding me on all sides pouring into me.  There were a few key women who I will never be able to thank enough for their love and guidance and PRAYERS in that time. 

During that time the Fly and I grew as individuals and together and although I would have said yes the day after our first Disneyland date...my sweet, wise, planner of a husband knew waiting was a better plan.  I hate to admit it, and especially where so many will witness it, but he was right...at least once.

By the end of those first 3 years I had graduated college, started a masters and credential program, got a job teaching Kindergarten, got engaged, got married, got a job as a youth pastor to junior high students and moved into a cute little apartment with my new husband.  I had learned not only that Jesus loved me and had a plan to use me in His Kingdom but I also learned of the amazing healing that one can experience by being in relationship with Him.  I learned that my bad choices and mistakes no longer defined me.  I learned that I was a "New Creation."  I was given a second chance at doing life.  I also learned of the tool that would come most handy in the next 7 years...prayer.  My prayer life changed and instead of praying only prayers of defense and desperation I learned to pray from the offense...prayers that produced change...not because of me...but because I knew what my Jesus was capable of.

The next 6 years were good and hard in that way you feel after an intense workout...where you have to crawl to your shower to clean yourself up and drink 42 oz of gatorade or water because you are positive that there is nothing left inside of you.   Working at Hillside was one of the greatest privileges and one of the greatest challenges I have had.  As many of you know, I had planned a long career of  entertaining people, not teaching rambunctious junior high students about how God loves them, has not forgotten them and has a great plan for each of their lives.

But, just like a good workout, those years were so good for me as much as I ached at times.  They were rich with friendships, the kind that last and go deep.  They were filled with lessons, the kind that make you cry, think, reflect and apply.  They were filled with laughter, the kind that makes your belly hurt.  They were filled with heartache, the kind where you don't know anything to do but cry out to a God you hope has not forsaken you or someone you care about.  They were filled with teenagers, the kind that don't trust you right away, but once they learn you are for them and not against them, they hug you, talk to you and ask you to pray for them.  They were filled with those teenager's parents, the kind that are in desperate need to know that their teenager is not going off the deep end, the kind that have taught me so much about being the kind of parent that raises kids who love God.  They were filled with hopes both achieved and dashed.  They were filled with creativity both stifled and unleashed.  Those years impressed upon me the truth that I was placed on earth with a purpose that was more others-centered than self-centered.  They were so messy and so beautiful.

The last three years though, those have been the hardest, but in the best way.  The Bug came along and changed my life for the better.  The Fly and I can not imagine our lives without our boisterous, joyful and life-filled Bug.  Then came my Little Man...who I can tell is completely different than his big sister.  His little personality is starting to show.  He lets me hold him and hug him longer than she would:).  And his deep belly laughs bring tears to my eyes.  He is a giant Little Man who has brought even more joy into our lives. 

The last three years have taught me even more how life is not about me...and that, in a strange way, is what I am most excited about.  I feel like, in my twenties, it was all about figuring myself out...what I wanted, what I needed.  Finally, I have found the joy in what it means to serve others...funny, you'd think I would have figured that out with working in ministry...and I did to a degree...but it has intensified recently.

So, 30's, I welcome you...with open arms and smile that is beginning to leave permanent lines in my face.  I know you will be messy.  I know you will be hard but I also know you will be beautiful and full.  There will be lots of laughing at the Fly, the Bug and the Little Man...and any others that might come along:)...there will be tears because they are part of life...and, let's be honest, part of my everyday.  There will be more stories and I plan to tell them because I want to remember and I want to learn.  There will be adventures and I embrace them...even the scary ones that I can't control.

I must get back to the kiddos now, Little Man is screeching and The Bug is running out of things to keep her occupied while I type.  But stay tuned...I plan on writing more, even if they are just short quips of what's going on in the beautiful mess I live in.

Thank you family and friends who have shaped me and poured into my life.  Today, I am celebrating you.

The O'Hara Girl

"As God as my witness I will never go hungry again!"  These are famous words spoken in the amazingly over dramatic, closing scene of the first half of the epic film, Gone With the Wind.   (Wow...what a sentence...the nerd in me kind of wants to diagram it:)) I remember watching this movie as a young girl and loving the swelling score, the lavish landscapes, the embellished dresses, the sweet southern accents and the love story between Scarlet and Rhett.  I would sit with my mom and we would watch it on the special VHS edition...real classy. 

Although I didn't comprehend the entire movie and all that it encompassed in regards to the brutalities and devastating effects of war and slavery, the movie still captured me.  It quickly became my "esteemed" answer to the ice breaker question, "What is your favorite movie?"  (I loved answering that question...I thought it made me look like a very "cultured" 14 year old.)  I began to collect memorabilia, posters, pictures, books...anything I could get my hands on. 

One of my favorite memories of this collecting process happened when my dad took me to Universal Studios for some daddy-daughter time.  (I had been caught dating a boy I shouldn't have been dating...another story for another time...)  I was 14, (reason number one why I shouldn't have been dating any boy!) and we were walking through Universal City Walk to get to the park.  There used to be a store there where you could take your picture on a blue screen and they would super-impose you into a scene out of a movie of your choice.  This was before everyone could photoshop from their home computers.  So, of course I had to have a picture done with Rhett Butler!  (Kind of ironic due to the circumstances surrounding our visit, but anyhoo--)   My daddy knew me, and still knows me too well, and knew that I had such an infatuation with anything GWTW that he let me get the picture done.  I took it home and hung it in my room.  It hung there for a very long time, eventually surrounded by a GWTW movie poster, a Scarlett collectible doll and various black and white stills from the movie.



The infatuation then and what intrigues me still was not or is not, Rhett, or Mammy or and any of the other characters, but that O'Hara girl, Scarlet.  I found her fascinating.  Yes, she was manipulative and selfish.  She was harsh and cruel at times.  She was a real pain in the...Neck....but she was strong.  She didn't take anything from anyone.  She had a soured reputation but she was also known for her sheer determination.  It was, and is, that strength and determination, and the lack of concern of what others thought of her that to this day stirs me up inside.


I think it is because I want that.  I want to be strong.  I want to be brave.  I want to say what I think...out-loud...and not care what others are going to say about it.  I want to channel a big, Italian mamma, who doesn't get crossed or messed with because everyone knows she has the ability to take you down.  Scarlet wasn't big or Italian but she could give a look and you would know she meant business.


"Where is this coming from?" you might ask.  Well, there are a number of things that have provoked this stirring inside me in the last few days but the one that put me over the edge was when I went to pick the kids up from the childcare center at my gym.  The room I drop them off in is divided into babies and toddlers.  I was getting the Little Man ready to go when I heard a shrill, determined voice shout from the other side.  "STOP...SPITTING...ON...ME..." were the words that rang out of my seriously tweeked two and half year old.  She had been sitting in a chair reading a book when I a little boy came up to her and started spitting on her.  I had heard the childcare employees correcting a little one about something and I also heard some grunts and squeals but it wasn't until those words came out in such a ferocious tone and with such strength and determination that everyone...adults and kids seemed to fall silent and stop to see what little body could be so worked up. 


I quickly made my way to her and the childcare employee corrected the little boy.  I said to the Bug, "I understand that you don't want to be spit on but you don't need to yell.  Next time say 'Please, stop spitting on me.'"  The little boy was made to apologize and The Bug was encouraged to forgive...which she did...I think begrudgingly.  As we headed out the door and to our car I couldn't shake the encounter from my thoughts.  For the next few days I pondered my words to my Bug...and then, got angry with myself.


Why should she say "Please?"..."Please...stop spitting on me."  When I look back at what happened she had every right to react the way she did.  I began to think about how she is wired.  Although only two and half I can see that this little girl is strong.  She has some very strong opionions, emotions and feelings about her little life already.  I feel that my job is cut out for me.  I want to raise a strong girl who knows that God created her to be strong but to use that strength for His good with integrity and virtue.


I want The Bug to know that God has a calling on her life to use her for good.  I want her to know that He made her with specific abilities and talents that she can use for good.  I want her to be strong with her words and kind...but I don't want her to apologize when there is no reason to be sorry.  I want her to say what she means with dignity and respect even if the recipient might take offense...especially if it comes from a place of truth and conviction.


But there is a problem.  Kids learn so much from our examples...and I fall so short here.  For example, at the grocery store you will often hear me say,"Excuse me, so sorry.  Excuse me, so sorry."  As if I should apologize for doing what everyone else is doing...pushing a cart and filling it.  I realized that I was doing this when The Bug started repeating me. "Skooz me, so surry..."   WHY SHOULD WE BE SORRY FOR PUSHING OUR CART DOWN THE AISLE???????!!!!!!  These are the things that draw me back to my intrigue with the O'Hara girl. 


I just recently heard someone quote something like this..."Nice girls don't change the world."  I googled it to find out who said it and then found this book by Lynne Hybels:

I know it wasn't Lynne Hybels that was quoted but I also didn't think it was a coincidence that I happened upon this book.  This is what she says is regards to how she came up with the idea to write such a thing...

Nice Girls Don't Change the World

Splash.  Splash.  Back and forth in a steady rhythm, my paddle pushed the water and my kayak sliced the waves.  I moved slowly as my thoughts gathered, but faster as my frustration peaked.  The muscles in my arms ached as my jumbled thoughts coalesced into a single sentence:  Nice girls don’t change the world!  Therein lay my frustration.  Since childhood I had dreamed of being a righter of wrongs, a force for good, a soul-soother, a world-changer—a dangerous woman!  But what had I been instead?  A “nice girl,” an innocuous people-pleaser.  Good at going through the safe, socially accepted motions of life, I had lost all sense of passion, giftedness, or dreams.
That would make a great title for a book, my husband suggested later as I spit out my latest kayaking insight.  Oh right.  But his suggestion lingered.  Are there other nice girls out there?  Women living out roles that deny their true selves and violate God’s calling on their lives?  Women dying to come to life?  Should I write for them as well as me? Thus was my little book conceived.

I could not say it better myself.  I don't want to be an "innocuous people-pleaser."  And, I certainly do not want my kids to be either.  I want them to be world changers and forces for good.  So, it's time.  It's time for me to stop.  It's time for me to stop caring so much about what people might say about me, what people might think about me.  These fear producing thoughts no longer only impede me...they hinder my children.   And, if there is anything that would cause me to examine myself and pray for transformation, it is my children. 


The O'Hara girl is at it again in my life.  Her fiery gaze and sheer determination have gotten under my skin in a good way.  I am reminded again of how attractive passionate people are.  At the same time, I am also fully aware of how easy it is for their passion to be tainted, in case you were worried.  But, that is what my prayers are for.  I will be praying for guidance and for my kids daily and I will be praying that the Fly and I are examples...examples of strength, integrity and virtue...and when we mess up...because we will often...I will pray that we will be examples of humility.


I know my kids aren't perfect and will never be while they walk this earth but I also know that "as God as my witness,"  they will be strong and they will be forces for good.

I think I might pick up a copy of that book, Nice Girls Don't Change the World.  Because like I said, this had got to start with me.  I turn 30 on Monday and I'm thinking this is gonna be a really great decade ahead....but more on that later.

For now, it's no more nice girl here, well, you know what I mean...it's okay to be nice but this nice is going to stem from passion and strength.  And, you may hear what I think a little more often...I may ruffle your feathers...and I want to be okay with that.  Because, the only way to raise world changers is to be one myself.