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I know a few things for sure.
During my junior year of high school, I met a boy who I thought was the greatest thing ever at my church youth group. Turns out, he really was. Eight years later - we've been married for three, have two kids, and we laugh a lot.
One year before I met him, I met the real love of my life in Jesus Christ. There were days that year when I would feel slightly hopeful in my head about something - probably an event coming up or good news I had forgotten for a moment. Upon further examination (due to an over-analytical personality), I'd remember grace, remember Jesus' love for me. Nine years later, I am still finding myself happy for no reason at all - except for, oh right... my soul being saved. Of course it's not all roses up in here. I've got more than enough pride, anger, denial, blame, self-righteous yuck, laziness, and doom and gloom to go around. But in general... I've got a good thing going.

I really truly love Jesus. I love to tell people about Him that don't know Him at all. I love to remind myself how good He is to me. I love to find new ways to describe how I see Him, how He makes me feel. This past week I think I may have used the words, "like something really good to drink". Sometimes I feel like I'm such a Jesus-veteran... what a joke. I've been walking with him for less than a decade and I have so much to learn. I know very little about very little, but I do know when it's all said and done, I still won't know much. However, I am certain that my love for Him will still continue to surprise me throughout my life and I'm more than certain that His grace will baffle me for years to come.

I'll never get over the fact that despite my sin, despite the shame I should possess - He loves me enough to redeem my soul from the pit of death and still, still, He goes on to bless me further. It's hard sometimes to really give Jesus the intense reverence He deserves and be able to enjoy the awesome gifts that He gives. Somewhere between weeping at the cross and rolling on the floor with my kids, my heart lies. I could dissect three verses in Genesis for sixteen hours - shocked at the words "Let US make man in OUR image" but I could also laugh for sixteen hours with my husband about something as mundane as celebrity golf. That's the place I want to write from - stuck, absolutely fastened, in between my messy existence & a celebration of the divine.

I love to read and I like to write, I think because I'm a story teller. If you ask the wrong person, they may go as far to say 'embellisher' but I think that sometimes a story deserves a little fluff, some extra glitter if you will. My sister and I tell a mean story about a ghost we saw the week before her wedding, and in the six years since her marriage, our little apparition has gone from six to twelve feet, but the fact is we saw him - and that is a story for another time. But the sweet thing about story telling and Jesus is that no glitter need apply. How do you jazz up the minute when you first felt grace? Or conviction? Or peace? Seriously, when you feel real Godly, heaven-given peace... what can compete with that? Only telling that story again and again to spread hope and encouragement. So I'm writing from the sticky place between heaven and life, with full knowledge that I don't need to jazz up a single detail. Some serious writing seminars may be in order and at some point I should probably buy a twenty pound grammar book, but I think most people who don't take themselves too seriously and take Jesus as serious as a heart attack enjoy a good story - even when it's missing the necessary punctuation. So grab some coffee & read my stories, while you're at it... write down your own so I have something fun to read when my kids go to bed tonight.