It’s been difficult finding words to share here.
These last several months have been occupied with our family’s preparation and move to a new city.
Have you been through a move?
It’s messy and exhausting.
It takes all my energy to establish new routines, encourage your children to make new friends, and figure out where to get my hair cut (I swear, meeting a new stylist is like going on a blind date!).
Then there’s the task of finding a new church, the library, a new favorite restaurant, and parks that accommodate kids ages 11, 8, 7, and 23 months.
Through all of this my marriage needs to be maintained and given tender care.
There are so many known and unknown responsibilities that accompany a move! I’ve experienced bouts of sadness, anxiety, some mild depression, and loss over what our lives were before we came to Northwest Ohio.
I’ve also felt plenty of joy and contentment in our new home.
Sadly, writing has not been high on my priority list.
If you’ve read some of my other posts you know our family history and the trauma we experienced. I consider myself a melancholy writer, which has captured women’s hearts because I choose to be honest about pain and struggle.
Life is chaos personified. Some of us want to hide our pain and pretend that life is perfect.
I’m not one of those people. Sure, I WANT my life to be perfect.
I want my kids to get along all the time.
I want my husband and I to agree about everything.
I want to sleep in every weekend…hint, hint, B.
I want to be a happy Christian who always has a smile on her face.
But that is not my life.
So I show up here in the place I’ve carved out in cyber space, and wonder if my words matter anymore.
I’m not really sure to be honest.
My life feels different now, like this is where God wanted me to end up.
I’ve lived in the “what if” for many years, and now I can FINALLY exhale.
I’m living out some of my spiritual gifts, and I LOVE it.
I’ve learned that God has given me a burning desire to encourage women, especially in real life, and I feel empty without those opportunities.
The desire to fill my home with friends and loved ones stems from the need to encourage, support, and show others that their homes don’t need to be perfect in order to open the doors.
Allowing others to see our imperfect lives gives them permission to accept their own mess and realize we can love one another through that imperfection.
All of these realizations cause me to wonder if I can still encourage you, my reader, since my life doesn’t feel like an emergency anymore.
Then I’m reminded who I really write for.
It’s Him. The One who has redeemed my life, who brought me back from darkest hole I’ve ever found myself in, and has made my life something I never could on my own.
The God of healing and restoration is the reason why I am able to share my stories and encourage women to keep fighting. The years will be returned to you, God will fulfill his promises, and he does love you just as you are.
As I get my groove back here I hope you will join me for whatever journey God wants my writing to take.
I trust he will not disappoint.