Category Archives: Uncategorized

I See You

A woman in my Sunday School class was talking about her trip to Africa and the greeting that a particular tribe used.   As they encountered someone, they would look them in the eye and say, “I see you,” and the other person would respond in kind.  My heart stirred as I heard those words.

I See You.

This past week was a bit rough.  Nothing terrible or bad happened; there were just a lot of little annoying things.  My neighborhood bible study was cancelled, but somehow my name was not included in the group email…again.  Did they forget about me?   Several times while driving, people either pulled out slowly in front of me despite the other empty lane or tried to occupy the same space as me.  Did they not see me?  While at the grocery store there were two people on either side of the isle leaving no room in the middle for me or anyone else to get through.  I said excuse me several times; each time louder than the one before, to no avail.  Did they not see or hear me?  Add to that a feeling of just not being known because I’m still the new kid on the block and I was left feeling unseen.


I know I’m not alone.  I know some of you have felt that way too. Unseen.  Unheard.  Unknown.  It’s frustrating.  It’s wearing.  It’s lonely.

But the truth is, we are seen.  We are seen by a God who loves us dearly, knows us intimately, and hears us when we cry out to Him.  Even when we don’t feel it.

He sees you.
He sees me.

He’s even called the ‘One who sees me’ by Hagar, a women who encountered God in the wilderness (Gen. 16:13).  And He tenderly reminded me that I am seen. Like when the store clerk smiled at me and asked if I need help when I had a confused look on my face.  Or the driver who stopped to let me in even when he didn’t have to.  Or the woman at church who, after noticing I was sitting alone, came over to make sure I was doing okay.  Or the friend who asked me how I was doing in a way that conveyed her deep desire to know the truth.

He sees.
Now I see.

The more I remember and abide in God’s love for me, the more I am free to see, really see, those around me.  I’m free to notice them and their needs.  I’m free to notice their expressions of joy, sadness, fear, grief, anxiety, happiness.  I’m free to enter in, to engage, to look them in the eye, to let them know that they are important, valuable, and loved. They are seen.  And so are you…

Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Paper


Keep your eyes on your own paper.

The words tumbled around in my head as I tried to go to sleep.

Earlier, I had been grumbling to God about other writers.  Writers whose words seem to be not only meaningful, but also poetic in nature.  Writers whose words seem to give eloquent expressions to feelings in my heart.  Writers whose words seem to touch others in powerful ways.  Writers whose words seem better.

How come I can’t write like them?
Why can’t I be as gifted as them?
Why are my sentences so short and stubby?

That’s when I heard it.  Keep your eyes on your own paper.  My questioning stopped as I felt the weight of the statement.

My job is not to compare my gifts to others; it only leads to dissatisfaction and envy.  My focus should be on the gifts God has given me and how He leads me to use them; I don’t need to concern myself with how He’s leading others to use their gifts.  I only need to keep my eyes focused on my own paper.

While in my bed that night, the command seemed so logical, so sound, so easy.  I just need to be grateful for the gifts I’ve been given and listen for God’s direction.

But then came morning.  In the light of day, in the midst of life, it didn’t come so easily.  Gratitude was hard in the presence of other’s accomplishments and God’s voice seemed to be quickly overpowered by the voices and sounds of the world.

Keep your eyes on your own paper.

God reminds me again.  And again.  And again.  I’m so easily distracted.

But I’m learning.  I’m learning to thank Him daily for what He’s given me.  I’m learning to thank Him for where He’s leading me.  I’m learning to thank Him for the gifts of others and the blessing they are to me and the world.  I’m learning to trust God’s plan for me and not compare it to His plan for someone else.  I’m learning to keep my eyes on my own paper…





The In Between and Other Uncomfortable Spots

I’ve gone to several women’s events at our church in an effort to make some connections and, hopefully, friends.  Just showing up is an act of courage for me.  I’m pretty outgoing, but it’s unnerving to show up at an event where I don’t know anyone, to do something I’m not sure I even want to do, in order to spark a new friendship with someone in a group where everyone seems to know each other.  I admit that on at least two occasions, I have texted my oldest daughter from the parking lot asking her to inspire the motivation I needed to walk into the building.  To top it all off, most of the activities at the events have involved making something.  That may sound nice and fun, but the truth is crafts scare me!  My things never seem to turn out the way I think they will in my head so I usually require a lot of instruction and encouragement during the making process.

Each time I’ve gone, though, the women have been warm and welcoming which makes me continue to push forward.  The problem is that each time I go, my in between-ness is magnified.


The in between; that uncertain time of letting go and waiting to grab the next thing.


We’ve been going to the church for nine months.  We go to Sunday School and my son sings with the praise band more Sundays than not.  So I’m not necessarily new to the church, but I’m certainly not assimilated yet.

I’m in between.

I know some faces and some names, but I haven’t made any real connections with anyone yet.  So I’m known, but not KNOWN.

I’m in between. 

I’ve found at most of the events, the room automatically divides into two areas.  One, being the tables with moms deep in the trenches of child rearing and the other, tables of empty nesters with grandchildren.  I feel most comfortable with the young moms.  After all, I was just there.  They are kind and allow me to participate in their discussions, but I can tell by the looks on their faces, they don’t consider me part of the group. Yet, I don’t quite fit with the other ladies either, as they talk about their adult children close to my age and the joys of being grandmothers.

I’m in between.

That’s what transitions are, the in between.  Here, life can be a little unsettling.    I’m not sure which path to follow.  I’m not sure who to pursue for friendship.  I’m not sure where or with whom I belong.  I’m not sure.

This is where I have to remind myself to whom I ultimately belong.   I belong to the creator of the universe, the One who set all things in motion.  I belong to the One who created the seas and told their waves where to stop.  I belong to the One who put the stars in the sky and tells them when to shine.  I belong to the One who loves me with an undying love; the One who always welcomes me and says I am His.  In Him, I am never in between, I always belong…


The Freedom of Acceptance

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works… Psalm 139:14


It’s a verse many of us have heard before.  We post it on social media, hang it on our walls, remind our friends, and repeat it in our minds.  We may even say that we believe it to be true.  The problem is we don’t always like who we were made to be; we really want to be someone else.

When my son was in the sixth grade, he became aware of his autism diagnosis.  We didn’t ever hide it from him.  We talked about his autism quite openly, but he didn’t fully understand what it meant until the day he came home from school with his annual paperwork.

Every year my husband and I would meet with school administrators, teachers, and therapists to discuss my son’s status.  We talked about what goals he was meeting, his strengths and weaknesses, his therapy requirements, and his future goals.  The paperwork he brought home was a written copy of all that had been discussed, as well as his diagnosis of autism.  He asked if he could read what was in the packet.  I told him that since it was all about him, he could.  When he was done, he was angry.  He began yelling, “It says I have autism.  I DO NOT HAVE AUTISM!”  I told him that he did; that’s why he went to therapy for all those years, that’s why he had a behavior plan at school, that’s why he was pulled out of class sometimes.  He didn’t want to hear it.  He didn’t want to have autism.

It took several months for him to process his diagnosis.  We spent a lot of time talking about autism and how in manifests itself in him.  We talked about how it didn’t make him less, it just meant his brain worked differently.  We reminded him a lot of the above verse.  It was a hard thing for him to accept.  He didn’t want to be different.  He didn’t want to be ‘special’.  He didn’t want to be unique.  He wanted to be something else.

Much like my son, I find it difficult to accept how God has made me.  I know I have been fearfully and wonderfully made by God.  He gave me certain gifts and talents.  Add to that the life experiences I’ve had, and you get ME.  The problem is, I want different gifts; I want to be a different ME.  I want the creativity I see in my friends whose Pinterest projects turn out even better than the ones online.  I want the voice and musical gifts of my friends leading worship.  I want the drive and energy of people who seem to do three days work in on day without breaking a sweat.  I want the compassion of my friends who seem to always know what to say and do when they meet someone who is hurting.  And I’d like this all wrapped up in a taller, fitter body with a brain that learns new technology without effort.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

So God is teaching me to accept the way He made me. To accept not only the gifts and talents He has given me, but also my shortcoming.   This process is uncomfortable because I have to see myself for who I really am, not who I want to be.  I have to accept that although I love music, I do not have the skills necessary to make it on The Voice.  I have to accept that I struggle with new technology and I need someone in person to teach me, not online tutorials.  I have to accept that I work better with outside deadlines because the ones I make for myself don’t help.  I have to accept my tendency to procrastinate, for perfectionism, and negative self-talk.  I have to accept these things and work with them, not wish them away.

My son now fully acknowledges his diagnosis. He talks about how God made him special.  He understands that the autism affects the way his brain works and how he processes things.  He knows that he may do things a little differently than his siblings and that’s okay.  He knows his strengths and continues to learn more about his weaknesses and how to overcome them.  He’s learned coping skills and when to ask for help.  He’s accepted the man God’s made him to be.

I, too, am learning to embrace who I am, weaknesses and all.  In the process, I’m finding freedom.  Freedom to embrace and honor the gifts I’ve been given.  Freedom from lamenting the gifts I don’t have.  Freedom to ask for help in areas where I’m weak without feeling like a failure.  Freedom to celebrate the gifts and accomplishments of others.  Freedom to be karen and know that’s enough…


An Artist Repents: The Art of Beginning Again

While helping my son study for his test in art class, we read about Philip Gaston, an artist who allowed himself to be filmed while painting.  At the end of the film, he covered the picture he had just painted with a layer of white paint so he could begin again.  When asked why he would do such a thing, he replied that he accepted setbacks as normal and even necessary.  His experience told him that revision would allow an idea to grow beyond an obvious or familiar starting point.

Sometimes you just have to begin again

For the last several months, I’ve been trying to rework things to fit into my new season of life.  I’ve been trying to transition into my new neighborhood and new church just as I have with our previous moves.  I’ve been trying to create routines and activities like I did before.  I’ve been trying to think of myself as the same person I’ve been for the last twenty years.  It hasn’t worked.

Life is different now.  Instead of trying to keep up with five active teenagers in my home, I’m encouraging, supporting, and loving five college students, four from afar.  Instead of having my kids’ friends in and out of the house filling it with energy and laughter, it’s just the three of us who can be pretty quiet.  Instead of counters filled with backpacks and the floor with shoes, there are empty spaces.  Instead of automatic friendships forming because our kids share the same activities or interests, there are a lot of lonely lunches and days without witty banter except with the cashier at the local HEB.

There are, of course, good things.  My husband and I have time to actually talk uninterrupted and have quick, week night dates.  I have some extra time to help my son at home learn the skills he’ll need to eventually live on his own.  I get to hear about my kids’ new adventures and watch them become full fledged adults.  And I have time to pursue old and new interests.

But things are not the same.  Old ways of doing things, meeting new people, getting involved in ministry, or chasing a dream, just aren’t working.  It’s time to reevaluate, paint the canvas white, and begin again.


I’m having to reconsider who Karen is without the various labels that have defined me for many years.  Labels that I like.  Labels that helped define who I was and what I did.  Labels that helped to form my identity: wife, mother, stay at home mom, mom of multiples, mom of a special needs child.  I can hear some of you now…you shouldn’t have let those labels define you in the first place.  If you had just remained secure in your own identity, you wouldn’t be where you are now.  That may be true.  But I know I’m not the only one who struggles with identity in a season of change.  Just ask anyone who’s retired from a job after thirty years.

This process is hard.  There are no quick and easy answers to all my questions.  It’s requiring me to spend some time with God, shoring up my foundation of who He is and who I am in Christ.  And He’s challenging me to embrace who He has made me to be, not who I wish I was, who is usually someone way more talented, physically fit, creative, driven, technologically savvy, kind, loving, etc.

Paint the canvas white

So, I’m painting the canvas white, getting rid of some old ideas and ways of doing things.  I’m getting rid of my preconceived notions of what my life should look like at this moment or in the years to come.   This is challenging.  I thought by now, I would be further along, more secure, more together, more…  But I’m still in progress and I’m not really sure what’s ahead.

I’m also letting go of how I’ve done things in the past and trying new ways of approaching life and pursuing my dream.  This is uncomfortable.  I like consistency.  I like doing what I know.  Trying new avenues can be unnerving.  What if I make a fool of myself? What if it doesn’t work?  What if it does?

Begin again

Part of beginning again starts here on my blog.  I’ve been changing a few things, reaching out to others for help, and determining to follow through with some dreams.  Dreams of not only developing my writing, but of speaking more and connecting with people face to face.

I’ll still be writing about life and the lessons God is teaching me in the midst of this journey.  Some of the old me will definitely come through, but hopefully fresh brushstrokes will appear, creating a new work of art I hadn’t imagined before.

So this is the beginning of becoming Karen.   My journey of abiding in God’s love, learning and embracing who He’s made me to be, doing what He’s called me to do, and living the abundant life He came to give.  My hope is that as I discover Karen, you are encouraged to be YOU, the person you were created to be.  After all, each of us are a beautiful, unique masterpiece fashioned by God to bring Him delight and glory.  I think it’s time to share…

Books, Books, and More Books

I love books.  I like the way they feel in my hands.  I like turning the pages.  I like underlining and making notes in the margins.  I like filling shelves toimg_1359 overflowing with them.  I enjoy walking through book stores row by row, stopping to thumb through pages.  Just thinking about it calms my heart and makes me smile.

As a result, I have several boxes of books from our recent move.  By several, I mean 50 or so; many of which I’m still in the process of unpacking.   We don’t have the space to continue to house all of these wonderful items so I’m trying to fill new boxes with books to donate.  It’s a time consuming process because as I unpack each book, I can’t help but thumb through it, remembering, smiling, cherishing.

Most of the books fall into either faith based writings or parenting or a combination of both.  Each of them are a reminder of all that God has done and His faithfulness to me over the years.

When I found out that we were going to have our oldest child, I knew that I wasn’t well equipped.  I had brokenness from my own childhood that I didn’t want to repeat; I didn’t want to mess up the beautiful gift that God was giving.  I knew some of the basics of keeping her alive, I just wasn’t sure about nurturing or loving her well.  So I did what I knew to do…I researched.  I watched other moms.  I asked questions.  I reached out for help.  I prayed.  And I read a lot.

Many of the faith based books were about growing closer to God, praying, healing, how to study the bible, and bible study tools.  I knew that I needed God if I was going to be the kind of mom I wanted to be, which meant I needed a lot of healing and truth.  I’m in awe today of all that He has done to sooth and bring wholeness in my heart.

The parenting books were what you would expect; how to talk to your kids, how to listen to your kids, when to start having them do chores, how to get them to work together, how to raise emotionally intelligent kids, how to teach kids about God, how to raise a child with disabilities, and the list goes on..

As the kids got older, I read books about helping children resolve conflicts.  One book recommended that I empathize with my child when he/she was mad with a sibling.  I jumped at the chance to try it out the next time a fight erupted.

I could tell one child was mad at another so I asked her, per the books instructions, “Are you mad?  Do you feel like hitting your brother?”  The book said that at this point the child would reply yes, and I was to empathize by saying something about how I understood her desire, but hitting was not appropriate.  But before I could say anything, she hauled off and hit him!  I was stunned!  This was not how it was supposed to go!  Thankfully, my laughter diffused the situation (maybe not the best reaction, but I couldn’t help myself!) and I was able to make a teaching point out of the failed experiment.  We still talk and laugh about that incident when we reminisce about the kids’ childhood.  It certainly made a lasting impression!

⁄⁄ ⁄⁄ ⁄⁄

So as I unpack each one of these books, I think about how each one came into my possession.  Some came by way of loving, caring friends who knew I was looking for answers.  Some came from spending time in the book shelves of libraries and bookstores.  All came through the loving hands of God who heard my plea for help.

I thumb through each book, looking for things I’ve bookmarked, highlighted, or starred.  The memories come flooding back.  Each mark reveals my thoughts, struggles, and desires during that time.  It’s hard for me to believe that those intense, fun, stretching, joy-filled, and sometimes difficult years are behind me. image I’m still a mom, and I have other things to pour into and walk through with my children, but those years of purposeful, daily parenting are gone.

My heart is full and grateful as I now enjoy the harvest of those planting years. 

I’m thankful for the wisdom I gleaned from each one of those books.  They offered encouragement, insight, and understanding.  They all became a part of my arsenal as I grew as a mom.

I smile as I lovingly put books on my shelves to remind me of all that has passed.  And I pray as I put some of those precious books in new boxes; hoping that they bless and encourage their new owners…

Questions, Google, and Learning to Wait

I love Google.  I love the fact that whenever I have a question I can quickly google it and find an answer.  Want to know when a movie was made?  Google it.  Want to know the meaning of a word you’ve never heard before?   Google it.  Want to know what they serve at that new coffee shop?  Google it.

I love having answers right at my fingertips.  The problem is, the questions I’m asking myself now can’t be answered by Google.  Which means, I have a lot of questions, but no answers.


Not having answers makes me feel stupid.  It makes me feel unprepared.  It makes me feel out of control.  I don’t like feeling stupid, unprepared, and out of control.  Yet this is where I am right now.  New seasons, different circumstances, changes, can all have that effect.WP_20150408_006

So right now I’m trying to embrace the unknown.  I’m trying to lean into the uncomfortableness and trust God.  I’m trying to just keep doing what I know I’m supposed to do, those things I’m called to do, until the next step in this journey becomes apparent.

To be transparent though, this is more difficult than I’d like it to be.  I want to believe that at my age and having been a Jesus follower for so many years, I would have such a trust that living in uncertainty would be easy.  I was hoping that by now I would be able to wait patiently, with joy and peace, knowing that God had everything under control.  (I’m not asking for much, right?)  But if I’m honest, it’s still a struggle.

Yes, I know God has a plan.  Yes, I believe He is sovereign and in control.  Yes, I believe He is good and faithful.  Yes, I believe He will guide me in my new season.  The issue is, I want the answers and directions NOW!  I don’t want to wait.  I don’t want to be in a period of limbo and uncertainty.  I don’t want ‘an opportunity to develop patience and trust’!  And I certainly don’t want to have to continually reply, ‘I don’t know!’ when asked what I’m going to do now.

So I continue to wait.  I look for opportunities to try new things.  I take time to really think and pray about what I want to do and where I want to invest my time.  I listen for God to provide answers to my ever present questions.  And despite my three year old self, I’m learning more about patience and trust…


Channeling My Inner Three Year Old

This past Sunday in church we sang a familiar song.  It’s one I’ve sung many times before at my previous church.  You know the kind, one that’s so familiar you go into auto pilot mode, singing the words without really thinking about them.  Which is exactly what I did.  I was busy thinking about some other things going on in life so the words were just flowing from my mouth until we got to the part of the song that says:

“It will be my joy to say
Your will, your way
It will be my joy to say
Your will, your way
It will be my joy to say
Your will, your way, always”
(Lay Me Down by Chris Tomlin)

The word that knocked me out of auto pilot was joy… it will be my joy.

But is it?

There are many times when I’ve said…Your will, Your way God.  I’d like to say that I always did it with a feeling of sweet surrender and willing submission, but that would be a lie.  Many times I’ve said it like a frustrated child not getting her way, with a heavy sigh just to show my annoyance.

I know that God’s ways are different and that His will is good.  But they are not always easy or enjoyable.  Sometimes His ways are hard.

He tells me to forgive the person who hurt me deeply while saying it’s my fault for the pain because I’m just too sensitive.

He tells me to love the person who lives differently from me, without heaping judgement on them.

He tells me to trust him when everything around me says things are going to hell.

He tells me to persevere in the midst of difficult times when I want to crawl back into bed and forget the world.


Now, here comes the part where I’m supposed to write out some wonderful verses or some great quotes that make it all so much easier.  Words that bring meaning and clarity to difficult situations.  Words that encourage and give hope.  Words that invoke joy while doing the hard things.

I don’t have them to give.

My journey, my season right now is learning to live my life following Jesus without having all the answers and not pretending that I do.  He’s teaching me to love him and to love others in the midst of all my questions and uncertainty.

It’s uncomfortable.  It’s unnerving.  It’s challenging.  So right now I’m much like that three year old sitting on the floor, arms crossed with a scrunched up face saying, Your will, Your way……can you hear the sigh?

I Earned a Bravery Badge Today

I did something brave today.  bravery

I almost immediately regretted it.

No, I didn’t go sky diving or bungee jumping.  I didn’t go NASCAR driving or tame a lion.  It was scarier than that…

I told a group of Christian ladies that I sometimes have doubts and questions about prayer.

I admitted that there are times when I just don’t understand why some prayers seem to work and others don’t.  Or why some people seem to be able to pray and see God working while others pray for years without any answer.  I admitted that I wasn’t sure if I could change God’s mind about a situation simply by praying.

As soon as I finished speaking, I wanted to take it all back.  Several of the ladies started sharing their own experiences with answered prayer and how it was Satan who was trying to discourage me from praying.  Others related scriptural events where God changed His mind because someone asked or where He invited believers to be a part of His plan by praying.  The woman next to me elbowed me and said, “see..”; smiling as if now all my doubts where washed away.

One thing was perfectly clear, I was in a room of women who had no doubts and who could give me all the answers I needed.  I could feel my face get red. (It does that when I feel shame)  I so wanted to defend myself.  I wanted to scream, “my doubts and questions don’t mean I don’t love God.  I’m just human. I have questions.  I have doubts.  I don’t have all the answers.”

Isn’t it interesting how expressing doubts and questions can be so uncomfortable in a room full of other Christians? 

I know these women didn’t mean to be hurtful or dismissive.  I believe their intentions were to encourage me.  But as I sat there, I felt small and ignorant.  Worse, I knew that I had done the same thing to other women before.

My knee jerk reaction to someone sharing doubts is a quick and easy answer.  Somehow if I can help them put aside their doubts, then I don’t have to deal with my own.  Or admit that I don’t have an answer.  And above all, I want to make sure I look like I’m a mature Christian woman who does indeed have all the answers to life’s difficult questions.

Of course, I don’t have all the answers and pretending I do is exhausting.  I struggle with doubts and questions.  Some days I know that if I prayed for the mountain to move, it would.  Other days, I’m not so sure.  And I’m mostly okay with that.  So is God.  We’re working on it together.

courageSo next week, I’m going to be brave again; showing up to bible study with all my questions in tow….


The Time for Looking Out Has Begun

My son’s college is trying to make the students more aware of things going on in the community.  To that end, as part of his English class, he is required to participate in some community service work aimed at hunger and homelessness.

Now, I have to be honest.  When he came home from his first class and his syllabus said he would have to participate at some extra events, I was not excited.  My first thoughts were selfish.  How would this requirement impact my schedule?  Would this mean more time at the school?  Would I have to give up my free Fridays?

A little later in the evening, he had me read an essay required for his English class.  He was having a little trouble deciphering some of the language and making inferences about what the people where feeling.  (His autism can make thelping-handhat difficult for him.)

The essay was about compassion and described two events.  The first was a woman who gave a homeless man a dollar from the bottom of her purse.  She gave it begrudgingly; as if she was annoyed that she felt like she needed to give.  The other was a bakery shop owner who gave a warm cup of coffee and a bag of bread to a homeless man on her doorstep.  She gave openly and graciously.

The assignment given to my son was to write about these events from the perspective of the homeless men.  How were they feeling?  What could they have been thinking?  How did they receive the gifts given to them?

As we talked about the answers to the questions, my heart broke over my selfishness.  I was acting very much like the first lady.  Yes, I thought community service was good idea and I’d make sure my son participated, but I was not doing it from a place of generosity or even kindness.  I was going to do it begrudgingly.


Where was my compassion?  Where was my empathy?  Where was my love?

Over the last few months, there has just been a lot going on.  It caused me to turn much of my focus on myself and my immediate family.  That happens sometimes.  Sometimes we have those seasons where we need to focus on ourselves or those closest to us.  Maybe its a death or health issue.  Maybe its getting your marriage back on track or going through a divorce.  Maybe its dealing with teenagers who are making poor decisions or an addiction.  For me, it was a move, four kids graduating, and a new season of life beginning.  It was all I could do to keep up with everything, including what was taking place in my heart.  I needed that time of inward focus; time with my family; time for my heart to make adjustments.

But things are normalizing now.  And God is telling me it’s time to start looking out again.

So I went with my son to his first event.  The school, along with other agencies were giving out fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, and bimageread to families in the community.  All they had to do was drive to the school to get it.   They had record numbers of families show up.  One of the organizers said they usually ended up with food left over.  This time, we were running out of food with a long line of cars weaving through the parking lot still waiting to be served.  Either word had gotten out, or there are more people in need.  I suspect it’s a bit of both.

I have to say, though, I was so glad I went!   It was wonderful to work side by side with the other volunteers who came.  Some were students, some were faculty, some were volunteers and employees from the partnering organizations.   All were joyful and helpful even in the blistering heat of the day.  It was so good to be looking 0utside myself again!

I’m thankful that God gave me the precious time He did so I could focus on my family.  It’s one of my greatest treasures.

But now is the time for looking out.

I’m not sure what that will look like.  I’m not sure what things I’ll do.  But I’m excited for the new things I’ll notice; the new adventures I’ll take; the new people I’ll meet.  I’ll keep you posted…