One Year Free

It’s been a little over a year since the morning, while standing in my loft, I heard the words, “You haven’t accepted me into your heart,” clear in my mind.

You see, I’d been on a spiritual journey for several years at the time. Trying to find my place and myself in the process. Craving fulfillment. Desperate for more.

My search was long. Filled with many twists and turns. So many valleys and a few ant-sized hills. Full of questioning. Questioning my path. My decisions. My intentions and myself. Not knowing in what or whom to trust in or turn to.

Growing up, my understanding about God—what was ingrained in me—was that He was almighty and awesome, but also incredibly scrupulous. Always watching and waiting to dole out harsh punishment for every misstep. That coupled with the teaching that all humans were born flawed and incapable of perfection—and therefore were destined to make countless missteps—left my conscience weighed down with a load much too heavy to bear . . . And so I strayed further and further by the day.

My teenage years were marked by dark clouds of depression and anxiety, and it only intensified as I entered adulthood. Living in fear was the norm by my early 20s. Anxiety and depression were just a part of me. By my mid-20s I was physically ill. Every muscle was tense. I had chronic pain. Daylong, daily headaches. My immune system was shot. My digestive system all but shut down. I rotated through a slew of doctors and specialists. Trying to find the root cause of feeling unwell. Took every prescribed remedy. Half-a-dozen daily meds. Exercise. Rest. Therapy. I tried it all . . . Looking back, I realize now just how much a part of me anxiety was. It ran through my veins. Raced through my thoughts. And drove every bodily function.

Searching for something—peace, happiness, something more than life as it was—was my glimmering hope. I don’t know that I even really knew what I was searching for, or whether I believed I’d ever find it. But that’s the great thing about God. All it takes is a single drop of faith. And if you allow Him to, He’ll do the rest.

My path wasn’t by any means smooth, nor was it disastrous. I wasn’t always willing or eager. The door to my mind was opened just a sliver, but even that was enough. Little by little my mind and heart began to submit.

Leading up to that morning, I’d been pursuing faith casually. I’d found a pastor whose podcast resonated with me. I listened regularly while walking with my little guy. Tuned in every now and then to his online service. I’d also found a local church and mom’s group that took me in like a stray. Each day was a dance. A few steps forward. A pause. A step back. And then forward again.

I can’t recall exactly what day of the month it was—just that it was late January—or what I was doing. Just that I was in my loft watching my little guy play. In my pajamas? Going through a morning yoga flow? Watching an online service? Listening to a podcast? What I do remember are those words—and even they are probably paraphrased by this point—not audible, but more than just a thought. It’s as though I could feel the words resonating through my body. And just like that, a fog lifted—a fog I hadn’t even realize was there—and I understood with perfect clarity what I needed to do.

So there in my loft, wearing either pajamas or yoga leggings, with no witness other than my 10 month old, I verbalized what I hadn’t yet spoken out loud. What was on my heart. I accepted—welcomed and implored–Jesus into my heart and life.

This wasn’t taken on that day, but around that time.

It’s simple. On an ordinary day. No dramatic events. Heck, I can’t even remember exactly what I was doing! I blame that on sleep deprivation as a new and first-time mom, since my little guy was 9 months away from sleeping through the night at that point in time. But that moment changed everything. My heart. My mind. My life.

If you’re currently stuck in your journey and the end doesn’t seem anything but far, I want to provide this simple encouragement to keep going. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep seeking. Keep searching for more. Your day will come.

Do you have a moment of faith and clarity that changed your life? Do you remember when you relinquished control to let God take over? I’d love to hear it.




Turning Inaction Into Action

It seems I’m always trying to make writing a habit. For more years than I’d like to admit, I’ve had ‘write daily’ on my list of goals. The thing is, I love to write. Always have. Why then do I consistently get stuck at making it a habit? Why do I need to MAKE it a habit at all if it brings me joy?

Instead of letting inaction eat into another year, I finally set my mind to take action by first digging deeper into the ‘why’ behind the hindrance.

Here are the three roadblocks I uncovered:

  • All throughout my childhood and teen years I wrote. I kept a journal. Many journals. Between the binding lived my thoughts, daily happening, poems, and fictional stories. Those pages became my safe space. To vent. To write down memories. To create and pour myself out onto…Then one day, that sacred place that held so much of me was breeched. My writing used against me. Ever since then, I have had a really hard time putting meaningful things down on paper (or a blog for that matter).
  • One thing I’ve learned about myself over the years is how hard of a time I have doing something solely for myself. I can’t ever just sit still and enjoy time to myself because I constantly feel pulled to do the things that NEED to get done. Dishes, laundry, mopping, cleaning, organizing, raising a little man…Becoming a mom has definitely intensified this feeling. Not only do I feel pressure to keep up the household, but I tend to pressure myself into feeling like every waking minute should revolve around my family and only my family. My inner voice says that anything just for me is selfish and therefore not something I should invest time into. And I realize how ridiculous my inner voice is being. I just haven’t been able to shut it out.
  • And lastly, I know I’m not the only one to think it…I always get hung up on not feeling like I have anything interesting enough to share. There are so many established bloggers and influencers out there. How could I possibly have anything worth contributing?

That’s the dirty.

And while I feel mildly ashamed for each of these thoughts, it feels cathartic to call them out. These three things have held me back for years. Naming them was enough to help me realize how fed up I am. With always being stuck. With inaction. With letting past experiences and unkind thoughts shut down my creative space.

So this is my dedication and commitment to doing more of what I love. More of what brings me joy. More of something that’s just for me.


And if it’s writing, I think it will come naturally. Lately, I’ve felt called to write. And I’m going to follow that calling for as long as it brings me joy.