When I was about ten, my mom started doing a Jane Fonda workout video in our little living room. She did it almost everyday. I have no idea what she wore or how she looked doing it. I don’t know if she lost weight or not. Weight wasn’t something we EVER talked about. We didn’t
Hey. I see you. You’re disappointed. You’re overwhelmed. You’re deeply concerned. And quite frankly, you’re pretty ticked about the whole situation. This is not how it was all supposed to go down. You’re not sure what all “it” encompasses, but you are deep down in your bones sure that it’s most definitely wrong right now.
I prepared in every way I knew how. I asked the pros, read the books, prayed the prayers, and beautified my classroom. I didn’t know what I didn’t know – and I knew I didn’t know it. So, the only thing left to do was rip off the band-aid and dive in. Let me tell
It isn’t that I didn’t want to teach. I did. I could see myself in it. I knew I had the skill set to do it. It’s just that I was twenty. I had a vision for my life that equalled success in my mind, and teaching didn’t fit into the vision. So, I majored
When I lived in Florida, I called Louisiana “The Promised Land.” It signified everything right and good and abundant in my life – or that’s what I decided in my heart and mind. Five years after leaving Florida, something has become very clear to me. The Promised Land is wherever abundance lives. And abundance lives
The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it. 1 Thessalonians 5:24 I’m seventeen. The neon lights flicker, pages rustle, and the purple ink stares back at me, “You have a way with words, Emily. Never stop writing.” And just like that, something sparked to life in me. Those words bridged the
Stay calm; mind your own business; do your own job. 1 Thessalonians 4:11 Bigger cars, bigger houses, bigger paychecks, better landscaping, better schools, better churches, more food, more activities, more tasks, longer days, busier mornings, louder social media shouting. I’ve heard it again and again over the last few weeks: “Stop, child. Just stop.” Stop?
Barbies, books, and Overboard – my sister and I used to dress up in our dance costumes and reenact the movie Overboard. True life. And that’s what I remember about long summer days as a kid. I remember VBS, of course, beach vacations, and Swim Camp for two summers once I got a little older;
Boobs. I feel like I should just go ahead and say the word so as to frighten away anyone whose delicate sensibilities might be offended by the discussion of them. Because I’m going to discuss them. They’re honestly a big part of my story. Now that that’s out of the way. I am a big
It was the letter, definitely the letter – but it was also everything that led up to the letter. It was that our kitchen sink smelled like actual garbage when I got home, that the new puppy tee teed on the rug – again, that I am late or behind on about three hundred and