Skies through the Eyes of a Child

Once upon a time, I saw the skies through the eyes of a child.

I don’t anymore.

Let me explain.

I love looking at the stars. I have spent hours unsuccessfully attempting to wrap my brain around the sheer vastness that is our universe. There is something terrifying and yet relieving in acknowledging that there was more to life than the current moment. Something is comforting in feeling so small. This is the peculiar kind of therapy the stars would give me.

Shooting stars were the most amazing thing. The glimpse you could get of a star, hurtling through space. Some shooting stars flew by, as if in a rush. Others seemed to just float by, taking their time. Seeing a shooting star was like finding a hidden treasure, you knew it could happen, but wondered if it would happen to you.

I have spent many a slow walk from the car to the back door praying that God would give me a shooting star. That, through His creation, He would remind me of His vastness and control. I would pray, and then set my bag on the ground and wait.

I would wait for minutes.

Do you know how long five minutes is when you are quiet, alone, and focused?

Five minutes can seem like a lifetime.

Some nights a shooting star would fly by and I would smile my thanks to the God who listens and answers my silly prayers.

Some nights no shooting stars would come my way. Regardless, I would still smile, because God still listens. A lack of shooting star in no way meant a lack of God.

Recently, I’ve become so tired. As I return home from a long day, I grab my bag, close my car door, and gaze at the heavens. I ask God for a shooting star, look for a moment, and then wearily walk to the door of my house.

I don’t wait anymore.


Do I doubt God’s accessibility or wanting to hear me?

Do I doubt God’s capacity to care for my somewhat silly desires?

Do I doubt God’s ability to show His unadulterated love?

No, it’s none of those.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe I doubt myself.

Maybe I doubt my worthiness of God’s affection.

Maybe I doubt my ability to wait for God to move.

Maybe I doubt my willingness to stand and wait, still and quiet.

That sounds more accurate.

I used to see the skies as a child saw the skies, a big vastness of beautiful everything. But I’ve become so busy that I have forgotten how to see things as a child does.


If I don’t take the time to revel in God’s accessibility, how am I ever to see myself as a child of God, one who can come to Him with anything?

If I don’t take the time to be floored by God’s capacity to care, how am I supposed to see myself as worthy of His love?

If I don’t take the time to be thankful for God’s ability, how am I to believe that He has the power to take care of my every need?

I must once more become the child star gazing, taking in the wonder and majesty of a God who can create something so much greater than me. And in the midst of all that greatness, still care for my heart.

I must once more, see the skies through the eyes of a child.


Stuck In A Rut

I watched an obscene amount of Little House On The Prairie as a young girl, mostly due to my mother’s obsession with the books. I remember one time when the wheels of the Ingall’s family wagon got stuck in the mud. They couldn’t move until the mud had dried and Pa could dig them out.

So that’s where the expression stuck in a rut came from!

Sometimes, life can feel like a wagon whose wheels are stuck in the mud. No matter how hard we try, we go nowhere. Nothing changes. We are still stuck in the same place.

Recently I’ve gotten this feeling of being in a rut. I think a lot of it comes from not having any definite upcoming travel plans. I always look forward to going to new places, and not having anything solid on the horizon is more than a little sad for me. I crave new experiences.

I’m not sure if it’s possible to be an anomaly of yourself, but at times I feel like I am just that. I am a person who craves consistency and protects her plans. But recently, I’ve found myself attempting to do things differently simply because it’s different. Most of it is silly and pointless, like parking in a different spot when I go to the office, eating something different for lunch, and changing up my makeup routine.

I used to really abhor change. I hated it when things were suddenly different. The older I get, the more I understand that change is more than just good, it’s necessary. Things have to change. If things don’t change, things die. Change is a natural cycle.

Change can either hurt, or it can heal. It can either grow us, or break us. It is all in how we see it.

Everything goes back to our perspective. A lot of things in my life are the same as they were six months ago. I work at the same place, live in the same home, go to the same school, and spend time with the same people that I spent time with six months ago. However, a lot has changed within those things. The right perspective can show you that things are always changing and evolving; your job, your relationships, everything.

I got a fortune at a new Chinese place (because I’m trying new things to get out of a rut!) and it said, “Relish the transitions in your life, they will happen regardless”. I kept that fortune and it is in my wallet even as I write this.

Eventually, Pa gets the wheels out of that mud and the Ingall’s journey continues. This doesn’t mean that was the last time their wagon got stuck. We will still feel like we are in a rut sometimes. We just have to see it as a moment, and not as forever.

Things will change, they must change. We can either see this as the end of the world, or as the end of a rut.

Coffee Shop Thoughts

I’ve recently began frequenting a local coffee shop whose name I will not admit to. Let’s just say that their red cups are a holiday coffee drinker’s favorite thing to see. As the baristas begin to know my name, order, and life, I look around and notice that I am not the only “regular” they have. Now if you don’t know this about me already, here it is. I am an avid people watcher. I love to watch people respond to situations and make up stories about their lives. It helps me to remember that everyone I see has a story, whether known or not.

Right now there is a guy here who I haven’t seen before. He looks like he is super stressed out. I like to think that he is looking at the cost of graduate school, something he has always wanted to do, and cannot figure out how he will be able to afford it.

And of course I will never be able to forget the most awkward first date ever. And no, it wasn’t mine. But goodness, I was in pain listening/watching that go down.

There is this one elderly gentleman that has been here literally every single time I come. He sits in the front of the shop with a newspaper, a cup of coffee, and his kindle. He knows all the baristas by name. I always wonder what his story is.

Sitting in this coffee shop reminds me why I like to, why I have to write. Stories should never, ever remain untold.

Some stories are told simply for entertainment. Like the time that I dropped gum out of my mouth ON STAGE during a worship set at my church. Or the time(s) that I’ve fallen up the stairs at the office or spilled coffee on myself.

Other stories are told as tales of caution. Like the time I procrastinated on getting gas and, surprise, ran out. Moral of the story, don’t play games with your gas tank. If it’s on E, fill up!

Still other stories are told to encourage us. Like the time I was asked to write an article about a organization that is helping the homeless in my community. I was encouraged simply writing that.

Some people don’t think they have stories worth telling. I’m telling you that is false. All stories, laughter-ensuing, tear-jerking, thought-provoking, or otherwise, are worth telling.

Tell your stories.

These are my coffee shop thoughts. 

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When was the last time you received a letter in the mail? One that didn’t ask you for money?

Why don’t people write letters anymore? Why have we resorted to unfeeling emails and simple text messages to attempt to convey our emotions and thoughts?

In my opinion, there is something so undeniably special, romantic even, about a painstakingly handwritten letter.

What is it about seeing the handwriting of an old friend that is so lovely?

Some letters are never sent. These are more for you than they are for the person you are addressing. Other letters take days to write because of their content. You want to be sure that you are conveying your ideas and feelings correctly.

I understand that emails and texts are more convenient. I agree with the harsh reality of our fast paced life. But every once in a while, don’t you just long for something special in your physical, not virtual, mailbox?

There is simply something unique about writing out a letter on paper, putting that paper in an envelope, and mailing it to a person you love.

Handwrite someone a letter this week.

“How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly marvelous.”

– Haruki Murakami

Running on Fumes


It was the final day of the longest work week in existence. My car had been haphazardly running on empty for a day longer than it should have. In my morning rush, I neglected to grab my phone charger, so my trusty phone was living on a precarious one percent. As I carefully drove my car to the nearest gas station, I realized that I ran out of tissues due to my cooperative head deciding that now was the absolute best time to get a cold. It had most certainly been one of those days.

Ever feel like you are just running on fumes? Like there is just no way you will make it to your next stop? I think if we are really honest, we all have days where we would really just prefer to just quit everything, eat some ice cream, cry, and take a long nap.

So how do we get through these days that in no way seem to be from the Lord?

We find the good in them.

Sometimes the good can be something simple, like your favorite song on the radio, a good deal at the store, or someone letting you ahead of them in traffic. Maybe the good is an unexpected text from a friend or the discovery of something you thought you lost. Or it could be the beautiful sunset that you notice when you finally decide to pick your head up. Whatever the good is may be, look for it and you will find it.

“This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

-Psalm 118:24

This is the day the Lord has made. God is over every day we experience, even the ones that seem to go wrong. We just have to find the good and find God in the midst of the empty gas tanks, stuffy noses, bad attitudes, and dead phones of our days.

You know the best thing about a bad day? It’s just that, a bad day. Days come, and then days go. Tomorrow is always a new day.

And God is over tomorrow too. So don’t fret, if you look for good and look for God, you’ll realize that neither are hard to find.

5 Rules For My Past Self

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What if you could go back ten years and talk to yourself? What would you say? Would you tell yourself to enjoy the this time, or endure it? Would you tell yourself that life gets better? It wasn’t hard to come up with 5 things I would tell my past self.

1. Don’t worry so much about your future and the future of the ones you care about. God has everything under control.

I had a pretty severe case of the worry warts as a child. I would worry constantly about things I had no control over. I mean really, how much control does a ten year old have? If I didn’t have control over it, I would worry about it. It took some serious prayer, time in the Word, and guidance from those wiser than me to get over that.

2. I know you hate that eyepatch and those fantastic pink circle glasses, but just own that look. You won’t have it forever and then suddenly, those glasses will be back and you will be upset with yourself for throwing them out with such disdain.

I have a lazy eye, so as a child I had to wear an eyepatch during the day. I can distinctly remember being seven years old and telling my mom that I would NOT be going to McDonald’s wearing that eyepatch. I had these ugly pink glasses that I had to wear too. I remember the day I got to donate those glasses, that was the best day of my young life. But of course, now those glasses are “in”. Oh trends.

3. Don’t ever stop writing.

I wrote my first story at age seven. It was about a dog named Patches who gets lost and has to find his way back home. It is honestly pretty good for a seven year old. I stopped writing for a while around age eleven, when I moved across the country. I wish now that I hadn’t; I would love to see the journals from that awkward transition time.

4. Please, care less about what people think.

I honestly didn’t have that much of a self esteem problem. Looking back, I’m pretty amazed at it. I never really hid who I was to impress other people. I did, however, do this thing where I was rarely my entire self. I would only show the parts of me that it would take to fit in with the current cool crowd. I was never someone else, but I was never entirely me. We all know by now that it isn’t worth the time and energy and that we need to be our whole selves, but poor 13 year old me just wanted friends.

5. Don’t take your friends for granted.

When I was 9, my best friend moved away to a different state. I was absolutely devastated. I can remember still exactly where we were when she told me she was moving. We wrote letters, but eventually our friendship faded, as many friendships from that age do. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t let that friendship go so easily.

Honestly, I could probably write a book full of advice for my past self. Be more adventurous. Say yes to the scary things. Be where you are. Read more.

The funny thing about coming up with rules for your past self is the challenge it gives you today. Do I still care about what people think more than I should? Do I still worry? Do I take my relationships for granted? When was the last time I wrote?

Don’t let looking back and wishing keep you from looking forward and dreaming. Take the things you wished you knew ten years ago and put them into action now. Don’t waste time on remorse. Ten years from now you would never approve.

Value in the Mundane, Worth in the Normalcy



I made a new discovery the last time I looked at my collection of short stories.

Every short story I’ve ever written, from the time I was seven or eight up until the last one I wrote have the same common theme.

I wrote my very first story about a dog who gets lost and has to find his way home. When he gets home he is so relieved to see his own bed.

My second story that was somewhat substantial was about a princess who decides that there is more to her life than her palace. She gets on a boat and ends up in a dance studio in Italy, where she eats bread, cheese, and pasta until she misses her parents and life. She goes home and is finally satisfied with what she has. I can’t tell you why dance studios, bread, cheese, and pasta were my definitions of Italy, but hey, it could be worse.

Some of my more recent, grown up short stories are about normal people trying to be content without a grand adventure. These stories feature plain, normal people like librarians, parents, and teachers.

All of these stories have the same concept: finding worth in the life you live, not the one you wish you had.

Finding worth in our boring, intensely normal lives can be quite the challenge. How can we be content without adventure, suspense, something new?

Clearly this is something I’ve been thinking about for much longer than I thought. How does one find worth in the life they live now, instead of pining for a life that will never come? Or what if the life they wish for does come but they are too busy looking at some other life that they miss it?

I don’t have the answers to this question. I have ideas, but no real answers.

I think a big part of being content and satisfied is perspective. I feel like I always end up talking about perspective, but it is so vital. When you realize that the life you live right now could change drastically at any time, it makes you enjoy everything that much more.

Remind yourself to enjoy where you are. Some people are so anxious to get to the next part of their lives that they miss out on what is happening to them right now. I know we all know those people. Maybe we are those people. If we aren’t careful, we will get to the end of our lives and wonder how we missed out on so much.

Don’t spend your time comparing your life to someone else’s life, or even to the ideas in your head about what your life should be, Enjoy what you’ve been given.

Sometimes finding worth in my life means journaling about the silly, mundane things that happen. Sometimes it means taking pictures of the things I see everyday because one day, I won’t see them everyday.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t strive to improve your life. I am not giving myself a pass to sit still and not work at making my life all it could be. I am however, giving myself the ability to take it easy, to relax, to not worry so much about what my life could be and instead, focus and enjoy what my life is.

Find something in your life that you think is mundane and make it beautiful. Understand that the life you are living right now is one of value. Enjoy where you are right now, because you won’t be there forever.





Passion > Apathy

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What gets you excited? We all have at least four or five things that we can come up with that just get us going. Mine are kids, writing, injustice, church, and music. Bring up any of those things to me and then watch me go. Put any of those together, like writing for kids, church music, injustice that involves kids, and you may as well be prepared to listen to me go on forever.

I would call these things my passions. That doesn’t mean that I have talent or anything special to say on the subject. I am passionate about music, but I’m not a musician. I’m passionate about injustice, but that doesn’t make me someone special who can change injustice everywhere. Having a passion simply means that you care really deeply about a subject.

I’ve come to realize recently that our passions are often the source of our greatest pains. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been frustrated with myself for my lack of inspiration when it comes to writing. Or when I write something that I simply don’t enjoy reading. And when I am not able to make a situation better for a child, I get really frustrated. It hurts me when I see an injustice that I can’t fix. Things happen within my passions that I can’t change, and that brings me some of the worst pain.

What should I do with this pain? I know that my passions won’t change anytime soon. Even though I’ve been hurt by my passion for writing, does that mean I stop writing? Does the fact that I can’t fix every problem a child has mean that I should stop trying to help? Does my frustration with the American church mean that I should abandon it? No. I push through the pain, I channel it into determination and perseverance.

Realizing that my passions bring me so much of my pain and frustration doesn’t really change much. I still get upset and frustrated. Knowing that my frustrations and tears come because I care helps a little. When I think about the opposite of passion, which is apathy, I think that I prefer passion. I would rather have pain that is coupled with accomplishment and frustration and joy than not care at all.

Apathy may be an easier route, but passion is much more heartbreaking and rewarding.



Fear Conquered

It was the first Wednesday of July, 2007. Fourteen year old me was backstage, sweat dripping off her forehead, stomach in knots that wouldn’t untangle despite her many yawns and pep talks. She was terrified.

One week earlier, her youth pastor had asked her to speak to the church congregation about the mission trip the youth group had just returned from. Her youth pastor knew she had a huge fear of public speaking, and challenged her to conquer that fear.

Fourteen year old me agreed, feeling the panic rise within her. For a solid week, she prepared. She painstakingly wrote a speech, threw it all out, and started over. She practiced in front of the mirror with a timer. She memorized her speech backwards and forwards. She stressed out for one solid week.

As she paced backstage, fourteen year old me felt like throwing up. She could hear her youth pastor begin to introduce her. Tears welled up in her eyes, I can’t do this! Her name was called, and she apprehensively walked onto the stage.

Her speech was shaky, and she had a nervous lisp. She was barely able to get her first two sentences past the giant lump in her throat. She thanked her leaders and had the audience give them a round of applause, buying herself a moment or two to compose herself. Fourteen year old me then went for it.

She talked with passion, not with eloquence, about her trip and what changed her. She even left the audience with a challenge. As fourteen year old me left the stage, she almost burst into tears. She actually did it. She didn’t lose her dinner on stage. She remembered her speech. She made people think.

Fear conquered, mostly.

One down.

How many left?


The Perfect Perspective

photoI have always known that perspective is an important thing to have, but recently I’ve been reminded of this lesson.

I’m not sure about your life, but I can tell you that there are things that happen in mine that feel like they will never end. Sometimes I feel like David after the dentist when he asks, “Is this gonna be forever?!” We have this feeling of desperation and helplessness when it comes to situations that we cannot change.

When it comes to these situations, these things in life that we just have to get through, I’ve learned that perspective is key. If I can remind myself that this situation, whatever it is, isn’t forever, it is much easier to get through.

If I said the phrase, “And it came to pass”, you would probably think about the Christmas story. I once heard a comedian use this phrase in the context of perspective. It came to pass. It didn’t come to stay! It WILL pass. It might take a long time, but it will pass.

Take a moment and think about your life in the context of eternity. ETERNITY. As in forever and ever. We can’t even wrap our human, finite minds around the idea of forever. The Bible says that our life is like the morning dew, there a moment and gone the next. If our entire life is just this tiny speck in the realm of eternity, how much does this one situation that feels like forever really matter?

I’m not saying that our situations won’t affect us. And I am certainly not saying that God doesn’t care about the things that happen to us. Quite the opposite of that actually. One of the most beautiful things about God is the fact that He does care about everything that happens to us. The fact that He cares about the little speck of eternity that is me is a huge deal; the fact that He is invested in the things that happen to me, that is life changing.

To find the perfect perspective, we have to look up. Looking behind us makes us regret the past, looking forward can make us worry about the future. Looking up reminds us of the One who holds our past, present, and future.

One of my favorite bands, Gungor, released a song that I just love. It’s called This Is Not The End. You can listen to it here. It talks about how this, this situation, this life, this semester of school, this illness, it isn’t the end. God has more for you, and He has it all under control.

No matter what you are going through, good, bad, ugly, or even worse, know that God has you in His arms. And know that this is not the end. Your life is a speck, but it’s a speck that God loved enough to send His Son to save. Take comfort in His love and care.