Guest post at LeighKramer.com

I know that everyone things that they have the best "how we met" story, but the truth is, Jason and I win. I absolutely love our story, so when Leigh Kramer asked me to participate in her This is How We Met blog series, I was all over it. (And by all over it, I mean, turned it in a week late - sorry Leigh!)

Here's a short excerpt from my piece:

For my entire life, I’ve hated the heat. I am absolutely miserable when I’m hot and most people don’t want to be around me. It’s certainly not when you’d want to meet me because I am not at my most charming when I’m sweaty and gross. 

It was a hot Friday afternoon in June of 1992.  I had just graduated from high school and was just days away from celebrating my 18^th birthday, officially marking my journey to becoming an adult. 

Part of this move to adulthood was that I was putting off the angst of looking for a boyfriend. I had played that game with little success in high school, and wasn’t interested in continuing it into college. I was perfectly content entering college as a single woman and was looking forward to finding myself.

Head on over to Leigh's site to read the rest and to see a picture of us that was taken within minutes of us meeting for the first time.

Guest Post at FriendlyAtheist.com

The story of Jessica Ahlquist is not a new one. A young atheist asked her public school to remove a prayer from the wall. They refused. The issue went to court, the young woman won (of course, because she is 100% correct in this case), and all hell broke loose. Florists refused to deliver flowers to her. She received death threats from her (largely Christian) community. She needed a police escort to school. State representative Peter G. Palumbo called her "an evil little thing."

I'm a firm believer in cleaning up the shit in one's own house, and my Christian friends? We've got a big steaming pile of it in our living room that we've all been stepping around. I spent a morning searching for Christian blogs that addressed this issue and came up empty.

We have failed. Miserably.

Today I'm posting over at Hemant Mehta's blog, Friendly Atheist, offering my apology to the atheist community and to Jessica for not speaking out about this sooner. I always appreciate your comments, but I would love it if you would show support for Jessica as well. She (and others) deserve to know that we don't support this kind of behavior.

If you also choose to speak up on your blog, please let me know here so I can read what you have to say!

Now, head on over to Hemant's and let's stop being silent.

Guest Post at SeePrestonBlog.com

Every now and again as a writer, you have the opportunity to be a part of something that is just beautiful and today is one of those days for me.

Preston Yancey has organized an amazing thing at his blog. Fifty-four writers spending a month talking about the Church. But not griping - we're writing about what we like about the Church. It can be easy to write about the parts of the Church that annoy me, but it is a joy to write about the things that I like about the Church, especially my home congregation. Here's a bit from my piece:

As a self-identifying emergent-type Christian, one would likely expect that I attend a small, hippie church somewhere. Maybe an Episcopal congregation, or even a house church. On Sunday mornings, I probably wear jeans and big wool scarf and a stocking hat that I knitted while I was sitting around, talking about Rob Bell’s newest book, drinking something dark out of my French Press. 

But that’s not my church. My church isn’t small or quiet or understated. My church is big and loud and fairly over-the-top. Because I go to a megachurch.

I'd love it if you'd head over to Preston's to read the rest of my piece. And please, be sure to check out the other posts in the series. There is a lot of goodness going on over there. You can follow along on Twitter with the hashtag #ATLT.

Thanks for sitting at the Lord's Table with me today.

Guest Post at InAMirrorDimly.com

Ed Cyzewski has become one of my favorite writers over the past year. I love his perspective on writing, life, and faith. His recent book about Christian unity is absolutely fantastic and I can't recommend it enough. And for just a few more days, you can download all of Ed's books super cheap. On top of all that, he is a steadfast supporter of my writing and just a great guy. Plus, he has rabbits. So yeah.

He has recently launched a new series called Women in Ministry, which, as you may have guessed, is about women in ministry. I'm honored to be a part of this, sandwiched in between some of my very favorite writers. Here's a snippet of my piece:

I don’t know if music can technically be a part of your DNA from a scientific standpoint, but I’m pretty certain that music was etched into my soul from the start. From my earliest days, music has played an integral role in bringing me joy. 

Likewise, the church has always been a part of my life. Some of my first memories are in the church. I can’t think of a season when the church hasn’t been a key character in my existence. 

It makes sense that the two would find their way together.

Head on over to Ed's to read the rest!

Guest Post at TheHandwritten.com

Michael D. Perkins writes The Handwritten, one of the most creative blogs that I read. It is, as the name implies, a collection of handwritten posts. I find his style beautiful and unique. Seeing someone's handwritten work connects you to them in a completely different way.

Today I'm sharing some of my own handwriting over at Michael's site. The post is the shortest thing I've written, just three words long, but it's a question that I want to ask myself regularly. I'd love it if you'd head on over to The Handwritten to give it a look. While you're there, be sure to subscribe to Michael's site so you can download his free e-book.

Thanks for reading my piece!

Not Yo Momma's Depression by Chrystal Getz

Chrystal contacted me a few months ago about reprinting my piece about the first time I ran on the C25K program and we've been in touch since then. She is a wonderful, inspirational writer and I encourage you to check out her blogs listed below. But I am, as always, honored that she would share her story about dealing with depression here. Thanks Chrystal!


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People like to wrap depression up in a neat, tidy little box. Inside the box are sadness, tears, and perhaps some suicidal thoughts. But there's nothing neat or tidy about depression. It comes in many shapes, forms, and sizes. It can be something you just "have" or something that is brought on by an event or series of events. There are many different faces of depression. This is mine.

I can feel the darkness moving in swiftly. It comes from no where and without warning. I dig my heels in and prepare. I know the darkness. I've lived in it before and survived. Barely. I'm able to fight it off on occasion. More often than not, however, that dark cloud centers itself solidly over my head and follows me wherever I go. When I think of clouds, I think of something light and fluffy. This cloud is oddly heavy. It's a storm cloud as the worst storm you can imagine moves in. I can barely breathe as the weight of the darkness seems to be squarely on my chest.

I've tried to fight it. I'm an intelligent person, after all. I should be able to determine what my mood is. I should be able to take deep breaths and just move on from the daily irritations. Everyone gets upset or has a bad day, right? This is so, so much more. If you've never lived it, you can't possibly grasp the hold the darkness has on you.

I find myself frustrated by people who want to label it. Depression, they suggest. I'm not depressed! Depressed people are sad and sit around crying. I'm not sad and I'm certainly not crying. What I am is angry. I'm angered by people, sights, and sounds. Everything is amplified and completely unbearable. I'm also not suicidal. Suicide is one of the most selfish acts by a human. (Before you judge my opinion on that, please know I earned that opinion the hard way.)

The sound of someone, anyone, talking makes my heart race and it takes everything in me to not just scream at the top of my lungs so they'll go away. I want to be left alone with my anger. I'm so incredibly crabby I can't even stand myself. The anger is exhausting and I only want sleep. I want to be away from the people, sights, and sounds that are a normal part of life, but which are, in those moments, unbearable sources of anger. I want to be away from myself because I can't stand the anger; the crabbiness.

The hardest part of living in the darkness is being fully aware I'm stuck in this madness and not being able to do anything about it. It's as if I'm having an out of body experience. I'm watching myself react completely irrational as if it were a movie. I'm screaming at myself on the "screen" how ridiculous I'm being. But there's nothing I can do about it. My rational self watches helplessly as my irrational self goes through the motions waiting for the cloud to go away.

And it does. The cloud vaporizes as quickly as it arrived - swiftly and without warning. I can feel it disappear and I suddenly feel lighter. I approach people cautiously, just to be certain it is indeed gone. I breathe a sigh of relief. A deep breath; one I was unable to take even a moment ago. I proceed through my days as happily as I did before the cloud arrived. Because I am a happy person. I have a great life. I don't allow myself to think about the cloud or the person I become while it's hovering over me. I focus on the positive things because I am blessed to have so many.

Those are the things that get me through the storm.

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Chrystal Getz is a working mom, wife, personal trainer, and aspiring writer. She is currently pursuing a certification as a Lifestyle and Weight Management Specialist and dabbling in vegetarianism. A mid-western girl who has been transplanted to the east coast, her hobbies include sarcasm, over extending herself, and working out. Her passion for fitness has manifested into a facebook page and blog (or two). She's a straight shooter who loves to motivate people. She doesn't believe in diets and fads, but rather hard work and moderation. (Seriously, who could give up chocolate and beer?) Her realistic approach isn't for everyone. Only those who are looking for results.

Guest Post at Meet the Buttrams

I met Jessica on Twitter a while ago and absolutely love her blog. She has a wicked sense of humor (as you may remember from her doughnut war post a few weeks back) and she also has a beautiful way of stringing words together that make your heart just burst.

At the beginning of the month, I just happened to be the 1000th comment at her site and my reward was that I got to write a guest post for her! So last night, when she was no doubt wringing her hands at the EXTREME  lateness (but not in a good way, like with Doritos) of my post, I sent her my post about...wait for it...procrastination. And making my daughter a really. ugly. doll.

Sometime in early October my daughter told me that she was doing a book report and that she wanted to dress up as the main character. Part of her costume required a rag doll. And since we had six weeks to get this assignment done, naturally I agreed to help her in the construction of said doll. 

My daughter would give occasional updates, reminding me to buy fabric so we could work on the doll and I would promptly forget them. Then, all of a sudden (except, not really), the report was due in three days and we still had no fabric, no poly-fil, and no doll. 

I made an emergency trip to A.C. Moore to find some supplies. Bought a small bolt of fabric, a gigantic 32 oz. bag of poly-fil (apparently I thought we might need to make 400 dolls), and some new needle and thread so I could pull this thing together. I’ve got to tell you, I was feeling pretty Martha Stewart-esque about the whole thing.

Now, head on over and check out this doll. I mean, check out the post. And the super cute little girl holding the saddest doll ever. While you're there, be sure to subscribe to her blog - it will make you very happy.

Guest Post at RachelHeldEvans.com (again!)

You read that right - Rachel Held Evans is having me back at her blog!

I had the opportunity to post at Rachel's back in March. It spurned some great conversation at her place and a follow-up post here. I'm so grateful to her for opening up her blog to me to once again share a bit more of my journey dealing with "the other."

Too often we keep people at arm’s length because we fear what might happen if we find out too much about them. We may find out that we have different theological views. Different political leanings. Different priorities. And we worry that if we discover those things, we won’t be able to find any common ground or that the commonalities that we have will disappear. We fear that our bonds of friendship will be unable to withstand the differences. We worry that our love may diminish to mere obligation.

I hope you'll head over to Rachel's blog to read the full piece.

And if you're here from Rachel's, welcome! The links on the right will get you started. Be sure to say hello - I love meeting new friends!

40 is the New 20 by Deanna Davis

Today Deanna Davis is dropping by the blog to share a bit about her life as a 40-something. As one who is fast approaching the 40 mark herself, I appreciate the perspective that she gives. Be sure to check out her blog for some great thoughts on relationships, spiritual warfare, and writing!


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As a Sunday school teacher of college students, I talk with a lot of young 20 somethings about life, love, God and the world. One of the recurring things I’ve found myself saying to them over the years is, “These years are the crossroads of your life. You are making more important choices that will affect the rest of  your life…studies, marriage, career, friendship, location, lifestyle… If there is ever a time for you to be dialed in to God’s will for your life it is now, in your youth."

And now I am a 40 something.  I am at age where me and my 20 something buddies are either reaping the blessings of good decisions or suffering the consequences of bad ones. None of us thought we’d be a statistic. None of us thought we’d be overweight, gray-haired, divorced, depressed, in a dead end job, estranged from our kids, financially strapped or looking at a life that was nothing like we had planned. Not all are in such dismal straights and some are doing quite well…but many of us are nowhere near where we hoped to be.

Now, as I am beginning the second half of my life, I am finding that those words I’ve spoken to so many others are boomeranging back into my own life. While many of the framing events of my life – marriage, career, house, children – are set, there are still many, many decisions that lay before me. Joy or bitterness? Indulgence or discipline? Spiritual maturity or complacency? Simplicity or conformity? Relational depth or isolation? God’s will or mine?

The difference between being 20 and 40 is…20 years have passed. And if experience is the greatest teacher, then I just might actually know some things now. My body might be moving a bit more slowly but my brain is just getting revved up. My heart is more engaged in my relationships than ever before. My words land with greater impact in the lives of others than I ever thought possible. I am more aware of who I am, who God has made me to be and what it is He wants me to do with the time I have left on the earth. I have much more life and influence in front of me than I ever thought I would at this age.

The crossroads of middle age look eerily similar to the one I faced at 20, but with higher stakes. Much higher stakes. These decisions won’t just determine where my life goes, but who I will ultimately become. I thought that decision had been made a long time ago, but I’m coming to realize I am just getting started. And this time around, there is no second half coming with which to make adjustments.

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Deanna is a wife, mom, Bible student and teacher, missionary, TCK, book worm, writer, recreational cook, conversationalist, cultural observer, avid traveler and follower of Jesus. She writes a blog called Intersections where she externally processes all that life throws at her. Sometimes she realizes that she should keep some of it internal.

Guest Post at TamaraOutLoud.com

I don't remember who retweeted this post by Tamara Lunardo, but I wish I did so I could hug them for introducing me to her. What I do remember is that when I read it, I so wanted to be friends with this chick. Like, immediately.

I don't know if our friendship was exactly immediate, however it has definitely grown over the past year. She is a beautiful person, inside and out, and I look forward to the day when our friendship can extend to a place where our laughter is louder than an LOL and our embrace can go beyond brackets.

All that to say, I'm practically giddy to be guest posting for Tamara today. And because she is definitely one of the coolest people in my virtual village, I decided to let you all know how cool I am as well.

I write a primarily Christian blog. Most of what I write about ties back into my faith. But truth be told, my faith isn’t always completely orthodox. My brain has some big questions and my mouth has a small filter. And sometimes when I write about faith-related stuff, my atheist friends don’t hate it. In fact, they’ve been known to say that some of what I have to say is reasonable, even admirable. 

When this happens, some of my fellow Christians will claim that this reaction from those outside of the faith only proves that my goal is to prove how hip and with it I am, rather than to spread the gospel. Because if there’s one thing we know about good news it’s that it pisses people off and leaves them feeling alienated. If what I’m saying about Jesus makes someone think that he might like them, then clearly it’s not the right Messiah. 

Stop over and read the rest. While you're there, do yourself a huge favor and subscribe to her site. She's brilliant and you do not want to miss a post.

Also? Be sure to check out her new project with Civitas, What A Woman Is Worth.

Post at Provoketive.com

For the record, this is gonna' be one of "those" weeks. You know, where I post more elsewhere than here. Sorry.

My friend and publisher Jonathan Brink has started a new online magazine called Provoketive. Jonathan has a really fantastic way of gathering together top notch writers giving them a place to shine and he's doing that yet again with this endeavor. I'm honored to be among the writers there and to share my first piece. Where I write about Beavis & Butt-head.

Heh. Heh heh heh. Heh heh. 

The smartest show about the dumbest people is back. 

Last Thursday night I cozied up with a wine cooler, some nachos and turned on MTV for the first time in years to watch the return of Mike Judge's Beavis and Butt-head. 

One of my favorite moments in the show was just two minutes in, when the screen turned to flame and Beavis began chanting "fire!" Those familiar with Beavis and Butt-head will remember that shortly after the show premiered back in 1993, there was an accident involving fire that was blamed on the show, resulting in the banishment of that phrase from further episodes. The glorification of destructive behavior on a satirical show for adults was held responsible for the actions of a five-year old child. This was around the same time of the infamous McDonald's coffee lawsuit, and we began to hear a new buzz word emerge. 

Personal responsibility.

Head on over to Provoketive to read the rest of the article!

Guest Post at GoinsWriter.com

I don't follow a whole lot of "how to blog" blogs because honestly, I'm mostly going to write the way that I'm going to write, good advice be damned.

But not Jeff Goins. His is a blog I read regularly. Because not only does he give good blogging and writing advice, he gives good advice about being an artist and creative in those pursuits. Sure, he gives valuable tips on how to improve your content and how to bring more folks to your site to enjoy that content, but I don't feel like the whole thing is a numbers game with him, which I really appreciate.

Today I'm honored to be over at Jeff's place sharing about the Guest Post Extravaganza from back in August.

If you blog, you know letting your site sit idle for a month can be brutal on your audience and traffic.

I knew my core group of readers would stick around, but I didn't want to lose momentum that was building.

What was I to do?

I decided to open up my blog to the public.

I'd love it if you'd stop by and read the rest of the piece!

Live Like Mary by Rachel McGowan

You know what's nice? When other people offer to write for you. You know what's really nice? When they write something that you really want to share. Huge thanks to Rachel McGowan for doing both of those things today!

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In the Bible there are four gospels. Each gospel tells similar versions of the same collection of stories, and I love stories. I love the gospels because every time I read something from one of them, it’s a new story. And every time I read it, it is truly good news.

One of my favorite stories in the gospel is about Mary, the mother of Jesus. An angel named Gabriel comes to Mary in the middle of the night and basically shatters her entire world. Here’s the Biblical version, found in Luke: 

“God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, ‘Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.’ Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.’ ‘How will this be,’ Mary asked the angel, ‘since I am a virgin?’ The angel answered, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.’ ’I am the Lord’s servant,’ Mary answered. ‘May it be to me as you have said.’ Then the angel left her.’ Luke 1:26-38

 My initial thought: “I’m sorry, what?”

I mean, let’s be real. This angel just came and flipped Mary’s world upside down, and she doesn’t have a long list of questions? She doesn’t cry or flip out? She is betrothed to a man who believes she is a virgin. And she still is, but that one’s going to be hard to explain to him, what with the soon-to-be protruding bump and all. Plus, her family will be so confused. Virgin birth wasn’t exactly a known condition back then.

She had a reputation to maintain.

She had a life plan.

God has this awesome tendency to show up and ruin our plans.

So then I re-read the story, and I find an entire different meaning.

And my new thought is this:

I want to live like Mary.

An angel came to her and was like, “look Mary. I’ve got some news, good and bad. You’re going to have a baby. Yes…I know, I know you didn’t.  And yes, I know it’s going to be hard. It’s going to be really tough, Mary. People probably won’t believe you, and your reputation might be ruined. You might lose friends, you might lose your family, you might lose hope. It will be painful and it will be confusing.

But Mary, get this.

Here’s the good news: you have the future of the world inside of you.

He is going to save us all.

Every time he moves inside of you, remember that his hands are going to bring healing. Every time he cries, remember that his words will be a lamp to guide our paths. And every time you watch him sleep, remember that he is the assurance of hope.

Trust me on this, Mary; this is going to be awesome.”

And Mary nods her head. In humble obedience.

I think there is a time in all of our lives where God pulls us aside and whispers in our ear with some news that flips everything out of focus. I think he gently tells us that something big is about to happen. And yes, he knows, he knows we didn’t do anything wrong or bad to earn ourselves into our current standing. I think he finds favor in us, his creation. And he knows it’s going to be hard, he knows it’s going to be tough.

But we have the future of the world inside of us.

We have the power of Jesus tickling our tummies and reminding us to be his hands, be his feet, be his love, to tell everyone about hope. There is nothing we can do to earn his love any more, and there is nothing we can do to lose it.

He just asks that we follow. In humble obedience.

Yeah, I want to live like Mary.

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Rachel is a 20-something lover of words, art, music, rainy days, and Diet Coke. She believes in finding good in the gross, and is passionate about helping women give voice to their stories. She works with hundreds of college students who constantly teach her about hope, perseverance, and the power of truly knowing one another. She blogs about relationships, love, and leaps of faith. You can find her on twitter, facebook, or at your local coffee shop.

Guest Post at JesusNeedsNewPR.net

I read Matthew Paul Turner's book Hear No Evil last May and absolutely loved it. Even though we had very different upbringings (you can get a free audio version of his book Churched here - I highly recommend giving it a listen!), our recollections and love of music were very similar. He's an amazing story teller and I geeked out for like a week when he complimented my writing on a guest post I wrote.

Matthew is incredibly generous and encouraging. No, he doesn't let people get away with crap, but he doesn't let himself get away with crap either, and I deeply admire that about him. He is also very honest about his struggles with faith and the Church as the result of his church history, and that includes his own dealings with depression.

I'm thankful to Matthew for allowing me to post at his place today (which is generally a fun, entertaining place, so don't think that this piece is indicative of the regular content!).

If we met in real life, within just a few minutes you would realize that you will never, ever have a problem hearing me. I have what some might call a distinct voice. Most will probably just call it loud.

You would also quickly notice that I have a loud personality. It wouldn’t take us long to be chatting it up about something, from the mundane like the best flavor of cheesecake to something deeper like the importance of hell in a discussion about salvation to something really important like who is your favorite Bluth.

But as the grey days of autumn pile up, I find my mood becomes more muted as well. 

Head over here to read the rest. 

Guest Post at TheVeryWorstMissionary.com

I am not one of the cool kids and I am totally okay with that. But today I totally get to hang with one of the coolest people on the whole internets, Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary (and one of my blogging heroes). She invited me to guest post for her Missionary Positions (do you see why I love her yet?) and of course I had to do it.

When I start thinking about missionaries, I think about people are sharing Jesus with people. A missionary is someone who knows the gospel message and whose life goal it is to tell that life-giving message to anyone who will listen. I’ve been in the Church long enough to know that you don’t have to go to Africa to be a missionary (though it totally helps your missionary cred), but missionaries have a group they’re out to make sure to tell the story to. The unsaved.

I’m a Christian and my husband is an atheist.

So we all know who MY mission field is, right?

Head on over to Jamie's site to read the rest!

Holding a Corner For Connie By Joy Wilson

I first read Joy's writing when she submitted a piece for the Not Alone project. She has written her own book, Uncensored Prayer: The Spiritual Practice of Wrestling with God. Her writing is poignant and powerful and I am so happy to feature Joy on my blog today!

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Connie.  Pray for Connie.  She’s in trouble.

Connie had been in trouble the last few years by anyone’s definition.  After being turned down for ordination by the denomination she loved in spite of a hard-won Masters of Divinity, she had lost two jobs due to reasons beyond her control.  Her self-employed, well-qualified husband struggled to keep their family afloat, and now this:  failure to buy a home in the school district offering the courses needed by her gifted daughter.  This woman of incredible resilience had repeatedly experienced life events that would undermine the strongest faith.

So now what.

My eyes had opened five minutes before the alarm buzzed, and rather than blurry blankness, my mind spoke her name.  Pulling on enough clothes to go outside, I sat in the dim dawn, not knowing what was going on, but knowing what to do.  A phone call could come later.  For now, I held a corner for Connie.

I’ve often been carried to Jesus by friends when I was paralyzed by fear, or drained by too much hopelessness.  They did whatever it took to cut through the walls that prevented my escape, and hauled me to where I couldn’t go – over the river to grandmother’s house and sanctuary for the soul.  And Jesus, sensing the faith of the friends, made a house call with an entire Emergency Room in his arms.  While each friend held a corner of the pallet, the Creator loved me back to life, though my world remained unchanged.

God can certainly do anything he/she wants without help, but has chosen to make the universe interdependent – trees and rocks and humans each connected for survival of the weakest.  “Alone” isn’t in God’s dictionary, but “together” has its own page. Those of us, such as plants and water, without the ability to see or hear, still seem to share the sixth sense:  an innate ability to interact with the whole of God in a ceaseless circle of love.  We are the recipients of this blessing, even if unaware.  But if we become conscious of these gifts of grace, then we share the power to heal.

I could hear it on the phone.  The cracks in her voice didn’t match the “I’m OK.”  Connie was face down in the mud, barely sucking air.  Her “giving well” was dry, and the will to try barely alive.  I struggle with clinical depression, and told some recent stories of God’s intervention at the last second when I could bear no more.  I shared my hope with her, for her, not knowing if she could even hear.  Then my heart spoke with compassion that wasn’t mine alone.  I said,

Connie, you may not know it, but countless times you have rescued me, bringing hope in a basket to this basket-case.  You’ve found me melted and mopped up the mess, as if it was normal to be covered in someone’s shit and misery.  Often I’ve been so thankful I’ve gushed with gratitude; other times this wordsmith’s been wordless. You’ve loved me in spite of my apparent lack of appreciation and insensitivity when the best I could do was hide.  But I always noticed the vulnerability it cost you to open your heart to me, whether I marveled or distained it at the time.

I’m a professional at letting what I can’t control take control over me.  You know me well, and I’ve been to hell many times before.  But hear this, girl:  right this minute, you are brave.  On most days, your courage is blatant as you battle the odds face-to-face.  But it also takes bravery to fall apart, fail to be strong and lie still with a half-teaspoon of faith that someone’s going to show up and haul you home.  Well, here I am.

All she could do was cry.  And all I could do was cry.  And those mingled tears refilled the “giving wells” in both of us, watering wilted hope that made it possible one more time to fall into the Grand Canyon of the unknown, held aloft by friends with faith.


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Joy Wilson is the author of Uncensored Prayer: The Spiritual Practice of Wrestling With God and a contributor to Not Alone (both Civitas Press, 2011). She and her husband, Bud, are two life-long hippies.  They live in Bartlett, TN, with six cats, two dogs, and no TV.  She is part of an eclectic group of Jesus-followers called Outlaw Preachers and has a passion for prison ministry. Also, Joy is an advocate for middle-aged and senior women, and anyone who suffers from depression. Joy’s website is joyleewilson.org and you can contact her at joyleewilson@gmail.com.

Treasure Tree by Shanda Sargent

Shanda is just about one of the most gentle, lovely, encouraging people you will want to meet on the internet. I don't know how she stumbled across my blog, but I'm so glad that she did and I'm just delighted to be able to share her beautiful spirit with you today. 


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Photo by Shanda Sargent

Between our sidewalk and driveway, stands one of my favorite things, a weeping cherry tree. Each new spring she blesses us with an enchanting array of pink and white blossoms. When the wind whisks through her branches, the loosely attached buds create a seemingly endless snow of petals. Late spring, she offers another gift. FRUIT. Her branches fill with bright red cherries that are picked, pitted, and fashioned into Grandma's sour cherry pie. The summertime gift she offers is a hideaway for my children. They love to climb into her strong, twisted trunk and escape behind her waterfall of branches. Her secret cove is the perfect place to get lost in a book on a warm summer day. These are all splendid gifts to be sure, but the most valuable thing I've ever received from Treasure Tree is not in her beauty, her fruit, or her hideout, but in the lesson of her dead branches.  

DEAD BRANCHES…

A few springs ago, we stood beneath Treasure Tree to view her abundance of cherry clusters. As we stood in admiration, we were shocked to see several dead branches intertwined among so much life. I got to thinking about us. We aren't unlike Treasure Tree ourselves. We all have "dead branches." We all have parts of our lives that are broken and lifeless. ALL OF US. The dilemma that we fall into is that because we are broken, we don't believe that God can, will, or wants to work in and through our lives. It's tragic for us to believe we are unusable because we are weak, inadequate, and flawed. When we are smothered by this lie, the gifts we offer become inhibited. Treasure Tree was bursting with gifts in spite of her dead branches. Why do our dead branches debilitate us like they do? I think the issue is not solely about dead branches, but also about God's love. 

DO WE REALLY AND TRULY- DEEP WITHIN THE SOUL OF WHO WE ARE- BELIEVE THAT GOD LOVES US NO MATTER WHAT?

Can God really love me when He sees the lifelessness that seeps into the cracks of my secret places? Can His love wash over me and free me from my failures so they do not hinder the ministry of His gifts in my life? The gravity of my own dead branches has whispered lies into my depths for far too long. Worrying that I have rendered myself useless for His Kingdom has done nothing but bog me down under a blanket of shame that chokes the fruit He wants to produce. Treasure Tree did not cease to offer gifts, because dead branches were woven in and around her. Eventually, we clipped and pruned her lifeless branches so she could offer even more gifts:  more beautiful blossom snows, more fruit, and more healthy branches for a hideaway cove.  Knowing that I have a trusted Gardener, I need to embrace His complete love for me. I need to surrender fully to His clipping and pruning in my life, all the while, still bearing gifts. Instead of a blanket of shame, I need to rest under the blanket of His "no matter what I've done or ever will do" love. Only then, can the full capacity of my offerings bless others in spite of my dead branches, and that is the true treasure from this TreasureTree, indeed.

What areas of brokenness in your life have been used for good?


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Shanda Sargent is a wife to Matt, and a homeschooling mom of four. She is deeply moved by honesty, respects humility, appreciates love, knows failure, is reassembled by grace, indebted to mercy, and possesses a grateful heart.   She blogs transparently about life, faith, and being human at The Upside Down Pastor's Wife.  You can also follow her on Twitter.  











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Second Cup Friends by Sarah Bost-Askins

Sarah was one of my very first Twitter friends. Her coffee tweets every morning make me smile and her poetry is absolutely delicious. Sarah was the first person ever to guest post for me on my previous blog and as such, I am delighted to kick off this month of guest posts with this beautiful piece about friendship.

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We live in a world of one cup, rushed through friendships.

Our lives spinning through a maniac to do list while squeezing in time for a brief respite of conversation. We schedule our  coffee dates to avoid the inevitable guilt-laden nights, the I've been meaning to call messages, but mostly the guilt. The comfortable earth toned coffee shop fully equipped with WiFi, just in case we can fit another work task in, serves as the ideal meeting place. Music, loud espresso machines, and other talkative patrons mask the lag of our conversation. Lattes offer a brief distraction from the awkward pauses when we have run out of the compulsory topics—how's the hubby/partner, what grades are the kids in again, did you hear about...? Coffee gulped and general Facebook fodder shared; we rush off to the next thing and the next thing. Always a rush to check off each box on the to-do list.

Friendship is not for the to-do list.

But so often, carving out time for friendship, for an interweaving of our lives can be more difficult than scaling Mount Everest or more painful than a root canal. While scheduling time these days is inevitable,  a to-do list spot implies another chore, another duty. But our hurried pace rarely lets us live above the chores, the duties, the to do list.

So, we rush...

Through our coffee dates, our meetings with each other. Worse still, our hearts have hardly been opened to each other's company. Isn't that what friendship should be? An exposing of our inner selves, the part of us we don't tweet or post on Facebook, the part hiding behind the blog posts, the part waiting for a chance to speak to another exposed heart. Isn't that what friendship should be?

Let's Be Second Cup Friends.

At some point, we realize this rushed friendship erodes the very fiber of our souls. It covers up the beating heart, seals it inside with bricks and mortar, and offers very little comfort. But what if we chose to slow our lives down for a moment? Rather than a gulped down hurried coffee date, we chose to order another cup, the second cup.

The second cup of coffee has the real magic in it.

Within that second cup, we allow ourselves the pleasure of moving beyond the stereotypical conversations. We move a bit closer to that exposed heart, a bit closer to interweaving our souls in friendship. Second cup friends strengthen each other as we open up to our fragility, our wreakedness, our flaws. It is through our flaws that friendship grows and sustains itself.

Question: How are you a second cup friend?

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Sarah grew up reading, thinking, musing which led her to pursue a Bachelor's and Master's degree in English. This Virginian settled in the Carolinas where she lives with her husband Mark, two beautiful step-children AJ and Ashley, and three rambunctious English Springer Spaniels Ginger Snap, Cupcake, and Ophelia(Ophelia was thus named when no one in my family was hungry). She blogs at From Tolstoy to Tinkerbell and is a contributor for The Well-Written Woman. You can also follow her on Twitter.

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Guest Post at The Whole Dang Thing

One blog that I've discovered this year that I enjoy reading is The Whole Dang Thing by JBen Emerson. He's blogging the whole Bible, one chapter at a time. He's funny and informative and thoughtful and you will not be disappointed by the good stuff that he puts forth, even if sometimes he blogs the Bible slightly out of order so a guest poster doesn't have to post something on the first day of her one month sabbatical.

Anyway, I'm blogging about Exodus 26 today over at JBen's place. Here's a glimpse:

I asked Ben if I could guest post about this chapter a few weeks ago. He agreed to let me give it a go and I started writing that day. Then I didn’t like the way the piece was going and I discarded it and started over. Then I didn’t like the way that piece was going and I deleted it and started over again. No lie, I have written this a minimum of six times. I can’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that our gracious host was out of town so I had more time to obsess over work on this.

You can head over here to read the rest (where I actually talk about the passage, not just my neurotic writing process). And be sure to read more of Ben's site. Lots of good stuff there!

Guest Post at A Wondering Spirit

I met Holli on the Twitter a few months ago. She is a delightful writer and on Wednesday, she transforms into The Great Askini and she answers your questions. She is doing a summer series on the topic, "What I Wonder About" and she asked me to participate. I have a hard time saying no to someone called "The Great" anything, so I agreed. Here's a glimpse of what I sent her:

There are so many unanswerable questions out there. 
What is the sound of one hand clapping? 
What was the best thing before sliced bread?
Where do all of those socks go?
Why did J.K. Rowling write that epilogue?

You can head over to her site to read the rest. As always, thank you so much for your support here and wherever I end up sharing my writing.