It’s been so long since I’ve written on my blog that I feel almost as if I need to introduce myself again.  Instead of doing that, I’ll just say that I’m still here.  Today, I had a bit of a come to Jesus moment with myself while I was reading out of the Jesus Storybook Bible with my little 3 year old.


I was reading the story about Jesus feeding the 5,000 with a little boy’s lunch.  I’ve read or heard this story about 5,000 times and I’ve known the moral of the message for a long time.  Basically, there wasn’t enough to feed the enormous crowd, so Jesus (being Jesus) took a little boy’s measly lunch and was able to multiply it for the masses to have plenty.  So, when it seems like we won’t have enough or when it seems as though we don’t know how we’re going to make it, God can provide.  He can take a little and make it much.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like a little.  I don’t mean that I feel like I have little, I mean I. Feel. Little.  I feel like all I have to offer are a couple of little fish.  I feel spread too thin as a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister in law, an aunt, a co-worker, a team player, a church goer, a blogger.  I feel too small to make an impact and I often times feel like the offering I have is just a small drop of water on a forest fire.   For a more realistic picture, it’s like I’m only folding 1 of Micah’s white t-shirts in a heap of laundry the height of Mt. Everest.  (Yes, laundry is a very, very real visual for me.)  So sometimes, I hear this voice that tells me things like, “Why are you trying?  You can’t do it.”  Or, “Do you even know if that’s making any type of difference anyways?  Just stop.”

Today, while I was reading that Bible story, the fish and the bread weren’t representative of my finances or my belongings.  The bread and the fish were me and what I have to give.  I felt like God was speaking straight to me on those illustrated little pages with the dimpled hands of my 3 year old pointing to the “fishies.”  Those little hands were pointing out that God can take me (a very small fish in a very huge sea), and multiply my impact.  He doesn’t want me to stop trying.  He wants me to give whatever I have – even if it feels small – and trust that He will multiply it, to spread it, to feed anyone who needs feeding.  I’m one 7 billionth of the world, but even if my words can somehow impact one of the other 7 billion people on this planet, then my words aren’t wasted and they were worth speaking (or typing… or writing…)

Basically, I stopped writing on here for a while because I got caught up in the lie that my story is old news and that my words probably don’t amount to much anyways.  I said I didn’t have time, but the truth is that I didn’t make it a priority, although I have felt for a long while like God was calling me to write (even though I often tell Him that I’m not a gifted writer, or that I am in no shape to be giving someone else any type of spiritual guidance….). However, just like the little boy who came out of the crowd with the lunch his mom had packed him, I can be bold enough to do the same and trust that God will somehow multiply my measly little offering.

In the same way, what do you have to give?  How are you going to let God multiply your impact? I’m going to start writing again and pray that whatever I have to say will somehow be in the view of someone who could benefit from this little fishy.  To you, your offering may seem small or insignificant, but God put you here for a purpose.  He can take your basket of fish (or in my case, my Tupperware of deli meat), and feed a crowd.  I’m taking a spiritual leap and trusting Him to spread my offering as far as it will go.

My Why.

Remove the Veil

I’ve been putting this off for a long time.  I’m busy, but I’m also scared.  Scared to make the leap, and most of all, scared to let go and be as real as I know I need to be.  I hope you’ll come here and find comfort, inspiration, empathy, and authenticity.  I hope we’ll learn together how to be bold without sacrificing kindness.  My life looks pretty good on Facebook and Instagram, and the truth is that my life is good.  I’m blessed beyond measure, but I have a ton of imperfections and struggles that I’ve hidden from people for the sake of privacy pride.

My Hope.

I want to give people in the cyber world a breath of fresh air by showing them transparency.  I’m done comparing myself to the versions of people I see on Facebook.  I’m ready to reveal my issues to you.  I’m ready for you to see that I’m not perfect and that my family isn’t perfect either.  I’m ready for you to see me without my makeup.  Without my kids all hugging and smiling.  Without my pride.  I’m ready to be real and for us all to take one huge sigh of relief together as we acknowledge that beauty isn’t found in the fairy tale.  Beauty is found in the crazy, the sweat, the deep set wrinkles, and the mess.  Fluff is just fluff and I don’t want to be a fluffy woman.  I want to be strong, and to be strong, I have to be ok with showing you when I’m not.

As I remove my veil, I hope you’ll remove yours too.  I hope you’ll look around and see a whole new social media without the perfect appearance.  I hope you’ll find a community of women who care more about joy, growth, and empowerment than they do about an airbrushed, filtered image.

My Mission.


Take off the blindfold. See behind the screen.  Abandon the mask.  Real, authentic beauty is behind the veil.  Remove the veil.