Three years later…

I felt great. I was determined to keep up my blog, keep working on my book trilogy and be the all-around social butterfly I knew I could be. So, I stepped out in front of Life, ready to greet it with open arms, and it hit me like a freight train.

Three years later, and I’m still recovering from all that has happened. The good, the bad, the ugly. I won’t go into details in this post, but I will say I am going to try to be more diligent in my blogging and writing life. Especially with how wonderful and supportive you all are. Thank you for noticing my absence. And this time, I’m planning for my return to stick. So here’s to hearing from me before another three years pass.

Haha. Just kidding. But, kind of serious.


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Twenty-Sixth Bliss

This past weekend marked a very large event in my life. My best friend, Philicia, gave birth to her first child- a son named Elijah Edward Parker. As adorable as his name is, he’s even that much more adorable himself.

I’ll never forget walking into her hospital room this last Saturday. It was like time stopped when my eyes fell on him, quickly followed by a wave of joyous emotion. Needless to say, his Aunt Tiffany was a crying pile of goo.

And then I got to hold him.

That precious little boy, only six hours old, stole my heart. I’d prayed for him before he was even a thought in his parents’ minds, and to hold him in my arms, seeing him for the first time, is something I’ll always cherish.

My mother shared with me that his birthday, the twenty-sixth, was my actual due date. Of course, I came one week early, but I’m beyond thrilled to share my birthday month with this new little guy. I’m also beyond honored to have been the first non-family member to have held him {although, Philicia and I consider each other like sisters}.

I am so proud of my best friend, for being brave and persevering through a c-section and all she did to bring him safely into the world. She’s one incredible woman, and now she has one incredible son.

God is so good.


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Birthday sdrawkcaB

Yesterday was my birthday, and it got me thinking. Birthdays are a special day, all about you, celebrating when you entered the world. But really, all those years ago, you didn’t really do anything to deserve this special day. It was all your mother’s doing. Think about it- the pain, the agony, the worry, the stress, etc. that she went through to safely bring you into the world. The blood, sweat and tears, and yet you’re the one celebrated?

Is it just me, or does that seem a little backwards?

So, while yes, I will happily take my birthday gifts and well wishes, I would also like to take a moment to thank my own mother for giving birth to me. I celebrate your sacrifices, your strength, your wisdom and the abundance of pure love you shower on me each and every day of my life. Thank you mom, for all that you’ve done and continue to do. This day really should be yours.

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The Five Month & Fifteen-Day Absence


That is my explanation for why it has now been five months and fifteen days since my last post. Life just got in the way.

Which is a bit ironic since that is the very thing that I write most about- my life. But when life takes an ugly turn, I’m betting you’re not sitting there thinking, “Wow, this will make a great post.” At least, that’s  not what I was thinking. My thoughts were more along the lines of, “Please, Lord. Don’t let me die.”

But hey, that may just be me.

Either way, I consider a nearly six-month absence ridiculous and unprofessional, and it’s not something I plan to allow ever again. So I believe it’s safe to say…

I’m baaack!

And oh, how I’ve missed you all! I look forward to reading all of your many posts I’ve missed and catching up with your beautiful lives.

Yes. It feels so good to be back.



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Sick House

Our house was officially sick. Termites do not a friend make, so this past weekend we were forced to tent our house. While this is a process I’ve seen many times driving through neighborhoods, it’s one I’ve never been on the receiving end of. Naturally, there were many things I didn’t know about it.

For one, you have to double bag all your food. I thoughtlessly hadn’t considered the food aspect of fumigation. Of course, it makes sense that if you fill your home with poisonous gasses, your unsealed food is vulnerable. And no one wants to eat poisonous-gassed food.

Not only do you have to double bag your food, but you also have to tape it or twist tie it shut in a double twist.

That also counts for food in your freezer and refrigerator.

But you don’t have to bag up any canned or bottled goods.

And, first and foremost, you have to find a place to stay while your house is tented. Poisonous gasses that kill the bugs do not a friend make either. Luckily, my parents and I found a nice hotel suite in town. 

We even brought along my dog with us for our stay at the pet friendly hotel. So, while our house was sick and being treated, we were spending good quality family time all together.

We arrived back at our house today to find it tent-free, the fumigators already done with their job. Now we’re getting settled back in, and there are still things to get back in order. But, regardless of all the family fun we had at the hotel, I’m really glad my house is feeling better.

After all, there’s no place like home.



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The Post I’ve Been Fighting With Myself To Write, Part 1

I have Lyme Disease.

One sentence. Four words. Five syllables. And yet, it has so much power in it because it’s true. I have Lyme Disease.

I don’t consider myself a person who shies away from being open and honest, but when it comes to admitting to others who aren’t my friends and family that I have Lyme, it can be incredibly difficult for me. Because, you see, once you know about it, it’s what you remember about me and most likely label me as that sick girl. It’s not a label you want synonymous with your name. Believe me, I know. So, it’s just easier when first meeting people not to mention that big detail about me.

But the thing is, it is who I am.

So I’ve been fighting with myself over whether to share my story with you all, or at the very least, to publicly admit and claim that large piece of who I am. And now, I’ve decided to do just that- to publicly claim that piece of me. Who knows- maybe through my story, one of you will see the signs and symptoms of it early enough to treat it and not go through what I’ve been through. Or maybe it will simply just be a growing experience for me. Either way, I hope you’re able to get something out of my story. And it’s a long one, so I will be sharing it in several parts.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was fourteen years old, just graduated eighth grade, and was at Bible Camp. It was one of those hot summer days, so my friends and I had gone down to the creek. Not knowing anything about Lyme disease or ticks, I naturally sat on the surrounding logs and the leafy dirt ground as we hung out. It wasn’t until later on that I saw a little black something in my leg. So I went to the nurse, and she examined it. She told me it was a splinter, quickly pulled it out with tweezers, and sent me on my way.

Except it wasn’t a splinter. It was a tick. Actually, it was the tick that gave me Lyme disease, to be precise. But we didn’t know that at the time.

When I got home from camp, my mom noticed a large target-shaped rash on my leg where the “splinter” had been. Not knowing a target-shaped rash is the first sign of Lyme disease (though a lot of Lyme patients never get a target rash), we shrugged it off as a weird spider bite or something. If we had only known.

I began my freshman year of high school soon after, joining the tennis team and making friends. Everything seemed normal, until I began to feel sick, slowly becoming sicker and sicker. I constantly had an upset stomach, felt nauseated and nearly always had a fever. I developed a constant headache and had painful attacks in my head that stopped me cold and had me crippled on the floor in pain.  I was extremely tired and fatigued all the time, losing much of my control over my body. It got to the point where I couldn’t even hold my tennis racket anymore.

Then my grades began to slip. I’d always been an A/B student (with an occasional C), all my life. So it was a shock when I began making Fs, and not for a lack of trying my hardest. I couldn’t remember any new information my teachers were giving me, no matter how hard I tried or how much I studied. It was like it went in one ear and out the other. I found myself foggy headed and unable to really think and understand things. I even got lost in the school once. That was when we knew something was seriously wrong.

So the testing began…



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Writing/Book Pet Peeves: Instant Love

I love reading about love in books. I’m not sure there are many girls that don’t. But I feel there’s something disappointing about having your two main characters share an instant love. Sure, I think instant attraction is great, but that’s completely different than instant love. I enjoy reading about the characters falling in love- to watch and see it develop before you is where I think the magic is. As a reader, I tend to feel a bit cheated when the love storyline is instant- when we’re told they’re in love rather than seeing it unfold for myself.

I also think it’s a disadvantage to the story, as I personally feel you get to know the characters and root for the love story if you live it with them. So not only do I prefer to read books that build on the love story instead of already having it established, but I also find myself gravitating toward writing that way as well.

Do you feel this way, too, or do you prefer to already have the love storyline in place? And do you feel differently about it as a reader than you do as a writer? I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions!



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