I think I was me once, when nothing else interrupted the light.

I could call out and hear the echo of tomorrow, regardless, the darkness that threatened.

But I think I forgot

What does it mean to hold a candle and illuminate the shadow?

Am I here in the midst?

Am I breathing?

I guess we will know tomorrow.

And even if we don’t, I’ll get up and start again

Because that’s what it means to fight!

The embrace of every day

The inbounding hope that fills the gap between dark and dawn

We get up and go again and hope the light can find us when we’ve lost our way.

So step forward, one tentative step at a time

And keep going

One foot, then another.

Tomorrow brings no promise of light and life but it’s what we have.

So push through the breech and find your strength dear friend.

Tomorrow is worth the fight!

On falling and getting up

If I’m going to fall, can I please fall hard and hit my head?

Can there be concussion and bruising so I don’t look like a fool?

Can I rest in the “okay-ness” of my weakness?

If I do, do I have to wait for a diagnosis?

Fallen, in need of grace?

Can’t we just be human?

Wake up sleepers

Wake up church!

In the land of the living, an anchor holds

And we get to reveal it and show it to the masses

That’s enough

Love is enough

We can kick and claw and scream at the wind

We can cry behind closed doors

But we can’t stop reaching

For real love!

THAT is the anchor

Nails and thorns and mercy on a cross

And death giving way to victory

Who are you?

Who does He say I am?

Where is victory?

Can you see it today?

If not, look again.

It’s worth fighting for!

Time…in a bottle…or not…

Time is a funny thing.

It flies

It pauses

It groans for tomorrow

It longs for yesterday

It moves

In waves

While the world continues, as it seemingly stops for some

But it is.

Time is

And we grovel at it’s feet

And we wonder where the break pedal is

And we clasp onto what we can hold

And we long for bricks to put on top our children’s heads to stop the growth

All the while praying they will grow, healthy and strong, and prepared for tomorrow

I watch you grow and I beg for it to stop and continue while I sit like an Alanis Morissette lyric, contracting truths against each other.

And we grow and move

And live and have our being in the moment

Sweaters on backward and inside out and all

Until we feel the most of a new day

And breathe


Because today is wrapped in tomorrow and yesterday at once

And I am you and you are me together, bracing for the impact

Life is more than we see

Life is wrapped in the endless toil of a day well lived, and a tomorrow, begging for something

Whatever that may be

My tomorrow is different from yours

But it’s the same

The hand of God, making meaning, while we go

And that’s enough

At the end of the day, it’s enough

Forward motion makes for meaning


Then look at yesterday and today and smile

Knowing tomorrow is breath

And we’re all running


It is human to look in the closet of broken dreams and wonder if you’ve done enough or been enough to sustain the hope.

But the closet holds so much hope! Never underestimate who you were and who you are now!

There’s no magic formula that makes us great. It’s in the showing up. Am I willing to show up today and tomorrow and keep going?

That is where the magic lies. Show up. Shine! Greatness is in a life ready to do the best one can tomorrow.

Will tomorrow be great? It’s up yo you. Screw today! Get out there and LIVE!


I was a human once.

I lived, I breathed, I knew who I was.

It was somewhere between where husband number one left me a puddle on the floor and husband number two decided I wasn’t enough.

Maybe I’m not.

Maybe they’re not.

I’m not qualified to say.

Tonight, I’m thinking I am beyond expectations and they are the fault.

Regardless, I’m here with the pieces.

Pieces are a funny thing. They fall in random intervals. They collide with ideals. They stick themselves in places you didn’t see coming.

But you hang on, groping for tomorrow because maybe it will be better and maybe peace can be found.

Maybe, instead of the ideal that someone will rescue me, I can find solace in me and my faith and the promise of tomorrow. I am tired.

I’m tired of picking up pieces and expecting gold.

Still, I am an optimist. I believe in tomorrow.

But today is real and I need to feel it to gather the gold.

So I struggle and rest in the same breath.

I am me and for tonight, that is enough. Tomorrow may be another story.

Shine when the darkness covers.

Shine when you can’t find light.

Today is a day gone…tomorrow is eternity, so live!!!!

Random thoughts from the lost and tired.

Be you!

Bring the thunder and the light will follow…at least that’s the hope.



Father Time boasts precision but I’m beginning to wonder. This morning he seems to be all thumbs. It cannot possibly be time to wake up and start another day. It cannot be that my stepson graduates from college tomorrow. It can’t be right that baby man will be turning one and I need to plan a family gathering and smash cake. It cannot be only one year left until my precious daughter finishes high school and chooses a college.
Perhaps his fingers swell at night when we aren’t looking and push the minute hand up, faster than we anticipate. Maybe he’s playing tricks on us to see if we are paying attention. He’s watching to see if we will look up and live or fumble, head down, persistent into out to do lists and/or smart phones. I don’t know.
This morning I’m watching. I’m aware that it’s a flash and a blur this life. And we hang on and try to enjoy the ride, often forgetting to pause and laugh or smile. Often forgetting WHY we do day to day.
Sometimes we miss our moments because we are too tired, too busy, too distracted. We abandon life for tv screens and media. In all our doing we forget to live.
Time isn’t waiting for us. It’s moving, changing, ticking on. Steady or fumbled and jumbled, I don’t know. Though we can’t control the clock, we can redeem the day.



Time, that slippery substance

Catching and tripping through our fingers while we brace and hope for more

Time, that present wonder

Existing here, already gone

That blip between eternity future and eternity  past

Over so quickly while we sleep

In waking we ask ourselves if we’ve missed the moment we’ve been waiting for

We watch as hair grows gray, as creases deepen from smiles and worries long forgotten

We watch while young ones grow taller

Love blooms in babies who yesterday sat wobbly on our knees

Now eyes glimmering with the promise of tomorrow

We smile at the milestones

Mourn as the hour of passing comes swift while we ponder legacies and what the future will be like without them with us

We walk on steady or limping

Mainly because there’s no way to stop moving,

No way to capture the moment still

except memory

We know the path will lead on into the fray

Through the tempest

Through the cold and shadow and light of joy

We know the clock will tick tomorrow and we hope for wisdom

Time, illusive tyrant

Fleeting friend

Giver of hope

Great mystery

Can you stop just long enough for me to take it all in?

With that, here wakes another morning

Sing me a Song

I’ve been singing and playing music in church most of my life. I wrote my first song when I was three and my mother insisted that I sing it for everyone. I clearly remember refusing to do so unless she held my hand…she did. It was my solo debut. To answer the most commonly asked questions, yes, I still remember the song. No, I won’t sing it for you, but here are the lyrics (bracing for the embarrassment…remember I was only three)

Jesus, I love you

Jesus, I want you to be my friend

Jesus I’ve heard about you

How you hold the future in your hands

Jesus, I love you

Will you live inside my heart forever more?

I’m guessing it was adorable! That was all it took for me to decide I was meant to sing and sing I did…constantly.

We lived in Houston, TX for a while when I was four in a pretty rough apartment complex. I remember three things about Houston: my boyfriend whose name was Jesus (he thought all of our songs were about him), the SWAT team coming through frequently to collect whatever maniac was wielding a firearm that day, and getting up at 6 AM every morning, standing on the balcony and loudly singing to the world “See the bright light shine, it’s just about home time. I can see my Father standing at the door”. For the record, the neighbors didn’t think I was quite as adorable as everyone else did.

I was the “song leader” for my Daddy’s church when I was six primarily because we didn’t have microphones and I was the only one who could sing loud enough to be heard above everything else. I have always loved to write music. I am working on two new songs right now. We just played a new original of mine in church last Sunday. I’m not trying to toot my own horn here, just laying a little groundwork to let you know that I am very passionate about worship and music. It’s a part of me.

What I’ve realized, however, is that the thrill of operating in my calling is absolutely nothing compared with watching my daughters operate in theirs. I mean NOTHING! They are now teenagers (13 & 16) and play in the youth band at church and are on the worship team with us in ‘big’ church. Sunday, as we played the newest song I’d finished writing and my daughter’s bass guitar was ‘rockin’ it’, I was caught up in the moment. It’s a great thing to operate in your calling. It feels amazing to let God take over and use the gifts He’s given you to minister to others. It feels even more amazing to see your children or others that you’ve poured into, use their giftings to further the kingdom of God.

Proud Mama

My pastor has told me many times that I should always work myself out of a job. The best thing we can do as believers is to find someone to come alongside us that we can pour into, mentor, minister to, teach and encourage. After all, the things that will matter in the end are the legacies we leave behind. What footprint did we leave on this earth? Did we use our time to further our own agendas or did we use our time to leave a lasting impact on another person?

Parenting gives us a unique opportunity to impact another human being. Sometimes the impact our parents make on us is positive, sometimes…not so much. As I think back on my life, some of the most profound influences and inspirations in my life were people other than my parents. There were the sisters in Christ who arranged “gigs” for me throughout my teenage years. There was the pastor/worship leader who would push me to reach higher, sing louder, let go and go for it. There was the dear sister who told me the phrase I still think of every time I step out to lead worship or write something a little extra personal; “Don’t hold back”! My grandfather inspired me to play guitar. My best friend has spent countless hours with me writing and playing music, polishing lyrics and trying to discover new chord progressions. My parents definitely inspired me, but these people spurred me on into my calling.

As I think of the impact I make in the lives of others, I’m forced to evaluate how important it is to me to take the time to make a difference in someone else’s life. It is taxing sometimes to spend hours on the phone with a friend whose heart is breaking. It is hard to put work and household duties on the back burner to go have coffee with someone who wants to get to know you better. It takes an effort to teach a guitar or vocal lesson or read over lyrics or poetry written by someone you barely know and give honest feedback that will encourage them to keep going. But these are the things that matter. The encouraging words spoken today may grow into faith in the soil of another heart. The time spent just being there for someone may make all the difference. The prayers shared together may bring just enough strength in a moment of weakness. The honest critique may birth wisdom. The lesson may inspire greatness.

We may never fully know the impact we make, but even if we aren’t afforded the opportunity to eat the fruit that springs forth from small seeds we’ve sown, we are rewarded for our faithfulness to the author of life who inspired life within us. That alone, is worth more than anything.

I Wanna’ Be Just Like You


Flyboy turned 7 yesterday! I am always a little nostalgic on birthdays. I can never quite wrap my mind and heart around how fast it all goes. When you are a young mother, everyone tells you to treasure every moment because it goes so fast and you can’t really fathom it. I know I always thought it a strange statement. Did they really think I was trying to squander the time? Now that I’m older, and my oldest just turned 16, and my Angel in Sock Monkey Slippers is 13, and Flyboy is 7, and I’m holding my 7 week old, I get it. It really does go fast.


We took Flyboy to a mini amusement park to have a day of adventure for his birthday. He’d been once before and I had heard so much about how awesome the Cobra Coaster was. When we got there we discovered the catch. He refused to ride the coaster without dad. Dad looked a little silly in the small car with Flyboy tucked securely in his armpit, eyes closed tight and holding on for dear life. With dad, the Cobra Coaster was awesome. Without dad, the Cobra Coaster was an insurmountable obstacle.

The go-karts were the same. He had to watch dad drive the big ones before he would even dare to enter the rookie track.


He woke up this morning in anticipation for the epic Nerf gun battle Dad promised for today. He’s been the happiest boy on the planet since Dad taught him how to play Skip-Bo the other night (especially since he won the second game).

The big smiles serve as a reminder to me that what our kids really need is us, our time, our attention, our lives lived purposefully before them. Ephesians 5:15 “Look carefully then how you walk! Live purposefully and worthily and accurately”  Our kids are watching us. They are imitating and we should be imitating our father. Ephesians 5:1 “Therefore be imitators of God as dear children.”  There is no greater responsibility.

Last night, Bubba Boo (our nickname for our newborn. Dad joked about naming him after his two favorite Florida boy golfers, Bubba Watson and Boo Weekly, and now he’s Bubba Boo Dandridge.) was having a colicky moment. I was walking with him, holding him close and praying for him and my other children.  My prayers so often turn to awe. I’m amazed that God chose me to raise these amazing little ones. I have the privilege of being with them everyday and showing them the love of an infinite creator who is intensely interested in them, in us. I get to assist the Lord in showing them that they have purpose and destiny. They are able to do amazing things to affect change in this world and I get to be a small part of that. That amazes me. I get the honor of knowing them. They are extraordinary people and I count that as such a blessing.

I want more than anything to be more like my Father everyday. I want to decrease as the Lord of all increases in my life. I know that if I press toward that goal, my kids will then imitate me and therefore be more like Him as well.

Lord, help me to be a godly mother. Lead and guide my husband and I as we walk through this life with little ones in tow. May they learn to be Christlike as we imitate you. I wanna’ be just like you!

Stained glass

Dimly, I see through the glass before me. Faith, the constant reminder that in the end good always prevails. Even the dim can lend beauty. There’s a hope to be had at the core, the distant presence of light illuminating just enough to show the depth of color and contour within. The knowledge remains that the panes and frame have been tried through time and proven lasting. There’s a fragility and holiness in them. Experience tempered with the light of the world and the weight of glory, it’s a masterpiece.