Does life feel stale?
Need a breath of fresh air?
I did too.
Here's how I threw open the windows and began again.
You can too!
It’s the fear that stops my breathing and causes a very unattractive rash to start spreading on my neck… Being caught in a storm at sea. Or on a lake. Or even a backyard pond. I have no intention of ever being in a situation where I have to whack seagulls on the head with a paddle for lunch while clinging to a strand of seaweed. Perhaps it’s past experiences that create this almost irrational fear of being lost in the middle of a body of water in
My faith journey has been filled with lots of joy, a whole bunch of tears, and more questions than I can count with fewer answers. Mom and dad told my sisters and me in our most littlest days that Jesus loves us. It is the most simple message…that carries such profound weight behind it. I’ve held that promise close to my heart for over 60 years. I’ve always had a strong need to follow the rules. {Well…that was probably more true in my younger years.} Following the
I’ll take a memoir, please. One preferably written by a not-so-young woman whose story reads something like this… Her life was filled with hope-filled dreams. Exciting expectations. Blue skies and sun-filled days. She had energy that made skipping in her summer slip-ons easy-peasy. “Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows” was a theme song. (And yes, that really is a song. Our little “Vicki’s Girls” group sang it back in the day. Now you’re really impressed, right?) Then life happened. Her skies got cloudy. Disappointment replaced those dreams. Skipping was
One of my favorite posts from a few years ago. May it speak to your heart during this Lenten season. I was out of sorts. Uncomfortable. Self-conscious. I was 13 years old, standing on the stage in a college auditorium under hot lights, along with eight other 4-H’ers from northern Minnesota. We were competing in a Good Grooming Contest. Yes, you read that correctly. A Good Grooming Contest. {Good grief. As if it’s not awkward enough to just be 13 years old.} Representing the Lucky Leaf 4-H
I wonder who made The Rule. The Rule about where women are supposed to stand when they are waiting in line in a public bathroom. It’s break time at a conference and of course we all dash to the restroom, right? But the dash comes to a screeching halt when we open the door. There we find women crammed into the corner behind the door, elbow to elbow, because no one wants to actually move into the bathroom and stand in the open space. I don’t understand
Picking a “word for the year” has always been a challenge for me. As I’ve considered an annual word, I’ve never gotten clear on if it’s a word/action that I should focus on, or want to focus on, or if it just seems like a cool word. Then January would roll around…February…and I’d still be thinking about the word. Sigh. But this year, I really wanted to identify a focus. A truth that would lay a foundation for how I live my life in this particular season.
I was walking past the graham crackers in Byerly’s grocery store when the elderly woman in the blue wool coat pushing a grocery cart rushed up to me. “Where are the paper towels?” Her sense of urgency really caught my attention. It came through her voice and her eyes. Panic. Anxiety. Lots of it. “My husband had an ‘accident.’ He’s sitting in the car. He’s so embarrassed. We’re on our way to a quartet reunion and they’re waiting for us.” Oh my. Can’t you just imagine all
It wasn’t pretty. Not at all. In fact, it was just plain ugly. What was ugly, you ask? Tuesday. Tuesday was ugly. Call it a bad day. A meltdown day. A day when nothing seemed to go right. Or as one of my storybook heroes, Alexander, referred to it, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” * The sad thing is, I’m not even sure what was wrong. It just seemed like everything was. (Cue “Poor Me” music here.) Nothing was wrong but everything
I’m starting a new workout program. Have mercy. It involves a lot of fancy steps and it moves faaaaast. I spend most of the time trying to stay on my feet, watch the online trainer, listen to the instructions, and breathe. There is nothing pretty about my performance. The program only lasts 20 minutes, but I’m exhausted when it’s done. All I want to do is cry. It’s hard to find the rhythm when the exercises change so fast, and the online coach Just. Keeps. Talking. (I
Consider me a city girl with a Midwest small town heart. I’m not afraid to poke fun at my own mishaps, and I love laughing out loud 'til it hurts! As a speaker, author, blogger, and Chief Encourager, I bring you a breath of fresh air on this journey we call life!