Why I Stink At Blogging And That's OK

I was really excited about blogging, but it turns out I'm really bad at it. I mean, you're supposed to put up pretty pictures of your life in easy how-to directions on a regular schedule, like "Tasty Tuesdays" and "Wordless Wednesdays." And those things totally fit some people's lives, and they are not a bad thing. But they are a bad thing for me.

I mean, take out the fact that I don't own a camera that's not on my phone. And take out the fact that I somehow thought that I - the embodiment of an adult with ADD - would somehow transform into a schedule-keeping, regulated blogger.

Flexibility is important in my life. Messes are important because, as a ministry wife and a full-time non-profit worker, every pile of dishes and dust bunny can be counted as a tally to investing in the real people in front of my face. I know that on the other side of the internet there are real people. You are a real person. But God intentionally put me inside a whole bunch of flesh-and-blood communities.... my job, my town, my neighborhood, my family, my church, my gym....and those people take real face time. And quality time over a cup of coffee, or crying in a pew, or hitting the gym with the Zumba girls? Well it's not a neat, photographic how-to. It's messy, and spontaneous, and sometimes leaves me worn out with a messy house.

And it is not just important,

It Is Imperative

that I, and every woman around me, remember that perfectly repurposed furniture and the perfect crock pot stew and the perfectly decorated home does not make any of us better women, better children of God, better wives, better mothers, and the list goes on and on.

Blogs are for inspiration. Not guilt.


Romans 5:8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

If God loved me in the middle of my depraved sinful self, and still loves my in my depraved sinful state which He covers with His grace, He certainly loves me in the middle of my stanky, messy kitchen.

There Are Not Words

Please find a way to help. Donate. Pray.

That truck on it's side was one of the only indications that a home used to be near it's place.

That big object in the tree is a tool shed.

Everywhere there are roads like this one, which no longer lead to a home and instead lead to a pile of rubble where one might find a group of weary, shell-shocked people working hard to salvage what is left of their belongings.

This is where souls groan. This is where people need to see His hands and feet. This is where only a greater one, the Greatest One, can sustain both the grieving and those serving them.

I have often shuddered at blessed are the poor because I am not poor, and at blessed are the weary because I am not weary. But this is where I learn that to be blessed, I must join side-by-side with the poor and weary until I become one with them, until I am truly sharing their burdens. It is here that my soul learns to groan, that my heart learns to trust, and that I learn what it takes to sacrifice until I too will inherit the Kingdom of God.