growing up in the wonder years, part 2…
At 24 years old, I was unemployed with a degree from a reputable college, living with my parents, and utterly single. Cleaning offices, baby sitting, or working random editing jobs was how I made ends meet while stiff-arming Sallie Mae from collecting my college loan...
growing up in the wonder years, part 1…
It’s hard to be 23. I’m not a kid but I’m not considered an adult either. I’m most frustrated about the fact that I don’t feel like I’m the person that I should be. —Anonymous blog reader Bar Mitzvah. Sweet Sixteen....
packed, pajamas, and loads of baggage…
I’m usually very neurotic about how I pack my luggage. Rolled, organized, laid out. However, on my overnight trip for work this week, I guess I didn’t think through my outfits because I pulled out the shirt I was going to wear and noticed it was sheer. As...
no passport required…
There was a time in life when I thought a good spiritual life and understanding of missions was valued by how many stamps I had in my passport. To say that I built a house in Mexico, or held a baby in Kenya, or fed the homeless of South America seemed like a great way...
I’m a writer and teacher in love with two men: Jesus and my husband, Matt. [You might not find this funny, but I laugh at myself, so it all balances out.]
