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You matter. 
It’s a statement I struggled to believe for much of my life. I constantly wanted affirmation that these words were, in fact, true.

Prove it. I would typically spit back. Because (I was sure) if I really mattered, then my life would be different. People would treat me different. God would have pulled through on the array of different requests I had thrown up to Him.

So, naturally, it’s easy to go through life believing the opposite is true: you don’t matter.

I’m finding more and more that I’m not the only one who has walked in the wake of this lie. I’m not the only one who has suffered through it, who has agonized over the rejection, who has desperately attempted to prove to herself that maybe it’s not true. Because, when you believe the lie–it’s not really a lie. It’s your reality, it’s the voice you hear on repeat in your head: You don’t matter.

When you live your life believing somewhere at the core of who you are that you don’t actually matter, it seems to play out in a variety of different ways. Some people self-harm. Some people try to fight the lie, trying to prove that they do matter to someone or to something. Some people try to pretend it’s not really there.

I think I did a lot of fighting and a lot of pretending. I tried to find validation in boys. Or sports. Or grades. Or being a “good Christian”. Or having a sweet haircut. Because, if I was loved by someone, or if I was MVP, or if I was an A-student, or a really great Christian who read my Bible and prayed, or if I was hot… wouldn’t I matter? Wouldn’t that amount to something? Wouldn’t that mean that I had done something right?

For one of my classes this past year, we had to detail out our entire life story in such a way that caused us to examine our strengths, our passions, our purpose. At the same time, we were asked to walk through the events where we had face opposition and look for the commonalities in them. As I made my list, I began to see a core lie emerge: You don’t matter.

In so many instances throughout my life, I could see the devil at work in his attempt to persuade me with this blatant attack. You don’t matter. For so long, I believed it. For so long, I pretended to be an upbeat, happy-go-lucky girl that was winning at life. In fact, I think I was so good at pretending that I actually started to believe that the facade was true. I started to believe that the success mattered significantly more than whatever was going on inside. Avoidance and pretending seemed to be working. 

But, on one harrowing Thanksgiving break in college–all my walls collapsed. I remember sitting at the table and after an awful statement (made by yours truly) caused quite the commotion among the family… being broken. Like, fall on your face, weeping type of broken. Broken because there was this flood of all the things I had pushed back for years suddenly surfacing in the mind of my 20-year-old self. Words that had been said. Things that had been done. Every single one of them communicated the same thing: You don’t matter. You never have. 

I ran that night. Out of my parent’s house and into the arms of my oldest brother who had chased me out the door. He held me tight and wouldn’t let me go, despite my every attempt to escape his grip. You matter. You are loved. He proclaimed truth. His direct opposition to the words I had unknowingly believed for so long felt like a bright light suddenly shining in my dark world. It hurt. It made me mad. I wanted to fight it. But it was exactly what I needed to hear in that moment. 

I wish I could say that from that moment on, I’ve never believed the lie. But, I think that moment was only a step toward a necessary healing that would take years and years to be complete. In fact, I would have to admit that at any moment of opposition I encounter, it’s hard for me to not immediately jump to a place of thinking I don’t matter. 

This same class assignment required a re-naming of ourselves as we begin to embrace more of our giftings and strengths. As I processed through all the life events, both the good and the bad, I ended up with this “new name”: Pursuer of Purpose.  It speaks to the way I interact with people and the way I long for things to be in my relationship with the Lord: purposeful. I want Scripture to have purpose, to move me toward action. I want my actions and life to reflect the purpose that I believe Scripture calls me to. I want to overcome the challenges, but allow them to have a deeper significance, for there to be purpose to them. I want to learn from the past and to know how I can use the elements of my story for the Lord’s glory.

I’ve made it a habit the last few years to do a mushy gushy anniversary post….and while our 4th anniversary came and went this year, and while I had every intention to sit down and write about how great marriage still is…

I never got around to it.

Sometimes that feels like a theme of life: Never getting around to things. Like cleaning my house. Or actually preparing real meals. Or brushing our dogs. Or looking like a presentable human being. So life just becomes about priorities and getting through the things that matter more when they matter more. And then you sleep. And then you wake up. And then you do it all over again… still thinking, “I really ought to….”

So here I am a month later, still reflecting on our last year of life together. And, rather than pages and pages of all the crazy, here are some paragraphs about what our life has entailed for us in our third full year of marriage. And mostly, you’ll learn, that this is basically just a list of all the ways my husband supports me and how blessed I am by our marriage.

• School. Distance learning at its finest–including a trip to Charlotte, NC and Boston, MA and lots of pages to read and write in the meantime. If my calculations are correct, my master’s degree could be complete by next December. None of this would be possible without the endless amounts of support from my husband. This is a man who selflessly lets me read every paper and post aloud to him before submitting, who lets me disappear into my books every Saturday, who dialogues with me constantly about all the things I am learning, who doesn’t complain about eating cereal because I’m too behind to cook, and who has washed more than his fair share of dishes as a result of my studies. Resuming classes is, hands down, one of the best decisions I have made in a while and I could not have done it without him by my side. 

• Children. In the last year we went through some basic testing to determine why we were not able to have children. While we weren’t provided with any clear answers, there’s been some peace in knowing that there’s not anything “wrong” with us. There’s been some peace in knowing that we can let it go and trust the Lord more fully in this area of our lives. In fact, the past month or so we’ve been in the process of considering what foster care could look like for us and if that’s something we want to pursue. Foster Care hasn’t ever been something on my radar, but for whatever reason on a random Sunday (with probably a whole lot of other factors influencing us) we felt the urging to open our hearts and home up to children (or even teenagers) in Santa Fe who may need a safe space for even just a short amount of time. Your prayers in this process would actually be awesome… 

• Trips. In addition to our school and work travels, we’ve found ourselves back Hawaii this fall (we just l-o-v-e Kauai and can’t seem to get enough of it). We also worked our way to Florida to meet our newest niece who was already a year old! The ocean and the sun have held a special significance in our hearts during this last season which also led us to…

• New Tattoos. Of suns (no, not turtles and not matching). Because the sun always rises. Because the sun rises on all people– both evil and good–and it reminds us constantly to pray for those who have hurt us, for those who are harder for us to love, and to help us not show partiality to others (Matthew 5, James 2). And also, because… from the rising of the sun, to the going down of the same, the name of the Lord shall be praised (I can always hear my friend, Lyndi, singing this song based on Psalm 113:3). Basically the sun is awesome and it holds a lot of good reminders for us as a couple, but also us as individuals. 

• Houses. We just closed on another house in Columbia, MO that we hope to be another rental property. Have we seen it yet? No. Do we own it? Yes. Basically we’re crazy. Pray that we can find renters quickly! 

• Pottery. In addition to supporting me fully in my school workload, Kel encouraged me to take another round of pottery lessons. I just wrapped up a 7-week stint that involved me being gone for hours and hours twice a week. Just the clay and me, fighting with each other until it decides that I’m actually in charge and it will be a bowl. Or a plate. Or a mug. Or something that will look cooler once it is glazed. And even though I was kind of dreading the time commitment the class would require, this time has been good for my soul. 

• Church. Our church involvement throughout our marriage has gone from zero to nil. This last year, however, we have realized the importance, the beauty, and the richness of caring more and giving more. Through church, we’ve been more actively involved in serving at a homeless shelter once a month. Through church, we have begun hosting and leading a Bible Study that challenges us to, together, reach up, reach in, and reach out. I’ve been proud of Kel’s desire and commitment to being a part of growth, in not only our camp community, but also our local church community (and eventually beyond)!

• Pain. We have gone through a more painful season in our marriage this year than we ever have before. In it, we have learned, through brokenness and tears, what it looks like to lean on the Lord and also each other. We have been supported by a community of friends and family (both near and far) who have believed in us, prayed for us, fought for us, and reminded us that God is good, all of the time. We have been humbled by an outpouring of kindness and grace, we have been humbled that God’s plans are not our plans, and we have been forced to open our eyes a bit wider to the world around us and asked to consider where and to whom the Lord might be calling us. 

• Rhythms. It’s also been a year of learning more about rhythms–the need to rest and the need to lay down other responsibilities and commit ourselves to spiritual rhythms that lead us to the foot of the cross more consistently. We learn over and over how we cannot do much of anything good if we are not centered more wholly on the Lord and allowing the Spirit to move in and through us (vs. us always trying to do things on our own). This has involved a greater commitment to Sabbath– to planning our lives around things that focus us on Christ and allow us to be more intentionally connected to Him, each other, and those we care about. Our Sabbath often involves corporate worship, solitude, time in creation, time with each other, and “family dinners”….and it definitely doesn’t involve work or school! 

• Discipleship. It is one of our greatest pleasures in life to journey alongside others in the quest to be more like Jesus. Both Kel and I have a deep passion to see other grow in their relationship with the Lord and are tremendously humbled when we are asked to be a part of this. When we get these opportunities, we try our best to support each other to love and serve others in ways that encourage growth, change, and more disciples of Jesus. This last year has been challenging to both of us in different aspects of discipleship, but also exciting and hopeful in other aspects. We have gotten to launch a new discipleship program at camp that is pretty sweet, too! 

I had this vision the other day of standing with outstretched arms, face toward the sun, a heart filled with praise. While every part of my soul cried out, while every part of my being tried to keep my eyes fixed on the One who is worthy…my feet were surrounded by mockers, tempters, distracters, mutilators of truth.

I tried and tried to push them away, to throw them off of me, to get them to leave me alone, but these poor, unfortunate souls wouldn’t go. My gaze returned to the One who is worthy, and quickly the thieves of the night were no longer consuming. Still there, yes. Still wrapping their horrors around my ankles and attempting to grab onto my outstretched arms, but my foundation was firm, my determination unyielding.

Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.

The surprising cry of the “Friday Night Lights” mantra rang from me. Clear eyes, focused on the One who is worthy. Full heart, filled with the truth of the Gospel and the many who love and support me. Can’t lose, a promise of victory over death, defeat, destruction, despair and the tears that pour from my eyes.

I might look broken, vanquished, and abandoned with predators up to my neck–but my feet are secure, my legs are strong, my arms held high, and my heart beating solely for the One who is worthy.

There’s a lot I don’t know about the world–and I feel like I learn that more and more every day. There’s a lot that still takes me by surprise, a lot that causes my heart to ache, a lot that tries to break us. I know that we exist in a world where evil dwells and tries to muffle our praise of the One who is worthy. I know how it feels to be up against the wall, with the odds against me.

But I also know the One who is worthy.
I know that, despite all of the darkness, all of the depravity, all of the confusion–there is much to hope for.

For through it all, my eyes will always come back to the One who is worthy.

Our summer staff arrive tomorrow.

For those of us in camp ministry, that means that a “normal” life for the next three month is virtually impossible. Our world speeds up and we struggle to breathe. But it’s so, so good.

On this night before the chaos ensues, I find myself researching vacation spots for my husband and I post-summer (open to any recommendations you may have!), jamming out to some old school Shane & Shane, and letting my mind go down memory lane to the first day I arrived at camp as a summer staffer.

I’m going into my 15th summer of camp…but I’ll never forget the first day I arrived at Camp Eagle in 2003. Everything was new and I didn’t know a soul. But, it was the first place I remember going that I could be fully me. It was the first place that I went that no one else I knew had gone before me. I was on my own, embarking on a new adventure. In most ways, it felt like the most radical thing I had done in my just-turned-19 years on earth.

It makes me think a lot about the staff that are coming in tomorrow and how they must be feeling and what they must be thinking. They may not ever forget tomorrow for the rest of their lives. They may look up 15 years later and be working full-time at a camp with several of the people they worked with that first summer. Crazier things have happened.

I probably don’t even know all the ways that first summer changed me, but I know that I was different afterward. I know that I continue to learn and grow and, hopefully, become a better version of myself. Not just because I work at a camp. Mostly because God is good and gracious and patiently waits for me to realize how much I need Him (over and over again).

I want to be like I was that first summer again.
Open, willing, ready, eager, excited, nervous.
Willing to dive deep into relationships with others, excited to see what the Lord was going to do, eager to learn and grow in my relationship with God and my study of Scripture so I could teach it to campers. Open to whatever the Lord had for me. Ready to work hard and learn all the new things required of me.

Join us in praying for our staff as they arrive. Pray for safety. Pray for their hearts to be prepared for a summer of intense ministry… a summer of investing in eternity. Pray for their lives to be malleable and ready for God to change them, as He works through them and in them–even in the most exhausting, selfish moments.

Pray for our full-time staff, as they go from a busy season of serving and preparing into an even busier summer of leading our summer staff and serving thousands and thousands of guests (literally).

We have incredible opportunities around us. Pray that we would be bold with the Gospel, that we would live out of the Spirit, and that we would be diligent about investing in our relationship with the Lord and those around us.

I’m pretty pumped for whatever this summer entails.
Let’s do this.

I have been on a journey with spiritual disciplines for the last few months. 

Science is crazy.
So is the human body.

Last week, we were presented with some new news regarding our fertility. You ready for it? Basically, we’re both fine. Healthy, even.

My husband’s got a lot of forward-swimming little guys with funny shaped heads (but enough normal shaped head ones to not matter). My ovaries are in the stellar shape of a 23-year-old lady (that’s ten years younger than me, folks) with no tube blockage and plenty-o-eggs to be implanted.

It wasn’t shocking news.
But, now we know.

“So, Doctor-man, you’re saying there’s no apparent reason that we aren’t getting pregnant?”
“Honey… it’s amazing anyone gets pregnant.”
(okay, so he didn’t say “honey”, but it seems like he should have.)

And he’s right.
It is amazing. Miraculous. For every single thing to go right that has to go right for a couple to conceive is crazy. I don’t know when the last time was that you watched a little clip on “how babies are made” (probably 7th grade, like me)…but, it’s fascinating. And weird. And fascinating. And miraculous.

So, now what?
Do we keep moving full speed on the fertility train of IUIs and IVFs and wherever else it may lead us?

I don’t think we’re quite there…and, honestly, we may never get there. More than anything, the cry of my heart is to be open to what (or who!) the Lord might have for us in this journey of life. Since before I was married, I have always thought adoption was something I would want to do (I even wrote this blog about it, long ago). Then again, I was also sure kids were something I wanted to do.

But that’s the prayer.
Not my will, but the Lord’s will.
Maybe we’ll get pregnant.
Maybe, someday, we’ll come across a little child that needs a family.
Maybe we’ll never have kids. 

But, that’s the prayer.
That, no matter what our circumstances may bring… we would be faithful. Joyful. Content. Open. Willing. Obedient. Abiding in Christ and bearing much fruit.

Beyond that, I’m not too worried about how it all plays out. There will be hard days…and good days…and mediocre days. There will be days when my heart cries out for a child, days when I feel like my life is flying by and I just can’t catch up, days when nothing is as it should be. But, despite those moments, I know I’ll be okay.

Pray that we’d be willing.
To go, to be, to give, to receive, to let our lives truly be transformed by the Good News of Jesus Christ.

On a note of practical updates:
I am taking Clomid for a few months and we do plan to reevaluate and see what our next steps might be, depending on how that goes.

Today was the day.
I hadn’t really put too much thought into any of the details of what would transpire, aside from asking people to pray for us.

Pray for us to know more.
Or to have clarity.
Or something. I don’t even know.
We had been praying a lot ourselves. Looking back, I’m not even sure what we prayed for.

Paperwork.
Lots of paperwork. Intimate questions. How often do you sit in a sauna or hot tub? (every day, people). How many caffeinated beverages do you have a day? How many times are you intimate with your partner each week? Medications. Surgeries. All the things.

A nice doctor man.
We sat down with him and talked through our history and where we were at, what we had tried, what we had come across.

“I assume you’re here because you want to get pregnant.”

Nice doctor man… while that might be the normal assumption of a couple at a fertility clinic, that’s not exactly the case here. We just were hoping for some answers. Just to know if we even can have kids. I don’t know if I’m really ready to pull out all the stops.

He described it as a journey and began to tell us the step by step process of how things typically go, what they’ll try and a bit of what we could expect. Asked if we had questions. “Sir, we have a hot tub. Does that affect sterility?” “No, I think you’re fine.” I had asked my husband a few weeks ago, after reading online all the negative ramifications of hot tubs on sperm count, if he’d rather have a baby or a hot tub. He hadn’t answered…

Before I knew it we were being given an ultrasound, tested for vital sperm and taken into a room with a nurse to sign my life away. More tests. Prescriptions. Specific days of my cycle to take medication, test for ovulation and come in and get a turkey baster of my husband’s goods planted in utero (I promise that the doctor actually referred to the medical syringe as a turkey baster).

I remembered at this juncture that a friend had told me recently how, once you go into the fertility clinic, they just throw you onto the moving train of baby-making. I got a little panicky as I listened to the nurse’s words. There was no, “If you want…” or “think about it…”. Just, “do this” and then “do that”. BUT WHAT IF I DON’T WANT TO!?!?!  My heart was racing.

“Could we just try the medication for a bit before jumping into IUI (in utero insemination)? My husband and I haven’t had a chance to talk about all of this…”

Finally seeing my panic, the nurse backed off a bit. She assured me that I could take my time and that signing the papers was just a formality to get out of the way so we wouldn’t have to worry about it later. I could just take the medications for a few cycles and see how that goes before coming back to the clinic for an IUI.

Next steps involve another blood test and a few more tests on me to see that no tubes are blocked. The good news is that I have healthy looking follicles and eggs (and no cysts). The bad news is that I still feel a bit lost as to what to pursue and how much to pursue it and how far is too far. We haven’t even talked about the dollars involved in this entire process yet….

So, my husband and I left feeling a little more exposed, sat at the bar of Texas Roadhouse (they were giving away free appetizers if we sat there) and talked about our fertility treatment options. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal to have a couple at a bar, drinking Dr. Pepper and water, praying and talking about IUIs.

I don’t know if we have solid answers yet. Maybe my husband does and I don’t. Maybe I just need some time to process and pray some more. I told Kel that I think I have this faulty expectation that if we go down this route, we will have a child…. and I’m still sometimes really not sure if I want one. But, I also realize that if we go down this route, we still might not have a child. And maybe that part is actually more unbearable to face. Pulling out the stops…and still being empty-wombed.

So.
Keep praying, if you think about it.
We have some pretty decently quick decisions to make and I have loved hearing from those of you who have reached out (and in the very near future, once my classwork slows down, I plan on responding to all of you). I’m encouraged by the fact that there are others who have gone before me in this, others who are still struggling with it and others who are just here and with us, even if our battles look really different. I’m thankful and humbled by you all.

(Ironically enough, I am taking a Christian Ethics course this semester… which includes some content on reproductive technologies. So, that’ll be fun).

Dream. 
He said.

Dream.
Think of what could be.

And so we did.

There was a permission to live freely in the dreaming process. No boundaries, no parameters, no “No’s”….just dreams. We processed for a bit and slowly we began to shout out own dreams.

I’ll admit that mine weren’t limited to just our ministry–they were bigger, broader, and probably a lot more unrealistic.

I want to see a changed world.
I want revival.
I want more than what I read about, hear about, cry about….

The dreaming reminded me that there’s hope.
Hope of better.
Hope of good.
Hope of different.

I’ve been wondering what my part in the conversation lately needs to be. What can one person possibly do or say that matters? What can one person say or do to be a catalyst for change? An anchor of hope?

And then I’ve realized that more often than not, it only takes one person. One person to believe, to be willing, to go, to be. One person to listen. One person to speak out. One person to live out their dreams with reckless abandon. One person, living obediently in the path the Lord has put before them.

And it’s never really one person. There’s always an Aaron to your Moses, a Timothy to your Paul, a Rosa Parks to your Martin Luther King Jr. There’s always a host of people who are like-minded with similar missions longing to see the changes, to see the redemption, to see the freedom. It’s just we sometimes stall out in knowing how to make it happen. Sometimes we doubt. Sometimes we’re terrified. Sometimes we don’t really think the Lord could ever use us.

I don’t doubt that there are millions of people in the world who have the same dreams that I do. Millions whose hearts break when they read the news, millions who are scared, millions who want this world to be better. And then millions who just keep plodding through life, not really making any changes at all. We sigh, we cry, and then we move on.

I want more.
My heart is screaming.
But my actions don’t often reflect the cries from within. Because plodding through life is easier. It’s more comfortable.

Dream.
Think of what could be.

I don’t want to just dream anymore.
I don’t think I can.
I have to do more. We have to do more.

I don’t fully know what it needs to look like yet, but I know that it has to start somewhere.

I frolicked through a golden wonderland two weekends ago, dreaming and praying and wishing and hoping…and now it’s time to do.

It may not need to be grandiose just yet. It may start small.
Offering hope.
Extending grace.
Building trust.
Serving others.
Forgiving those who have wronged us.
Asking forgiveness from those we have harmed.
Breaking down barriers.
Being willing to get to know people who are different from us…and letting them know us.
Stepping out of our comfort zones.
Being faithful with what we’ve been given each day.
Working hard.
Living out of our true calling.
Dying to our own desires.
Proclaiming Jesus in ways He is truly honored by and glorified in.
Sharing our stories of redemption and life change.
Being kind. And thoughtful. And generous.
Knowing the Lord.

Would you consider coming with me?
On another imperfect journey of second chances?
I may only be one person, but there’s at least a million of you that want to change this world.

Would you consider committing to knowing the Lord more deeply? And then deeper still? To be devoted to Him, to pressing into Him and letting your life be an overflow of that? Would you consider, before you speak or write or do something that might offend or hurt someone, pausing and seeking?

I think that’s the crux of the change.
Knowing Jesus.
That’s the real dream.
That all may know Him, love Him, live their lives for Him, worship Him.

And if we all start doing that, if we all start truly living out of that…?
I think it changes everything.

Dream.
And then let’s do.
With reckless abandon.

When we first met, I couldn’t understand if he was saying CALE or KEL.

“Can you spell that for me?!” Knowing how names are spelled always helps me pronounce them correctly. K-E-L.

It’s not short for Kelly. Or Kelby. Or Kellender. Just Kel.

this is our first picture together. when my hair was still longer than his.

He was confusing to me (and still is).
While his accent isn’t thick, it often comes out in words like fill (feel) or oil (oyul)–and sometimes his own name (Cale). And while he’s from West Texas and loves country music, he’s not exactly a cowboy with boots, tight jeans, and the desire to two-step me around the dance floor.

We met just over 5 years ago. The son of a dear couple that I had worked with for many years– a son I didn’t know existed. He was crazy. Loud. Confident. And if you had told me 5 years ago that I would be married to Kel Beal today, I might have laughed in your face.

But here we are, 3 years later. Married. Happy. Figuring out how to do our lives better together with each passing day because we both want more.

It’s our anniversary today and while we haven’t really had time to reflect on all of the memories of our wedding day, I’ve had a few of those moments where I get a little teary-eyed thinking about this man I married. This confusing, long-haired, athletic, video game-playing, fantasy-football crazed, people-loving and Jesus-desiring man that I married.

And then I think about all the people. A lot of you who made the time to be present, who spent the dollars to come, who poured out sweat as you set up the most beautiful wooden, candle-lit backdrop and covered itchy hale bales with lace and ribbons. People who traveled far. People who gave much. People who loved us so, so well. I truly can’t ever say thanks enough.

I’m so humbled.
So blessed.

I was talking with a single girl not long ago about how it’s so easy to feel like you have to “have it all together” before you find the “right” guy. It’s easy to feel like you need to really figure out who you are, so you aren’t looking to a guy to “save” you in a relationship… because he can’t. A man doesn’t make you whole. And that’s absolutely true.

BUT- I would be lying if I didn’t tell you the truth- at least for me.
Kel doesn’t complete me, but he’s the answer to the question I had been asking myself for almost my entire life. From the moment I even knew what a crush was, I was wondering who I would marry. Who. When. How. Where. When. When. When. Who. Who. Who. My heart ached to know the answers.

We played M.A.S.H. growing up (sometimes even in college), we flirted with boys, we wrote about them in journals, we cried over them, wrote songs and poems about them, danced with them, held their hands– always asking, always wondering: are you him?

Even the boys we knew weren’t and shouldn’t be, we still sometimes wondered. Maybe… maybe it’ll have to be him if it’s going to be anyone at all.

And so when Kel and I got married, my questions were answered.

Who: Kel Beal. 

When: September 27, 2014; age 30.

Where: my parent’s backyard.

How: in the most perfect way ever. 

He didn’t complete me.
But the nagging fears and constant curiosities are gone.
There is a peace that transpired that I had never had before. A security. A person. A life-long best friend. A reminder of God’s faithfulness. An answer to a thousand prayers. An answer to a question.

You can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl on your wedding day. And you can’t help but feel like that all over again on your anniversary. Because, today, 3 years ago, is the day my life changed forever.

The day the Lord showed me everything He had had in store for me during all those years of question-asking, all those years where I doubted Him.

I’m still baffled by His goodness to me.
I’m still humbled.
Still so blessed.

I continue to pray that the story of Kel and I would be one that gives others hope. Hope that there can be relationships and marriages that are good and fun and imperfectly perfect and constantly pointing back to Jesus. Hope that maybe one day, others may get to experience the Lord’s goodness in the same capacity that I have (even if it’s years and years later than you want it to be). Hope that not all things in the world right now are bad and that the Lord is still faithful.

Because He is.
In all things. In all seasons. In all the brokenness and hopelessness.
Somehow, for some reason, He remains faithful.
Even for a ragged, defeated, hopeless 29-year-old girl in 2013.
Even for a confused, selfish, prideful 33-year-old lady in 2017.

May we humbly learn to love Him and others more earnestly.

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