down the trail.

[gallery link="file" columns="5"] Same mistake ...again.

Words, emotions, actions, all lit by the heat of the moment.  Right there.  Right in front of us both.  Regrets pile high once dust settles and calm returns.

Losing sight of who they can be and how to get there with them easily falls victim to all busy schedules, sticky details and chunky events of life unfolding. She lied again.  Again.  

Didn’t she learn from the last time I punished her and raised my voice emphatically?  Apparently, what I say does not matter enough to direct her to making the right choices.

What else would be the cause? She doesn’t respect me anymore.

Standing there looking back at me lying again.  In her eyes rest a distance.  I’m not getting through to her.  Control her every more and response.

“Stand up straight when I am talking to you!”  “Don’t you walk away from me!”  “Sit still, right there.”

In the immediate, I am blinded.  Nothing behind or ahead hold value, only now right there in the heat of the moment.  And there I lose touch with her.  That is the reason a distance rests in her eyes standing there looking back at me.  We stand apart in two different locations, a gap ever widening.

As a single dad and only parent to my three little daughters, I have become much more insecure.  With all of my heart, I only want them to grow healthy and robustly from little girls to young ladies secure in who they are and into loving and wise mature women set on a purposeful course in life.  The fear of not getting them there tangles and trips me.  The fear is now.  It is all I see.  And that is precisely the problem.  I react quickly and out of context losing sight of my ultimate desire.  In quick reactionary parenting, I am just being bounced between little details isolated and void of the overall beauty and full potential holding instead of seeing those little details as not isolated but parts of the whole and opportunities to get her there.

A few months ago while racing down a single track path through a wide open prairie on my mountain bike, I severely misjudged a turn.  Over the handle bars and through the air I tumbled landing squarely on my head and sliding through the dirt and dry grass on my back.  In the adrenaline rush, I popped right back up to my feet.  Everything blurry and spinning.  My stomach tightened and knees weakened as I reached for the ground both signs of a concussion.  After a couple minutes, I climbed back on my bike, cracked helmet and bleeding, for three more miles to finish the course.  The wreck and the injuries incurred were my doing.  One of the most dangerous things to do while mountain biking is to look down right over your handle bars.  In doing so, you miss what is right ahead.  The path is only right there, but there is so much ahead.  And you need to see the whole path ahead to anticipate response.  Turns, logs laying in path, roots, creeks, switch backs, hills and more all ahead on the course.

The danger of looking only right at the moment is to get lost in the immediacy of details unfolding and forget all ahead.  Life holds only immediate value.  Preoccupied and controlled by the moment only, you are left to only reacting.  Life is about much more than flinching, wincing and reacting.  So is parenting.

When I stare into the moment and lose sight of who she can be and will be, all ahead fades into the distant forever.  Both of us sink into a moment rushing, emotions running high and now bleeds like forever.  In this way exactly, parenting shares a parallel with mountain biking.  Life intersecting life.  Truth pedaling and parenting.  In both, eyes must lift out of moments heated and sticky and stay fixed ahead.

I am learning to securely parent my three little daughters in looking down the trail, anticipating response and proactively participating rather than waiting to react in moments and details.

God in context.

I went away alone for a four day writing weekend to make progress on finishing my book, the first one that I’m writing.  60,000 words or so all dripping with life, mine.  A view fixed from my eyes at life all around and life all within.  Memories resurface bringing great comfort and pain and irreplaceable joy and sadness still.  These words piece together only fragments of my life still unfolding like tiny picture scenes positioned carefully to make a bigger picture standing at a distance.  And what you begin to notice more than anything else is God.  In everything.

My brother died at age eight.  Me being five, I didn’t really get it.  God.  Finding God through fear in high school.  My hero dad leaving my mom in the slowest, clumsiest way, God.  Off to college lost and drifting, God.  Meeting the one who would become the one and the joy and finding involved, God.  Defying my odds and yet somehow landing where I always thought I would in ministry as a pastor.  God.  Family.  God.  The birth and acceptance of the three greatest treasures in my life.  God.  Learning to be a father.  God.  Leaving all to pursue the thinnest of dreams together as a family.  God.  The death of my wife.  God.  Life collapsing.  God.  Holding my daughters breaking in the dust settling.  God.  Awakening to a new day.  God.  Finding new life.  God.  Writing.  God.  Epilogue to Prologue, ending to (re)beginning, in the most precise redemptive strokes and causing all to meaningfully making sense.  God.

Below is an excerpt from a chapter that I am writing.  It is not finished.  Maybe it never truly will be.  As of now, the chapter is tentatively entitled, “A Crumbling Wall”.  In writing this chapter, I have a specific vision and imagery guiding the words and their piece together.  A wall battered down, eroded by life and circumstance, especially loss and grief, and how these served to rebuild and reform faith and trust stronger and more solid than before.

There was a street performer that I would see most times I visited the French Quarter as a kid.  For some reason, he made me think about God.  He was a mime in the character of a robot.  His movements were odd, mechanical, precise and a bit predictable.  Even in the sweltering heat and heavy summer air, he dressed in a full suit painted silver from head to toe.  As both natives and tourists passed him by, he never broke character.  It may have been his commitment to character or his quirky, precise gestures that caused me to think of God.  Then again, it could have been his silence and distance from people moving closely all about him and the way in which his actions and movements were cause for attention, but not direct interaction.  And of course, maybe it was the brilliance of his silver skin, suit and hat, that glowed and stood out in the unbelievable heat and humidity of the New Orleans day and how it never affected him that reminded me of God and what I perceived him to be.

Many people are enchanted by God and the thought that He is out there somewhere, somehow holding it all together and keeping the world from tilting too far out of control.  Comfortable with the distance yet calling to somewhere in the sky when in need.  Some are disillusioned by him and his perceived and felt inactivity in broken and horrific parts of their lives.  God exists exactly within the context of your life.  It is in the awakening to God as you are, just where you are, that you find him.  Or more precisely put, God finds you.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own,t and his own peoplet did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.  (John 1:9-13)

I pushed her into the water.

Clean. Pure. Sacred.Water, a symbol of new.

Our hearts, no matter how young, dirty with old bearing the weight of choices as old as humanity.  Sweat dripping from brow returning to the dust from which it once came living under a heaviness blurred into the background of life.  No matter how hard we try, how much we drink or the great lengths we go, it is never enough.  An unquenchable something.  We work for satisfaction believing it to be found in what we can get for ourselves.  It’s crafty in deflecting.  Sin. It chooses us before we reach for it and know of it.  It yearns in the wailing of a babe mixed in with innocence laced right into desire.  Each of us born into a world not of our choosing affected by sin shaping.  Hearts dimmed before they are even tried and tested.

Dimmed. Dirty. Damned. We all are.  Some no longer.

Redemption eclipsing, an invite to new.  Welcome home.

Water baptism is very important to me and adherence to the faith I cling to.  I remember myself young nervous to be pushed into the water.  We stood in a pool.  Just days prior, I swam and played in those waters thinking nothing of God or sin or wrong.  Everything right in the moment lost in play and the pool.  But standing that day beside the pastor and witnessed by faithful onlookers, there I waited to be ‘dunked’.  He said some words that I’ll never recall but I remember them to be affectionate.  My hand held my nose shut.  And into the water I went.  Only mere seconds under the surface led me home.  Walking out of the pool to clapping and cheering that for whatever reason I understood.  Dripping water, I belonged.  Not to the church or to a man or teaching.  Something discovered me.  Redemption with a plan stretched much farther than day or age or understanding.  I’ll think fondly of that pool forever.

From Eden crumbled and a garden of peace and common dwelling with God hidden, one man’s choosing of sin then draped over all of humanity to come.  Even more historied than man’s choosing is God’s.  His of us.  Jesus came that we might live.  He came so that she would live.  And so into these waters stirring ancient, belonging to prophecy, made alive by the shed blood of Christ she disappeared only to resurface clean, new, redefined.

Two weeks ago in conversation, Emily decided to be water baptized.  She asked me.  That’s how I knew it was time.  So much of parenting is leading them in the right way to the point that wherever they are, the opportunity to choose is clearly presented to them.  If I do their choosing, they will never develop strong in choosing correctly.  Our talks lead us through her understanding the significance of water baptism: an outward expression of the faith growing in her heart.

I had the greatest privilege of baptizing her myself.  No sweeter moment shared between us than holding her in the water, praying with her, looking into her understanding eyes and then pushing her into the water of her choosing to surface discovered and decided.

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The priest is not made.  He must be born a priest; must inherit his office. I refer to the new birth—the birth of water and the Spirit.  Thus all Christians must became priests, children of God and co-heirs with Christ the Most High Priest.   - Martin Luther

affectionately known as mumzi.

:: by Marguerite Delcambre

We all grow in the soil of family cultivated and nurtured around us.  In that soil we stretch out, push into the dirt and feel life all around.  There are rocks and weeds and roots that we must move around, grow through and deal heavily with.  Regardless, it is in that soil that we flourish or flounder.  As a parent, it is my duty to nurture the soil my kids are growing in and keep it healthy.

In planning for this series of guest posts, I felt it would be lacking without one.  I would like to give you the slightest glimpse into the heart of my mother.  She is a woman who with an unassuming, quiet strength has made a way for me.  Constantly tending to the soil of our hearts in ways lasting, my sister and I grew healthy despite rocks and thinning soil drying in sun.  Death of a child, her firstborn, when I was only five.  Marriage suddenly no more after years of happy and whole.  Her faith strained undoubtedly, but in that straining, grew unmistakably deep loosening soil richer.

And as the soil in my life thinned, she arrived.  I will forever owe a debt to her that she will never accept for pausing her life to see that ours resumed.  Quietly cultivating soil.

I asked her to simply write a letter addressed to my daughters speaking into their future words that would carry.  I also asked my grandmother to write letters to my girls.  Maw maw Lucy is well into her nineties and she like my mom is still tending to the soil.  I am who I am largely due to these two remarkable ladies, my mom and my grandmother.[gallery link="file" columns="5"]

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Dear Elizabeth, Emily and Chloe,

I love you all so much, and I want God's very best for you.  You've already felt more pain in your short lives than most girls your age, but I see you as winners.  I love the young girls you're becoming.  I know you are who you are because you have had such a strong foundation laid by your daddy and mommy.

I have been praying for you from the time I heard the good news that you would be born.  I prayed that you would be safe, beautiful, smart, talented.  I'll always pray for you.  My prayer now is that you will follow Jesus all the days of your lives.  Then you will make wise choices. Choose to be honest in everything you do.  You'll make mistakes, but admit those mistakes and choose not to make the same mistake again.  You'll  feel so good about yourself and others will respect us.

Choose to love your sisters, watch out for each other, help each other.  When you think of Mommy and it hurts and makes you lonely, sad, or even angry, remember that your sisters feel that way too sometimes.  Be kind and loving to each other.  Friends will come and go but sisters will always be sisters.  Choose your friends wisely.  Having a few friends who believe in the same things you believe is better than having lots of friends who are untrustworthy friends, who may try to get you to do the wrong thing.

Choose carefully who to date...  My prayer is that your future mate will love Jesus first, then you, that he will be the leader and provider in your home, that he will honor and respect you.  First get to know the young man you fall in love with by dating him, become engaged, marry... Then have a home together and have babies.  That's God's plan for you ...in that order. Choose wisely.  You may hear lots of people say "its ok, everyone's doing it."  That's a lie.  There are some who choose being different from the crowd because the crowd may be doing the wrong thing.  Listen to that still small voice in your heart who wants to lead you the right way.

Remember that I'll always love you.  I hope that no matter what you face in life, you will always know that I am here for you.

Love you forever, Mumzi

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Thanks for reading this week.  And a lasting thank you to the amazing women who were my guests: Rachel McGowan (@_rachchristine) ||  Meshali Mitchell (@meshali) || Felicity White (@felicitywhite)

gold, not glitter.

:: by Felicity White

Because I have three daughters, I often find myself shopping for little girl things.  And sometimes this is frustrating for me because it appears that the clothing and toy designers of the world would like to cover you in glitter and fake fur and colored plastic, and I’d like to drench you in sensible wool or cotton instead.  And I know that isn’t very exciting.  But here’s my deal.

You don’t want to be glitter; you want to be gold. You don’t want to be lightweight and made of painted plastic and used to make cheap things look expensive. You don’t want to be, as one definition for glitter describes it, “used in craft projects, especially for children, because of the brilliant effects which can be achieved relatively easily.”

The truth is, brilliant effects are never achieved easily.

A real piece of gold shows this.  First the gold is extracted from the ground, usually with a lot of work from deep underground mines and caves.  Then it is sifted and washed to separate it from all the dirt. Then it is melted and shaped into thick bars.  A jeweler takes those bars and melts them down again, this time shaping the gold into beautiful chains, rings, etc.  It’s a long process, but it’s worth it.  This is why we pay so much for even a small piece of gold.

This is also why we make you take piano lessons and teach you to run or dance for exercise.  This is why we encourage you to be kind to your friends and respectful to your teachers.  This is why we don’t let you quit because something gets hard.  This is why we make you apologize when you’re wrong.  This is why you yell at us and call us mean. But doing any less would be to treat you like glitter and we won’t do that because we know you are gold.

Glitter is a cheap way to try to make something look better than it really is.  Glitter is used to simulate gold.  I want you to be authentically awesome people, not cheap fakes.  Our world, though, is steadily trying to convince us both that glitter is enough. Look at a comparison of Glitter and Gold and see for yourself:

1. Glitter is mass-produced in factories; Gold is a rare mineral found in the earth. You were created for more than boyfriends, parties, and sparkly nails.  You come from the earth and are created to make it a better place.  Remind yourself with the lines of this poem: “My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.”  You are an individual and should be proud of all that means.  Never do something just because everyone else thinks it’s okay.

2. Glitter has barely any weight; Gold is sold by its weight. To have a voice in this world, you’ll have to prove you have something worthwhile to say. You do that by learning and becoming an expert.  You don’t have to know everything, but you should know a lot about at least one thing.  You can be whatever you want to be, but be prepared to work for it if you want to do it well.

3. Glitter is cheap; Gold is expensive. It’s okay if people accuse you of being picky when it comes to men (and other major life decisions).  Wait for the man (or the college or the job) who is willing to meet your standard.  He should respect your parents, share your moral and faith code, promise to care for you always (and prove it now), and be your truest most faithful friend.  You don’t have to give yourself away to the first guy who shows up.  Be choosy.  You are worth it.

4. Glitter symbolizes temporary fame or glory; Gold is the symbol of eternity. In all of this, remember where you come from and what you were made for: God himself. Your Creator, your Savior, your Friend.  This life He gives is a blessing and a gift, but it is also full of pain that comes from many ages of the world rejecting this truth.  Things will go wrong and you’ll have to decide how that fits in your thinking.  I have a baby girl in Heaven named Ellery and, because of her, every day I remember that this life is only temporary. Someday, because I believe God is who He says He is, I’ll be in the best place ever and all the problems and troubles of this life will be gone.  Until then, I use the problems of this life to make me stronger and more dependent of God’s grace.  Anything here can be taken away from me (even the people I love the most); only He is a constant.  I can have Him now and I can have Him then.  I hold on.  I hope you will, too.

The world will try to treat you like glitter, sister, and you’ll have to remind them that you are gold.  Sometimes you’ll wish you could be glitter because it looks so much easier.  But resist the crazy of the masses and be rare instead.

Don’t settle for the cheap ways of glitter - be real gold!

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Felicity White teaches spiritual formation and literature courses at Heartland Christian College.  She is also a perpetual student - always reading, researching, and connecting.  She makes a home with her musician husband, Dan, and four perfectly imperfect children.  She feeds the dog because it's the right thing to do.  Her blog, Rare Rocks (www.felicitywhite.com), focuses on the challenging but worthwhile work of pursuing virtue and beauty even in the earthy places and phases of this life.

web :: www.felicitywhite.com twitter :: twitter.com/felicitywhite

beyond every flaw or imperfection.

:: by Meshali Mitchell

“I was 13 when I first took note of my body and began to compare it to other girls.  In the middle school locker room, the other cheerleaders and I stood in front of the mirrors and began to take note of how we all differed from each other.  Standing there in my uniform, I realized my body was different from the other girls.  All of ours were.  They all differed from each other.  Megan made the statement, 'I just want to be skinny and beautiful like the girls on TV.'  My mind began to wander.  So, what was considered beautiful?  What was the gauge of beauty?  What did boys like?  These were the questions that ran through my mind.”

'BEAUTY' …what is it anyway?  In today’s culture, we see it everywhere.  It’s hard to get away from the question.  Image.  Beauty ...what does that really mean?  Who is the judge of it?  Where does my worth really come from?  Supermodels and photoshopped movie stars are at the forefront of our daily view.  At the grocery store standing in line, on billboards as we drive, on commercials when we sit to watch TV, we are bombarded with it.  Fifteen years later, after standing in front of that locker room mirror, as a 28 year old woman, I’m right there with you.  Trust me, I have been confronted with it, too.

Here are a few steps I take in my own life to help keep perspective on what “beauty” is:

1. Guard your thoughts :: Proverbs 4:23 Keep vigilant watch over your heart; that's where life starts.

It’s so easy to get caught up in appearance.  So many become consumed with it.  Don’t let the enemy sit on the throne of your life in this area.  Do not bow your knee to what he and this culture says about you.   A powerful tool Satan uses is to attack our self image through our thoughts shaped and influenced by culture.  I’ve realized throughout my life that in every area our culture seems to naturally push the agenda of negative thoughts on us.  If the enemy can target our minds and win, the trap is set and the pulling grasp gets hold of what he needs to shape and diminish.  He is powerless until we give him room to rule in certain areas.  We CHOOSE who we give the right to rule in our minds.  I encourage you today - think on good things.  Here are few verses to dwell on when you battle these thoughts::

:: Romans 12:2 Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

:: Philippians 4:8  Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious-the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse.

:: 2 Corinthians 10:3-6 The world is unprincipled. It's dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn't fight fair. But we don't live or fight our battles that way-never have and never will.  The tools of our trade aren't for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture.  We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ.  Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity.

2. Surround yourself with encouraging, life-giving friends :: Proverbs 12:26 One who is righteous is a guide to his neighbor, but the way of the wicked leads them astray.

The last thing I want to do when I feel down is surround myself with people that always seem to drain the life out of me.  I encourage you to give place to Godly, life giving friends.  Let these few choice people speak thoughts of Hope and God’s amazing purpose into you!  Allow their love and encouragement to give you support and RIGHT THINKING for your life.  Godly people sharpen each other.  Others have a warped view of self image and their ideas could affect you in a negative way.  Godly friends have made the difference in my life!!

3. Work out!  Strive to live healthy and keep a good balance :: 1 Corinthians 6:19, 20 Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, 20 for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.

We all probably need a little work in this area.  Along with healthy thought patterns, build healthy habits of working out and eating right.  This is a good, solid habit for healthy living and will help keep us in shape.  Strive to honor your Creator with how you treat your body.

4. GOD SEES YOU AS HIS ::: Beautiful Daughter.

Realize that as God’s people, we live in an upside down kingdom.  Beauty is so much deeper than the skin.  God constantly longs to tell a beautiful story by rewriting some of the things you’ve been through.  He takes the wrong things we’ve been through and makes them right and beautiful.  Our flaws can actually benefit us in God’s kingdom.  When we allow the Lord to re-write our story, He takes the imperfections, the broken things, and makes a masterpiece.  This is the REAL BEAUTY :: the irreplaceable that makes you one of a kind :: we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  The beauty is that God has placed His fingerprint on each of our lives.  There is no greater story than that, no greater or truer beauty.  He loves us and has made us daughters in His Kingdom.

Let's do our best to live basing our view of ourselves solely and completely on what God says about us.  The whole and precise view that He loves us right where we are at and sees beyond every flaw or imperfection.  There is no pressure to 'PERFORM' in His Kingdom.  He is our greatest fan.  Let’s live like it.

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Based in Dallas, Meshali is unapologetically "southern" in her personality and style.  Her work has been described as timeless and sophisticated.  Mostly, her art has a southern charm and honest reflection.  Passionate about capturing the expression of the moment, Meshali approaches her craft with artistry, creativity, vision and professionalism.

Meshali is also passionate about life.  The roles she plays as a Christ-follower, daughter, sister and friend all contribute to her craft.  She is an avid reader, prolific blogger and her own worst critic.  Fortunately all of these come together to create a personal story unique to the photographs she captures.

website // meshalimitchellphoto.com  ::  twitter // @meshali

Daddy's standard.

::  by Rachel McGowan [gallery link="file" columns="5"]

The reason I have such high expectations in my future husband is because of the way my daddy loves me.

I am my father’s first born, his only daughter, a full-blooded daddy’s girl, and the second most important woman in his life. When I was little, he used to call me “pumpkin”, and I loved it. It still slips out from time to time.

Days after I was born, he wrote a song for me on the guitar. It’s a sweet little melody that rocks my soul to sleep and fills me in the best ways.

From the start, my daddy has loved me well. He tells me I am beautiful at every opportunity. He always answers my questions, and he laughs at my jokes. He calls me to say hello and remembers the details of my life when I tell him. He fights for me against all odds; he would take any bullet for me, just to know I was safe and happy.

He supports everything I do. When I went off to college in another state, he helped me get there, so that I could have the opportunity of a lifetime. When I worked in a restaurant, he frequently asked me about work, so that I could feel purpose behind what I was doing. When I wanted voice lessons, he paid for them in an instant, so that I could grow my passion for music.

But the most important thing my daddy has every done for me is pray for me.

In the song I mentioned he wrote, my daddy asks God to keep me safe, to watch over my life. My daddy submitted me to the Lord before I was even cognitive enough to know it. And as I grew, he discovered my heart, and showed me where it aligned with God’s promises. He showered me with prayer, in any situation. He led the family in a way that put God first, above everything. He so passionately delighted in praising God, that it compelled me to know Jesus deeper. He pursued my heart over the first 24 years of my life in subtle and consistent ways that I am only now beginning to realize. And he never stopped getting to know me. He still takes my heart’s corners and points me back to God’s promises.

I wish I had known that if a boy couldn’t hold a candle to my daddy’s love for me, then he wasn’t worth a second of my time.

As I look back now, I can see ways in which I am sure I broke my daddy’s heart. I spent time with boys just because they were cute, boys who did not understand guarding my heart or preserving my purity. Of course he knew better than I did, but I did not listen to him. So he graciously and gently allowed me to expand the spectrum of my experiences, and allowed life to teach me lessons that only life can. He was there for me when my heart was broken; he stood up for me at all cost.

I have met the man I want to spend the rest of my days with, and I am not surprised that he reminds me of my daddy.

He is kind to all, giving to all, and loving to all. He supports whatever I do and he cherishes me as incredibly important in his life. He values my purity, and is a consistent source of grace, joy, and love. Our relationship is so sacred, so patient, and so focused on God’s promises.

But the most important thing this man does for me is pray for me.

He wraps up our evenings or our conversations in a prayer. He loves Jesus so furiously and passionately, that I am compelled to know Jesus deeper. His love for God inspires me. His showers of prayer strengthen me, and point me back to the meaning of it all.

My standards for a man were set long before I knew it. They were set before I even knew I wanted to get married. Before I knew what I would need in a relationship, before my heart would be broken by boys who were undeserving of my attention, before I undoubtedly recognized my own inner beauty, my daddy instilled those truths within me. My daddy planted deep-rooted seeds in my heart that harvested good fruit in my life. With constant, “I’m proud of you, exactly how you are.” moments, my heart knew what kind of ground to stand firm upon.

I know my worth because my daddy never let me believe I was anything less than wonderfully made; cherished; lovely; enough.

A girl is worth a daddy who resembles the steady love of Jesus, and she is worth a husband who reminds her of that love.

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Rachel is a writer, reader, laughter, dreamer, shower-singer and car-dancer who lives in Dallas, TX and works with hundreds of college students who are figuring out life. She is passionate about women’s issues, the struggles of faith, and is seeking ways to give a voice to the untold stories that have the potential to change lives. She believes in the healing powers of authenticity, acoustic music, and whole bean coffee.

She blogs at www.sincerelyrachelchristine.com and you can keep up with her here:

Twitter:: @_rachchristine Facebook:: www.facebook.com/whistlingrachel