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closing the gap

Monday, July 20, 2015



I love this space. A Wide Mercy is sacred for me, born out of a need to find God in the mess of my life. Over time you guys have all joined me. Together we have made sense of my experiences, and yours - of losing God and finding Him in new places, of moving across the country while raising a bunch of little kids, of struggling with changing marriages. I thank God for the space to sort through all of that, and for the strength we all find when we stand together and say, "Me too."

Over the past year I have shared less and less on A Wide Mercy. The reason is simple: I wanted to create an honest space, and I didn't know how to share my life as it was honestly. I had no idea how to begin to articulate what was happening, because I barely understood it myself.

me too.

Monday, June 29, 2015

I was so excited about my morning. My new in-real-life friend (but long time online friend) Kira and I were taking our kids to the zoo. Kira is wise and kind and gentle and funny, and I leave every conversation with her feeling as though I can breathe a little more deeply. I knew my kids were tired, and they've been over-the-top crazy lately, but we went anyway. There was no way I was going to give up a few hours with my friend.

when it's not a part of God's plan

Friday, June 19, 2015

Today, this passed through my newsfeed:


The proceeding comments fascinated me: "This is why I'm an atheist," "It's just something people say to make themselves feel better." And the one that took my breath away: "After my father was murdered, I heard this phrase all the time. I finally told someone if it was true, I needed a new religion." 

on bathing suits, lost children, and why I see my summer in a new way.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

photo credit here 
In a few hours I’m going to wear a bathing suit in front of other grown-ups. For the first time since I was eight years old, I am excited to go. My body looks exactly the same as it did a year ago, with the same 20 baby pounds I simply don’t have time to shake, and the same mid-30’s-and-four-babies flab I swore I would tone before this moment arrived. My body has not changed at all, but my attitude has shifted dramatically. To understand why, I have to tell you a story.

On faith, manipulation, and the healthy faithful response to the Josh Duggars in our worlds

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Let's talk about the Duggars.

I don't want to, and I'm sure you don't either.  But I can't get away from it. The story has permeated my life this weekend. In every circle - every online group, every walk with a friend to the park, every email or FB message - no matter where I am, everyone I know is talking about it. Why? A famous person from a  reality show confesses to sexually predatory behavior. Why are we so shocked? On its face, why are we more unnerved by Josh Duggar than, say, Bill Cosby? Why does this one matter so much?

on what it takes to change a life

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

This is Wendy.


She doesn't know it, but Wendy changed my life.

on bravery, honesty, and the thestral staring me down on the playground

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Yesterday I did something I almost never do. I volunteered to speak to a crowd of people.

I'm not shy, not even a little. But I am not a public speaker. Some people use nervous energy to propel them forward and excel on stage, but not me. I stand there, dry-mouthed and stuttering, forgetting my point and doing my best to just make it stop. All the same, yesterday I offered to tell a story to a group of women I've grown to love, a local moms group I joined in January. Because yesterday was the first time words have bubbled to the surface, and a language for the story I need to tell began to take shape.

The theme for the group this year is bravery. The call is to step up, to do something you wouldn't normally do for the sake of being true to who you are. As I listened to another mom share her "brave" story, mine suddenly crystallized. All at once, I knew the bravest thing I did this year was to tell the truth.

After my baby nearly died, I wanted to feel overwhelming joy and gratitude that he was okay. I wanted to praise God publicly, to look at my son's face and feel soul-bursting happiness and contentment, knowing I get to have more time with him. We got to walk away from that day with our son healthy and whole. Most of the time, that doesn't happen. I witnessed a resurrection, and I wanted to be able to revel in it.

Instead, I felt fear.

 

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