Come to the Table


I stare at the blinking cursor on my screen and listen to the quiet whisper that beckons me to type. Ray and Sam are tucked in bed. Moe is sitting patiently outside of Elizabeth’s room hoping to be invited in for a belly rub. I sit curled up on our couch, admiring the Christmas tree and avoiding the mess of toys, decorations, and laundry that litter my living room floor.

This is a rare moment. An invitation to come to the table.

Often times I feel as though I talk way to much and say very little in the process. I talk when I am anxious, angry, excited, confused, and insecure…spewing words that make me nervous when I read verses about controlling your tongue and being held accountable for every word spoken. I fear Jesus and I are going to spend eternity just reviewing the transcript of my life. While I am learning to walk in wisdom and keep a guard over my tongue (a lifelong venture I am sure), Jesus continues to call me to write my story.

Only He knows why.

You will not find Pinterest here (no offense to Pinterest).

I am not going to pretend that I have it all together. As a recovering perfectionist, I find increasing freedom in letting others into the beautiful mess that can be my life at times.

You will not find politically correct material here.

I am not going to claim that I have all the right answers. I am not a bible scholar, politician, or authority on any subject. The content of this blog is nothing more than my attempt to be faithful to share the lessons Jesus is teaching me as He writes my story.

What I hope you do find is a refreshing honesty, a few laughs, and beautiful glimpses of the Gospel being lived only through the conduit of grace.

Nothing is off the table.



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