What Makes A Really Great Story?

I’m kind of in the process of writing a book. A novel.

I say kind of because it feels a little like playing house.

So no one hold their breath.

I’ve never considered myself a writer.Especially not a storyteller.

I have friends that weave stories in their daydreams and always seemed lost in plot. Haha. See what I did there? Imagining characters and creating their stories while they drive, sit at work or space out while you are talking. It’s in their DNA. Crafting stories.

It is definitely not in my DNA. I am a consumer of story. I love to read. I love fiction and real life stories. I am always amazed at people’s creativity. And God’s. He writes really beautiful stories. And empowers others to as well.

Well, when I decided to go to the Writer’s Conference with Andrea, I started praying for a story. Just one. That might someday turn into a book. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really expecting much. But then as I was taking out my trash one night, God whispered an idea in my ear. And I’ve been toying with it ever since.

At the conference, I met a lovely lady named Nancy. I was immediately drawn to her. She struck me as vivacious, inviting and wise.

The conference was very stressful for me.

From the moment I got in the van, I had to come to terms with the fact that I might possibly be a writer. And if I was willing to be honest with myself, that I have dreamed of writing since I was small. But the desire to write was so precious and fragile that I had locked it away in a treasure box in my soul. Tucked away safely. Where moth and rust and criticism and failure could not touch it.

And at the conference I felt like God was giving me a choice. To open the box and give the dream to Him. Or keep it safely tucked away.

I left the conference with it safely tucked away. I’m not a writer. I’m a blogger. And I love blogging.

But late at night, I would listen to the sessions from the conference on my phone. Laying safely in my bed, I listened to author after fiction author talk about their process. And I realized that I wanted to learn more. About writing. A Fiction. Book.

So I’ve started a program. With my new friend Nancy Rue. To learn the craft of storytelling. For those who don’t dream in stories. But feel like they might have a story to tell.

What hooked me was when she used this verse from Psalm 48 in her workshop.

Circle Zion, take her measure,
    count her fortress peaks,
Gaze long at her sloping bulwark,
    climb her citadel heights—
Then you can tell the next generation
    detail by detail the story of God,
Our God forever,
    who guides us till the end of time. 

So anyway.

I’ve started learning about what makes a really great story. And it is blowing my mind. The crazy thing is we all learned (and possibly forgot) this structure in school.

Every story starts with the hero/heroine living their everyday life.

Then, there is an inciting incident that propels the story into motion.

Here’s what I didn’t know.

There is a question that drives every story. It is hidden in the heart of every hero/heroine. That leads and guides every choice they make. And the question varies from story to story. Hero to heroine. But it must be answered for the story to find resolution.

Doesn’t that sound like life? We all having a driving need. A hidden question. That we ask God over and over and over. And I’m convinced it different for each of us. There are themes and similar desires. But the way we phrase it is so personal.

And our lives are a beautiful story where God graciously answers the question of our soul, over and over.

The other thing I’m learning in my class is that in order to have a really great story, your hero/heroine has to be flawed. And real. With hopes, dreams, desires and fears.

And in order to truly tell their story, they will have to face their fears. You have to put them in situations that bring them to their knees.

Well. All of this knowledge has been rocking my spiritual world.

Because in my youth, I thought the Christian life was about getting it “right”. Trying to make the right choices, do the right thing, follow God without error or deviance from his path/will. And I believed that if done “right”, you could live a life free of pain, sorrow or heartache. I now see how this contradicts scripture.

But at 22, if I were the author of my story, here is how I would have written it:

There once was a girl named Leslie. She grew up in a loving home and met Jesus at an early age. Her childhood was filled with love and laughter. She had lots of friends and they never had any conflict. She went to college where she discovered her life’s calling-sharing Jesus with kids through the mission of Young Life. She married a man who shared her life’s passion and together they served the Lord wholeheartedly. Leading people to the feet of Jesus.  They never fought, experienced zero heartache and no tragedy ever touched their world. They had four lovely children who all grew up, safe and sound. Their children all fell in love with Jesus at an early age and followed Him all the days of their lives. And everyone died peacefully at a ripe old age.

But that is not the story of my life.

And that used to bring me great sadness. And shame. And a sense that I had somehow failed God. Because how could this be the story he wanted my life to tell.

And yet, the more I learn about what makes really great stories, the more I see my life through a gracious lens. The lens of love. And my life tells a beautiful story.

I can see the inciting incidences that have shaped my journey.

-In middle school, when I felt like the world ended when my friends stopped talking to me

-In college, when I had a car accident with a Young Life girl in the car

-In ministry, when I didn’t know how to talk to men in authority so I bailed  instead of learning a new skill

-In marriage, when the person I loved chose not to love me

-In divorce, when the church I expected to bench me, invited me to partner with them in ministry

-In Young Life, when God sent key people to heal old wounds and invite me back to a ministry that is in my DNA.

-In teaching, where God called me to a job that is as challenging as it is fulfilling which is where I love to live.

Each one of these incidents, has forced me to face my fears. They have driven me to my knees. They have broken me. And forced me to cry out the same question over and over. Which comes from my hidden need. And God in his kindness, has answered it every time. Not always how I would have preferred. Because He sees the bigger picture. And has the greater story in mind.

I could write about this forever. But I have to stop somewhere.

One last thing that amazes me about our lives, is all the sub-plots. And how there are multiple stories that are being written as we live on this earth. And how God is actively at work in each one. And His timing is perfect.

Look at your life.

What have been inciting incidents?

Have you allowed them to drive you to your knees? Are you in a season where you need God to answer that driving question that rattles in your soul? Again? Is whatever you are walking through an opportunity to face your fears? Perhaps it isn’t a punishment or a result of failure. But perhaps the Author of Life wants to being you freedom. Resolution. Redemption. In that area of your life.

Something Wanda Beth said recently stuck with me,”Answered/unanswered prayer has absolutely nothing to do with God’s love for you and everything to do with his plans and purposes for your life.”

Still chewing on that one.


Love, Love, Love,

The Girl Who Lives in My Head




I am that girl. Embracing who you are.

I Am That Girl

When I was a little girl….and well into college, I used to pray that my life would not be normal. From an early age I wanted to serve God in a grand way.

Of course, I assumed that would include marriage and a family. Duh.

Growing up, there were always a handful of “older” single women in my life. I remember them as fun and dynamic. They were involved in ministry and poured into my life in some form or fashion. That’s why I knew them. And loved them.  But as much as I admired them, I did not want to be one of them.

I always thought marriage and a family was a given in life. Until it was not.

The other day I was in Target, walking down the aisles.



About life. God’s plans. My plans.

And in a moment of clarity, I realized I AM THAT GIRL!!!

I am the “older” single woman.

Who is fun and dynamic. Involved in ministry. Who still dreams of marriage but has accepted that it might not be in the cards. At least at this point in life. Who is going for it. Regardless. Living life to the full. No matter the season.

And the truth is… I really like being that girl. Her life is pretty great. 

What I judged in my youth, is actually a gift.

Getting ready this morning, I had a bit of a hangover. A vulnerability one. Because when I wrote about my year without romance, I opened up my heart a bit too much. I feel like I showed my guts to the world. And they spilled out a little.

 Because I’m 38 years old. A grown woman.

Friends my age are navigating life with teenagers. Mortgages. College funds and daycare. Parents who are sick. Possibly dying.

And my deepest struggled is still boys??? Are you kidding me???

But it is. I could lie and pretend it isn’t. But then I would be keeping a secret. And living from a lie. And lies destroy us. And then we eat our feelings. Or worse.

And I don’t think I am alone in this.

When I think about the people I care about,  I think there are plenty like me.

Who are living lives they never imagined. Or judged in their youth.

Maybe you are one of us. Maybe you are the mom where your life and family look like a crazy hot mess busy. And you always swore your kids would not act like that in a grocery store. Until they did. All the time. And maybe you realized life isn’t about being the perfect mom. It’s about being available. And messy. And it’s beautiful.

Or maybe you are that career gal. Sex in the City style. Or suburbs. Who is working her way up the ranks. You’re a leader. Shaping the future. Of a company. Of a planet. Of a generation. Getting to invest in people. Earning enough to give in ways you never imagined. You own your own home. You travel when you want. You do what you want. God is allowing you to use your gifts and talents and you are a person of influence. And while it wasn’t the life you dreamed of, it’s actually pretty great.

Or maybe you are that married lady. (Or single woman) Who is amazing. Whose life is blessed and beautiful. Whose relationships are fulfilling and job is awesome.


You long for babies. And it creates an ache deep inside that won’t be silenced. That cries out to God. Over and Over. And over again. You have done everything you can. To make the dream come true. And then later, silence the cries. But it won’t work. The longing won’t fade. And so you live your life. Full and amazing. To the best of your ability. Trusting God is writing your story. All the while, hoping and praying. That maybe one day. You’ll get to see a flutter of a heartbeat grow to maturity. And you have learned to live with the pain, Maybe it has actually become a place of ministry. Of healing. Of hope for others. And even though you would you trade it all in tomorrow, you see God’s hand. And know that He is with you on the journey.

I think in some way, we are all “that girl.” The one living someone else’s life. Dreaming of a different one.

I just finished a book called “Looking for Lovely” by Annie Downs. It’s all about how she looks for God in everyday moments. To see and acknowledge His hand. In her life. If there are any chubby girls in the house-this book could be our manifesto. If you want to see your inner most thoughts on paper, she spills her guts in the first few chapters. To set up the story.

Brene Brown calls it Daring Greatly. A life of gratitude. Leads to wholehearted living.

Ann Voskamp wrote 1000 Gifts. Same idea. Finding joy by being thankful.Seeing the gifts amidst the pain.

If you are reading this and think you might be “that girl.” The one you loved but didn’t want to be. Or judged and prayed you never would become.

Embrace her. 

Take a moment and find the lovely.  The beauty. Be thankful for the good. Find the joy. 

It’s there.

Because our God is good. He writes beautiful stories. With plot twists. Climax. And denouement.

You might just be in the middle of a really powerful tale of God’s love and redemption. That seems to be His favorite theme.


Love, Love, Love,

The Girl Who Lives In My Head



Why Men Look at Porn

True Confession: I am not allowed to buy Girl Scout Cookies. Specifically Samoas. I have no self-control when they are around. And in less than a day, the ENTIRE box is gone. One here, two there, a row later…

I have a theory.

I think men think about sex the way women think about food.

About 19 thoughts per day according to recent study. Men and sex that is.

And God created both food and sex to be thoroughly enjoyed right? Within reasonable limits. They were both created to meet a need. That the creator of the Universe instilled in us. By design.

The problem starts when we use sex (or food) to cope.

And what’s even trickier is that the scriptures make it very clear that sexual issues wreak havoc on people’s internal lives. More than other issues. Because of how God designed it. Sex is so much more than an act. It’s a uniting. Of souls. One flesh and all that jazz.


If you’ve ever eaten a row of Oreo’s after a bad day, you know that it really doesn’t have anything to do with the people around you. Yes. They may be driving you batty. But using food to find comfort probably started a long time ago.

  • Maybe growing up, food was used to celebrate. And comfort. And entertain.

  • Or somewhere along the line, when you made your own money (or allowance) you bought candy. Your siblings bought clothes. You bought sugar. You liked the taste. And how it made you feel.

  • Or perhaps you lived in a house where certain foods were denied, so you learned to sneak them.

Whatever happened, at some point in your journey, food became more than food. It became your friend. A place you could find solace. A moment’s peace in the middle of the storm. Or the crazy.

And now, even though you know it won’t solve your problems-you still go there for a few bites just so you don’t have to think about what’s really going on.

I recently made a new friend at the writers conference who told her teenage son,  “Dude, when you come across a woman eating ice-cream out of the carton, respect that moment. And slowly back away


We laugh. Because we know it’s true.

And that is what it is like for men with porn.

It’s a coping method.

And it started long before he ever met you.

To not have to deal with his feelings. It’s an escape from life. Not from you.

And with it comes a cycle of shame that keeps him embroiled in a love/hate relationship that he knows, when he is radically honest with himself, is destroying him. From the inside out.

And just like a one doughnut escape can easily turn into a three doughnut escape-The longer he uses, the deeper it goes.

And left unchecked, it can go very, very dark.

The good and the bad of it is this.

There is nothing you can do to fix it. The issue.

Because it has nothing to do with you.

There’s no trick you can learn. Amount of weight you can lose. Outfit you can wear. Or scathing comment you can make.

That will make him stop.

Because it’s not your issue, It’s his.

And he is the one who has to see the problem. And he is the one who has to do the work. When he’s ready.

At its core, pornography and sexual addiction is not about sex. It’s about comfort. It’s about power. It’s about control. It’s something people use to cope to make it through their life. An escape.

Just like food.

Or shopping. Wine. Netflix. Chocolate. Exercise. Work. Pills. The list goes on and on.

When I told my mom I was writing this post, she asked me what made me an authority on the topic. I told her I’m not. But as someone whose life has been profoundly impacted by pornography, I have asked  a lot of questions. Of the men in my life. And they have been equally honest.

And I want people, who love people who are struggling,  to understand the real issue. Because when you make it about the sex, you miss the point. It’s a broken heart issue. That can only be healed by the Maker of the heart.

And I think when we equate it with food issues, it makes it easier to understand.

BUT Pornography and sexual addiction is  a different kind of animal. According to scripture. Science. Research.

And it’s a HUGE problem in our society-Especially among our children.

It wreaks major life altering havoc on people and those that love them. And yet it’s become common place. In media. In jokes. In homes. On phones.

It’s everywhere.


And we are becoming numb to it.

And that is just too dangerous for me to accept.

I will not go quietly.

While the enemy takes out the people I love, one broken heart at a time.


Love, Love, Love

The Girl Who Lives In My Head

Next week’s “Let’s Get Real” post: How to Not Eat Your Feelings.


Have you seen this? It is possible to break the shame cycle on any issue.


And here she is talking about how Shame is Lethal on Oprah of course. 

Click here if you or someone you love needs help with an addiction of any kind.




The Day I Drove Away.

I still remember how my body hummed as I shoved the last box into the back of the Jeep. It’s funny what is important to you when you are leaving. Forever. For me it was all the holiday items I had gathered over the years. That’s all I took with me. Not even my KitchenAid.

I shut the hatch and drove away.

After five years of an abusive marriage, I had finally accepted that nothing was going to change with me in his life. I had turned myself inside and out, prayed every prayer, attended every bible study, trying to fix what was broken. So that maybe perhaps he might love me again.

The plan. I would drive from Colorado to my parents house in Tennessee. I would stay there a few weeks and begin my life in Maui. Again. I felt free. Free at last, free at last. The windows were down, the music was mine and there was an open road before me.

To say I was fragile would be an understatement. My body was still humming, something it had been doing constantly for over a year. On it’s own. I can’t quite explain it. I think it was something it had started doing in order to cope. I had finally become numb so that nothing would hurt me anymore.

I stopped at a Cracker Barrel somewhere in Kansas. To pick up a book on CD and indulge in some Southern fare. I was seated next to a lovely older couple enjoying a Sunday afternoon. I remember thinking that our tables were awfully close. Somehow, like in a movie, we started chatting. I don’t recall what we talked about, I don’t recall much from that season of life. I do know that I never said a word about what I was leaving behind.

The conversation came to a close.

They finished their meal and left. I lingered, savoring the sweet tea and freedom of never having to sit through another meal with him. Pretending.

As I went to pay, the cashier informed me that the sweet couple had payed for my meal, just like a movie. And standing in the middle of the Old Country Store, the humming stopped.

Their kindness broke me.

I kept it together as I bumbled from the restaurant. I made it to the car, shut the door and sobbed. Openly. Loudly. For all the years. The lost dreams. What could have been. What should have been. It was not pretty but it was beautiful. I remember saying, “Strangers were kinder to me than my own husband.” Over and Over. And over. Just like Dane Cook talks about in his bit on crying. “They were kinder to me than my husband.”

And as the tears poured down my face, the humming was replaced with hope. Because I knew, once again that I was making the right decision. And that I would be o.k.

You see, when someone is leaving an abusive marriage, no matter how much they know it is the right thing to do, the doubt and fear is debilitating. It’s why so few of us actually leave.

I had become a shell of the girl that I once was. I had learned to exist in the most non-offensive way possible as to not awaken the anger. To keep the peace. And it became my normal. Even though every fiber of my being knew it was not normal. Maybe that is what caused it. The humming. It was the fabric of my being rejecting this way of life.

And God allowed two lovely strangers  in a Cracker Barrel, somewhere in the middle of Kansas, to reset my normal with a simple act.  They reminded me what love and kindness felt like. And to them, I will always be grateful.

This month marks eight years since that road trip. And God has been faithful to me.

During what I call my five years of captivity, I really thought I had ruined my life. That it was over. I had made a huge mistake and now I just had to suffer the consequences. And I was willing to to do it. That is why, when God set me free, it was such a shock.

It was like I was a prisoner of war, jammed into a tiny bamboo cell. Eeeking out an existence. Accepting my fate. And then all of a sudden, a Black Hawk helicopter appeared in the sky. A rope ladder descended. And Jesus was there. To rescue me.

And He did. He rescued me out of a life of bondage. Of captivity. It was unexpected. Undeserving. And it was glorious.

Over the past eight years, he has truly given me a crown of beauty instead of ashes. And a stunning ball gown of praise instead of a spirit of despair. Because she who has been forgiven much, loves much. And she who has been forgiven much cannot keep her mouth shut because of how incredible God is. She wants everyone to know that freedom is available.

I write this blog, not for sympathy, but to give others hope. What might feel raw as you read it, has actually been healed at the Cross. It has taken time. And work. Because as my girl Wanda Beth says, “Time does not heal all wounds. God does. Time will tell.”

My prayer is that you would know, that no matter what you are going through, our God is a God of redemption. He can redeem anything. Nothing is wasted in Him. Not only that,  He can use the most random moments and people to heal you. To remind you that He is actively pursuing you. He loves you. And He is especially fond of you.

It is why he sent Jesus to rescue you. And me. I am living proof that even good girls need to be rescued.

Love, Love, Love

The Girl Who Lives In My Head

P.S. This whole post was inspired by this post. To the Strangers Who Surrounded Me in Whole Foods After News of My Father’s Death. At the bottom, the blog asks for submissions about strangers who showed kindness. And here we are.

P.P.S. If you are in an abusive situation, a website that really made a difference in my journey towards healing is called www.youarenotcrazy.com. I wrote about it here.

P.P.P.S I must say P.S. A LOT because my students ask me all the time what it means.

I Thought I Was Crazy

Dear Junior High Self,

I wish I could tell you that your life will be easy. That whatever you touch will turn to gold and you always win first place. But that is not the case. You will lead an incredible life. Filled with adventure, beauty, friendship and joy. But there will also be heartache, disappointment and pain. In fact,  there will be a chapter in your life that you will call your Season of Captivity. But do not fear. It will not last forever. And the beautiful story that comes from it, will make everything you went through worthwhile. For a moment you will think that you have ruined your life. But take heart, little one. God has a plan of redemption.  

                                                                                                                        Love, Love, Love

                                                                                                                        Your Future Self

About 6 months into my marriage, I thought I was crazy.


Like batdoodoo kind. But I had heard that marriage was hard. So I thought, Huh, this must be what they were talking about. Or maybe it’s the birth control.

It wasn’t until 4.5 years later when my mother suggested perhaps I should Google emotional abuse that I finally understood what had been happening the past 5 years of my life. Now my mother is a very wise woman when it comes to handling her headstrong daughter. She didn’t come at me head on. She just made a comment that I brushed off in the car with a, “No, I just need this new job to work out,” but the seed had been planted.

Later that I day, hidden away, I searched Emotional Abuse. And I came across a website that saved my life.

And the name caught my eye immediately because if you have ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship, you think you is crazy. Because you feel crazy. And you are told you are crazy. over and over.

So I clicked on the link. And as the words started to slowly fill the screen, the tears began to pour down my face. Soaking my lap and the computer. Because someone else was telling my story. And for the first time in five years, I no longer felt alone.

This is what it said.

This website is wholly, compassionately dedicated to the women who have fought to love and understand, in total solitude, the men that rage at them, call them names, criticize their mistakes, joke about their insecurities, mock their interests, trivialize their pain, yell at them suddenly,threaten them with their deepest fears, then tell them they deserve it.Then to top it off, he steadfastly denies it all as he masterfully charms everyone he meets just like he did to her when they first met.

If you are one of these women, welcome to your tribe.

We believe you and the struggle and pain is very real. You are no longer alone and you are not crazy.

By this point, my entire body was wracking with sobs. I could not see the screen through my tears. And the snot. Ugly cry style. As 5 years of confusion, pain and self-loathing came pouring out.

I clicked on the next page and read:

You are not crazy if you believe he loves you, he just doesn’t like you.

You are not crazy if you struggle to modify your behavior or needs so he’ll treat you the way he treats everyone else.

You are not crazy if you feel confused and inadequate to repair what’s broken in your relationship, but you keep trying.

You are not crazy if you seem to recall things in a totally opposite way then he does.

At this point, my heart feels as if someone has cracked it open and light is pouring in. I’m still crying. But it’s not sad tears. It’s tears of relief. Of aching. Of longing. Because as I read these sentences, it is as if someone has captured my journey these past five years. And the darkness is encountering light. It is both beautiful and painful.

So I click another page. And read a little more. There is a chart that compares abusive relationships to healthy ones.

Competition vs Partnership.

Control and Power Struggles vs Intimacy and Shared Joy.

Contempt vs Validation.

Manipulation vs Mutual Cooperation.

The list goes on. And the definitions hit home. There are finally words to go with what I have been living. I think that is the hardest part about identifying abuse. You don’t have the vocabulary to put what you are feeling in words. Nothing in my life had prepared me for what I was going through so I didn’t even know how to put what was happening into words. Other than, I think I’m crazy.

Wow. Going back to this site 7 years later still gets me. Not in the same way because Praise God, I have been set free and he has healed me. But my heart still breaks for the girl I was back then. I felt so trapped and  that life had become so hopeless. The reason my mom suggested that I Google emotional abuse in the first place is because I had started joking about running away. And like any good mama bear, she asked me what I meant. Because if someone mentions suicide, you are supposed to ask them what they mean. I wasn’t ready to kill myself. I was just gonna get in my car and never look back.

Only those who have lived my story or are living it, can relate to what they are reading. And you need to know, You are Not Crazy and you are not alone. There is hope. And there is healing.

It can be a spouse, a parent, a boyfriend, a boss.

A co-worker, a sister, a girlfriend or someone in ministry.

Emotional abuse is real. And really hard to define. It would be so much easier if the person would just punch you in the face. Then you would at least have something to point to. It’s the million little invisible punches that take their toll on your soul when you are in an emotionally abusive relationship with someone. It is a slow process. And it starts small. Where you leave a conversation. Shaking your head. Thinking, What just happened?

Because at it’s root, abuse is about power. Someone doesn’t feel powerful so they exert power over you. And there will never be connection. Because that’s not their goal.

Power can come by keeping you off tilt so that you never quite feel safe.

Withholding what they know you need, like a hug. Or key information for a presentation.

Disguised jokes where you know you are the target but everyone else is laughing. And if you try to bring it up, “You have no sense of humor,” or “You can’t take a joke.”

Discounting happens when you bring something up and they pretend it didn’t happen. Nothing makes you feel more crazy than someone denying what you know to be true.

Countering in another method of holding power over someone. You try to bring something up in order to move the relationship forward and then out of nowhere you are being attacked. No matter how many “I statements” you use, it ends up spiraling down the crazy train.

The list goes on and on.

But you keep trying to connect. And the invisible punches keep coming. Until one day you are a shell of the person you once were. Numb. Undone. Hopeless. And alone. At least on the inside.

If you think you or someone you care about is dealing with emotional abuse. At work. In a relationship. At home. I have yet to find a better tool to help people find their way back to whole than this website. I have only pulled a few snippets of what spoke to me. But the reality is that day, over 7 years ago, I spent hours on that site. And God used it as a tool to set me free from captivity.

I hope that this can help someone else, as much as it helped me.

Love, Love, Love

The Girl Who Lives In My Head

PS. ALMOST EVERYTHING on this page, save my story, has been taken from www.youarenotcrazy.com. My intent is not to plagiarize or say these ideas are my own. My heart is to get the word out so anyone struggling with abuse can find hope and healing by looking at this site.

Dreams Do Come True. 

Not too long ago I got this in the mail.

special delivery

 With this inside.


And this.

James Bible Study

Love this Lady!!

 To say it made my year, would be an understatement.


Here’s the story of how it all unfolded.

When I first met Alyssa’s future husband Jeff, I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Granted, at the time of our meeting, the poor guy was on display, surrounded by people trying to figure out if he was good enough for Alyssa. Turns out he was. So around the time she said goodbye to Maui and moved back home, they fell in love. And I was super stoked because I had been rooting for him.

Then this happened.

Anyway. The next time I saw this guy it was at their wedding and he was already famous and I was super intimidated.

He had just become BFF with Beth Moore. And for those of you who don’t know me, Beth Moore is kind of my jam. I can drop a relevant Beth quote in almost any conversation. Because her bible studies have had a profound impact on my life. And God uses people to shape me.

Beth Moore Pic

Here’s me at First Baptist in Houston for a Siesta Scripture Memory Weekend. And the closest I’ve ever gotten to Wanda Beth. (I’m in the middle left) I was way to nervous to try to meet her. Plus we all know I would just freeze anyway.

Now, if you remember, I get nervous around celebrities and Jeff had just hit celebrity status. So, my way of handling my nerves was to tell him, “I’m not quite sure we can ever truly be friends because deep down I will always wonder if I’m just using you to get to Beth Moore.” (Insert cute shrug)

 Well, Jefferson is a class act and a perfect match for Alyssa.

 And now that they live in Maui,  I’m getting to know Jeff on a whole ‘nother level.(Insert fajitas comment here) And it is such a blessing. The character that Jeff demonstrates reminds me of David. He’s got such a teachable heart, humble spirit and just a tenderness about him in the way that he loves Lys. And don’t get me started on how much he loves Kins.

Right before they moved back Alyssa sent me a text that Jeff had surprise for me that was going to rock my world. My immediate response was “Did he pack Beth Moore in his suitcase???”

Well Beth Moore didn’t quite make it to Maui, yet. (Fingers crossed) But her assistant did send me a package in the mail.

And when I texted Alyssa thank you. She informed me it was all Jeff. Having Alyssa back on Maui is a dream come true. Having her with her amazing husband and sweet family is icing on the cake.

So I texted him back.



Love , Love, Love,

The Girl Who Lives in My Head.