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I grew up in a home that was, in my opinion, fairly balanced. My mom brought us to church and encouraged us to grow in our faith and pursue our dreams. My dad taught us how to survive in the real world with logical thinking…and to also pursue our dreams. Really, we were sheltered; our parents protected us from having to learn anything before we were truly ready to handle it. We all have the basics: respect others, trust your gut, don’t take candy from strangers. Some other lessons were learned: things you’ll be grounded for, how to respond if someone disagrees with you, getting up after a fall (physical or metaphorical). I’d say they did pretty great. But for some of the millions of questions I’ve asked over the years or the snotty arguments I created for the lack of answers, it was always the same: Krystin, you’ll understand one day when you’re older. BARF! As a young (read: stubborn) girl, that’s the last thing you want to hear. Growing up doesn’t come with a manual, but I think if it did, this would be the chapter called: “Damnit, They Were All Right.”

I can remember a few choice moments where that stupid answer was given to me that in hindsight was the right answer to give.

When I moved to Tennessee, I was prepared to take over the world. I moved in with my mentor and thought I had officially made it because a 27-year-old Artist Manager for one of the biggest names in the local singer-songwriter circle was letting a 20-year-old move into her space. I, of course, was young and dumb – out until 2 and 3 in the morning getting nachos (which is smart at midnight…SARCASM), driving to love circle to admire a city that didn’t know we were the rulers of, throwing dance parties at each others houses with cakes for a treat…because nothing says dance party like cake. I begged and begged my mentor to come hang with me and all my friends, knowing that her presence would add to my own coolness. Repeatedly, she would turn me down. “Krystin, one day when you’re older and have a big girl job, you’ll understand the importance of your own bed and will appreciate solitude.”  Never!

Nope, she was right. Here I am, 27, with a big girl job that begins at 7:30 each day and rearranging my evenings to know what I can and can’t handle when I have to be up so early. I’m not saying I always say no to people when they call, I certainly don’t…especially if it’s someone I truly enjoy. But I do cut myself off and send myself home.

Way back when I was 14, I was a freshman in love (read: obsessed) with a senior boy. Seriously, it was bad. It’s not one of my better seasons in life and, deny it all I want, it’s still part of my story. I prided myself on being the youngest person to be a part of one of our teacher’s “Backyard Club” – a group of HS students that would all go hang out at her house. (There’s a lesson on appropriateness somewhere in there, but we’ll save that for a later time.) I’d go over and spend time at her house knowing this boy would show up and hoping he’d realize by getting to know me how perfect we were for each other. As a starter on the football team, I’d get him good luck gifts that made his lockergirl jealous. I remember one time while out purchasing gifts for this boy, my ever-supportive mother asked me if I wanted to really be doing all this for him. “YES!” She let me know her actual thoughts on the situation and gave me some “advice” on self-respect and what actual relationships look like. She followed the rolling of my eyes with a “Krystin, one day when you’re older, you’ll understand just what a gem you are and how you deserve to be treated.”  UGH!

…………she was right. That boy was a jerk and a royal one at that. It was pretty devastating to my ego and worse on my heart. I wish I could say he was the last jerk that I let into my world, but that would be a lie (one of those things I get grounded for). Let’s just not open the can of worms on emotionally unavailable boys I’ve fallen for since then and what that says about me. Ha! Suffice it to say it’s a lesson that I’m still learning – even to this day. People accept the love they think they deserve. That truth hurts just a little, right?

In June of 2004, I traveled with Young Life to Egmont, British Columbia, Canada for a week-long camp where I ended up truly meeting Jesus for the first time. Quick backstory, I’m a planner. I like to know the details before just jumping into things – at least for the most part. I had been dreaming of the University of Texas my whole life. It’s all I wanted. So here I am, in Canada, a singular week after receiving my HS diploma and I have a little conversation with Jesus about who’s better at making plans: me or Him. Duh. It’s me…wait…it’s not? Crap. It was there that my whole world flipped upside down and the dream I had always had for UT, which I was leaving for in just two short months, dissipated. So, I asked what should I do if my dreams don’t mean anything? “Krystin, one day when you’re older, you’ll understand that dreams can change.”  Blasphemy!

……………………………………………..I really do have a hard time admitting when I’m wrong, so doing it three times in one post is KILLING ME and, I digress. He was, and still is, right. See, if I’d gone to UT, I never would’ve come to Nashville. I wouldn’t have the friendships that I have today that are continuously shaping me into who I’m becoming. I’d never be able to tell you stories about getting a best friend out of Hootie and the Blowfish, or being on Kelly Clarkson’s guest list, or playing Dream Phone for hours on end because it’s the funniest thing you haven’t seen since you were ten. My life here isn’t perfect, but it’s perfect for me. So, I don’t mind admitting that I was wrong on this one.

If you’ve found yourself here for one reason or another and are just so sick of hearing someone tell you “one day when you’re older,” know you’re not alone. But know, that the journey of learning you were wrong is probably going to be one of the best times of your life. Embrace your mistakes, learn from them, and forge ahead ready to be wrong again. If nothing else, you’ll have some hilariously embarrassing stories about yourself for the future.

Hi.

Remember me? Boy, have I got a LOT to fill you in on…

Since we last spoke – almost a year ago – everything has changed. And oh, do I mean everything.

Let me just see if I can give a brief recap of this year, at least: January and February were pretty normal. There was a boy that showed up, but that was done quicker than it would take for me to type out the details. Lots of planning for my church’s move and preparing for my second trip to Haiti.

March 2nd, I left for Port-au-Prince, armed with a single duffle bag (be proud, mom and dad, even though I left an ENTIRE BAG OF TOOLS…) and an editing copy of my brave best friend’s book. Let me tell you, unless you have a duffle bag chock full of kleenex, it’s NEVER a good idea to read about someone else’s journey in Haiti, while you’re on the way to Haiti, remembering some of your fondest memories of Haiti. All. The. Tears. My heart was already a little more on edge this go ’round as we weren’t going back to the same place we’d been before; I wasn’t going to be reunited with my little Louventa and I wasn’t happy about that. But I was very fortunate to have one of my funniest friends – Jami – along for this trip. The safety of having someone who can make anything seem better or more fun or more calm or more whatever you need it to be was a gift. The trip went great. It didn’t end up being even remotely close to the same experience…it was infinitely better. We built a house for a BEAUTIFUL woman named Kazi, a single mother of 5 and a new grandmother.
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55 years old and she looks younger than I do. Day 1 she takes me by the hand, leads me into her tarp house, sits me in a chair and hands me the most precious little boy – Stephen.
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I told her I was taking him home. She couldn’t speak english, but I know she understood that because she shook her finger at me! Kazi welcomed us into her family as we built her a sturdy home. It was hard work, but being able to go back to my room each night with some amazing friends and read more of my brave best friend’s journey helped me lead this trip better than I could’ve on my own.

I came back from the third world to an unbelievably frantic world. We were less than two weeks away from our relocation as a church. Our normal workload, combined with all the details of moving, on top of not even being sure the building would be ready was an exhausting combination. Oh, and Easter Sunday was the very next week…no big. ::sarcasm should be noted:: It was the blind leading the blind and hoping no one would see how truly tired, drained, and ready for some sense of normalcy we all were. Sometimes, I think I’m still trying to catch up on that lack of sleep. Another boy showed up in the midst of the chaos and what a great distraction! It’s so freeing to have someone you don’t have to pretend around, someone you just enjoy.

In April, I went back to Disney World for the first time in almost 10 years. It was twice as magical as I remembered.
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I really am glad that I got to go to the happiest place on earth for a little while. I had no idea that my world was going to be flipped on it’s head upon my return.

My time at Cross Point came to an end. It wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences I’ve had in my life and that hurt is something I’m still processing through. But everything in life is seasonal and if we quit anytime our feelings were hurt or our character misjudged, we wouldn’t be where we are today, right? So, we keep moving forward.

So what’s new?

I moved into a stunning little house in East Nashville, thanks to my good friends the Joneses. Every day, I go home and just feel at peace. This house truly is my sanctuary.

I made the tough decision to close out the chapter I’d been in with the new boy. It’s never an easy choice when you’ve invested so much in one person. But I’m holding onto truth – which told me it wasn’t going anywhere and I really didn’t want it to. Scary what taking a step back and looking at a situation with your eyes open will actually reveal.

Last week, I began a new job at a Children’s Home here in Nashville. I’m excited at what we’ll be able to accomplish for this state and for the kids we care for. Being able to be in a role where I can truly see the reward of my investment, where I get to live out Mark 9:37, is such a delight. And then finding out that my dad is on the board of a similar organization back home and we can walk through this together? So great.

Newness. All around. So thankful.

I know what you’re thinking. It’s been a minute.

In all fairness, I never said I’d be any good at this – and you can see that in the 30 day challenge that took me almost half a year to complete. But I will also say that I’ve wanted to put this out there for so long and have never had the courage to do so. Until now.

I just got off the phone with my amazing best friend. It was one of our semi-annual phone catch up dates (because I’m a horrible friend and am terrible at picking up the phone to call anyone…but at least I’m aware of it, right?). I always feel like she finds me right in the middle of my i’m-completely-overwhelmed-and-everything-is-458723984502978-times-more-dramatic-because-of-it moments, which I’m super sorry for but I also know she’d tell me to stop apologizing about it. I shared with her, as I always do, the truth of where I’m at. The truth is 2011 was a difficult year for me. I feel like I learned more, did more, saw more than I ever dreamed imaginable, but I did every bit of it fighting, kicking, and screaming. I’m finally feeling like I’m settling in and growing at my job – finding rest in the confidence and calling God has on me there – but now my personal life is falling apart. Almost like as soon as the sky stopped falling and all seemed right that now the bottom is falling out and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

After all of this…and quite a bit of my being emotional – which she is a saint to be able to dissect what I’m saying through the tears – Rachel responds by telling me a quote from Jon Acuff. That’s always what you want to hear. Christian satire when you’re feeling most vulnerable. Great. I half expected him to show up in my room with some sort of Jesus juke about how my life really isn’t all that bad, to which I’d agree…and would probably also laugh at. But instead of a joke, she shared something that hit me like a brick.

     We expect that God will only teach us lessons through our sufferings.

Whoa.

In that, I’m reminded of how extremely painful, yet beautiful sharing the journey of brokenness can be. I’m not good at vulnerability. In the moments when I feel weak, I run. I find a place where I can have my moment in complete solitude, then come back out ready for the next because, as always, the show must go on. In the times that I want to learn and grow and cultivate new friendships, I convince myself that I have enough friends and don’t need to invest with any others – knowing good and well that my bests are in Colorado, Texas, Florida and one has decided to walk away, which opens up wounds I can’t even begin to explain. And heaven forbid I’m shown any interest from a boy, I inevitably search for something wrong in him that I can then use to separate myself from him because I know if he got any closer, he’d see how unbelievably imperfect I am and would beat me to the punch of walking away.

I feel like I’ve been standing on the edge for the past few months. Looking across to what’s ahead – my goals, my dreams, my future – just knowing that there’s no way to get there. The longer I stand here, the bigger the chasm becomes until it’s just me in a constant state of being simply stuck. All of these are situations of being stuck I completely do to myself. Do I believe that God can use our suffering to teach us lessons? Yes. Do I think that’s the only place he does this? Absolutely not. I see his love for me with every sunset. I hear him speak words of life over me through the closest of friends, and even perfect strangers. I feel his hand of guidance during any time spent with my boss, co-workers and mentors. I make the lessons difficult. Not him.

2012 is going to be a year of refinement. A time to really see all the imperfections in my heart and life and a time to get rid of them. I know that it’s impossible to do alone, but this is still a work in progress.

So there it is. My honest confession that I’m not okay. I’m not fine. I am, indeed, broken.

…but Your love never fails…

My friendwhomihaveknownforwaytoolongtonotcallhersister Becky came over early (okay, it was like 11) today. We painted our nails, talked about boys, hopped in a car and drove down the highway listening to country music. We ate at a Texas original restaurant and shopped til we couldn’t anymore. Then we got back in the car, talked about boys a little more, made onnnnnnnne little stop at Nordstrom, and then the sun set.

After a mildly frustrating arrival at home, I decided to go to Target. A song came on a mix cd I found that I hadn’t heard since high school during the drive. It reminded me of a much simpler time and a person who I feel like I sometimes lose sight of. It made me miss getting in trouble with Mackenzie. It brought back the very distinct sound of laughter that follows hours of scarf jump-roping. In that moment, I became hyper aware of who I am today. The problem – in my opinion – with my society is that we can be anyone we want on social media. We can support a cause without giving them a single penny or second of our time, we can criticize government and injustice without getting out of bed, and we can boost our own ego sitting alone in a coffee shop. I’m guilty of it, too. And honestly, this wasn’t the point I wanted to make. What I’m really trying to say – or ask, rather – is who the hell are you, anyway?

The one thing I can always remember my dad telling me growing up was to never act like I’m better than where I came from. Any of my friends here in Nashville will tell you that I LOVE my hometown. And love it, I do. But more than a city, I loved who I was there. I was bare feet running through my neighborhood. I was jeans and a tshirt for as far back as I can remember. I was the sound of loud (go figure) laughter with a friend into the wee hours of the morning. I was the middle child of a middle class family whose love was never not shown.

I believe that, in leaving home, you have to branch out of your original story. You add chapters and new characters come into the picture. But, I never want to forget the worst trouble I ever got into throwing a party with Mackenzie. I can’t imagine not sitting in Anessa’s bedroom telling her bedtime stories. I don’t know who I’d be without Sarah, or Marci, or Mallory. I never want there to be a time when my heart doesn’t explode with joy at the sound of my dad’s laugh or hearing my mom sing. And for that reason, I am so glad that I get to have a little piece of home here in Becky. Having someone who knows not only who I am, but who I’ve been and who I always will be, is the most comforting thing. I love her here for those times when a single look says a million words that only someone you’ve known since you were seven could understand.

Little sister, I am grateful for you more than you know. I am so proud to see you fully come into your own. I love getting to share this adventure with you. And I had the best day with you today.

Last night was one of the most refreshing nights I’ve had in quite a while.

Tuesday started off with a bang, having set my alarm an hour earlier than normal so I could be awake to begin my morning on the phone with the post office about a missing package. After an hour of back and forth and an extremely awkward exchange with a very sassy postal woman, I leave for the office. The morning was chaotic, but Tuesday’s are our meeting days and usually are. My stress levels were off the charts – mainly due to the missing package – but I tend to do things better when I’m stressed since it helps me focus on something other than the problem at hand. Then my favorite part of Tuesday arrived – staff lunch.

Our senior pastor, Pete, is sharing, teaching and encouraging us right now about the different ways we can lead: upward, outward, inward and horizontal. Something he said really struck a chord with me and the thoughts I’ve been having lately. Pete reminded us that we have to invest in relational chemistry; that we have to invest in people if we want them to invest in us. I suck at this. No really. I’m awful. But last night reminded me just how important relational chemistry is.

I’ve been really struggling with my heart for a certain friend of mine. I don’t feel like she’s in a good place and I know that the things she’s saying aren’t lining up with the things she’s doing and it makes me want to run. I am very protective of the team I’m surrounded by and when I feel like someone poses a threat, I’ll be the first to stand up on the front lines to defend the people I love.

Yesterday, I spent my evening with a very lively young girl who has starting leading worship with our team recently. The minute she showed up she exclaimed “let’s go on a walk!” and so we did. Walking through my super cute neighborhood and hearing her heart and passion for people, our church and her faith just set me on fire. We came back to the house and shared our stories and talked about the difference in singing a worship song, leading worship and ushering people in to the throne room…the wisdom and heart she had just floored me. It was so refreshing. We went for another walk and talked more about our dreams and hopes and also about barbecue…but that’s another story. When it came time to leave, I realized what had just happened. I was able to sit there and hear her and then turn around to edify and encourage her the way my mentor always does with me.

The truth is – in the end – people are worth the investment. Even when the investment comes back null and void. Everything in life is seasonal, friendships included. But not investing in the people around us hurts more in the long run. I’m still trying to find this balance…and it’s not easy, but when I think about people who have invested in my life, it seems just wrong to not pay it forward.

(and just so you know, the package did show up and I was able to give it to the person it was for. i love giving gifts. especially really awesome gifts.)

I woke up in a weird mood today. I’ve been feeling very burdened lately; everything just seems heavy. It’s causing me to see things in a light that I normally wouldn’t and also allowing me to be really honest with myself.

This past weekend I allowed a dear friend to see a very ugly side of my heart. I knew that if anyone could understand the whereabouts of my heart as of late, it would be her. It shouldn’t have surprised me in the least when she knew what I wanted to talk about…even called me out on it. Guess I’m not as mysterious as I’d like to think.

Matters of the heart are tricky. Everything turns into this big gray mess of blurry lines and sometimes it’s hard to figure out how you got to where you are. All I know is that the things I always thought would come easy are the most difficult things to deal with. It’s seems so easy to be just who I am and to allow people in to my story. But when people start reading a little deeper in to the chapters, I just want to snatch the book out of their hands and throw it back under the bed. I keep hearing people say that everybody wants to be known, but honestly, the feeling of being truly known just makes me want to vomit.

I could tangibly see the fear in my dear friend’s eyes as I invited her to see the brokenness I’ve created for myself. And just when I was getting ready to close the book, she allowed me to read a new chapter in her story, too. I realized then that her fear was that I was going through the very things she saw herself go through at my age. There wasn’t an ounce of judgement in her face or the tone in which she spoke to me; sincerity was all that flowed from her heart. And just like that, I decided to leave the book in her hands.

I believe that God puts us with people at just the right moment. My heart really is going on a path all its own and I really don’t like it. But I’m so thankful that I have an amazing friend who will walk beside me even when the chapters get messy.

I’m noticing a trend in my life lately. I think it’s safe to say that I’m smack dab in the middle of a personal rebrand. Call it selfishness, call it wisdom. Call it whatever you like…I just know there’s something different going on.

At 25, I’ve ventured off in a direction I never could have imagined when I first moved to Nashville. If I were doing what I had initially set out to do, I would be living in East Nashville, working at a management firm (preferably Red Light), have about 3 artists and be traveling all over the world. God is pretty funny about things like this, though. Now, I’m working at a great church, living in a house with 5 girls, and nowhere near involved in the music industry. I wouldn’t say so much that I gave up on my dreams, but that my dreams changed.

I have the most amazing friends who are absolute rock stars. I love hearing their stories from the road. But I wouldn’t trade my life for theirs any day. I’m not a gypsy, I’m a homebody. I love knowing that at the end of the day, I know exactly where I’m gonna lay my head. I love that I know almost down to a ‘t’ what my schedule is going to be like on any given day. I mean, I LOVE having a set schedule. I’m all about spontaneity, don’t get me wrong. I love jumping in the car and driving to wherever I might feel like going at that exact minute. I’m just learning to appreciate the art of planning trips and rendezvous’.

I’ve always been a spoiler. I’ve been known to give until I can’t give anymore…and a lot of times, I’m still that way, but I’m starting to see me use my time and funds on…wait for it, this one’s big…me. It’s a really crazy concept. But I think that is part of the balance. I like being able to go out and buy things that are a little bit selfish; sunglasses, kicks (which seriously is becoming my go-to), clothes. I’m also starting to notice that when invited to things, I know what my answer is going to be when I know how many people are going to be there. My rock star best friend once told me that everyone has a quarter sized circle of friends that can fit about 5-10 (at the very most) names in it. Those are the people who you’re truly walking through life with…really investing with. Then you have a half-dollar sized circle where there’s another 20-25 names – friends you can hang with and be just fine knowing them on a slightly deeper than surface level. Then, there’s everybody else. As a people-pleaser, it is so very necessary for me to not just know, but practice this balance. I’m blessed with friends that continue to invite and invest with me who know that there are plenty of times where I say ‘no’ to things.

I’m nowhere near done with change. Like I said, I’m smack dab in the middle of this rebrand. The question is, will I be able to find the balance between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming?

I’m really not an emotional person. I’ve been through a lot in my life and have realized my capacity to handle heavy stuff is pretty great. However, when it comes to things that aren’t necessarily in my control – particularly relating to any kind of work (which I’ve talked about this struggle before) – I tend to be hypersensitive.

I work with a lot of really talented, really creative people. So having a job that is more administrative, I always feel a little out of the loop and like I can’t quite cut it. To make up for it, I overwork. I don’t do it because I want anyone to notice. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t do things to be the center of attention. I do this because I want to prove to myself that I can hustle just as hard as anyone else and that my time and efforts do make a difference to our team. I want to feel more like I belong with our team. (sidenote: no one, and I mean NO ONE, has ever not made me feel a part of the team…I’m simply stating the administrative vs. creative battle in my own head.)

I think the enemy’s best trick with me is causing me to doubt my worth and ability. No, I may never be able to write a song. True, we will probably never use any graphic I design for a logo or series. But what I’m learning is that just because I don’t hustle in that way doesn’t make what I do any less of a baller job.

Someone has to have a vision for the lobby. Someone has to make sure that people are at the right place, at the right time. Someone has to be on the front lines to make sure the rest of the teams have the tools they need to get their hustle on. So no, I may not be a creative…but when you’re trying squeeze in extra appointments to an already busy schedule, you get creative. I may not be the ultimate hustler…but when you have a last-minute change to a plan and you only have 10 minutes to add in an extra element, you turn your hustle on stun. I’m definitely not the flyest person I know…but when you’re in charge of a team that welcomes in thousands of guests and want to do it in a way that keeps them coming back, you must have the right amount of swag.

I fully believe the God blessed me with this job because it’s well within my giftedness. There’s a lot that I learn on a daily basis and there’s a lot of room for growth, but at the same time, I know my idols are Success and Work. I have to be extra careful to not let my personal gifts – hospitality, planning, organizing – get lost in my job title. Who I am is so woven in to what I do, which is what makes the battle so hard and causes me to not ever be able to ‘shut it off.’

I have a great buddy who tells me on at least weekly – but usually more often – basis that I am loved for who I am and not what I do. At first, especially read in conjunction with the whole ‘who I am is so woven in to what I do’ bit, I found that to be a little insulting. But the more he says it, the more I really try to believe it, specifically in the moments where I start to feel like I’m not enough.

I love going home. It’s so great to be around my friends and family and to have no pretenses. It’s not like I could pretend anyway…these people have known me my whole life. But good GRIEF is it exhausting. There’s a constant battle that anyone who lives far away from ‘home’ must endure: friends + family / time = vacation. There never seems to be enough time to spend with the people I want to spend time with. It’s also rare to just go home…usually, there’s an agenda involved and that totally kills any and all practicality in planning visits. Case in point: my parents decided to have a little birthday party for me while I was home. My dad grilled, which is my favorite. They got red velvet cake, also my favorite. My family was over…it was a sweet time….for the hour and a half that I was there. 1 burger, no cake, 2 presents, 30 minutes in the pool later, I was out the door and on to my next gig. It just doesn’t seem fair.

Don’t get me wrong. I was there for a purpose. My sweet sister Marci got married. I was so honored that she asked me to be a part of it. It’s amazing to see how God brings people together…Marci and Travis are no exception. To be a part of their day, and to be called to hold them accountable in their marriage is one of my greatest honors. I don’t feel like I got to participate in that process as much as I wanted either. Taking time off from work is difficult when your job circles around one specific day. I love it and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but I get stressed when I’m away from it for more than two days. I missed out on bridal shower and bachelorette party, which was a bummer – and also not like me. I’m an all-in kind of girl, so just doing things in halfsies sort of way really makes my skin crawl. I came back from this weekend saying ‘I need a vacation from my vacation’…and I hate that.

Here’s the thing. We live in a day and age where we over-commit ourselves on an almost daily basis. I’m probably the most guilty of this of anyone I know. But there has to be a better way to find balance.

How do you do all things you need to do or have to do and still find time for just you and what you want to do?

You can ask anyone that knows me well enough, and they’ll tell you that I’m the worst at keeping in touch. So it should come as no surprise that I’ve been silent for a few months. Lots to say, just not the best forum for a late night post. I can be pretty dramatic when it comes to words on a page.

When I started this blog, I wanted it to be a place where I could dialogue about my life and journey here in Tennessee. Something that would be accessible to my family, since I never pick up the phone…see also: worst at keeping in touch. I still don’t think I’ll ever keep it going every day, but here goes…

I’ve been serving on staff at Cross Point for 8 months now (which doesn’t seem possible) and love it just as much as I did on day 1. At times, I feel completely inadequate and unworthy, but those are the times when the amazing staff I serve with remind me that God doesn’t call the equipped. I can’t remember what my life was like before this amazing family came into my life, and I know that I couldn’t do this life without them. So many new friends have been brought into my life and I’m so thankful for them.

I’m going back to Texas this weekend for a wedding for my dear friend, Marci. I’m honored to be a part of her and Travis’ day. Going home is painfully exhausting, though, and I always wish there were about 7 of me to divide up between my family and friends. I’ve yet to travel home and make everyone happy. If you have any secrets, I’d love to know ’em.

I’m so excited and will be 100% selfish of the time I’ll be spending with my family. If you didn’t know, my parents are pretty fantastic. I can’t wait to see our new house…er, their new house…I think we’ve reached that point where my parents have grown up and are finally living their lives. And they are SO much cooler than I am. Seriously though, my parents go to more concerts than I do and I live in Music City! I love them!

At what point do our parents start living life better than we do?

little birdy told me…

Recurring Thoughts

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