Running For Our Lives

I was walking through the wilderness. I tripped a couple of times and got hurt, no biggie. Then, I heard a noise that scared me so I started to jog. I stubbed my toes on the branches and scraped my arms on the trees as I went by. The noise was getting louder so I started to run. As I ran, I started to get tired and each of the little scrapes I had were getting sore. I started to run as fast as I could and lost track of where I was going. All I knew was I was going fast and I was going far. I had to get away from this thing. As my body was starting to give up on me, I came to a body of water. “Great,” I thought, “I know how to swim and I can hide here!” I dove into the water like I had so many times before. This time it was different, because I was exhausted and fighting for my life. In a panic, I forgot all of the swimming techniques I had learned in years past and just started throwing my arms and legs around in a desperate attempt to catch my breath.

As a child, I was trying to find my way through a world I knew nothing about. In the midst of this, I tripped and fell as most children do. We burn our finger, we scrape our knees, we get in trouble for lying. But then the small scrapes started to turn into gashes as life as I knew it – fell apart. Feelings of isolation and fear of the unknown were cutting me. Things like yelling, fighting and divorce left me bleeding. The loud sound of “what are you going to do?” kept getting louder and louder, so I ran faster. I ran as fast as I could to the first thing that made me feel safe. Alcohol. Despite the numbing, the sound kept ringing in my ears, “You don’t know where you’re going.”

My first relationship appeared as a big body of water. I thought, “Great! I know how to do this, and I can hide.” I dove in. Turns out, I was so exhausted and mentally drained that I started flinging my arms and legs around, just trying to stay afloat. I forgot everything I had learned in the past, such as: put others first, stay faithful, set boundaries. I was moving left and right, up and down, but all it was doing was making me drown even faster. In between betrayal, black outs, abuse, and silent cries for help…..I could barely catch my breath.

There is a survival float in swimming called the “Dead Man’s Float” or the “Jellyfish.” The first time I was introduced to this float, was in middle school swim class. It is meant to be used when someone is trapped in a large body of water or has run out of energy to get to shore. In the midst of struggle and panic, the person is asked to float facing down and dangle their limbs. Slowly turning their face sideways, they draw a breath and hold it underwater until they need another breath. The idea is to remain calm, relax, and conserve energy (and oxygen) until someone comes to the aid of the swimmer or until they have renewed energy and can swim to shore.


While mastering this skill in swim class, I remember the instructor telling us that the more we fought it, the harder it would be. It was important to fully relax and just float. If we tried to come upright again, we would have to move in order to stay afloat. It was when we were horizontal that we were able to float without effort. It’s hard to do much but relax when we are horizontal, right? This exercise not only relaxes your body, but your mind as well.


I came to the point where I was forced to choose….continue fighting and sink to the bottom or relax into God and find life again. I married a wonderful man who accepted me exactly how I was but this is not what saved me. In fact, we continued to struggle with jobs, finances and connection. We were drowning.

It wasn’t until we came together, made a decision to change and trusted God – that things started to look up. We said, “Ok, God. I’ll rest in you. Even in the middle of the deep waters, exhausted and fighting for our lives – we will rest in you.” We moved across the country, far away from everything we ever knew and trusted that God had a plan.

Now we are resting. We are catching our breath. Two years later, we are building our energy stores back up. We are building our strength in order to swim ashore and live the life God has designed for us. Through connection, church family, godly friendships, transparency and surrender…..we are resting and restoring our strength. It goes against our instincts to fight, to blame, to hide, to numb. In order to rest, fully rest, we have to do something we’ve rarely done. Stop, and do the hard things like admit things, ask forgiveness, give forgiveness, listen, learn, be open, be raw and transparent and face all of the terrifying things that have haunted us.

How many of us are running? Overworking, numbing out on social media and netflix, hiding behind our busy schedules and fake smiles? We run and run until we find ourselves in deep water. Maybe something hits us like the shock of cold water or maybe we suddenly feel the overwhelming pressure of water pushing down on us. No matter what brought us to this place of drowning, all we know is we have to do something.

I believe our first reaction may be to panic. We just want to catch our breath and stay above water. As you probably know, when we panic we actually continue to sink more. It’s when we find our calm and move slowly that we are able to see things more clearly. If we can bring ourselves to float and just let the weight dangle, we can focus our mind on what’s important. If we can slowly draw in a deep breath and just relax, our body and mind can start to restore energy levels. If we make time for hobbies, quiet time, screen free time, fellowship, boredom, and most of all – time with the Lord…..we will hear things we have never heard and see things we have never seen. We may still be in the water, but it is no longer drowning us.

When life throws finances, marriage, children, work, school, friends, tragedy, loss, and heartbreak at us……we kind of tend to panic. We are just trying to survive; throwing our limbs about trying to stay afloat. The whole time, we are just using up our valuable energy and sinking even further. Maybe God throws us in the water to slow us down.

After all, the transformation of the butterfly happens in the cocoon.



The Other Woman: An Unlikely Hero

Yes, I’m talking about the other woman. My ex boyfriend’s (and the father of our daughter) girlfriend at the time. I can say from the bottom of my broken heart, without an ounce of sarcasm, that she is my hero. 

In order to help you understand why I consider her my hero, I will have to take you back to the end of July just three years ago. Summer vacation was coming to an end and our daughter (3 1/2 at the time), was finishing up her visit at their house. She was finishing it faster than any of us ever expected.

8 am, 9 missed calls from the police, and I was a complete and utter wreck. I had no idea where my daughter was, where her father was or if she was ok. The voicemail from the police assured me that she was in no physical harm and would be in the care of his girlfriend until I could get ahold of them. That did not mean she was ok to me. My 3 year old baby girl had been through more trauma in the last 12 hours than I can say I’ve been through in my 28 years.

After a disagreement with his girlfriend, there was a domestic dispute, a lot of alcohol consumption, and an attempted suicide. There were a string of text messages back and forth where he threatened his gf and told her he would kill himself. She was terrified to return after the domestic dispute but her gut told her to go back. As she pulled up, there he was. She ran inside to grab scissors, a knife…..anything! To cut him down. I can’t imagine the panic and terror that overwhelmed her mind at this point. 

She was successful and the rest of the details aren’t important. The important part is that she saved my daughter’s father’s life. Against any other feelings she may have been having at that time, she decided that saving a life was priority. What she doesn’t know is that she saved more than one life that night. She saved his, our daughter’s and mine. 

My daughter still has her father today because of her. I will NEVER be able to repay her for her bravery that night. Nor will I be able to thank her for being my hero. She took on the role of mother that night (and many others) when I was unable to be there. In the moments where I sat helpless at home, wondering if our daughter was ok….she was there. I’m sure that wasn’t in the girlfriend agreement. Sure, I could have held onto jealousy, resentment, anger or any of the other emotions that come with break ups. But I am here today to tell you that I LOVE that woman and I will NEVER forget the role she played in our lives. I will one day talk to our daughter about a hero of mine and how I work everyday to be even a sliver as brave as she is. There are some things in life that just totally grab your heart by surprise and take it for a ride unlike any other. This is one of those for me. My heart explodes with thankfulness each time I replay that night in my head. 

The other woman turned out to be an unlikely hero. ❤️

I Would Never Starve My Child

Unfortunately, we are seeing more and more in the media about moms who have left their children in a freezing car/heat of the summer or children who have been neglected due to their parents being on drugs. In school we learned of children who were locked in attics and shut off from the world, never learning how to talk. As a mother, myself, I have to really give myself a pep talk before even reading these stories. They are mortifying! We post about them on social media and leave our comments on how we think they should be punished. We cry and think to ourselves how we would NEVER -ever- starve our child or intentionally put them in harm’s way. Or would we?

In light of the recent teen suicides occurring in our Colorado hometown, I was inspired to write on the matter. We have two different scenarios here. Stories of physical needs not being met and stories of emotional needs not being met. Both equally devastating.

I’m not here to put blame on anyone or show my anger towards anyone. I’m here because my heart hurts. I not only feel compassion towards the children, but towards those directly involved including mothers, grandparents, aunt and uncles, cousins, friends, their librarian…..whoever else cares for that child.

Hang in here for a minute….. There is an irony here. We say we would throw mothers in jail for not feeding their children or leaving them in the cold, without even realizing we may be doing the same thing. Starving them of attention and leaving them in the cold world without guidance. Making them grow up too early. Chaining them to their school desks and medicating them if they act like children.

What are we doing on the daily to make sure our children KNOW they have a safe haven at home, that they won’t be judged for sharing their yucky feelings, that we are all human and fail from time to time, that we serve a loving Father that will never ever leave us alone in the cold? How are we guiding them to make the best choices even when they are hard? Are we putting our phones away to look them in the eye? Are we praising them for doing hard things in life? Are we spending one on one time with them to learn about what makes them tick? Are we listening to their stories? Do we know who their friends are? Do we know the trials they face at school? Have we sat on their bed at night and asked them hard questions? Have we given them boundaries that may not necessarily be popular? Do we sit down and go over the current trends and decide if they are healthy for our children? Have we given them privacy? Have we allowed them to be children? Do we celebrate their life?

The suicide, the promiscuity, the addictions, the bullying, the eating disorders…..these are not problems, these are symptoms. A cry out for help. When adults get to the end of their rope, they can have an alcoholic beverage, go on vacation, go to counseling, drive off and return a couple of hours later. What kind of outlet have we given our children? What are we teaching our children by our own actions?

Are we starving our children?

I will be 100% transparent with you here and tell you I struggle with at least one if not all of the above things. My oldest daughter has a different father than my two younger children. I would be bold face lying if I said they are treated equally. They aren’t. I hope one day they are. I suffer on a daily basis to show my daughter the affection that I so naturally give to the other two.

*Wow, you must be thinking I am a terrible mother.*

We really need to think about the root of the problem with these children and their relationships. I have spent her entire life wondering where I went wrong and why our relationship seems to be so hard. It’s still a work in progress but I know looking back that I did not have the bonding time with her that I had with the other two. I went through my entire pregnancy and the first 9 months of her life battling against adultery and other battles with her father. At 9 months custody was put into the court’s hands. I saw my 9 month old baby for a week at a time, alternating weeks with her father. At the time, I was in survival mode and did the best I could with what I had. I felt like I did a very good job as a single mother. When she was 3 years old, we got a different judge. A female judge. She could not believe the custody agreement we had and told us, “A baby should never be separated from her mother for that length of time, ever.” I ugly face cried right there in the court room. The thought of handing my baby over every other week just broke my heart into a million pieces, and because of that I built a wall. A wall of protection. I would not allow myself to be hurt anymore and now…..6 years later, that wall is still up. I built it so strong, now not even I can break it down. I wake up everyday thinking constantly about how I can rebuild our relationship and with each interaction her and I have in a day, I try so hard to make her feel wanted and loved and safe. It’s hard. I know how important these connections are and the effect they can have on children as they grow into teenagers and young adults. I KNOW.

And I know that the mothers of these suicide victims fight a hard fight for their children. Some of these mothers have hurts of their own and don’t realize what an impact those hurts are making on their children. It doesn’t always stem from their homes, though. Society is putting up a pretty damn good fight trying to steal the self esteem of our children. From malnourished super models, to cartoons about ego and building an empire to now movies called, “Suicide Squad.” These children need warriors to stand as their line of defense on the daily and because we can’t be everywhere all the time we have to trust that people around them have their best interest in mind. What can we do to ensure that our children and their generation grow up with good intentions and self esteem? How can we help the children we come across daily? We have the power to build them up in just a few words. We can make a difference! Tel them they look beautiful. Thank them for holding the door. Thank them for playing so nicely with our children. Tell them they are doing a great job. Tell them they made you proud for what they did. Encourage them to make the right decision. Find time to invest in their hobbies. Go out of your way.

Let us make a conscious decision to feed our children. May no child be starved.