Hello! Hellooo! Anyone still here?!

Please forgive my lengthy blog absence. Re-writing half of
my book turned into a very lengthy process and there just haven’t been enough hours in the day. But the revisions were accepted and
the book is headed out to a copy editor in the next week or so. For the
foreseeable future, I’m hoping to write one blog post a week (I just typed
“month” – think my subconscious is trying to tell me something??) J
FYI – The blog will be going through an overhaul in preparation
for my book release, but that probably won’t happen until after the first of
the year.
So, enough with the news.
Here’s what’s on my heart…
This weekend, we took a huge step in our family.
We packed away the nursery.
(sob)

We replaced Drew’s furniture with a big boy bed (really –
queen sized – he looks so small in it) and a new dresser and some new shelves.
For those of you who don’t know, Drew is 3½. Yes, that’s a
little old to be sleeping in a crib, but as there was no one displacing him,
and as he wasn’t climbing out of it, there wasn’t a big rush. Little man liked his
cozy space, telling me he didn’t want to sleep in a bed because he might fall
out.
We’ve been talking up the arrival of the big boy bed for a
few weeks now and he’s been excited about it.
Except…
My baby boy had one other thing that had to go, along with
the crib.

The paci.

I was so NOT going to be that mom. The one with a 3-year-old
who still took a paci. Oh no. Not me. But, somewhere along the
way, I turned into that mom. Mainly because I have been dreading the nights of
crying and wailing that I anticipated would accompany the loss of the paci.
But really, at 3½, it had to go. So we psyched ourselves and
everyone else up for it.
“Drew, when you get your big boy bed, no more paci.” We’d been telling him this for weeks.
He didn’t love the idea, but he accepted it.
Until 1:30 a.m. the first night. His crying woke us and I
went upstairs, prepared for what was coming.
“I want my paci.”
That’s all he said. Over and over and over.
If he’d been mad or screaming, it might not have hurt so
much, but he wasn’t.
He was heartbroken.
This wasn’t a cry of anger or frustration. This was a cry of
loss.
It almost killed me.
There wasn’t anything I could say to fix it, and I didn’t
try. I just rocked him and told him I loved him and told him I understood that
he was sad. I didn’t try to make him stop crying or fuss at him for waking me
up. I just held him as his tears soaked my pajamas.
I didn’t give him the paci. I just gave him myself. My love.
My support. And eventually, his sobbing eased and he fell asleep.
It was impossible as I sat there holding him, my own tears
welling up because of his grief, not to sense the nudge of the Spirit. The one
that reminds me that God loves me as a perfect Father and is not immune to my
pain.
Over the past couple of years, there’ve been a couple of really
hard things happen in my life. The kind of things that leave you curled up in a
ball rocking back and forth as you sob and beg God to just FIX IT.
These aren’t the things that find their way to the blog. Not
the specifics anyway. Because even though some people praise me for my
transparency here, the truth is that there are some hurts that are too deep to
share.
But as I rocked Drew, I could picture God—The Everlasting
Arms—holding me as I cried. Brushing my hair back from my cheeks, whispering
how much He loves me.
Not giving me what I want. Giving me Himself.
His love.
His support.
His peace.
Jesus experienced life fully man. He knows betrayal, loss,
hunger, thirst, pain, exhaustion, homelessness, and family drama. He was
misunderstood, misrepresented, and misjudged. He knows what you’re feeling. He’s
felt that way, too.
I don’t know what you’re facing right now. What hard road
you are traveling. What deep hurt you’re living with. I can’t promise you He’ll
give you what you want.
I can promise you that what He gives will be exactly what
you need to keep going. 

Run to Him.
Grace and peace,
Lynn
P.S. Drew has been doing great. He’s slept through the night
the past two nights. I thought we might have had the smoothest paci transition
in the history of toddlerhood. Until I caught him sucking his thumb…

Hi there! I’m taking a quick break from my revisions to share some exciting news.

My book has a title and an official release date!
Covert Justice 
available
June 2015

When undercover FBI Agent Heidi Zimmerman enlists 
Blake Harrison’s help to bring a ruthless crime family to justice, 
she’s prepared to lose her life, 
not her heart. 



God is revealing Himself to me in so many ways. He is so faithful and so awesome and I’m excited to share this amazing journey with you. 
But it’s going to have to wait a few weeks…
My revisions are due September 30th. I’ll be back when they are done! 
Grace and peace,
Lynn

The rising 3rd-5th grade kids in our
church left for camp today. Look Up Lodge is a rite of passage and my Facebook feed is full of pictures of happy
campers. I’m excited for all of them. I truly am.
But a little part of me is crying.
The little part that every now and then rebels against the
reality that is my life. Because I didn’t take my rising 5th grader
to Look Up Lodge this morning.
I spent the morning researching GPS tracking devices for
her.

I don’t often write about Emma or about being a “special
needs” parent. Mainly because most of the time, I don’t think of myself that
way.
I don’t dwell on the allergy-free meals, the medications,
the pullups, the therapies, the doctor visits, the IEP meetings, the underlying
but ever-present frustration of having a child who cannot tell you about her
day, or the uncertainty of her future.
Just reading that list is depressing. If I thought about it
all the time, I’d need to be sedated.
Instead, I think about the way she yells, “Mommy!” every
single time she sees me. The way she is fearless in her style. The way she
insists on an upside down piggy back ride up the stairs before she goes to bed.
The way she refuses to leave the house without a bow in her hair. 
The way she
swings with abandon and spins with joy. The way she’s obsessed with
toothbrushes and Goldilocks and sign language. The way she has wrapped pretty
much everyone who has ever come into contact with her around her little finger.
But last week, when she wandered from our yard and
disappeared for over an hour…when I had to explain to the police that they
could call for her but she might not answer…when I ran up and down the streets
and barged through my neighbors’ back yards…when I watched the officer put her
pillowcase in a plastic bag so the bloodhound could get her scent…
In that hour, I felt every second of the last 11½ years of
special needs parenting.
And all I wanted was the privilege of doing it for the rest
of my life.
There are many more rites of passage to come. Some will
sting. Some will throb. Some will leave me sobbing in the shower.
But then she will come down the stairs in her footed pajamas
and she’ll yell, “Mommy!”
And it will be okay.
*Emma was safe and sound the entire time. She’d wandered
into our neighbors’ home and was playing in their playroom. They were not at
home, but found her when they returned to a cul-de-sac full of police cars.
We cannot ever fully express our gratitude to the family,
friends, neighbors, lawn care workers, mail carriers, and police officers who
joined in the search. We are so blessed.

In my last post, I mentioned that the jury was still out on my 2nd novel. Well, it isn’t any more!
To bring you all up to speed…
Earlier this year I entered a contest. The Search for the Next Killer
Voice was a four stage contest held by the editors of Love Inspired Suspense.
Stage 1 – Submit your first
page. No problem. I already had it written.
Stage 2 – Submit a synopsis.
Not much of a problem. I had a synopsis written, I just needed to tweak it,
re-write it, start over and try again. (A huge shout-out to Mary Denman for
talking me through it at midnight!)
Stage 3 – Submit the first 3
chapters. Bit of a problem. Wasn’t exactly expecting to make it this far and
had to rewrite most of what I already had to make it work for this publisher.
(Never-ending gratitude to Lynette Eason for reading it and giving me hope that
it might work!)
Stage 4 – Submit the full
manuscript by June 9. Big problem. Way back in March when I sent in my first
page, I never imagined I’d still be in it at this point. The pressure was
intense. I may have sent out one, two, multiple SOS prayer requests to my writing
and non-writing friends as I wrote during every spare minute and most of the
rest of the minutes of my days and nights. There is no human explanation for
how I was able to finish the book on time. Truly, it was a case of God
expanding my time and energy.
On the evening of June 8, I hit “send” and put it out of my mind for a
few weeks. I celebrated my 40th birthday, went on vacation, and tried
not to think about the fact that somewhere in New York, an editor could at any
moment make THE decision about my book.
Which leads me to the stage no one warned me about.
Stage 5 – Lose your ever-lovin’
mind while you wait to hear if they want to buy your book.
I was doing fine until they started offering contracts. Then they
offered three in one week, then another, and another, and then…NOTHING. 
I did not cope well. I am embarrassed to admit that I was checking my
email obsessively and jumping every time the phone rang.
Because if they want to buy your
book, they call.
On July 23rd, when I checked my email for the 100th
time that day, there it was.
Except it wasn’t what I’d been prepared for at all. This was neither a
rejection or a list of revisions. My editor asked if I would be willing to make
a significant change to my plot. She needed my response before she could
proceed.
I assumed this meant that if I was willing to make this change, she’d
send me a revision letter, and I’d spend the next several months working on the
novel, resubmitting, and hoping for the best.
I emailed her back and told her I’d be willing to make that change.
She emailed me and asked if this would be a good time to call.
The tweet from my editor after she called.
I may have screamed a little.
Because if they want to buy your
book, they call.
I’d tell you about the call if I could remember the details. I was
barely coherent. She even had to ask me if I was saying Yes to her offer. Which
of course I was!
It’s been a week and I’m still trying to get my mind around it. I have
a feeling there will be a part of me that doesn’t believe it until the day I
hold the book in my hands. 
The announcement of the sale!
I will be continuing to blog as time allows, but the revisions required
are extensive and they are due by the end of September, so most of my writing
time will be diverted in that direction.
God has taught me so much through this process and I have no doubt He
will continue to do so and I’m looking forward to sharing this experience with
you.
I’d be so thankful if you would pray for me during this time. There is
so much to learn and so much to do and I so want God to be glorified in all of
it.
Grace and peace,

Lynn

My son loves playing games on my phone. He has one that he’s been playing for a while now. He’s completed so many levels that he has begged me not to let his little brother play, for fear that he’ll mess things up. 

So I was surprised yesterday when he asked me to download the game onto the iPad. As I handed the iPad to him, I asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Won’t you have to start over from the beginning?” 

He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s okay, Mom. It will be good practice.”

Ah. Out of the mouth of babes. Or, in this case, five-year-old Angry Birds Go fanatics.

I need to start over.
I have to.
It’s a good thing.
But it’s so hard.

I’ve completed two novels in the past five years. The first one will probably never see the light of day and the the jury is still out on the second. So it’s time to begin a new story. Time to create a new world. Time to breathe life into new characters, then make their lives difficult, come close to killing them several times, and have it all work out in the end.

I’m on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about it.

I’ve been doing everything creative I can think of—besides writing. I’ve knit. I’ve decorated. I’ve read. I’ve cooked.

But today, I’m writing.

Today, I’m ignoring the voices telling me how pointless it all is. Ignoring Trying to ignore the tension in my chest at the thought of failure.

I’m choosing to see the act of starting over through the eyes of my five-year-old.

It’s good practice.

How about you? Do you find it difficult to transition from a completed project into a brand new one? Or do you love starting new projects but have trouble finishing them? Do you find you need to take a break between creative endeavors?

I’d love to hear your thoughts! 


I blame the kale.

All pre-chopped and bagged.
It’s why I took the kids into the store in the first place.

Have you ever been to Trader Joe’s? It’s—interesting. The layout is odd, it’s significantly smaller than I thought it would be, and the shopping carts are tiny.

On this morning, I plopped my three-year-old into the back of the cart and allowed my 5-year-old to ride along on the outside. You know. The way the little diagram on the seat warns against? Yep. That way.

It would have been fine if I hadn’t paused to grab the kale.

That light-weight shopping cart couldn’t handle the combined weight of both boys at one end, and in a flash, it flipped. The three-year-old rode it down and tumbled out with nary a scratch. (I think he enjoyed it). My five-year-old suffered two completely different injuries.

The first was physical. The cart landed on his arm. So minor it never even bruised.

The second was to his heart, and there was nothing minor about that one. He stood there, tears pooling in the eyes he refused to raise from the floor, saying, “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry, Mama” over and over. And because he is so much like me, I knew that his regret had as much to do with causing a scene—with “messing up”—as it did with the trampled flowers and flying strawberries.

Once I’d confirmed no one was bleeding, I sat right there in the middle of Trader Joe’s and whispered, “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident. I’m not upset. I think you’re awesome and I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I want my little man to grow up secure in the knowledge that there is nothing—NOTHING—he can do, that will ever change my feelings for him. He’s going to make messes and he’s going to get hurt, and he needs to know that I am always and forever going to be on his side.

But the truth was that even as I comforted my little guy, I was fighting the voices in my head. You know the ones who point out how everything you just did was W-R-O-N-G. The ones pointing out the workers righting the buggy, the shoppers pausing to see if the kids were okay, someone picking up the kale. All because of my mistake.

By the time we had finished shopping, the voices in my head were screaming. I was replaying the incident from the moment I put the boys in the cart, to the second I turned loose to grab the kale, to the fact that I was so focused on the kids, I never thanked the people who got the buggy back on its wheels or located my strawberries and how rude was that and was I teaching my kids to be ungrateful?

As we approached the cashier, a woman asked if the boys were okay. Then she did the craziest thing. She looked at me and said, “You’re such a great mom. The way you were comforting him . . . you’re doing a great job.”

I wanted to ask her if she’d noticed that I was the “great” mom who’d let her kids be mauled by a red shopping cart, but instead I mumbled something like “Thanks, just glad they weren’t hurt” and moved on before her words made me cry.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized what had happened. That my heavenly Father—who saw the whole thing go down and knows me better than I know myself—chose, in that topsy-turvy moment, to remind me that He thinks I’m awesome. And He used a stranger to say it for Him.

He knows that while I have no trouble believing He loves me when I’m singing praise songs with the kids or volunteering in Sunday school, it’s so much harder to believe when I’ve messed up. Dropped the ball. Blown it.

I don’t know how your Monday has been. How you’ve struggled. Where you’ve failed.
But this I know.
He loves you.
He thinks you’re awesome.

Zephaniah 3:17 – The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing. (ESV)

I Blame the Kale – What I learned about God’s #love in the produce aisle. #motherhood #faith (Click to Tweet)

***I want to apologize for my lengthy absence.  I spent three months frantically writing a novel and I have no idea what happened to the month of June! I’m hoping to be back here on a more regular basis in the weeks ahead.

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Hi Everyone!! I’ve missed you!

I’ve been writing non-stop, but none of it has been for the blog. I entered a contest and to my utter shock, I made it into the final round. Last night at 9:30 p.m., I hit “send” and a full manuscript is now in an editor’s hands.
I may be sick.
But the best way not to think about an editor with a big red pen is to read and write – a LOT! Which is exactly what I plan to do!
Let’s kick things off with a book I thought I’d reviewed a couple of months ago, but didn’t. 
If you like romantic suspense, historicals, and, like me, are always on the lookout for a way to support a local writer, then Beneath a Navajo Moon by Lisa Carter is the book for you!
(Lisa’s from Raleigh and as far as I’m concerned, any Carolina girl is a local). 
In Beneath a Navajo Moon, Erin Dawson is a cultural anthropologist. She’s hoping her internship at the Cedar Canyon Information Center will help her fulfill a personal mission to uncover the story behind one of her adopted ancestors, Olivia Thornton, a white woman who served at a mission on the Navajo reservation in the early 1900s. 
Her search leads her to butt heads with tribal policeman Adam Silverhorn. A man who turns out to be far more complex than his shallow, womanizing ways lead her to originally believe.
As Erin digs deeper, she has no idea that her search for Olivia will uncover a dark secret that threatens her life and the lives of those she loves. 
Beneath A Navajo Moon kept me guessing with complex characters who struggle to make the right choices in difficult circumstances.
For someone like me who loves a great historical, but also loves a great contemporary suspense, this was the best of both worlds. 
Check it out. And if you read Beneath a Navajo Moon, be a friend and leave a quick review on Amazon, would you please? Authors really appreciate reviews and it only takes a few minutes of your time to bless them in this way!
Grace & Peace,
Lynn
Get your copy of SILENCED by Author Dani Pettrey!


I’m so excited about today’s post. We’ve got a great book, an opportunity to win a FREE copy from Bethany House publishers, and a fun sweepstakes you can enter.

All of these great opportunities are in celebration of the release of Silenced, the fourth book in Dani Pettrey‘s Alaskan Courage series.

The Alaskan Courage series follows the adventures of the five McKenna siblings. When Silenced opens, Cole and Bailey (from Submerged) are in the final stages of planning their wedding, with Piper and Landon (from Shattered) just a few months behind. Reef (who gets his own story in Book 5, yeah!) has promised to come home for the weddings and Darcy and Gage (from Stranded) are doing great.
Silenced is Jake and Kayden’s story, and I was so excited to finally figure out what made the cool and distant Kayden McKenna tick, and to find out how she would treat Jake Westin, now that the truth about his past has come to light.
Here’s the scoop on Silenced…
A relaxing day of rock climbing takes a dark turn when Kayden McKenna’s route brings her face-to-face with a dead climber. Was the climber’s death a terrible accident or something more sinister?
When the case is handed to Yancey’s overburdened sheriff, he turns to Jake Westin for help. With the truth of Jake’s past now revealed, Jake agrees to use his investigation skills for this one case–but nothing could prepare him for where the case will take him.
As Kayden and Jake work together to uncover the truth, will they also find a refuge in each other?  Or will the deadly plans of a killer destroy their chance at love?
I’ve come to expect page-turning reads from Dani, and Silenced did not disappoint. I tried, really tried, to stretch it into a three-day read. 
Didn’t happen. 
I got about 1/3 of the way in before life pulled me away, but once I picked it back up the next evening, I knew I’d be reading until I got to the end. I closed the book after midnight, exhausted and satisfied. 
I read a lot of romantic suspense, so as it became clear that the investigation into the murder of the rock climber was winding down, I started to get a little anxious. There was still a lot of book and not a lot of story left. 
WRONG.
That was when the story really cranked up, and I loved that twist. You know how I feel about spoilers, so that’s really all I can say.
As a rule, I only read a series in order, and while I realize not everyone feels like that is the only way to do it (even though it totally is) 🙂 I should say that if you read these books out of order, I think you’ll be missing too much to be able to fully appreciate the character and romantic development. By the time you get to Silenced, you’ve already seen Jake and Kayden interacting for three books, and been in their heads quite a bit in the last book, so these characters are already familiar. And I know for me, I was rooting for Jake to finally break through Kayden’s tough shell.
So, who wants to win their own free copy of Silenced?!?! All you have to do to enter is leave a comment here on the blog, or you can also earn entries by sharing this post on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest. You can earn up to 4 entries! I’ll draw a name from all the entries on May 26th and Bethany House will mail a copy to the winner. (There’s a lot of fine print below, so be sure to read that part.)
Another great giveaway is happening until May 21st over on Dani’s site. You have a chance to win airline tickets, a gorgeous Alaskan print, or a very fun picnic basket. 
Enter the RUGGED ROMANCE Sweepstakes from Author Dani Pettrey

All you have to do is visit http://www.danipettrey.com/rugged-romance-sweepstakes/ to enter!
Wow! Such a packed post! Be sure to enter both for the free copy of Silenced and the great prizes in the Rugged Romance Sweepstakes!
Super fine print for the free book…
No purchase is necessary. Odds of winning are based on number of entries.Giveaway begins May 19 and ends at midnight May 26. Up to 4 entries per person. Entries can be made by commenting on this blog post or by sharing this post on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest. Giveaway open to US residents, 18 and older. I will contact the winner via email and winners will have three days to respond before I will award the book to the next winner.
·       

I know things have been a little, okay, a LOT, quiet around here lately, but there’s a great reason.

I’m writing.

All.The.Time.

I entered a contest in February and made it into the third round! So that means that my laptop has been fired up and my fingers have been flying, but it’s all been for contest submissions. It’s been quite a journey so far and I’ve got a lot of devotion ideas out of it, but for now, know that I would really appreciate your prayers over the next couple of weeks.

But I am taking a little break from novel writing to share with you three books for your summer reading list.

The first is for all you YA/NA/Dystopian fans. I know you’re out there because we’ve all been talking about going to see Catching Fire and Divergent (and all five Twilight movies…Don’t deny it. I know you went on opening weekend because I saw you there).

 

If you’re looking for your next read, you need to pick up Haunted by Charity Tinnin. There is fantastic world building here and a story that had an ending I was NOT expecting. 

And the characters…Noah State (or is it Sefore?) is a man who expects to be dead by the age of twenty-one, but he’s determined to save as many lives as he can before it finally catches up to him. One of the lives he’s trying to save is that of Maddison James. She’s smart, tough, and not about to put up with any junk from Noah. Then there’s Daniel State, Noah’s older brother. He’s the bad boy that you know you should despise, but, but, but…you kind of don’t.
Did I mention that it had an ending I wasn’t prepared for? You know how sometimes you read a book and you know exactly how it will end by the end of Chapter 1? Not gonna happen with Haunted.
And when it was all over…it was, but it wasn’t. I walked around for several days worried about these characters, wondering how it would all work out.
 
Which leads me to my only complaint about Haunted…I have to wait until October for Hunted, the 2nd book in the State vs. Sefore series.
 
And if you need any further incentive, you can pick up the Kindle version of Haunted for just $2.99. It’s a steal! Grab it now!
 
 
 
My next post will be a review of a great romantic suspense book…stay tuned!
 
Yep. That’s me. Deadlifting 190 pounds.

I joined Five Forks CrossFit in November.
I know. I’m surprised, too.

My husband’s been doing CrossFit for years, but when a new box (that’s what a CrossFit facility is called) opened a few miles away, he finally convinced me to give it a try.
I love it.

Well, except for the 8-20 minutes of the WOD (workout of the day). During the WOD, I hate it with every twitching muscle fiber that is begging me for mercy.

But other than that, I love it and I keep going back. All through our renovation, even one day in the snow, I’ve dragged myself out of bed well before dawn, pulled on my compression pants and my dry-wick shirt, laced up my CrossFit nano 3.0 shoes, and walked through those doors.

My sweat has dripped on the mats, my shins have the scrapes, my collarbones have the bruises, and my hands have the callouses that come from Olympic lifts, and my body has changed enough that people have noticed.

So why is it that every time I pull on my Five Forks CrossFit hoodie, I have to remind myself of all of that? I have to talk myself into putting it on and wearing it out the door?

Because there’s a part of me—the deepest, most insecure part of me—that wonders if I have any business portraying myself as a CrossFitter, because I don’t look like a “CrossFit Woman.”

Have you seen these images on Pinterest or your Facebook feed? The pictures are almost always of women in sports bras and boy shorts, with knee socks and chalk on their thighs. They’re doing pull-ups and one-armed handstands and no one can question that they are physically elite.

I just can’t compete with that.

I look like a woman who has three children and a serious sweet tooth. I can’t do a pull-up or a handstand, much less with one arm. And I try to keep as much of my skin covered as possible, because no one wants to see me in boy shorts.

With that said, there is another part of me that knows that I’m just as much a CrossFit Woman as those elite athletes are. Not because I can do what they can, but because I’m in the game. I’m learning. I’m using muscles I never knew I had and I’m not the same woman I was four months ago.

So I remind myself of that, put on my hoodie, and walk out the door. And when someone says, “You do CrossFit?” I look look them straight in the eye and say, “Yes! And I love it!”

I’m wondering if you feel the same way about your Christian walk? I know I do.

Sometimes I’m terrified to speak truth into a situation. I feel sick to my stomach in the first few hours after I post a blog. And when I’m with friends, sometimes I know I should say, “Let’s stop talking about it and start praying about it,” but I rarely do.

Why?

Because I don’t look like an elite Christian Woman. Have you heard of these women? They always do the right thing. They never yell at their kids, their husband, or dog. They don’t cuss when they burn dinner. They know exactly how to respond to every parenting dilemma or family crisis.

I just can’t compete with that.

I’m a woman who has a temper. Who likes things done the “right” way—by my definition of “right” thank you very much. I fight my pride, my fear, and my tongue.
EVERY. SINGLE. HOUR.

Satan loves to whisper in my ear that I have no business claiming I love Jesus, especially after that fiasco of a morning we just had.
But the Holy Spirit says different.

He reminds me that while I have a long way to go, I’m in the game. I’ve been saved by the blood of Jesus Christ. My sins are forgiven. By His grace, I’m not the same woman I was ten years ago, or even ten months ago. I’m learning, changing, becoming more and more like Him every day.

I know when I wear my FFC hoodie, there may be a few people who look at me and think, “There’s no way that chubby thing does CrossFit,” but what I’ve discovered is that most of the time, it opens a door. Someone who might be nervous about trying it looks at me and thinks, “If Lynn can do it maybe I can, too.”

My FFC Hoodie

Maybe that’s all the Holy Spirit is asking of us.

Just to put it out there. Not because we are elite. Not because we’ve achieved perfection.
Precisely the opposite.

If God can speak to us and through us when we are such a mess, then maybe He can do that for them, too.

I don’t know what your “hoodie” is. Maybe it’s telling a co-worker what God showed you this week or sharing a book you’re reading with that mom who sits beside you at gymnastics. Maybe it’s as “simple” as getting out of your house and meeting your neighbors, asking God for the opportunity to be a light in your cul-de-sac. Whatever it is, God wants you to put it on now.

Be brave enough to let His light shine, and when someone says, “So, you’re a Christian?” you can look them in the eye and say, “Yes! I love Jesus! He’s changing my life.”

Satan just can’t compete with that.






TWEETABLES:


What happens when a chubby, Jesus-loving girl joins CrossFit. (Click to Tweet)


What’s your hoodie? (Click to Tweet)

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