How do you reintroduce yourself when you’ve practically vanished from thin air after a couple *ahem* quite a few months?
I’ve actually quite missed this space. So, if you’re still here, I’m pleased as punch that you’ve found some value in my words. Can I just thank you for that for a moment?
Over the past few months, I’ve mulled over how to conclude this little set of posts, where I’ve mused and pondered over things relating to Shiny, Happy People. The words kept turning over and over again in my mind, notes app, and even the lovely notepad my husband surprised me with a month ago. At some point, they’ve turned into compost because of how often I turned the words over against themselves.
But here’s what I noticed—I don’t have a Ph.D. in how fundamentalist Christian groups operate, nor do I want one. I simply noticed how my family, the one my husband grew up and I married into, operated.
So here’s a story.
My daughter, at age 5, outwardly professed faith in Jesus. Her childlike faith sparkled, gleamed, and exuded out of her. This kid LOVES Jesus. Her love soon grew into a winding ivy of faith—it covered her disposition, perspective, and choices.
Her faith, especially at her age, is enviable. And people NOTICED. Where scripture speaks of fruit, I’m sure her faith has produced orchards.
She turns ten today. And she’s already been through a lot.
In late September, we placed our home in Iowa for sale. We bought a house in Nebraska and moved in early November—this meant, for her, she left the only home she’d ever known. She left the home where she’d had countless playdates and sleepovers, learned to walk, and more. She’s gotten to the age where her friends have taken over a space in her mind and heart.
And when she broke the news to those friends about her impending move, they cried.
When I picked her up from school that day, she was surrounded by a group of boys and girls with tear-stained faces who couldn’t bear the pain of saying goodbye to their sweet friend. She received notes detailing how she stood in their hearts as the friend they knew they would unconditionally be loved by.
The fruit of her love sowed grief when she had to say goodbye. One of those notes recounted how she loved well—and how it changed her. This friend talked about how initially didn’t like a little girl. In fact, she was mean to her. But because my daughter, Tegan, showed her what it meant to love another person with no conditions, her posture changed. That little girl went from bully to befriending the bullied.
As I said, Tegan grew remarkable fruit.
This story matters to me because at the center of it is a little girl.
We often shoo away stories from girls. Both worldly and church cultures collectively make fun of Taylor Swift, Barbie, and anything delightful in many girls’ eyes. We roll our eyes at movies with a heroine in a story. And sometimes we don’t notice it.
We readily wipe away all forms of girlhood and box them away as something of which to be ashamed.
And yet the nativity story begins with girls—a barren Elizabeth and a young girl, Mary.
In all of its ironies, when we shape something into what we think is happy and shiny, in the end, we receive a Prince of Peace who is also a Man of Sorrows. Tears are shiny in the light—and can be turned into joy. The meaning is not lost on me.
So I find it appropriate, in this Advent season, to end with challenging the idea that women ought not to be completely silent (a verse woefully taken out of context). In fact, women are the ones entrusted with the gospel message alongside men to create orchards of spirit-filled fruit. And yes, that includes the young girls.
Go and tell, girls.
You’ve been gifted the permission from the Savior of the World.
Like I said before, I’ve woefully missed this space. I’m sure I’ll detail more about my own insecurities in showing up (both here and in my therapist’s office), but I have little marvels to share!
First, Merry Christmas!
Here’s an Advent message I crafted for my church. I hope it blesses you. (Side note: This was a bold step for me to take. And for my husband to witness. And it was also a first for my church. I’m incredibly humbled that my church even offered me this opportunity.)
If you prefer to read, here’s an Advent message I crafted for Well-Watered Women—for those who didn’t expect Advent to look a specific way (more stories about my daughter, of course!)
For those grieving or have anyone close grieving: I am incredibly thankful to have friends who write messages for those in hard spaces. Seriously, my friends Dorina and Rachel have a calling to comfort the grieving. Dorina’s devotional book, Breathing Through Grief, is an incredible resource! Buy it here! Rachel’s book, A Matter of Little Losses, will be released soon!
Finally—I have a playlist of my favorites that probably don’t make sense together, but I love it anyway.
Thank you for being here!
More words to come in the upcoming new year! <3