Five Minute Friday | {mess}

If ever the term “mess” fit me…today was that day.

From the early morning “words” with the cattleman at the breakfast table.

To the tears welling up as I tried to answer small talk with the cashier at the “Pig.”

To the tantrums I threw in response to my child’s. That’s plural. It happened more than once.

Yep, I was a mess today. And every day in a lot of ways.

One big heaping pile of perfectly imperfect mess in need of Perfect help.

And after time on my knees scrubbing the toilet and scrubbing out my soul, God eased the mess a bit.

I felt some relief knowing He knew. He saw it all happen. He knew my heart all along. But He wanted me to tell Him.

I needed me to tell Him. To plead for help just like David did. And know He would answer. Just like He did for David and has done so often for me.

There is solace in this mess of life only through His love and grace to cover it.

No other way. Not even one.

I know there are a lot of people living in darkness today. That can’t see the light. I went there today. And it scared me.

No matter how messy life gets, there is One bigger and One brighter than the mess. Always. Perfectly.



He’s in it with us and he’s ready to see us out. In His time. His will. His way. Until we get it.

Until we get that this life ain’t about us after all. And no matter what mess we find ourself in and no matter what caused it, we have Hope.

Hope in the One who put Himself in the biggest mess the world could offer only to save us from our own. Daily. From one glorious mess to another.

Your perfectly imperfect mess tonight,

Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker and the gang for Five Minute Friday and tonight’s prompt was {mess}…if you couldn’t already guess. 😉

Five Minute Friday

Letters to my Littles | {april}

I posted this blog yesterday on my other site and thought I would share it with my writing blog readers, as well…it’s more words than photos and it’s my heart this month about my children. Enjoy!


March…in like a lion, out like a lamb. April showers, bring May flowers.

Nursery rhymes we used to sing. Memories faint, but oh, so sweet.

Wesley, you now read to me and I wonder how and when you moved from toddler to boy to almost Kindergarten grad.

And Austin, you will all-too-soon move from daddy’s girl on his toes to daddy’s girl down the aisle.

I’m not rushing you both. You are rushing me. Time goes too fast and I forget.

Forget the smell of baby.
Forget the swell of pride as your first steps teeter-totter across the room.
Forget the way you pronounced your first vowels or lack there of and how it always made me smile. Still does even trying to remember.

And this month, this April of this year, I’ve been thinking a lot about the past. How fast it’s gone and how much faster it gets.

We said goodbye to your Great-Granny Austin and you both took it in stride, while I cried. She meant more to me than you because I had her longer. Much longer.

The memories I have with her and Granddaddy in that old house on the river shore are mine alone. Together we are making new ones there even though the house is gone. And that is good. Very, very good.



I’m reminded this month how important family is and has always been to me and I pray will always be to you.

We have something not everyone has. We have each other.

You will learn that is not everyone’s truth. And not a blessing to be dismissed, but held tightly to.

Austin, you continue to be the life of this party we are raising on this farm. This month your two favorite words are “ticklish-y” and “trap.” Meaning you like to have your “trap” (aka armpit) rubbed because it feels so “ticklish-y.” Yes, that’s worth remembering.


Wesley, you continue to amaze me with your wisdom beyond your young years. You have also taking a liking to video games about indians and hunting and racing and mama’s having to put limits on the iPad…which you are usually good to obey.

You both continue to play well together, as tonight when you were screaming through the house. Until someone gets hurt, then the screams take on a different tone…and so do mine. Being the perfectly imperfect mother that I am.

And Austin, you are becoming a master of avoiding bedtime. Oh, you get in the bed after we read.

But then you want your back rubbed (and possibly your “trap”),
and then you want more chocolate milk (yes, I give you chocolate milk, don’t judge me),
and then you need to use the bathroom,
and then you want your sheet put on you,
and then you want your sheet taken off of you,
and then you want to change into your other gown,
and then you want to take the gown off and put on your other pajamas,
and then you want your fan on,
and then you want your fan off,
and then you want your little plastic dollar store lantern to put in the bed with you,
and then you need me to take it away.

These are not exaggerations. They happen every. single. night. I’m as tired writing them as I get doing them.

And Wesley, you tolerate so well, as I go back and forth from his room upstairs to get you situated downstairs.

And I lose my patience. And you love me still.

And then you give me super-duper tight hugs and big kisses with your little hands cupping my face. And I melt.

And then get you your third cup of chocolate milk. And I wait for you to drink it and then we say good night. For good.

Until you wake up at 3am and come get in bed with me and your father. Yes, that’s our nightly ritual. And I want you to know it because maybe you’ll have a child just like you and it will be a great reminder.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and evidently you are a lot like me…says your Pop, my Dad.

I continue to be amazed how much your two little souls have enveloped my own. My life-breath. My babies.

I am still in awe I get to be your mother and God trusted me with you. I don’t take that for granted, or at least I try not to.

We are still working our way into the new skin of stay-at-home-mom, but it’s starting to fit better than before.

Together we will sort it all out and work it all in. I look forward to a summer with you both full of creek time and horse play.

Love always and forever,

**I’m doing this project as part of a blog circle of mothers wanting to document this year in prose and photo for their children. It would so wonderful if you would please take a moment to visit wonderful Kristin as she writes to her children this month…many thanks. 😉


The truth about trust.

There was a time when I really couldn’t be trusted. I couldn’t be trusted with my own heart, let alone anyone else’s. And today I read this verse and stop to consider how far I’ve come. Or not.

The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain.
Proverbs 31:11

I’m not perfect now and I wasn’t perfect then. But I can be trusted now (more) and I can’t say that about “then.”

Then. When I was struggling to find myself in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong places.

Then. When I thought I knew who I was and would have told you I was trustworthy. And I was, to an extent. But not to the greatest extent.

Until you have trusted your heart to the only One who can be trusted, you can never be trusted.

Harsh? Maybe. True? I think so.

Jesus is the only person who ever displayed trust fully to us, and only in Him do we have the ability to be trustworthy.

And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you.
Psalm 9:10


As a wife and a mother and a sister-in-Christ…I am called to be trustworthy and to allow others to gain from my trust.

We’ve all been bit by someone who didn’t keep something to themselves we were trusting them with. And after we’ve been hurt we find it hard to trust again.

There is freedom in a friend you can trust. And there is freedom for them in being able to trust you.

My marriage is built on trust today, if nothing else. I live in a home and reside in a marriage as the only spouse that trusts God.

But I’m trusting God to change that. In His time. In His will. In His way. I have to or I’d lose hope altogether.

Maybe you are in a similar situation as me and maybe you aren’t. Either way, your husband, your children and your friends need your trust.

In a relationship of trust, we gain freedom to just be. Without fear of judgement or failure or condemnation.

Our ability to be trusted is our banner of love to those who trust us. 

We are human and in that we will never be completely trustworthy. God tells us to put our trust in Him, not man.

Even in that, we should strive to be trustworthy. Seeking to be like the image of Trust we have as a mirror to see ourselves in. But only in Him is that even possible.

If you haven’t trusted your heart to Him, would you give up the fight and trust today? Life is too short and life is too long to go another day without knowing the freedom of real Trust in a true Savior.

Freedom our sin-soaked, un-trustworhty, completely unworthy selves.

If you feel God calling you to Him…don’t ignore. If you’d like help praying, here’s a start and I’d love to help along if you need me. The best gift you can ever give yourself is trusting your soul with the One who created you in the first place.

That’s truth you can trust today.

Trusting Him,


See below for more information about Wednesday’s on the blog. For the next six weeks, we will open the floor for posts on any verse or combination of verses from Proverbs 31:12-31. Let’s see what God speaks to you and in turn speaks to us all through these well-known verses in a new light. Thank you so much in advance for linking-up Woman 2 Woman! 

On Wednesday’s we have started a tradition of speaking “Woman to Woman.” Find us on twitter or Facebook with #w2w. I’ve asked other sisters to join in the discussion by adding their own links below or by adding their thoughts in the comments. If you have a blog and would like to link your post, please link directly to your permalink (ie. and not your homepage URL (ie. by clicking on the little blue frog. If you would also be so kind as to link back to this page in some form or fashion, I would greatly appreciate it. 😀

You can go back to the beginning to see the foundation for this community here. We would be humbled beyond belief to have you join in. The more voices speaking to one another, the more chance we will be heard and the more opportunity for healing and growing as sisters. And to spur one another on in love, we ask that you visit the person linked before you and comment to encourage. Our words matter. In giving and receiving, they matter. You matter. More than you know. We matter. xoxo- Meredith

For everyone living with the best of intentions.

I don’t know how or when it started, but I’ve certainly mastered the art of un-intentionality. As if I’m intentionally living with the best of intentions that never come to be.

The stack of books I have had every intention of finishing…or at least starting. That would be a start.

The upstairs attic that needs to be purged to make room for our growing toddler who deserves a room void of a washer, dryer and gun safe. A girl needs a real bedroom and there is one waiting. Waiting for me to clean it out and clean up this too full life of mine.

The flower beds that are more weeds than flowers these days, being choked out like the pressure on this conscious of mine suffocating with guilt.

The endless pile of clothes that ebb and flow and diminish and grow like these emotions that march in like a lion and roll out like a lamb.

The old corn crib that was to be storage building that instead sits on a trailer for the second spring because it’s too wet, then too dry, then time to make hay and no time to make way.

A week post-vacation and my son is still living out of his duffel bag that just gets filled back up and depleted again. What’s the use of putting the clothes in a drawer, anyway?

What’s the use, anyway?





Our best intentions get the best of us.

The best part of our day. The best part of our soul. The best part of me that’s aching to be the best part for them.

The will-dos and should-haves keep us grounded in the past and dreading the future. Forgetting all we have is the here and now.

Living out-of-presence in the present is the norm these days. We long for the promise of tomorrow and live in the regret of the past.

Instead of living in the now, we get stuck in the when or lost in the then.

It’s time for us to get intentional about today.

It’s time to say “no” to what’s not important, to have time to say “yes” to what is. So we will have the time and energy to say “yes” to Who is important.

I know the clothes will keep piling up, the books will still be stacked, the room will be busting at the seams and the day lilies will get lost in the wire grass, BUT they don’t have to. I don’t have to be unintentional. I have a choice. 

There is freedom in the choosing. There is Grace in our freedom.

There is a way out of our un-intentions. His name is Jesus.

He gives grace for the best of intentions that never come to be. And He gives us freedom to choose a different way than where we find ourselves today.

Living in the present isn’t impossible. It’s necessary. And by His grace we can make it back to where we really are in the first place.

Here and now. It’s all we have.

Our kids need us here. now.
Our families need us here. now.
The lost need us here. now.
Jesus needs us here. now.

It’s not impossible to be here. now. It’s necessary. And liberating to find ourselves where we’ve been all along.


 “So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace.”
Romans 11:5

What’s on your list of “best intentions” that you haven’t gotten done…? I’d love to hear…and know I’m not alone. 🙂

I’m honored to be linking-up with my friend Katie Reid for #inspireandgrow today. Link your own inspirational post following her instructions here: (

Five Minute Friday. | {friend}

My husband says if you have one good horse, one good friend, one good woman and one good dog in life, you have been blessed.

Even in his crass way of speaking at times, I think he isn’t all together wrong.

Sometimes in my life it has felt like I didn’t have “one good friend.” I’ve had seasons of loss and being lost. And then they came. Friends.

Looking back I can see God’s hand so clearly when and where He put people in my life to help lead me out of the darkness and back to Him. Or to Him in the very. first. place.

I saw friendship modeled well in my mother’s life. She had a group of girlfriends that named themselves “The Beach Bunnies.” Funny name, funny group. They had regular GNO’s (that’s “Girls Night Out” for any guys reading this…) and they took an annual trip to the beach. And what happened at the beach…stayed at the beach. (Although the photos did give some of it away…)

I’ve always looked at that group of friends my mom had and envied those relationships in a way. Not so much anymore. 

God has been putting friends in my life from the very beginning and I see that now.

A special friend through high school who helped me get through some tough times and even today if we were together, we would be as comfortable talking as we were 20 years ago.

Friends in college that walked with me through school and guys and losing my mother.

Friends given to me during my years of corporate sales that I still keep up with, because it was the real deal.

A real-life-every-day-in-the-trenches friend that on a good day I get to work out with and everyday we work out life and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

And a new set of online community friends. Some I may never meet. Some I look forward to meeting this fall at She Speaks and Allume. It’s been a treasure to connect with others traveling the same path of motherhood and answering the call to write and speak for His glory. Several of these new friends will be sharing their stories this weekend as we all come together for meet-ups all over the country. That’s exciting stuff. And it’s free. And going on now. Join the fun here!




And then there is the One friend we all have in common if we choose to accept the friendship. The only Friend that will always be there in His perfect, loving, understanding way.

These lyrics keep playing over in my head, “What a friend we have in Jesus. All our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry, everything to God in prayer.”

That’s true isn’t it? He is the only one who will never let us down. Who knows our hurts and can actually do something about them.

Women need women. No doubt there. And thank God He puts women in our lives to speak life into us in a way even our best-friend-husbands can’t always do.

We all need Jesus. And in Him we see the example of the perfect friend. The one who gave His life for us all, when we deserved it the least.

That’s a friend worth clinging to, loving on and sharing with our other friends. After all, a real friend wouldn’t keep Him to themselves, would they…?

Your friend in Him,

Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker and so many other lovelies for today’s Five Minute Friday prompt of {friend.} Head over to her site to read many more wonderful insights from this awesome group of writing friends. 😉

A diamond in the rough.

I like to think of myself as a good wife. A good mother. A good daughter. A good person. But in the grand scheme of things, I’m not nearly as much a jewel as I would like to think I am. Or as I have been called to be.

Psalm 31:10

An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.

Good question, huh? An excellent wife, who can find…? I know some excellent wives. They do and do and do for their husbands and children and grandchildren and families and friends and church. But in the end, all the doing doesn’t amount to much if it’s not done for the right reasons and even more so, for the right Person.

We’ve been called to excellency. And evidently the psalmist realized an excellent woman and wife would be harder to find than a pearl in a sea of oysters.

A diamond in the rough. That’s what we are, right?

On this journey of life and motherhood and wifehood.

A diamond is not born a diamond. A diamond is made a diamond. Only after intense heat and pressure is it’s true value ever realized and it’s worth ever made known.

That’s me and you.

Once put through the fire and pressure of life, we come out refined and stronger than before. Just like a diamond.

Once put through the trials of motherhood and marriage and friendship, we learn less of us and more of Him is the better Way.

Diamond in the Rough

We are in the process of being made new in Christ. And in that process, we can become like that diamond. If we are willing to be shaped and molded and made into the Image we have been created in.

More precious than jewels. That’s what we are in Christ.

We may not be perfect or always shine as bright as we should, but as long as we are plugged into the Source, we have the ability for Him to shine through us.

Then we don’t have to be perfect, after all. And we will still be more precious than jewels. In His eyes, we will always be that precious. And in His grace, we will always be that capable.

An excellent wife, who can find? I may have a long way to go to get there, but it’s in the process of being made new that potential is found. And the end result will yield a diamond in the rough.

Life is rough. We get calloused and hard and hard to please. But the potential is there to shine. Always the potential if we are wiling to yield to His ways and will.

Here’s to the journey of excellency as a daughter of the King. So glad to be in the rough together.


On Wednesday’s we have started a tradition of speaking “Woman to Woman.” Find us on twitter or Facebook with #w2w. I’ve asked other sisters to join in the discussion by adding their own links below or by adding their thoughts in the comments. If you have a blog and would like to link your post, please link directly to your permalink (ie. and not your homepage URL (ie. by clicking on the little blue frog. You can go back to the beginning to see the foundation for this community here. We would be humbled beyond belief to have you join in. The more voices speaking to one another, the more chance we will be heard and the more opportunity for healing and growing as sisters. And to spur one another on in love, we ask that you visit the person linked before you and comment to encourage. Our words matter. In giving and receiving, they matter. You matter. More than you know. We matter. xoxo- Meredith

A new day.

I’ve caught myself doing something recently that I’ve never done much of.
There are websites committed just to this (People of Walmart, anyone?), but it’s never been something I’ve spent much time doing.

People watching.

Taking in what’s going on around me, more than what’s necessarily going on in me.

Even though I believe my recent increase of self-awareness has probably led to this desire for people awareness.

It’s happened in worship service, the grocery store, the gas station, in the chair at the salon.

Listening. Watching. Wondering…
What’s going on in their life?
Where are their priorities?
What are they going home to?
What’s the big thing in their life that weighs them down?

We all have that “big thing” going on at any given time, don’t we?

Maybe you would say I’m just being nosy… and there have certainly been times in my life when I have people watched for that reason.

This is different.

I’m not listening, watching or wondering because I want to be able to compare my life or my problems to theirs.
I’m listening, watching and wondering because I realize we are all so very alike even in our very different skin.

As much as we all are different, we are all very much the same.


And in that sameness, there is oneness.

And in that oneness, there is freedom.

Freedom to love.
Freedom to embrace.
Freedom to accept.
Freedom to forgive.
Freedom to just be who God made us to be.

On this Monday after that Sunday, I consider the freedom that Jesus’s followers must have felt on that day.

When they finally realized He really was who He said He was.

He really did conquer death and hell and the grave.

In His freedom, they found their freedom.

In His freedom, we find our freedom.

The same power that freed Jesus from those blood soaked linen cloths and dirt enclosed tomb…that very. same. power. is yours and mine for the claiming.

That Monday wasn’t only a new day for His followers, it was a new day for those who hung him on that tree. And it was a new day for you and me.

As much as I hate to think of those people that beat and scourged him to the point that he was unrecognizable as a human and then literally nailed his still living corpse to that cross…I realize my sin was just as much responsible for putting Him there as theirs. I see that now.

Yet even in my deepest, darkest sin, He died for me. And you. And them.

And by Monday He was free. And so were we.

That is worth praising God for.
That is worth loving people for.
That is worth cherishing a new day for.

For His Glory forever and ever,


In the silence.

I can’t help but think today what that day was like. The silence that the world experienced in the aftermath of His crucifixion and the deafening of the earth and temple splitting in response.

I wonder if the silence on this day wasn’t even more deafening that what happened the previous afternoon.

I imagine people stunned in silence. Wondering to themselves what had just happened. What had they done? Was this man really the Messiah after all? If not, what just happened? I mean, what. just. happened.

If He was who He said He was, why didn’t He save himself? Why didn’t He save them? 

They were expecting a king. A king like they knew a king to be. A ruler of men, not a ruler of hearts.

And on this day, the silence must have been audible.

And then again, I imagine there was intense weeping. Weeping among those who knew…or thought they knew…who Jesus was.

They had followed his every step. Hung on his every word. Seen every miracle He had performed. Believed in their hearts He was the Son of God.

Then why? Why did He die? And what next…?

And what about the women who loved Him so? His mother, Mary Magdalene and the other women…no doubt busying themselves to prepare his body the next morning in the way they were accustomed to do. Did they move in shocked silence or racking sobs throughout this day…or both?

How often have I been in the middle of a shock or tragedy or just plain fit of my own will…waiting in the silence for God to move. For God to just. do. something. And I try to keep busy, because busy dulls the anxiety of waiting. And I may stop and have a good ugly cry, because God made me emotional and sometimes I just need to get it out.

Sometimes in the middle…in the waiting…in the silence…is when God speaks the loudest.

In the Silence


Be still and know that I am God,” He says.

I can imagine Jesus lifeless body was crying the same silent words that Saturday. “Be still and know that I am God! I may appear dead, but you will see, you will SEE tomorrow that I. am. not!”

He is saying the same thing to me and to you today.

Be still, my child, and know that I am God. I am not dead. I am alive and therefore you can be alive with me. You don’t have to go through this life as a dead person. Dead inside. Full of everything but Me. I am the Life-Giver. Without Me you will always and only be empty, even when you are full. Nothing the world offers you will ever satisfy you or fill you the way I can. I created you with a hole only I can fill. In the silence of your soul, you know I exist. You choose whether you acknowledge me or not, but you know I exist. I made you to know. My handiwork is everywhere and I gave you senses to know it…if you have enough sense to accept it. A fool says there is no God. In the silence, you choose. Me or the world. But the choice is yours. I will not make you. I love you enough to let you decide. And in the middle of the silence, the grief storm you find yourself in, remember joy comes in the morning. The darkest hour is just before dawn and I am not only in the darkness with you, I will deliver you into the light, in My time and My will and My way.

Is it presumptuous of me to speak for God? Maybe so. But I stand on the Word of God because He gave it to me to stand on. And He gave it to you to stand on. Even in the silence. Even when the silence is deafening. He stands. Risen.

For His Glory,



The {glue} that holds us all together.

It was raining that afternoon. The hardest I could remember ever driving through. And in a matter of an hour the rain would be an exact mirror to my tear streaked face and washed out insides as I met my new reality.

She was fifty years old and six months retired. She was my mother. And she was the glue that held our family together.

She wasn’t supposed to die in her sleep from a massive heart attack. Alone. My dad out of town. Me either upstairs getting ready for work or in the kitchen drinking the coffee she got up to make me or on my way to work or already at work. Either way, she was alone. And we were now alone. And our family glue was gone.

But in the midst of those days that stripped our souls bare after her death, there was another glue that worked His way into our family unit and took hold. Fast. Strong. Steady. Jesus.

I imagine the same torrential rain fell from the sky as the world came unglued those moments He hung lifeless on those splintered pieces of wood fashioned in a cross pointing to the heavens.

Those who had just murdered Him now realizing maybe, just maybe, He was the Messiah after all as they watched their sacred temple literally torn in two. The thunder. The lightening. The fury as all hell was poured out in blood and water from his broken and beat body.

Hell he endured for me and for you. The glue that holds the world together. And me. And you.

Jesus. The only glue that can hold us together when our world comes unglued. And it has and it does and it will. Until we are whole with Him in glory.

I weep to think how many sins of my own He suffered for that dark day. I weep to think how they were all washed away when He conquered death and held fast to His promises as He always does. Always did. Always will.

My hope stands fast in the One who holds me fast. My Cornerstone. My solid rock. My redeemer. My rescuer. My glue.

In Remembrance of Him,


**Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker and a slew of other talented writers for Five Minute Friday on this special Friday of Holy Week. Tonights prompt was {glue}.


On the other side of forgiveness.


The chimes are singing their hi-pitched melody as I sit on the porch in this old metal chair and watch the sky turn steel gray. There’s a storm coming and the chimes aren’t the only ones singing a song. The bees are buzzing loud and darting quick, the birds are flittering about and the wind is stirring the just barely budding branches.

It’s holy week. The week we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and triumphal victory over death. In-between the entry and the ascension, a storm was brewing. In the hearts of those He came to save. Those who deserved nothing He had to offer or would eventually give.

Their hearts were black as night. Cold as death. They wanted Him to be what their desperate souls needed. A savior. A redeemer. But not in the way He would be both of those. They wanted it then. They were oppressed and they saw Jesus as their way out.

When He gave up, they gave in. To the bitter storm that brewed in their hearts against this Man they thought was coming to save them from their oppressors. Not realizing this Man was coming to save them from themselves.

In the greatest act of love ever displayed, Jesus forgave them. Even them. Even me. Those He came to save who wouldn’t lift His name in glory, but lifted his body high on a cross out of contempt.

What human being could possibly forgive like that? Only a perfect One. One THE perfect One.

And what does forgiveness offer the one that forgives? Freedom. Sweet, life-breathing freedom.

Jesus was separated in bondage from His father for those moments on the cross. But when it was finished and His love and forgiveness made complete, He was free. He was restored to His Father’s side. He was home.

I’ve known that freedom. Not from being a perfect person offering forgiveness to someone who wronged me. Instead, I wear the freedom from receiving forgiveness from someone I gravely wronged. In the worst way. And I didn’t deserve it from them any more than I deserved it from Christ. But I’ve been doubly blessed with both.

Sisters, never ever doubt the freedom that comes in forgiveness. Giving and receiving.

We may only have the ability to give, but if it needs to be asked for, then ask.

Regardless of getting in return, the asking in itself will free. And you’ve done the only part left for you to do.

Jesus did His part for you. He bids we do our part for Him. And not only for His sake, but for our own.

Unforgiveness robs freedom from the one holding on, not the one being held.

It’s time to live free. On the other side of forgiveness.

For His Glory,


On Wednesday’s we have started a tradition of speaking “Woman to Woman.” Comment and follow on twitter or Facebook with #w2w. I’ve asked other sisters to join in the discussion by adding their own links below or by adding their thoughts in the comments. If you have a blog and would like to link your post, please link directly to your permalink (ie. and not your homepage URL (ie. by clicking on the little blue frog below. You can go back to the beginning to see the foundation for this community here. We would be humbled beyond belief to have you join in. The more voices speaking to one another, the more chance we will be heard and the more opportunity for healing and growing as sisters. And to spur one another on in love, we ask that you visit the person linked before you and comment to encourage. Our words matter. In giving and receiving, they matter. You matter. More than you know. We matter. xoxo- Meredith