Andy’s Fight

She wasn’t there the day my oldest daughter was born. In fact, I didn’t know she existed. And when I held that sweet baby in my arms, I prayed for the future. I can’t remember my prayer, because I didn’t know Jesus then, but I know that I didn’t pray for her.

I met her at a McDonald’s one cold day after work, four years later. She was so nice, and she was different than I had pictured her. She was calm, and her words were deliberate. She was an open book to a nervous mom, and I left that meeting with a peace I hadn’t had in a long time. I liked her from that first day, but I had no idea the role she would play in my life.

Over the next few years, I would realize how impossibly different we were. She is calm and rational, organized and deliberate, quiet but fierce. In fact, we may have only one thing in common – an incredible love for that blonde haired, blue eyed girl. While mine may be biological, I cannot recall a single time where I doubted that the love she felt for that child was less than the love I felt.

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1,000 Days

Anyone that is friends with me on Facebook undoubtedly saw the outpouring of celebration yesterday by my friends, who congratulated me and showered me with gifts and love in celebration of my 1000 days of sobriety.

For those of you that don’t know my story, or weren’t aware of that portion of my story, I wanted to give a narrative that maybe answers some questions you have. So what does that mean? What did life look like 1005 days ago? Do you go to meetings? Do you get a chip?

The answer is no, because I have never gone to meetings. I do have a group of friends that I lean on when I know that the circumstances in front of me start looking like they used to when I did what I always did – find my way back to self-destruction, through which ever path I could get to faster. Sobriety didn’t begin with rehab and meetings, and pre-sobriety did not look like the picture many people have in their head when they think of sobriety or recovery.

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Charlotte is 5

I love this sweet baby. From the moment she was born, she took the internet by storm. Her sweet, yet skeptical spirit has made her a force to be reckoned with. Today, she is 5 years old. Somewhere, in all my wondering if these kids were ever going to start growing up quickly, they started doing just that. I’ve included some of my very favorite pictures of her; ones that capture her spirit and her love. Charlotte is a one and only; frustratingly stubborn, impossibly empathetic, and charming and witty. It may take a while for her to warm up to you, but once she has you, her love is fierce and unwavering.

I cannot even tell you how grateful we are that she grew into that nose.

 

Um….

If anyone needs me, I’m over here doing VERY IMPORTANT THINGS.
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You’re welcome.

The Baby

So this year was more emotional for me during Christmastime after I heard Andy Stanley say on a podcast that one of the reasons we know Jesus was real is because no man would create a story about God coming to Earth in the flesh as a baby. I’d heard that a few times, but it sunk in with significance this year, and I let myself feel the weight of it.

A baby. A helpless, vulnerable baby. Born in a manger, no less. Born as the least of these, to the least of these. 

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That story truly is no man’s creation. We know that by the movies we watch and the visual we get when we think of a King. More Goliath sized than David, for sure. Our Savior, the one we create, isn’t born to scared yet faithful parents, but instead comes in a fury. He appears to us from a storm, and he comes with a vengeance with no mercy. He is strong and powerful. He isn’t born in the dirt.

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Welcome

So I take the last part of the year off, and when I put in my vacation request, I think about all the things I’ll do in that time. I’ll sleep late. I’ll have long lunches with my friends and relaxing coffee dates. I’ll watch Fixer Upper marathons and snuggle up on the couch and drink cappuccino. I’ll lay under a heavy blanket and read until my eyes cross. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

Inevitably the only thing I get to do is clean and organize and purge. There is no relaxing. There is only sun up to sun down doing stuff. I have done so much crap that every muscle in my body hurts. I sat down only to write this post. And y’all, I have a super emotional post inside me that’s been wanting to get out for a while now, and I just don’t have it in me to bang it out onto this keyboard.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!