Give Hope for the Holidays

Those who are without loved ones and life essentials are in my thoughts and prayers this Christmas season. Tis the season to celebrate the Greatest gift of all, Jesus, but for some facing the death of a loved one, depression, sickness, loss of relationship, financial struggles, uncertain outcomes or any major challenge it’s times like now they need the love of Jesus as shown through others more than ever.
Christmas is all about giving, for it’s during this time that God gave us His Son. If you give nothing else this year please be sure to give your ears to hear, hearts to feel, hands to help and shoulders to lean on for those who need hope through the holidays and beyond.

And if you’re the one in need of a ray of hope know now, and always, that you are loved.



I Owe You, Girl

A funny thing happened to my Hotmail account. It flashed back to 2008 and is permanently stuck there on my phone, totally disregarding all other correspondence from then until now. While deleting several dozen emails representing My Life: Phase 1 I found some old pictures from way back in the 90s.

Let me just say, the Lord has a sense of humor. The few pictures which stuck out most were ones of me at some of my career highs and personal lows in My Life: Phase 1. I looked at them with an equal amount of overwhelming proudness from the woman I saw, as if she wasn’t me. I looked at them also as a reminder of who I really am, what I’m made of, from where I’ve come and Who’s in control. (Not to mention I LOVE the spark of sass I saw even through the grainy-ness of those forgotten photos.)


To the high heels everyday, blue suit and fierce, precision, layered red hair wearing go-getter, who would get up at 3:30am drive to one part-time job clear across town from her Highway 280 apartment, then burn rubber in her champagne gold Nissan Maxima to her head her full-time news gig at 9am, work until the news demanded no more, and still make time to take time for herself, her friends, a bustling social life, lots of community service, active work in the church and of course, time for family I say, “thank you for reminding me of what’s in me.” I owe you, girl.


To the naïve, young woman full of hopes and dreams and love and expectations at her engagement party beaming on the stairwell with thoughts of what God desires for her and of her, excitedly posing at the exact place which would ultimately end up being her place of employment after the elaborate engagement party hosted for the wonderful wedding which led to a short-lived marriage ending in divorce (and the desperate need for employment in My Life: Phase 2) I say “thank you for reminding me of what’s in me.” I owe you, girl.


To the woman who endured the PAINFUL, experimental, super long steroid shots in the eye covered by an itchy, irritating as the dickens patch to keep her eye from popping out, taking 17 pills a day, who gained 50 pounds in one month after a fight with Graves Disease and Thyroid Storm tried to send her home to sweet Jesus, but couldn’t (BOOM!), yet still monitors and deals with it to this day I say, “thank you for reminding me of what’s in me.” I owe you, girl.


Here’s what I know. Nothing happens without reason. Today, for some reason, as I sat in delightful solitude at home enjoying my peace and quiet God wanted me to take a look back knowing it was what I needed to help propel me forward. I know he knew that not only could I handle those TONS of emails and pictures representing My Life: Phase 1 without a smidgen of anger, sadness or regret, but that I would view them with lots of smiles and giggles. And, because I know He knows His daughter, I know He knew I needed to be reminded, even through a grainy old photo, of how fly I looked nestled up on that television production board like a boss, so that I could prepare to be one in whatever new and blog-worthy ways He desires in My Life: Phase 2. So to those three versions of me in My Life: Phase 1, I say I owe you, girl. Your struggle, sass and sense of survival was not in vain. I hope to make you proud.



I Miss My Saturdays!

Life Gets Better

We’re just weeks out of the last regular season college football game and already I’m having major withdrawal. I miss my Saturdays!


A recent convert to the world of college gridiron goodness, all of my life, I’ve been a “girlie-girl” with no real desire or feigned interest in sports. A graduate of The (15, soon to be 16-time National Champions) University of Alabama, I attended only a few games in college, mostly the year I dated a player (thanks especially “Mr. Gentleman who shall not be named in this post” for those Iron Bowl tickets for my Daddy and me in 1991 or 1992). I sold most of my $4 student tickets each year for upwards of $400 each. I wasn’t a big jean wearer so wearing Bama T-shirts and sweatshirts was out of the question. As an alum, I’ve been to a couple of games and a handful of fun tailgating experiences, but until the last few of years Saturdays…

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How Low Can You Go?


2015 is soon coming to a close and I’ll be honest. It’s been a growth-inducing year. In other words, it gave your girl, and many in her close circle a soul-stirring, faith-producing, temper-testing, fear-fighting, anger-squelching, emotional rollercoaster ride, run for her money, or the lack thereof (money) at times. I’m not going to dwell too much on the “only God could carry me through” details of what all 2015 served up because that’s not the point of the post. That’s for later and on a larger platform.


The point of the post is that, even though not much APPEARS TO HAVE YET changed for the better, for the last two weeks or so, this has been in my spirit, “This is as bad as it will get and AS LOW AS YOU WILL GO.”


I already know how low I can go! Praise the Lord!




Yep, that’s it, literally and figuratively. No matter what. (Now let that dance around in your spirit like a hip-hop melody.)


Do You See What I See?


One of my biggest pet peeves is to be misunderstood. That gets under my skin like few things do. Why? I’m not sure, but I do know (now) that the more it bothers me the more I find myself in situations from time-to-time where I’m bothered. Maybe it’s the journalist in me or the fact that my parents allowed our feelings to be shared or not understanding how what seems so to me seems foreign to others. I just want my voice to be heard whether you agree or not and I’d prefer you agree, especially if it’s something affecting me.

 Anywho, last month I returned to the land of four eyes, donning glasses for the first time since my miraculous healing and return to 20/20 over a decade ago. My trifecta of stylish specs has sharpened my sight for things close up. So now, rather than stretching my arm out like a rubber figure from the 70s I can see clearly when I read. My focus and view are on fleek.

The same is so, I now see, in others. Now, don’t get me wrong, some people are just plain mean and don’t care to see or accept another’s  point of view. Others, however, simply don’t share the same focus, insight, vision or perspective.

That’s a hard pill to swallow especially when the unshared or unwelcomed receipt of my point of view is from someone who matters to me. Oh well…at least I can see.


Pray for Yourself, Boo

Life Gets Better


I know we’ve been told a time of two to pray for our men. Those, like me, who don’t yet have our own have too, likely been wisely encouraged to do the same…pray for him wherever he is as our very own Heaven-selected Boaz makes his way to each of our lives. (Check out the book of Ruth in the Bible to read all about good, old Boaz.) Both suggestions of prayer are most appropriate, indeed powerful and right in line with what a good wife or good woman would and should do.  But I was soon to find that a key component was being left out of the prayer circle.

One day while walking through my house I found myself whispering this simple prayer, “Lord, bless my husband wherever he is with whatever he is going through.” And then, out of nowhere I mumbled words I had no intentions of uttering, “And get…

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