I did not set out to become a writer any more than I set out to become a Medical Freedom activist.
Like freedom fighting, writing (for me) is like breathing.
I don’t really ever plan it.
And I am not certain I could stop it—even if I wanted to.
The words come to me, and when they do…it is effortless.
I often ponder the extent to which I almost feel outside the process even as my fingers move across the keyboard.
I never know exactly what will come out.
All I know is that it will.
If you read “The Beautiful Ugly”, it is most likely that you became acquainted with me through Medical Freedom or 2 Citizen Moms or North Carolina Republican Politics or maybe even Foundations Homeschool Resource Center.
But I have recently discovered that with the exception of the “Shade for the Children” series which included “Children for Sale”, it is neither politics nor medical freedom that seems to connect me most closely with my reader.
My thoughts on “The Resurrection” and the death of my brother resonated with many of you.
The Dead Siblings Club is raw and exclusive.
“What is a Woman?” went viral.
You added to my answer and in doing so made it more complete.
You cried with me when I said goodbye to my dad and published “A Tribute to my Father.”
The cost of “Covid” was real.
And most recently, the responses from “He Calls Me Beauty” have been overwhelming, heart-breaking, and deeply moving.
Trainwreck marriage is real.
It should not have come as a surprise that brokenness connects human beings in a way that triumph rarely does.
As it turns out—the pieces that most deeply move my readers are those that are of the most personal in nature and require the most honesty and vulnerability.
So here we go again.
2024 was hard.
My husband (a Wake County school teacher) had emergency surgery in November.
Blue Cross Blue Shield of North Carolina declined coverage though it was life-saving.
I will write more about that when I have more perspective and less anger.
Raising three children on a teacher’s salary has never been easy.
The only thing that made it humanly possible was the fact that my husband teaches at a year round school which secured 12 months of income for us instead of 10.
We have never had “plenty” but we have always had enough.
We live inside the tension of Proverbs 30 : 7-9.
Shane was recently informed that his school (and many others as a result of the mass exodus from woke government schools) is transitioning to a traditional calendar.
Like most Americans, we live paycheck to paycheck.
So here we are.
A two month pay cut…on top of thousands out of pocket for surgery…
Months of physical recovery…and limitations we have never known.
We currently find ourselves in the waiting.
Zero clue what comes next.
We are not even certain at this very moment that we will stay in North Carolina.
The economy here feels as though it is collapsing under the weight of Biden Economics and Republican collusion.
Johnston County just raised property taxes by 50-70%.
Some days the burden feels crushing.
I have been praying for some time that the Lord would allow me to help my husband financially.
I have considered so many jobs outside the home, but was never at peace because each would require me to prioritize money over my primary role as a wife, mother, homeschool teacher, grandmother…
I just could not do it.
I started Motherhood strong, and I am determined to finish strong.
But I live with a constant knot in my stomach.
And then it happened.
Little by little, some of you started making pledges to pay for my writing.
I can honestly say I was confounded.
Who am I that anyone would actually pay to read anything I have to say?
I still can’t answer that question.
But I do know that enough of you have pledged and personally encouraged me on this path that I am certain it is the next step.
From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you.
You know who you are.
You live in my heart.
You will never know what it means to me.
(If you haven’t made a pledge—please hear me when I say I am not asking you to…and absolutely nothing changes—my content will always remain free…)
I do this thing.
I keep a Note on my phone called “Leave Room for God.”
And I write down all the prayers that feel impossible and frustrating and unanswered.
Our finances have been at the top of that list for a really long time.
Only God could devise a scheme to write part two of our story by paying me to write our story.
His story.
I could not be more grateful for this life I live—
In all of it’s beautiful ugly.
I love you…