I was on my hands and knees, cleaning up the inevitable spills from dinners long past. Tears mingled with spaghetti sauce, apple juice, and hair. I finished scrubbing, wiped my face with my sleeve, and thought, “Well, since I’m already down here.”
I turned over on my back, looked up at the heavens and began.
I can’t do this. I’m tired. I’m weary. Every ounce of self confidence has leaked out of every orifice. I talk, but it seems no one hears me. I feel invisible. I don’t know where I’ve gone. Please help me. I feel so alone. Amen
Silent reflective pause.
Is that yogurt on the ceiling?”
That was two years ago.
After watching his bedraggled wife dragging her knuckles on the floor, day after day, my husband remarked, “You need a blog.”
“What’s a blog?” secretly hoping it involved something to do with Kahlua and a tiny umbrella.
On July 26, 2006, It Coulda’ Been Worse was birthed. My husband, sensing I needed community, used his superhuman computer skills and hooked me up.
I’ve always enjoyed writing. I have journals for each of my children, and I looked forward to
penning typing the annual family Christmas letter each year. Although, since the gift of brevity has alluded me, the postage on said Christmas letter was nearly the size of a small mortgage.
I am, however, blessed with the gift of exaggeration.
When I began my blog, I was on my own. Baptism by fire. But, over time, I began to find my voice. And on one bright warm morning, I discovered a community of women mommy bloggers, who thought nothing of openly discussing vomit, boogers, and hormone surges. And who would never judge me if I were to, say, bite into a rock hoping it was a piece of chocolate.
I’d found my people.
Knowing that I wasn’t alone, was such an immense relief to me. As a stay-at-home mom, especially one who homeschools, I could sometimes feel rather isolated. My life completely revolves around my family, as well it should.
But, God has created in us women, a desperate need for a sense of community. We are by design, communicators. I so desire to be a more effective communicator. Because I want to continue to reach other harried mommies, and let them know LOUD AND CLEAR THAT THEY ARE NOT ALONE. And that the job that they are doing is an important one. A vital one.
We’re raising the next generation of leaders, ladies.
And also, I want other women to know that it’s okay to laugh at ourselves. Even in the most dire of circumstances. For me, it’s essential to my well being. And oh so much cheaper than therapy.
As a writer, there is an opportunity before me that I am so excited about. The She Speaks conference will be held in Concord, North Carolina, June 20 -22. The conference focuses not only on effective writing, speaking, and leadership skills, but this year, better blogging will be included as well. As you all well know, the blogging community has exploded in sheer numbers in the last two years. Advertisers are certainly sitting up and taking notice. And blogging can be such an effective ministry tool. Reaching many thousands of women, who just need to hear the sound of another voice. I have certainly been ministered to. And I want to be a more effective ministry as well. Women from all walks of life, with different backgrounds, and beliefs, stop in here daily for a cup of coffee. And a little levity. And we’re united in our desire to raise better children, while not giving into insanity. And if we spew a little coffee through our noses, well, so be it.
Because of my intense desire to be a more effective writer and communicator, I’m excited to tell you that Lisa TerKeurst of Proverbs 31 ministries is offering a scholarship to attend this year’s She Speaks conference. My joy knows no bounds.
You cannot even imagine my excitement about this gathering of Godly women.
My children also have a say in all of this. They desperately want me to attend She Speaks because whenever mommy is out of town, they score breakfast, lunch, and dinner at McDonalds. And as an added bonus, they get to see a whole lot more of their grandparents.
Thank you Lord, for my sweet supportive husband. Who understands my need to attempt this. And isn’t afraid of ketchup stains on the carpet of the van.
And who knows? Perhaps there will even be a conference session on brevity when one is effectively communicating.
I believe I just heard the rather loud collective “AMEN SISTER.”