![christinalafferty:
Hello sweet ones- this is a little bit of a weird post for me. If you can or want to stick through it, there might be a little something for you. If not, I still need to write it out for me. For the sake of preserving memories I don’t want to lose with time. Man oh man, but I must begin with saying that life is so sweet… grateful I have the one that I do with all of the great people in it who make me better. Cheers to us!
Today is the 10 year anniversary of my dad’s passing. One whole decade without my sweet pops. I usually don’t talk about this part of my life publicly, because unfortunately a lot of my closest friends that I’ve made over the years in college and after never got to meet him. His life and story is so big that I usually just don’t know how to quickly tell people about how he died without overwhelming them or making them feel bad for bringing it up. (Which by the way, I’m completely comfortable answering any questions. People still just tend to feel weird like they’ll make me sad if they talk about it.) I was fourteen when he died (that’s crazy.), and since then I went to three different high schools in three years (voluntarily!), and moved to all of the following places: Lakeland, FL - Columbus, OH- Charlotte, NC- West Palm Beach, FL- Nashville, TN- Tempe, AZ- and back to Nashville, TN again where I’m currently trying to plant roots and stay for a while. :) Also in that time period I spent a good chunk of time traveling to see and meet new people all over the country, and spent time in the Dominican Republic and Trinidad and Tobago. Bottom line, I’ve met a LOT of unbelievably great people in 10 years, and some of the most life-changing friendships have been formed. Still, most don’t know a whole lot about my old man. And it’s just weird. One decade of my friends not being tied in to that part of my life.
So, here’s his story. A short post to include you in on the story of my hero, the man with a million friends, Cliff Lafferty.
Wait, so do you all even know that I’m a pastor’s kid? haha I don’t feel like my interweb acquaintances would know that, so there you have it: I’m a PK. Most of you do know that I am a convert to the Roman Catholic church, almost for 3 years now, but I grew up in the Nazarene church. So so thankful. I’m where I’m at today as an adult in my walk with Jesus thanks to my dad and mom. I’m a lucky one who grew up in a home where we were taught to love God, love people, and to dig in deep in the word. Our little family joke is that we don’t have much money, but dang it- we’re rich with L O V E. [mom, I’ve been wondering lately if I could cash that in for a house? ;)] My parents love us and encouraged us growing up to be who we are, to try anything, to dream big and do what we love, and to trust in Jesus through every season of life. Talk about a rich foundation for one good family life. Even today in our separate lives we’re still glued together as a family because of what we’ve been through together, and because of what our parents taught us. We’re each other’s biggest cheerleaders. We love, we protect, and we adore one another.
I’ll stop gushing. So in 1996 my dad, the incredible leader and pastor, led a couple of different groups from our church to build churches in the Dominican Republic. At the time we were in Marietta, OH, and I was 9-years-old. My oldest brother Ryan was a teenager then and got to go on that trip with him, which I am so jealous of. In the craziness of construction my dad managed get hurt with a pretty deep cut in the palm of his hand and took the rest of the day off from heavy lifting. He got his hand bandaged up and spent the rest of his time just being in community with the people in the village, and visited different people in their make-shift homes. One visit in particular changed his life forever. He went into the home of a man that was extremely ill, and needed help getting up out of bed. It turned out that the man had an open wound that dad didn’t see, and he contracted HIV through blood contact. It got into the cut in his hand while helping him stand up. Symptoms of HIV hit each person who has contracted it differently. It can take years, but for my dad he was sick almost immediately. By the time they were stateside again he was so so sick and they were convinced he had severe sun poisoning. Months later our church hosted a blood drive, and my dad was called into the hospital with news that his blood donation had shown that he was HIV positive. I was really young when this happened, and didn’t know what any of that meant, but I just remember being told that he was very very sick and we had to move back to Florida where it was warm. As an adult looking back now, I can’t even imagine how bad my parents’ world was rocked. How the heck did they do it. We moved across the country that year, not sure yet where we were going to live, what schools the boys and I were going to attend (me and Levi in elementary school, Ryan and Trevor in middle school), and what my parents were going to do about work/medical expenses. My mom is the most incredible superhuman that I know. She went from being a homeschooling mom and wife in ministry, to having to move an entire household to Florida in a van that broke down on us, take care of a very sick husband that was in and out of the hospital for years, love and care for four kids in their awkward, terrible, hormonal pre-teen and teen years, and take on full-time employment to provide for us. Seriously, how does one person do that?? She even managed to cook incredible meals for us every day, and got us where we needed to go with all of our extracurricular activities. She gets human of the year award, every year, for forever. Thank you for everything, mom.
Fortunately for us, we got to enjoy having our dad for six more years after that. Six hard years, but we still managed to pull through and live normally. Six years with lots of fun and laughter in the middle of pain. I remember all of the good days and the bad ones pretty vividly, but one that stands out was when I was in middle school and sang in some little church talent show thing. I didn’t realize the extent of it at the time, but that apparently was one of my dad’s sickest days when I was going to compete. I couldn’t tell you what I sang, and I’m pretty I didn’t even place haha… but I remember that my dad still got up and went to be there with me and play the guitar. Because it was important to him that he was there, and that I felt special on a day that I was really nervous about. Sweet, sweet, sweet memory. I could also spend hours upon hours telling you about the goodness of his heart, and the inner-city homeless ministry he started in Lakeland called Mission Possible that still goes on today when the funding is available. It started off with him having the 6 of us going to a park downtown with like 10 meatloafs that my mom made in her “spare time” haha (did I mention she’s amazing?) and his guitar to hang out with Lakeland’s homeless and get them fed. That turned into a full-on non-profit ministry and meal service with the help of volunteers every first and third Saturday of the month. I like that I had a dad who took his kids into the less popular neighborhoods of our city to hang out and connect with people in need. Everyone loved him. Everyone trusted him. He changed lives with his story and hope in Jesus… and daggumit, he made people laugh. I remember one time specifically he gave a friend a pair of new shoes straight off of his feet, and walked around barefoot until coming home. The man was awesome, and he lived every moment of what was left of his life focused on serving others. His life and ministry of following Jesus closely is a radical story that is still heavy on the hearts of friends and family who knew him. I’ll still get random messages or e-mails from people occasionally letting me know that they love and miss their friend, and tell me their favorite memories of him. So cool, man. What a guy.
I could fill pages with reasons why I love my dad, and why I would never, for anything, choose a lifetime with a different father over 14 years with him. Instead I’ll try to quickly tie things together and say that I’m sorry to anyone who never got to hug him and hear his dumb dad jokes, but I hope that in knowing me you get to experience him a little bit. I was part of his mission. His blood runs through mine, and I don’t take lightly the gift of carrying what he passed on. The last ten years have been a wild ride for me in figuring out who I am and where I’m going. Literally. Have you seen how many times I moved in my young adult life?? I want to know everyone, everywhere, all the time, cooking lots of food and taking lots of pictures. Oy vey. Let me love you, people!!
Here is one thing I want to pass on to the people in my life after experiencing major loss: life goes on. You probably won’t get over it, but you’ll get through it. I promise. You can spend your time curled up in bed and miserable, or you can get back up and get moving.
Happiness is a choice you have to make. Not an easy one, but if you want it bad enough a happy life is yours for the livin’.
So I’ve made the choice, and have made it an every single day discipline in trusting that God the Father loves me and will provide for me. I’ve had my angry days and my sad days, but with time God has given me the *grace to be happy again because I’ve begged him for it. Still on days that aren’t easy with whatever life is throwing at me, I have to literally say out loud to myself that I’m going to choose joy in all things, and rejoice in the Lord for he has me glad! I’ve never had one day where God hasn’t provided me with what I need. Needs people, not wants. Let’s keep it real. I’m a single, 24-year-old with a college degree still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, and still living pay check to pay check :). Life is not perfect, but mmmmmYES I’ve got joy joy joy joy down in my heart to stay. Peace that passes understanding. I’ve planted myself next to the stream of life more abundantly, life more fully. I’m stickin’ with Jesus. And you better believe that with a heart full of joy, I’m also committed to getting through the rest of my life with a good sense of humor :D
For my friends who have experienced loss, been wronged, felt uncomfortable in their own skin, been confused about their purpose in life, whatever…. me too. Let’s stick together, share our stories, be good to one another and do the best we can with all of our messes. Let’s whip our hair back ‘n forth and get happy ;)
Because of Jesus, we are made whole, made new, and made into something beautiful. Individually, and as one body in the global Church. Amen!
I love you guys. Thanks for being a part of my story.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxlnrsV20o1qja69bo1_1280.jpg "christinalafferty:
Hello sweet ones- this is a little bit of a weird post for me. If you can or want to stick through it, there might be a little something for you. If not, I still need to write it out for me. For the sake of preserving memories I don’t want to lose with time. Man oh man, but I must begin with saying that life is so sweet… grateful I have the one that I do with all of the great people in it who make me better. Cheers to us!
Today is the 10 year anniversary of my dad’s passing. One whole decade without my sweet pops. I usually don’t talk about this part of my life publicly, because unfortunately a lot of my closest friends that I’ve made over the years in college and after never got to meet him. His life and story is so big that I usually just don’t know how to quickly tell people about how he died without overwhelming them or making them feel bad for bringing it up. (Which by the way, I’m completely comfortable answering any questions. People still just tend to feel weird like they’ll make me sad if they talk about it.) I was fourteen when he died (that’s crazy.), and since then I went to three different high schools in three years (voluntarily!), and moved to all of the following places: Lakeland, FL - Columbus, OH- Charlotte, NC- West Palm Beach, FL- Nashville, TN- Tempe, AZ- and back to Nashville, TN again where I’m currently trying to plant roots and stay for a while. :) Also in that time period I spent a good chunk of time traveling to see and meet new people all over the country, and spent time in the Dominican Republic and Trinidad and Tobago. Bottom line, I’ve met a LOT of unbelievably great people in 10 years, and some of the most life-changing friendships have been formed. Still, most don’t know a whole lot about my old man. And it’s just weird. One decade of my friends not being tied in to that part of my life.
So, here’s his story. A short post to include you in on the story of my hero, the man with a million friends, Cliff Lafferty.
Wait, so do you all even know that I’m a pastor’s kid? haha I don’t feel like my interweb acquaintances would know that, so there you have it: I’m a PK. Most of you do know that I am a convert to the Roman Catholic church, almost for 3 years now, but I grew up in the Nazarene church. So so thankful. I’m where I’m at today as an adult in my walk with Jesus thanks to my dad and mom. I’m a lucky one who grew up in a home where we were taught to love God, love people, and to dig in deep in the word. Our little family joke is that we don’t have much money, but dang it- we’re rich with L O V E. [mom, I’ve been wondering lately if I could cash that in for a house? ;)] My parents love us and encouraged us growing up to be who we are, to try anything, to dream big and do what we love, and to trust in Jesus through every season of life. Talk about a rich foundation for one good family life. Even today in our separate lives we’re still glued together as a family because of what we’ve been through together, and because of what our parents taught us. We’re each other’s biggest cheerleaders. We love, we protect, and we adore one another.
I’ll stop gushing. So in 1996 my dad, the incredible leader and pastor, led a couple of different groups from our church to build churches in the Dominican Republic. At the time we were in Marietta, OH, and I was 9-years-old. My oldest brother Ryan was a teenager then and got to go on that trip with him, which I am so jealous of. In the craziness of construction my dad managed get hurt with a pretty deep cut in the palm of his hand and took the rest of the day off from heavy lifting. He got his hand bandaged up and spent the rest of his time just being in community with the people in the village, and visited different people in their make-shift homes. One visit in particular changed his life forever. He went into the home of a man that was extremely ill, and needed help getting up out of bed. It turned out that the man had an open wound that dad didn’t see, and he contracted HIV through blood contact. It got into the cut in his hand while helping him stand up. Symptoms of HIV hit each person who has contracted it differently. It can take years, but for my dad he was sick almost immediately. By the time they were stateside again he was so so sick and they were convinced he had severe sun poisoning. Months later our church hosted a blood drive, and my dad was called into the hospital with news that his blood donation had shown that he was HIV positive. I was really young when this happened, and didn’t know what any of that meant, but I just remember being told that he was very very sick and we had to move back to Florida where it was warm. As an adult looking back now, I can’t even imagine how bad my parents’ world was rocked. How the heck did they do it. We moved across the country that year, not sure yet where we were going to live, what schools the boys and I were going to attend (me and Levi in elementary school, Ryan and Trevor in middle school), and what my parents were going to do about work/medical expenses. My mom is the most incredible superhuman that I know. She went from being a homeschooling mom and wife in ministry, to having to move an entire household to Florida in a van that broke down on us, take care of a very sick husband that was in and out of the hospital for years, love and care for four kids in their awkward, terrible, hormonal pre-teen and teen years, and take on full-time employment to provide for us. Seriously, how does one person do that?? She even managed to cook incredible meals for us every day, and got us where we needed to go with all of our extracurricular activities. She gets human of the year award, every year, for forever. Thank you for everything, mom.
Fortunately for us, we got to enjoy having our dad for six more years after that. Six hard years, but we still managed to pull through and live normally. Six years with lots of fun and laughter in the middle of pain. I remember all of the good days and the bad ones pretty vividly, but one that stands out was when I was in middle school and sang in some little church talent show thing. I didn’t realize the extent of it at the time, but that apparently was one of my dad’s sickest days when I was going to compete. I couldn’t tell you what I sang, and I’m pretty I didn’t even place haha… but I remember that my dad still got up and went to be there with me and play the guitar. Because it was important to him that he was there, and that I felt special on a day that I was really nervous about. Sweet, sweet, sweet memory. I could also spend hours upon hours telling you about the goodness of his heart, and the inner-city homeless ministry he started in Lakeland called Mission Possible that still goes on today when the funding is available. It started off with him having the 6 of us going to a park downtown with like 10 meatloafs that my mom made in her “spare time” haha (did I mention she’s amazing?) and his guitar to hang out with Lakeland’s homeless and get them fed. That turned into a full-on non-profit ministry and meal service with the help of volunteers every first and third Saturday of the month. I like that I had a dad who took his kids into the less popular neighborhoods of our city to hang out and connect with people in need. Everyone loved him. Everyone trusted him. He changed lives with his story and hope in Jesus… and daggumit, he made people laugh. I remember one time specifically he gave a friend a pair of new shoes straight off of his feet, and walked around barefoot until coming home. The man was awesome, and he lived every moment of what was left of his life focused on serving others. His life and ministry of following Jesus closely is a radical story that is still heavy on the hearts of friends and family who knew him. I’ll still get random messages or e-mails from people occasionally letting me know that they love and miss their friend, and tell me their favorite memories of him. So cool, man. What a guy.
I could fill pages with reasons why I love my dad, and why I would never, for anything, choose a lifetime with a different father over 14 years with him. Instead I’ll try to quickly tie things together and say that I’m sorry to anyone who never got to hug him and hear his dumb dad jokes, but I hope that in knowing me you get to experience him a little bit. I was part of his mission. His blood runs through mine, and I don’t take lightly the gift of carrying what he passed on. The last ten years have been a wild ride for me in figuring out who I am and where I’m going. Literally. Have you seen how many times I moved in my young adult life?? I want to know everyone, everywhere, all the time, cooking lots of food and taking lots of pictures. Oy vey. Let me love you, people!!
Here is one thing I want to pass on to the people in my life after experiencing major loss: life goes on. You probably won’t get over it, but you’ll get through it. I promise. You can spend your time curled up in bed and miserable, or you can get back up and get moving.
Happiness is a choice you have to make. Not an easy one, but if you want it bad enough a happy life is yours for the livin’.
So I’ve made the choice, and have made it an every single day discipline in trusting that God the Father loves me and will provide for me. I’ve had my angry days and my sad days, but with time God has given me the *grace to be happy again because I’ve begged him for it. Still on days that aren’t easy with whatever life is throwing at me, I have to literally say out loud to myself that I’m going to choose joy in all things, and rejoice in the Lord for he has me glad! I’ve never had one day where God hasn’t provided me with what I need. Needs people, not wants. Let’s keep it real. I’m a single, 24-year-old with a college degree still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, and still living pay check to pay check :). Life is not perfect, but mmmmmYES I’ve got joy joy joy joy down in my heart to stay. Peace that passes understanding. I’ve planted myself next to the stream of life more abundantly, life more fully. I’m stickin’ with Jesus. And you better believe that with a heart full of joy, I’m also committed to getting through the rest of my life with a good sense of humor :D
For my friends who have experienced loss, been wronged, felt uncomfortable in their own skin, been confused about their purpose in life, whatever…. me too. Let’s stick together, share our stories, be good to one another and do the best we can with all of our messes. Let’s whip our hair back ‘n forth and get happy ;)
Because of Jesus, we are made whole, made new, and made into something beautiful. Individually, and as one body in the global Church. Amen!
I love you guys. Thanks for being a part of my story.")
Hello sweet ones- this is a little bit of a weird post for me. If you can or want to stick through it, there might be a little something for you. If not, I still need to write it out for me. For the sake of preserving memories I don’t want to lose with time. Man oh man, but I must begin with saying that life is so sweet… grateful I have the one that I do with all of the great people in it who make me better. Cheers to us!
Today is the 10 year anniversary of my dad’s passing. One whole decade without my sweet pops. I usually don’t talk about this part of my life publicly, because unfortunately a lot of my closest friends that I’ve made over the years in college and after never got to meet him. His life and story is so big that I usually just don’t know how to quickly tell people about how he died without overwhelming them or making them feel bad for bringing it up. (Which by the way, I’m completely comfortable answering any questions. People still just tend to feel weird like they’ll make me sad if they talk about it.) I was fourteen when he died (that’s crazy.), and since then I went to three different high schools in three years (voluntarily!), and moved to all of the following places: Lakeland, FL - Columbus, OH- Charlotte, NC- West Palm Beach, FL- Nashville, TN- Tempe, AZ- and back to Nashville, TN again where I’m currently trying to plant roots and stay for a while. :) Also in that time period I spent a good chunk of time traveling to see and meet new people all over the country, and spent time in the Dominican Republic and Trinidad and Tobago. Bottom line, I’ve met a LOT of unbelievably great people in 10 years, and some of the most life-changing friendships have been formed. Still, most don’t know a whole lot about my old man. And it’s just weird. One decade of my friends not being tied in to that part of my life.
So, here’s his story. A short post to include you in on the story of my hero, the man with a million friends, Cliff Lafferty.
Wait, so do you all even know that I’m a pastor’s kid? haha I don’t feel like my interweb acquaintances would know that, so there you have it: I’m a PK. Most of you do know that I am a convert to the Roman Catholic church, almost for 3 years now, but I grew up in the Nazarene church. So so thankful. I’m where I’m at today as an adult in my walk with Jesus thanks to my dad and mom. I’m a lucky one who grew up in a home where we were taught to love God, love people, and to dig in deep in the word. Our little family joke is that we don’t have much money, but dang it- we’re rich with L O V E. [mom, I’ve been wondering lately if I could cash that in for a house? ;)] My parents love us and encouraged us growing up to be who we are, to try anything, to dream big and do what we love, and to trust in Jesus through every season of life. Talk about a rich foundation for one good family life. Even today in our separate lives we’re still glued together as a family because of what we’ve been through together, and because of what our parents taught us. We’re each other’s biggest cheerleaders. We love, we protect, and we adore one another.
I’ll stop gushing. So in 1996 my dad, the incredible leader and pastor, led a couple of different groups from our church to build churches in the Dominican Republic. At the time we were in Marietta, OH, and I was 9-years-old. My oldest brother Ryan was a teenager then and got to go on that trip with him, which I am so jealous of. In the craziness of construction my dad managed get hurt with a pretty deep cut in the palm of his hand and took the rest of the day off from heavy lifting. He got his hand bandaged up and spent the rest of his time just being in community with the people in the village, and visited different people in their make-shift homes. One visit in particular changed his life forever. He went into the home of a man that was extremely ill, and needed help getting up out of bed. It turned out that the man had an open wound that dad didn’t see, and he contracted HIV through blood contact. It got into the cut in his hand while helping him stand up. Symptoms of HIV hit each person who has contracted it differently. It can take years, but for my dad he was sick almost immediately. By the time they were stateside again he was so so sick and they were convinced he had severe sun poisoning. Months later our church hosted a blood drive, and my dad was called into the hospital with news that his blood donation had shown that he was HIV positive. I was really young when this happened, and didn’t know what any of that meant, but I just remember being told that he was very very sick and we had to move back to Florida where it was warm. As an adult looking back now, I can’t even imagine how bad my parents’ world was rocked. How the heck did they do it. We moved across the country that year, not sure yet where we were going to live, what schools the boys and I were going to attend (me and Levi in elementary school, Ryan and Trevor in middle school), and what my parents were going to do about work/medical expenses. My mom is the most incredible superhuman that I know. She went from being a homeschooling mom and wife in ministry, to having to move an entire household to Florida in a van that broke down on us, take care of a very sick husband that was in and out of the hospital for years, love and care for four kids in their awkward, terrible, hormonal pre-teen and teen years, and take on full-time employment to provide for us. Seriously, how does one person do that?? She even managed to cook incredible meals for us every day, and got us where we needed to go with all of our extracurricular activities. She gets human of the year award, every year, for forever. Thank you for everything, mom.
Fortunately for us, we got to enjoy having our dad for six more years after that. Six hard years, but we still managed to pull through and live normally. Six years with lots of fun and laughter in the middle of pain. I remember all of the good days and the bad ones pretty vividly, but one that stands out was when I was in middle school and sang in some little church talent show thing. I didn’t realize the extent of it at the time, but that apparently was one of my dad’s sickest days when I was going to compete. I couldn’t tell you what I sang, and I’m pretty I didn’t even place haha… but I remember that my dad still got up and went to be there with me and play the guitar. Because it was important to him that he was there, and that I felt special on a day that I was really nervous about. Sweet, sweet, sweet memory. I could also spend hours upon hours telling you about the goodness of his heart, and the inner-city homeless ministry he started in Lakeland called Mission Possible that still goes on today when the funding is available. It started off with him having the 6 of us going to a park downtown with like 10 meatloafs that my mom made in her “spare time” haha (did I mention she’s amazing?) and his guitar to hang out with Lakeland’s homeless and get them fed. That turned into a full-on non-profit ministry and meal service with the help of volunteers every first and third Saturday of the month. I like that I had a dad who took his kids into the less popular neighborhoods of our city to hang out and connect with people in need. Everyone loved him. Everyone trusted him. He changed lives with his story and hope in Jesus… and daggumit, he made people laugh. I remember one time specifically he gave a friend a pair of new shoes straight off of his feet, and walked around barefoot until coming home. The man was awesome, and he lived every moment of what was left of his life focused on serving others. His life and ministry of following Jesus closely is a radical story that is still heavy on the hearts of friends and family who knew him. I’ll still get random messages or e-mails from people occasionally letting me know that they love and miss their friend, and tell me their favorite memories of him. So cool, man. What a guy.
I could fill pages with reasons why I love my dad, and why I would never, for anything, choose a lifetime with a different father over 14 years with him. Instead I’ll try to quickly tie things together and say that I’m sorry to anyone who never got to hug him and hear his dumb dad jokes, but I hope that in knowing me you get to experience him a little bit. I was part of his mission. His blood runs through mine, and I don’t take lightly the gift of carrying what he passed on. The last ten years have been a wild ride for me in figuring out who I am and where I’m going. Literally. Have you seen how many times I moved in my young adult life?? I want to know everyone, everywhere, all the time, cooking lots of food and taking lots of pictures. Oy vey. Let me love you, people!!
Here is one thing I want to pass on to the people in my life after experiencing major loss: life goes on. You probably won’t get over it, but you’ll get through it. I promise. You can spend your time curled up in bed and miserable, or you can get back up and get moving.
Happiness is a choice you have to make. Not an easy one, but if you want it bad enough a happy life is yours for the livin’.
So I’ve made the choice, and have made it an every single day discipline in trusting that God the Father loves me and will provide for me. I’ve had my angry days and my sad days, but with time God has given me the *grace to be happy again because I’ve begged him for it. Still on days that aren’t easy with whatever life is throwing at me, I have to literally say out loud to myself that I’m going to choose joy in all things, and rejoice in the Lord for he has me glad! I’ve never had one day where God hasn’t provided me with what I need. Needs people, not wants. Let’s keep it real. I’m a single, 24-year-old with a college degree still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, and still living pay check to pay check :). Life is not perfect, but mmmmmYES I’ve got joy joy joy joy down in my heart to stay. Peace that passes understanding. I’ve planted myself next to the stream of life more abundantly, life more fully. I’m stickin’ with Jesus. And you better believe that with a heart full of joy, I’m also committed to getting through the rest of my life with a good sense of humor :D
For my friends who have experienced loss, been wronged, felt uncomfortable in their own skin, been confused about their purpose in life, whatever…. me too. Let’s stick together, share our stories, be good to one another and do the best we can with all of our messes. Let’s whip our hair back ‘n forth and get happy ;)
Because of Jesus, we are made whole, made new, and made into something beautiful. Individually, and as one body in the global Church. Amen!
I love you guys. Thanks for being a part of my story.
