This Is Me

When I started this blog almost two years ago, I wanted tell my story in hopes of touching someone’s life. I wanted people to relate. And most importantly, I wanted to share Christ.  This will probably be the hardest to post, but if what I write or what happens to me has the ability to influence someone who might be going through the same situation—I’ll take that opportunity. This past week my heart was broken. I was let down. I was crushed. I was stabbed in the back. I was at a point in my life where nothing made sense. How could someone be so heartless? What did I do wrong? In one hour, everything I had planned for my life was shot to pieces. Everything I thought God wanted for me was gone. Point blank—I was devastated. At this point, there were two roads I could have taken. I could choose to be mad at God—after all how could a God that claims to be love allow this happen? How could He watch me hurt? Or I could take the rocky road. I could trust. Trust that this was part

        I know Father’s Day is a few months away, but for today’s post I wanted to write about the man we grow up calling, “Dad.”         For some, a father is a man that walked out. For others, it’s a person busy making a living for his family. Yet for others, a father is one of the most influential people in their lives. My dad.           After high school, I decided to go to college about 800 miles away from home. Texas A&M University. While my dad was adamant about me going to Mizzou (which was only two hours from home), he supported my decision and on August 22, 2010 he dropped his first-born daughter, daddy’s little girl, off at her dorm and said goodbye. In the midst of his busy schedule, my dad always managed to find time to send me a, “Goodnight, I love you,” text right before bed. Not just once a week. Or every so often. But EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT .   When I didn’t make good grades. When I disappointed him. When I forgot to tell him happy birthday.   I still mana