Over the past few weeks I’ve had about enough adulting.

I mean there’s just so much responsibility…

Marriage – children – career – oil changes – budgeting – saving – healthy eating – working out – laundry – cleaning – and pulling the ever-loving and never fading weeds from my garden.  And, everyday we American’s are faced with another horrible news story that we couldn’t even dream possible 10 years ago – a threat – a crisis – a catastrophe.  Then there’s the ever daily struggle to just be nice to other humans.

The gal who cuts you off in traffic… be nice.  The man who gives you the mean look because your two-year-old just announced to the entire restaurant that she has to poop… be nice.

Or maybe that special someone in the grocery store who rolls their eyes as you allow the children to have the free cookie… be nice.

What I want to say is, “Listen Mr. (or Ms.), believe me, you want them to have the cookie.  Publix wants them to have the cookie, and I, more than anyone, want them to have the cookie.  It’s keeping us all sane, so stop judging me”.  But, I just smile, move on and whisper quietly to myself “be nice”.

There’s no real reason for this adult tantrum I’m having – no specific event, no tragedy or adversity – just a 36-year-old internal tantrum.  As my mother used to say, “it’s probably a phase”.

And, right in the midst of my inner struggle with adulting, my husband left town for 12 days – yep TWELVE.  That’s almost my limit.  Since having children I’ve come to realize that I can keep my act together for a good 14 days.  After that, all bets are off and mama might go a little crazy around day 15 – and if this blessed event should go past 30 days – well, that’s really something special to watch.

Y’all when he’s gone, I adult so hard.

Sometimes I just want pull the blanket over my head and daydream about a time when life wasn’t so complicated.

So, this past Friday, after a long stressful day at work doing all sorts of adulty things, I picked my kids up from daycare and my car kinda drove itself to a random little sports center close to home.  When we pulled in, my seven-year-old almost lost his mind.

“Go karts, Mom, are you kidding me?!?”

You got it!  I strapped myself and my daughter into the two-seater and raced my son – after the appropriate amount of trash talk, of course.   My daughter laughed and screamed so much I thought she was going to vomit and my son, well he beat me, which was maybe the highlight of his year.  We also played putt-putt, went to Dairy Queen and I may have even introduced my children to a little old-school Britney Spears.

Calm down!

I’m talking about the pre-2007, pre-breakdown Britney.  I know the songs and appropriately screened them – so just calm down.

For a moment, all of the adultness melted away.  We were easy breezy and care free.  It was almost like I was driving around in my pre-mom car.  A red Honda Civic.  5-speed with the spoiler on the back.  Except this time there were two kids riding along in the back seat.  It was amazing and I scored some major mom points.

When I got home, however, I had to pull up my big girl britches and turn back into that adult we all know and love.  I’m pretty sure that all Britney all the time may lead to a little recap of 2007 and I, for one, would like to refrain.

I’ve thought a lot about my little internal tantrum over the past few days.  Really more about the source of the tantrum than anything.  And, maybe the reason I’ve felt discouraged is because sometimes it feels like all of my efforts are really meaningless.

Do you ever get there?  It’s not just me, right?

One of my favorite memes is:

“If a woman speaks and no one is listening, her name is probably Mom”.

Doesn’t that describe motherhood and sometimes adulthood so well.  We do all this adulting – the parenting, the marriaging, the cooking, the cleaning.  We pull the weeds, we work the shifts, and carry all this responsibility, and for what?  Is anyone even listening?  I mean, who’s gonna know or even care if we slack off a little?

That was precisely my attitude at the end of last week and then I remembered a little scripture I have hanging on my bulletin board in my office at work.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” Galatians 6:9.

Doesn’t it just burn your biscuits when God gives you little reminder to do the right thing when you are so prepared to go in another direction.  I mean I need a break people.  I’m ready to sign up for the sequel of Bad Moms and then I get that friendly reminder.

But, the more I’ve thought about this scripture the more truth I see.  Y’all there is a harvest that we will reap in our marriage, our children, our career, our health, our home, and even our country if we do not give up.

We must turn our focus from our current situation to our desired outcome.  In some ways this is literally cause and effect.  Just think about it.  In order to live a healthy life you must eat a healthy diet and get plenty of exercise.  Not just once, but over and over and over.  I think the same thing is true for most things in life.  If I want my children to grow up to be nice, honest humans, I must show them this example over and over and over.  If I want to be respected in my career, I must work hard and do the right thing over and over and over.  And, although it’s a biblical principle this makes sense for everyone, right.  It’s the over and over and over that probably makes the difference.

While I’m dropping truth bombs, let me just continue because I think I need to hear this more than anyone. When Paul wrote this letter to the Galatian church, he included this little phrase “proper timing”.  Newsflash…he wasn’t talking about their timing or your timing either.  He’s talking about God’s timing.

God’s timing is a whole different ballgame, people.  Sometimes, if I’m honest, I want God’s plan but I’m not so interested in his timing.  I’m a right now kinda girl – I like instant gratification and I’m guessing so do you.  But, keep reading the rest of the verse.  “In the proper time we will reap a harvest if we don’t give up”.  A harvest of blessings, people.  Not just one blessing from time to time but a whole crop full.   And just for the record, I’ll provide a little farming lesson – crops are harvested at maturity.  Therefore, maybe as we do the right thing over and over and over we are ever maturing in order to receive the harvest that is surely coming.

So, when the weight of adulting gets oh so heavy, don’t quit.  Don’t grow weary in doing good.  Keep going.  And, on those days when you’ve just had enough, give me a call.  I’ll meet you at the go kart track.  We’ll play some putt-putt, go to Dairy Queen and I’ll even ride you around in that old red Honda Civic – 5 speed with a spoiler on the back (it’s really my SUV but we’ll pretend).  Windows rolled down, Britney turned up, and we’ll dream about a time when life wasn’t so complicated.  Then we’ll pull up our big girl britches and push each other forward because we’ve got a harvest to reap and we won’t give up.

Mary Ann




Tonight I experienced what will surely go down as one of my son’s greatest moments.  If not, it will surely be one of my fondest.  Now, I promise this is not going to turn into a baseball blog but, if you would, just spare me one more story.

Picture this….

We made it to the championship series of little league baseball.  Regular season is done.  Tournament games – win or go home – over.  We are down to the final two teams.  Best two of three games.  We won last night and I’m certain my nerves can’t take another game, so obviously I’m hoping we can just pull out another win.  The league director is there, trophies in hand (just in case).  The Dad’s are nervous.  Mama’s are pacing.  The 14-year-old umpires are…well, overwhelmed.  And, the boys on both teams are giving it all they’ve got.

It was a nail biter.  But, in the end, we WON!!!

I’m not really sure who had more fun tonight, or this season for that matter, my son or me.  Watching him grow to love this game is a dream come true for me.  I’ve loved this game since I was his age but, truth be known, it’s not just his love for the game that is a dream for me.  It’s simply that he can play the game.

I was reminded last week as I watched him sleep for a few minutes – creepy I know – of a time about a week after he was born that I sat in my living room with tears streaming down my face praying that my baby boy would be able to function normally in this world.

Because of a prenatal condition called amniotic banding, he was born missing most of his index finger and a portion of his middle finger on his left hand.  The day he was born we were shocked by his birth defect.  The pregnancy was uneventful.  The ultrasounds were normal.  There were no signs.  Then, just like all new parents, we counted his fingers and toes only to find they weren’t all there.  The pediatrician explained what happened.  Ultrasounds were reviewed again, but nothing could change this reality.

It seems silly now that I was so worried about this as he is a crazy active, normal 7-year-old boy.  But the months and weeks after he was born were very difficult for me.  I worried so much about how he would function.

What if he’s left handed?

What if other children make fun of him?

Will he be able to tie his shoes?

What about climbing and the monkey bars?

How will he play an instrument if he chooses?

Will he be able to grip/throw/catch a ball?

The list seemed to grow by the day and sometimes the hour.  I wanted so desperately to be grateful because the outcomes of amniotic banding can be much more devastating – missing limbs, clubfoot or hand, cleft palate, death.  But, there were just so many questions and only time would provide the answers.

I prayed for him and wanted to trust God for his future. But, this was my son.

This wasn’t just about me anymore.  As his mother, even after one week, I wanted to protect and save him from a world that can be cruel, mean and unfair.  And, I already felt the harsh reality that this would be impossible and I would have to place my trust in something bigger than myself.

I felt like the father in Mark 9.  He brought his son who suffered from seizures before Jesus hoping for a miracle and said, “If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us”.

“If you can”, said Jesus.  “Everything is possible for him who believes”.

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief!”

This father was surely devastated and at his wits end.  He had probably consulted everyone he knew regarding his son’s condition.  He had already taken the boy before the disciples and they were unable to help.  Jesus was his only hope.

His statement of “if you can” was not one of taunting or mocking – it was the desperation of a father who loves his son.  He wants to believe that Jesus can heal the boy and make him new – but this was his son.  It was bigger than him.  The stakes were high.  The cost was great.  And the belief, well, it wavered.

Have you been there?  Are you there now?

Lord I believe, but this is my child.

Lord I believe, but this is cancer.

Lord I believe, but this is divorce.

Lord I believe, but this my parent…. my sister…. my brother … my life.

Lord I believe, but this is bigger than me.  The stakes are high.  The cost is great.  The belief is wavering.

Now, Jesus goes on to do what Jesus does – he heals the boy.  He makes him new.  He’s not shaken by the father’s unbelief.  He’s not disappointed because his faith is a little hesitant and shaky.  He overlooks the likely quiver in the father’s voice and sees a man with a boy who’s in desperate need of a miracle.  He understands that our faith is human, imperfect and sometimes mixed with unbelief.  And, even in the midst of wavering faith, Jesus provides healing.

Now, I’m not saying that all of us will experience the same automatic healing as the boy.  But, I do believe that all of us will experience the healing that we need when we surrender not only our beliefs but also our unbelief.

As my son grows, so does my belief.  The things I worried so much about, one-by-one have turned from worry and doubt to tiny little miracles.

He was born a fighter – who never gives up.

He has developed friendships with children who fiercely protect him when others make fun of him.

He climbs.  He adapts.  He finds new ways.  I’ve watched him attempt the monkey bars so many times and fail – yet every time he goes just a little further.

He’s really funny.  He tells other children he was bitten by a shark, and named his missing finger “Mr. Squishy” and his middle finger “Joe”.

This morning I found an end-of-the-school-year booklet where he listed all the things he loves about 1st grade.  The thing he loves most about himself is his “special finger”.

And just last night, he played in a championship baseball game.  He caught the ball, threw the ball, and hit the ball.  As he held his trophy, I caught a glimpse of “Mr. Squishy and Joe”, and my eyes filled with tears.  Not because he won, but because it’s one more tiny miracle.

So in this season, if you’re facing something that’s bigger than you.  When the stakes are high, the cost is great and your faith is wavering, remember that Jesus understands your faith is human and imperfect.  He hears the quiver in your voice when you say, “Lord I believe, but help my unbelief” and chooses healing anyway.

With Love,

Mary Ann, Mr. Squishy and Joe






Eyes on the Ball, Hands on the Bat

Have you ever had one of those moments where you say something or hear something that kinda stops you in your tracks for a minute?  Jolts your reality and gets your attention?

That’s exactly what happened to me at my son’s baseball game this past Saturday.  His new found love of baseball recently sparked my old love of softball.  These days we are like two peas in a pod.  We throw the ball, review the games, and talk baseball strategy all the live long day.  I’ll admit, I’m a maniac at his games…

“Let’s Go Pirates”

“Baseball Ready”

“Swing hard in case you hit it”

“Run, Run, Run”


Yep, I’m that girl.

His two main struggles this season have been with batting:  keeping his eye on the ball and not slinging the bat.  So before games, we review:  “eyes on the ball, hands on the bat”.  I’ve said that phrase at least a hundred times over the past several weeks.  But on Saturday, as I walked by the dugout, we made eye contact and when I said, “eyes on the ball, hands on the bat” something with in me said, “that’s it”.

You see, I have been planning, thinking, and praying about what I should write about for Mother’s Day.  I’ve been racking my brain for my most hilarious mothering moments full of simple joys.  Or, a heart felt story that will surely fill your eyes with tears and your soul with gratitude for your own mother.  But then, right there at the baseball field, as I’m lurking behind the dugout like no parent should, I feel a little “that’s it”.  Really?

At first, I had no idea how my baseball mom catch phrase could be of any use to anyone. But, as I have pondered these words in my head and my heart all week, I began to realize that maybe that’s exactly what we Mother’s need.  Maybe it’s exactly what we all need.

We need our eyes on the ball and our hands on the bat.

After all, what am I really saying to my son in that moment when we lock eyes just before he steps up to the plate?

I’m reminding him to pay attention.  Don’t be distracted by the catcher who can hardly walk in his oversized gear.  Don’t let that first baseman, who’s clearly too tall to be seven, intimidate you.  Forget about the last time you were up to bat – if you hit the ball or struck out.  Dismiss the weather, the lights, your little pounding heart, the butterflies in your stomach, and your Mother’s loud voice – pay attention.  Step up to the plate, remember why you came – eyes on the ball, hands on the bat.

Y’all, the more I ponder this subject, the less I want to explore it.  I don’t want to think about all the times in my life that I lost sight of my goals, became distracted and ultimately found myself way off course.  I, probably just like you, don’t want to admit that sometimes I’ve settled for less because I failed to keep my “eye on the ball” and wasn’t paying attention.  I really hate to admit that at times I’ve become distracted by the things others are doing and I’ve lost focus on what I should be doing.  And, in these times, the true tragedy for me, and for you, is that we are not only deceiving ourselves and failing to be who God created us to be.  But, we are robbing those around us, including our children, of the one thing we were meant to be – our own true selves.

So, how do we keep our true selves in check?  How do we ensure that we are becoming who we were meant to be?  How do we give our best to our children?

Hebrews 12:1 illustrates this so perfectly… I’ll paraphrase.

“….Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles us, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us…”

First we must throw off all the things that hinder us.  The New Living Translation says “let us strip off every weight that slows us down”.  Now lean in a little and take a deep breath because it’s about to get serious.

I think the description of weight is brilliant.  Doesn’t it feel like weight when we veer off course?  When we take our eye off the ball and end up in places we never should have been.  Maybe we’ve allowed ourselves to become overtaken with pride, envy and jealousy?  Maybe a bad habit or a jaded heart steals our joy?  Maybe poor decisions for temporary gain cost us a friendship?  Maybe we’ve traded financial peace for momentary satisfaction?  Maybe we’ve let our past dictate our future?

So first, we must throw off this weight.  People we need to get help.  It’s not shameful to ask for help, it’s imperative to our survival.  Counseling, talk to a friend, grab a book, read a blog, join a group.  Trust me.  I’ve been there.  Knowing you need help, but too afraid to ask.  Believe me, one step in the right direction can change your life.  Help precedes change.  Get rid of those things that are holding you back.  Throw if off, strip if off, or in the words of Taylor Swift, “shake it off”.  Because this weight, ladies and gentlemen – mommies and daddies, entangles us, distracts us, and causes us to lose our focus.  And, only when this weight begins to lift can we run the race marked out for us.

Did you catch that last word?  The race marked out for “us”.  Not the race set for anyone else.  Think about that.  God has a race or a plan specifically for you.  No one else can run that race.  It’s unique and only for you.

Now, let’s go back to Hebrews 12:2 because here we find the beauty of running a race fully aware and paying attention.  We’ve got our eyes on the ball and here’s how we keep our hands on the bat.  “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith”.  The Message Bible states, “Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in.  Study how he did it.  Because he never lost sight of where he was headed”.  Y’all, Jesus went before us, wrote our story, finished our race, and perfected our faith.  He never looses sight of His plan for us, so fix your eyes on Him.

So, on this Mother’s Day, and every day, let us step up to the plate and pay attention.  May we not be distracted by those things that so easily steal our focus.  May we ask for help to shed the weights of life.  Let us run the race that was uniquely chosen for only us.  Let us live and thrive as our own true selves.  And, most importantly, let us keep our eyes on Jesus who perfected our faith.

Come on mommies, daddies, grandparents, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers and friends.  Let’s give those children the best version of our selves.  The one we were created to be.  Hey batter, batter…. eyes on the ball, hands on the bat!

Happy Mother’s Day,

Mary Ann


Cast Your Fears

What if I told you that sometimes my insecurities get the best of me?

That was, unfortunately, the case this week as I walked into Sephora, sat down in the chair, and admitted to the make-up whisperer that I need more.  More coverage please.  I’m trying to fight the signs of aging with all the best creams and potions, but these wrinkles, well, they’re fighting back.  So, instead of growing old gracefully, I gave in and decided that I’ll just cover it up.  I know it’s vain, but I don’t want to look old.  The make-up wizards can smell this fear like lions hunting their prey.  Before I knew it, I had an arsenal of tools I can’t afford to, literally, punch this insecurity in the face.  I sat there looking in the mirror, at the much less wrinkled appearing face (thanks to the whisperer) thinking, “what am I doing?”

I’m desperately trying to break-up with those student loans that have been hanging over my head for almost 10 years, and here I am actually considering a temporary moment of happiness over financial freedom.  Why?

Why do I do this?

This, the dread of old, is just one of the many insecurities I face.  And, this time of year, when the touring schedule gets ever so busy, summer approaches, and fatigue begins to set in, so do all the things I find wrong with me.  I’ll provide you with a short sample:

  • I don’t tan well or really at all.  I long for golden, sun-kissed skin, but, when I look in the mirror, paste is all I see.
  • I feel stupid a lot.  Like last week, when I left the alarm on in my house the day the cleaning lady was coming.  I did the pre-clean the night before and left the check on the counter, but turned the alarm on.  As I was driving like a maniac to arrive at my house before she got there, I repeated “you’re so stupid” a thousand times.
  • I don’t really have what some would call “the cool factor”.  At my husband’s shows I sometimes feel like this is magnified.  My wardrobe, for example, is mostly scrubs and mom clothes – you know, the clothes that are always covered in someone else’s bodily fluids.  And, even if I buy the trendy things the kids are wearing, I’m like a fish out of water.
  • I feel uncomfortable around what I would call the “super moms”.  You know the mom who always has “it” together.  Her cookies are homemade, her hair is always perfect, and her car is always clean.  I’m over here running into daycare with my store-bought treats for the class party, hair in a pony-tail, with sippy cups literally falling out of my car.  How does she do it?
  • I sometimes feel like I don’t have a lot in common with other women and I’m uncomfortable in a lot of situations.  I’m married but my husband travels a lot.  So, I must take my tribe with me on most occasions because we don’t have family nearby to watch them, and I haven’t mustered up the confidence to rob a bank so we can pay a sitter.  Therefore, I show up to most things, kids in tow, exhausted, and not really identifying with anyone at the table.

Do you get the picture?  Or should I go on?  We can call it worry or anxiety, the curse of comparison and, of course, insecurity but it’s all really fear at the core.

Fear that I will not look certain way – or maybe that I will look a certain way.

Fear that others think I’m stupid or that I’m actually stupid.

Fear that I will not be accepted.

Fear that I don’t have what it takes as a wife and a mother.

Fear that my kids will find out I have no idea what I’m doing.

Fear of failure.

Fear that I’m not enough.

Sound familiar? Paralyzing, when you lay it all out on the table, isn’t it?

So what?  Doesn’t everyone feel this way?  Fear is normal, right?

Well, of course it is normal and necessary.  Fear is meant to save us from things that may harm us like bears, snakes and lions.  But fear was never meant to control us and keep us from becoming the person God created us to be.  Unhealthy fear causes us to begin to do exactly what I’m attempting to do with my make-up:  cover up, hide and control.

We change our personalities to fit those around us.  We manipulate people for our benefit.  We attempt to control the outcomes for our own protection.  We buy things we can’t afford.  We fix – we change – we wear a mask.  But it’s never enough.  The more we hide, the more we need to hide and the stronger the fear becomes.  We trade peace for temporary satisfaction that only leaves us longing for more.  We choose to live with and manage the fear instead of actually doing something about it.  Therefore, we attempt to fill a spiritual void with earthy things – so the cycle continues.

So how do we stop this madness?  How do we live our authentic selves without all this insecurity, worry and fear?

Well one of my favorite verses is found in 1 Peter 5:7:  “Cast all your anxiety (your fear) on him because he cares for you”.  Now read that again.  The word “cast” has always stood out to me.  One definition of cast is to throw forcefully.  Or, for some of the rednecks out there like me – to chuck (no joke, that’s in the dictionary).  Regardless of how you say it, cast (in this case) is a verb, which requires action.  We must actively and continually cast, or throw, our cares to God.  Not passively or calmly hand them over to God – cast with force.  Give it up, people.  Not half way.  Not “just this once”.  Lay it all out on the table – all the fears – all the anxiety – all the worry – all the insecurities – all the time – continually – CAST YOUR FEARS!

God was so serious about this fear thing that he mentioned it over, and over, and over in the bible.  “Do not fear”.  “Do not be afraid”.  “Do not worry”.  You see, He knew that we would struggle with fear.  And, He knew the outcomes if we allowed this fear to control us.  He knew that it would keep us from being the person He created us to be.  It’s like He’s begging us to allow the fear to draw us closer to Him and out of hiding.  He’s urging us to CAST OUR FEARS and let Him control the outcomes.

So there I sat, looking in there mirror and began to cast.  I prayed quietly to myself as not to terrify the whisperer and said “no” I will not trade my peace for temporary satisfaction.  I will not be controlled by this fear.  I will buy what I budgeted for but nothing else.  Now, does that mean I will stop slathering that magic wrinkle cream on my face every night or stop wearing make-up?  Girl, please – I may even go back, when I can afford it, and buy more potion.  But, I will not make that decision based on fear and insecurity.  I will cast before I buy, so to speak.  And, the next time perfect mommy waltzes into daycare with her homemade treats and beautiful flowing hair, I will still likely feel a wave of insecurity.  But, I will cast all that insecurity on Him, for He cares for me – and I will know that I am enough.

Mary Ann
















“The extent of his love”

Happy Easter y’all!  Are you ready?

New dresses, new shoes, new purse – check.

Big hair, big chocolate bunnies, big family gatherings – check.

Full churches, full bellies, full hearts – check.

I know this may not be true for everyone and for some of you the idea of church is a little scary and intimidating.  So, I’ve saved up one of my best and most horrific church stories just for you.

My husband and I had been in Nashville for several months and we were striking out week after week in the church finding game.  So, on this particular Sunday, we were both a little frustrated and probably should have stayed at home.  I also wasn’t feeling well, but I let my Christian guilt get the best of me and I went anyway.

Well, the place was packed and the ushers guided us into a very crowded section, right in the middle.  I sat down beside this overly friendly lady who was wearing none other than White Diamonds perfume – and a LOT of it.  Now if you wear this perfume, please forgive me, but for some reason it invokes extreme nausea in me.  And, my new found friend just kept talking to me and giving me the little side hugs so the perfume was now on me too.  I prayed for her to cheer down and find me less interesting but my prayers were unanswered.

Then the minister preached for what felt like five or six hours.  I became hot and more and more nauseated.  Now, I know you think I’m gonna vomit but I didn’t.  That would have actually probably been a better choice.  But instead, towards the end of the sermon I got the church giggles.  Now if you don’t know about the church giggles, let me explain.  It’s almost an out of body experience where you absolutely can’t stop laughing and usually at the most inappropriate time.

The seating was tight and my new BFF, myself and my husband were shoulder to shoulder.  Now my husband knew exactly what was going on and the giggles migrated on over to him.  But my BFF, she thought I was crying and she just got closer and closer.  I’m pretty sure she began praying for me, although I wouldn’t make eye contact with her.  Somehow, I managed to regain my composure by the end of the service, but then the unthinkable happened – a wedding.  Yep, right at the end of the service – a wedding.  I have no real explanation for this, but when they told us to take our seats for the wedding I looked at my husband and said something to the effect of “we didn’t bring a gift”.  My gift of sarcasm had reared it’s inappropriate head at just the right inappropriate moment and it was on.  Getting out of there with my dignity wasn’t going to happen.  I think the pressure of church hunting combined with the randomness of the morning finally got to me and I broke.  I kinda did one of those bahahahaha moments.  Y’all in the middle of someone’s wedding – I’m sure I’m still on a prayer list somewhere.

So why so much pressure with church?

Why the buildup?  Why?

Well I think we’ve made the whole church thing too complicated.  Just think about the choices you have to make when choosing a church……

Contemporary or traditional?

To sprinkle or to dunk?

Large or small?

Dress up or dress down?

The drinkers or the teetotalers?

Choirs with robes or worship bands with tattoos?

Coffee bars or water fountains?

Cathedrals or concrete?

Pews or chairs?

Communion for all or communion for us.

Are you exhausted yet?

It’s all just a little silly isn’t it?  I mean, if we all claim to fundamentally believe the same thing and we all believe we are going to the same heaven – what’s all the fuss about???

Well, I’m sure that we could debate a multitude of reasons for church splits, new denominations, and all of the differences in doctrine.  But, I’m convinced that our differences in opinion were never intended when Jesus died on the cross.  I often ponder what Jesus thinks about our modern church culture.

Would he feel threatened by the world we live in?  Would he protest for Christian rights?  Would he state an opinion on politics?  Would he approve of how we spend our finances?  Would he agree with our rules for acceptance?

Well, as usual, I have no answers to these questions, but this week I read the gospel of John and I was completely taken back by the behavior of Jesus in the 24 hours leading up to his arrest and crucifixion.

John 13 begins to describe the Passover Feast and tells us that Jesus knew that Judas would betray him, Peter would deny him and that “the time had come for him to leave this world”.  Knowing this he “now showed them the extent of his love”.  Then Jesus got up from the meal and washed their feet.

“The extent of his love,” y’all, this won’t leave me alone.  As the disciples would soon realize this meant crucifixion but the first example was bending down and washing dirty feet – sandal wearing, walking everywhere, never had a pedicure kind of feet.  This was a task meant for a servant not a king.

After the Passover feast Jesus and his disciples were walking through an olive grove where he was met by soldiers, chief priests, Pharisees, and Judas.

Jesus asked them “Who is it you want?”

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied.

“I am he,” Jesus said. (John 18).

He didn’t run.  He didn’t fight.  He didn’t yell or scream.  And, when Peter drew his sword, Jesus commanded him to “put your sword away”.   He willingly gave himself up to ultimately show “the extent of his love.”  Now you probably know the rest.  He was beaten, he was bruised, he was nailed to a cross, gave up his spirit and died.  This y’all – this is “the extent of his love”.  This is what it’s all about.  No more, no less.

This is where the church gets lost, right?  I think maybe we sometimes lose sight of this love.  In our everyday decisions and reactions we fail to remember the depths and the extent of HIS love.  We’ve chosen preference over love, opinions over love, convenience over love, and the list could go on.  We’ve taken a perfect sacrifice that was meant to show us love and a resurrection that was meant to show us life and allowed the message to be depreciated by agendas and selfish desire.

So to those of you who have been hurt or confused by the church, please don’t let anything the church did to you overshadow what Jesus has done for you.  Please listen to the words that have kept me captive all week.  Jesus died to show you “the extent of his love” and was raised again to give you eternal life.  And to the church (and myself), in his last 24 hours, in the face of denial, betrayal and death Jesus chose humility, selfless service, mercy, grace and overall love.  Let’s please not diminish this message.

So let’s polish those nails and tease that hair – put on your best dress and let’s go to church.  People we have a lot to celebrate and a lot of work to do!  I’ll grab you a cup of coffee, save you a seat and try not to get the giggles.

Happy Easter,

Mary Ann






The God who Stays

A few months ago I opened the door of my dryer expecting to find the heavenly scent of freshly laundered clothes, only to find the horrible smell of poop.  Further investigation revealed a number of questions:  How in the???  What in the???  Who did this???  There, right on top of the clothes was a little blob of poop – some would call a turd.  I quickly summoned all the little people in my home who were most likely guilty of such a crime and, to my surprise, the guilty party confessed, rather easily, to this malfeasance.  The reason for the crime, if you’re interested, was the ever-disturbing:

“I don’t know”.

“What do you mean you don’t know?  You don’t know how your poop ended up in the dryer?”

“Nope, I don’t know”.

“So, you’re telling me that’s your poop?”


“But you don’t know how it got in the dryer?”


Isn’t that just how life is?  One day you’re just minding your own business, going about your day, expecting something great or, at least, something usual and then.. .bam!

Out of nowhere – POOP – The loss of something or someone – financial stress – job/career failure – marriage struggles – divorce – children struggles – well, the list could go on and on.

My most life altering poopy situation was almost the entire year of 2011.  It’s no secret, if you’ve read my previous blogs, that my marriage took a blow a few years ago.  And, 2011 was the height of difficulty.  We were falling apart and every time we would start to make progress – bam, more poop.  Marriage struggles, work struggles, financial struggles and then my only child, at that time, had a little health scare.  It would ultimately turn out to be only a minor illness, but to get to this diagnosis we had to rule out a battery of horrible childhood diseases.  The night before he underwent a procedure, I lost it y’all.  Completely lost it.  I mean, curled up, fetal position beside my son’s bed – incapable of controlling my emotions.  I was done.  Have you been there?

I’ve thought long and hard about theological examples to convey my next thought but I keep coming back to my own story.  I feel like sometimes we forget that the God who spoke to Moses through a burning bush, parted the sea, and sent manna from heaven is the same God who works in our lives.  I think we sometimes forget the same power that turned water into wine, opened the eyes of the blind, and raised Jesus from the dead is available to us.  2011 was one of the hardest years of my life but it was also the most life changing.  I finally came to end of myself – I gave up control and realized that there is a God and I’m not it.

The thought of control, or the lack thereof, can be terrifying to those freaks like me who need every detail – all the time.  But, as my way of doing things was clearly not working, I slowly began to relinquish my rights to things I had no business managing.  Little by little, I started believing what I had confessed my whole life.  I began to see the faithfulness of a God who promised to never leave and began to trust in the God who stays.

Now this didn’t happen at first.  No way!  There were so many dark and lonely days.  Tears flowed like monsoon rains.  There were days and weeks that felt like a desert land – dry and empty.  Then one day a complete stranger said to me, “honey, I don’t know what you’re going through.  But, I just feel like I should tell you that God’s got this”.  Y’all, I almost passed out.  It took every ounce of self control to continue to stand upright.  That right there was my burning bush moment and I’ve never been the same since.

You see, up until that moment I had bought into the lie that I was alone, abandoned and forsaken.  Hope was lost.  But when those words were spoken to me I began to realize that not only was God right there in that moment, he’d been there the entire time.  He is a God who stays.

  • He was there when he gave me a friend years before my life fell apart.  She stood by me and protected me.  She had walked in my shoes and could speak wisdom into my life like no other.
  • He was there when I joined a small group for musicians wives months before my marriage took a nose dive.  These women held me up, prayed over me and spoke so much truth in my life.
  • He was there when my 18-month old son would make Mommy and Daddy hug each other every day when we left for work even though we sometimes didn’t speak.
  • He was there in our pastor who lovingly and so non-judgmentally took the time to comfort and pray for us.
  • He was there when our church paid for half the counseling cost that otherwise would have broken us financially.
  • He was there in our counselor who was quiet and gentle with my fiery spirit.
  • He was there when my dad, who had no idea what I was facing, would randomly text me for no reason at all.  A simple, “I love you” and I would know He was there.
  • He was there when the minister at my sisters wedding felt lead to pray for all the marriages in the congregation.  He had no idea he was praying for me.
  • He was there when I was so frustrated with my life that I may have yelled a little bit at a hydrangea plant that refused to bloom.  I also may have said, “Well God, I guess you’re gonna have to bloom this plant because clearly I have no idea what I’m doing”.  Y’all I kid you not – a few months later, long after hydrangea blooming season, I looked out my window and there was one bloom on that plant – Speechless.
  • He was there in the sunshine and the rain.  He was there in a smile, a thank you, a kind word spoken by a stranger – He was always there because he is a God who doesn’t leave – He is a God who stays.

What I want you to know is that the same God who spoke to me through a stranger (and may have bloomed my hydrangea) is with you.  Right now, in the middle of your mess.  He’s the smile in a strangers face.  He’s in the twinkle of a child’s eye.  He’s the for no reason at all text message.  He’s in the warm sun on a cool day.  He’s there in the friend, the counselor, or maybe the reason you’re reading this right now.  He is with you every step of the way.  And, “honey, I don’t know what you’re going through.  But I just feel like I should tell you that “God’s got this” – because he is a God who stays.

Mary Ann






So Much – an open letter to my daughter.

Okay Ladies, we need to talk.

I’ve been wrestling with this blog post for almost two months now.  Since the Women’s March I’ve had many things on my mind, but every time I muster up the courage to put my thoughts down on paper, my daughter walks by.  There’s so much I need her to know about being a girl and growing into a woman.  There’s so much I need her to know about life.  But, more importantly, so much I need her to know about her.  So in an attempt to share my heart, I’ve written an open letter to my daughter.  I hope you will find a little truth in these words.

To my Ella Jane,

The year is 2017 and you’re two.  You’re sassy but sweet, opinionated but quiet, and, as you already know, your daddy is completely wrapped around your finger.  You love ferociously and fearlessly and will take down a tyrant three times your size.  When you were born I felt great comfort in the fact that you have a very large older brother to protect you.  But, as your personality develops, I feel confident that you will protect yourself and he may, at times, need to rein you in.  You are innocently unaware of the state of our union, and for that I’m grateful.  If I could put you in a bubble and protect you forever, Lord knows I would.  But, you will grow and probably learn about these trying times in a history class.   And, you will come home and ask me questions, just as I asked my mother, like “Hey, did you burn your bra?”.   I will laugh, just as she did, and the answer will be “no” and then we will talk.

Every night, I tuck you into bed and you repeat the words I say to you, “I love you” and then you add “so much”.  I must be honest when I say that my eyes fill with tears almost every night, and I’m glad the room is dark so you can’t see me cry.  That little “so much” is why I need to write this to you.  There’s just so much I need to tell you about the things you will face because of your gender.

Right now in America, the country is divided over a variety of things, but women’s rights are smack dab in the middle.  I want you to know that this is not new.  The rights of women in this country have been in the forefront since its birth.  The women who came before you and I and fought for our rights were courageous and we are forever indebted to them.  Never forget that many things we take for granted like voting, working, and speaking our minds are not allowed in many countries.  There women all over the world that cannot even fathom your freedom. You will form your own opinions on politics, but please remember that freedom must never be assumed and always protected.  You will likely continue to face political division in your lifetime and don’t let that confuse or dishearten you – that is freedom and it’s messy.  When you look at American history, we continually sway between the right and the left.  Each group is there to hold the other accountable.  So no matter which side of the spectrum you find yourself, please just get in the game….. Vote!

Okay, that’s over, no more political lectures from your mom.  There are so many things I need you to know that are deeper and more important than politics and policy.  My prayer is that I have a lifetime to teach you everything your grandparents taught me and their parents taught them, but I’ll start with five or six important facts and promise to write you a thousand more letters.

  • First, I want you to go after life the same way you eat blueberry muffins.  We have a few years to develop your table manners, but when you eat a blueberry muffin you are uninhibited, fierce, and almost savage at times.  You are all-in, and that is how I want you to chase your dreams.  Give it all you’ve got.
  • Leggings are not pants.  Now I’m serious about this.  Leggings have been in style twice in my lifetime and therefore, I’m pretty sure they will come around several times during yours.  They are, in fact, the most comfortable things you will ever squeeze into, but they are not pants.  They are unforgiving, especially the lighter colors.  Please wear them, as this is surely a glimpse of what heaven will be like, but be a cautious of your shirt length and panty lines – that’s all I’m saying.
  • You have “good hair”.  Now I can’t take all the credit for this because the first time I saw your dad his hair was longer than mine.  Although he looked a little like a professional wrestler because of his size and broad shoulders – that hair, well it was something else.  Take care of it, use conditioner, and know that the boys will flock to those long locks like a fly to honey.  May God be with all of us through your teenage years and may I not lose my mind and shave your head.  That’s all I’m gonna say about boys for now – there will be 1,092 other letters on this subject.
  • Learn how to use basic tools.  I will personally teach you this and please pay attention.  Knowing the difference in screwdrivers will take you far.  I will also teach you how to change a tire, use a power drill, pressure wash, mow grass, and other basic necessities of life.  My dad only had girls so it was important to him that we “knew things” – his motto was “What do ya need boys for?”.  We will also spend a lot of time throwing a ball and sliding into home.  It’s okay to throw like a girl if you can turn a double-play and get a base hit.
  • Men are not the enemy.  I believe that men and women were created differently on purpose.  Now your history books are correct and men have often suppressed women.  But, make no mistake, that is not the goal of every man and it will serve you well to know the difference.  I’m sure there will be times when you are treated differently because you are a girl, but remember this is a two way street and you must also treat men with respect.  When a man opens the door for you say “thank you”.  It’s not a threat to your independence – it’s called being a gentlemen.  If this is confusing, please look to your dad, grandfathers, uncles, and your brother as examples.
  • Know who you are.  I’m not talking about who others think you are or even who you think you are.  I want you to know who you really are.  You are a daughter of the King, The Living God.  Throughout your life so many things will bargain for your attention and attempt to shatter your worth, self-confidence, and identity.  My prayer is that the voice of the Most-High will speak loudly into your spirit.  You are beautiful, lovely, strong, capable, and you, Ella Jane, were worth dying for.  When you are confused, lonely and don’t know which way to turn, remember the One who gave it all so that you may live.  You come from a long line of women who trusted (and still trust) God to the fullest.  Of this I am certain, and they would agree – Through Christ you will find freedom that is far greater than any governmental policy and reaches to depths you can only imagine.

There is so much more to cover, but I’ll save that to a later date.  We will surely discuss the horrible truths about laundry, cleaning, and “becoming a woman” – no need to crush your dreams right now.  For today, can you just stay two forever?  Can you always pronounce cookie – “tookie”?  And every night when you say “so much” remember that I love you “so much” more.












Ready or Not

Well, it’s that time of year again.  The musician Winter break is over, touring season is upon us, and we’re headed back into the road hard pace of life.  My husband is like a kid in a candy store.  New tour, new songs, new venues.  The fans – radio – shows.  Buses, planes, a new city everyday.  His excitement is palpable.  This is what he was created to do.  And, me.  Well, I’m getting there.

If I’m honest, I struggle this time of year.  I’m not ready to give him up just yet.  I’m not ready for chaotic, opposite schedules.  I’m not ready for the change of pace, early mornings, communication by phone and weekends alone.  Then there’s homework, toddler tantrums, baseball, potty training, cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping – Oh, and that little thing called work.  It’s overwhelming and the challenge of flying solo gets me every time.

It’s not that I’m not supportive – It’s just that out of the swing of things and I’ve got to get my head in the game.

I would love to tell you that I’ve always handled this season with great grace and humility, but the reality is that many years have been a little more “real housewives” than I’d like to admit.  In more than one instance, I’ve picked fights and tried to make my husband feel oh-so guilty for being out-of-town.  My sassy and smart aleck nature has occasionally been used for spite – like when my husband sends me amazing pictures of venues or scenery, I sometimes, maybe send him pictures of laundry or my children throwing tantrums.   I’ve hidden behind unkind text messages and used my gift of sarcasm for evil.  I’ve thrown the best pity parties around and allowed my head to go to dark places where no good can be found.  But, the truth is I’ve learned a lot in these times and with the help of a good counselor, chocolate, coffee, and Jesus I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve for survival of the “I’m not ready”.  You may not share my exact circumstances, but hopefully these tips will cross over into your territory of life.

7.  Fighting tips: Arguments happen, but you can argue smart.

  • Don’t fight when you’re tired.  You won’t make sense and you’ll have to apologize.  That’s the worst.
  • Slow down the conversation.  This is one of the best counseling tips I’ve ever received.  Before you fire off that great comeback, text, or smart aleck picture wait a minute or two – you may change your mind.
  • Try not to fight when you only have limited time. Conversations when my husband is gone are sometimes very short in duration.  I’ve learned to say we need to talk about things and try to somewhat schedule a serious conversation instead of trying to get everything out and make up in 5 minutes.  Believe me, it only makes things worse.

6.  Modern technology is your friend.  Amazon Prime and Kroger CheckList will change your life.

  • If you’ve received a gift from me in the past year, it’s highly likely that I Amazon Primed it.  I just don’t have time in my schedule to physically go to a store and look.  Y’all, I use this for everything – school supplies, toilet paper, everything!!!  I must warn you, however, that this may ruin you and make your patience for indoor shopping intolerable.  amazon.com
  • And, don’t get me started on Kroger CheckList.  Order online with curbside delivery – yes, please!  I’ve got to stop hugging the delivery people, though.  I think it makes them uncomfortable.  Here’s the link Kroger.com – then click on “online shopping”.
  • I also reserve my spot in line for my son’s hair cuts at great clips, tire rotations, etc.  Find your favorite stores and just explore.  You will save time and a lot of frustration.

5.  Sow and Reap.  Now this is a biblical principle for a lot of things in life, but I will apply it very practically here.

  • Plan ahead and prepare as much as you can.  I get book bags ready, clothes laid out, lunches prepared, and baths completed the night before .  I’m not a morning person and sometimes this preparation literally saves me.
  • Meal preparation tips:  you can plan ahead, cook in bulk, and cut up veggies on the weekend or just spend a little extra and buy the pre-cut veggies in the store.  I used to judge the lazy moms in the “pre-cut” section.  But, now when I’ve waited too late for Kroger CheckList, I just high-five my lazy mom friends and move on.
  • Spend a few minutes each night and pick up the clutter a bit.  Honestly, I’m really horrible at this, but I hear it helps.
  • Laundry.  I have no tips for laundry.  It’s evil and of the devil!!!

4.  Take care of yourself.  Eat right, exercise, go to bed early… yada, yada, yada.  Everyone knows this, right?  This is one of the principles that I’ve taught families of my patient’s for years.  You can’t take care of someone else if you don’t take care of yourself.

3.  Get over yourself.

  • If you look back on my list of problems, it was very heavily focused on me.  I hadn’t considered the struggle of my kids or my husband.  Along the same lines, when I focus on me, I listen to the wrong voices and hear “I can’t”.  But, when I change my focus to what God says about me everything changes.  For more on this read my previous blog post  I Think You’re Brave.
  • Advice to those of you who can specifically identify with my situation.  Get out there!  If I haven’t seen my husband play in a while, I lose my focus.  I forget.  But, every time – every single time – I see him play I quickly regain my focus and remember my calling – for more read The Dreamer and The Fuel.

2.  Forgive yourself often and quickly.  You will make mistakes.  You will sometimes abandon all of the above and handle things like a school yard fight.  Ask for forgiveness, forgive yourself, learn from your mistakes, and move on.

1. God loves to use people who are not ready.  This by far the most important.  No matter your calling, you will likely say “I’m not ready” at some point.  One of my favorite examples is Moses.  Exodus 3 tells us that when God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt he said “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” God’s reply “I will be with you”.  Now Moses continues to make excuses much like me.  I’m like:  “Who am I to care for these children alone?  Who am I to manage this house?  Who am I to control this chaos?  God you know me – I’m a sassy, sarcastic smart aleck – Who am I?  God, I literally can’t”  His response, always, “I will be with you”.  There’s not a lot of talk, but a lot of action – he is there, always!

So, ready or not….. here it comes.  That thing, that time, that situation, that season you aren’t ready for.  Keep your chin up, use your resources, sow and reap, take care of yourself, get over yourself, forgive quickly and, most of all, remember you are not alone.  This road is hard, but oh so worth it.  Remember chocolate is good, coffee is necessary, amazon prime is your best friend, and Jesus is all you need!

Mary Ann






The Other Side

Today, I find myself in unfamiliar territory.  I have nothing to say.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried to write so many blog posts that continually fall short of what I’m feeling.  The political climate of our country right now combined with the social medial outlets to express hate left all of my recent attempts at wisdom a little lack-luster.

This time of year is supposed to be a time for new beginnings and starting over, but it seems to me that, as a society, we are just moving further apart.  Division, lines drawn in the sand, my side vs. your side – honestly, I’m sick of it.  My heart aches for unity.  When did we become a society that is self-serving, self-seeking, and unable to see the other side?

The other side. Now there’s a concept.

No matter what side of the political spectrum you associate yourself, there is, in fact, another side.  Those people – the one’s we love to hate.  We group together with those on our side in order to argue a point to those who will always agree.  We watch the news that caters to our views.  We de-friend, uninvite and oppose all those who are different.

And, why?  Well, I don’t know about you but when I stick to my own kind, I get what I want.  Approval.  It makes it easier for me to justify my views if no one opposes them.  It’s more comfortable.  More enjoyable.  Satisfying.  But also isolating and destructive.

I look at a specific issue and not people.  It’s easy for me to become judgmental especially about those issues that have never been a struggle for me.  For example, I’m a white middle-class female.  I’m married with two children and a dog.  I’m a rule-following perfectionist with control issues.  And, if I only look at life through this lens, well, you better watch out!  I’ll stuff you into a type-A box so fast you won’t see what hit you.  You’ll be making lists, coloring inside the lines, and organizing the custom life planner that you never knew you always wanted.  Sounds fun – doesn’t it?

No, that even sounds horrible to me – and I do all those things.  People, please hear me!!!  For the love of all things holy – we are supposed to be – created to be – DIFFERENT.

A few days ago, I was making my morning smoothie and just like every morning I offered some to my seven-year-old.  He declined and said to me, “When are you gonna realize we’re different?  I don’t like smoothies”.  I laughed but found so much wisdom in his words.  What if we all realized that the person across the line we drew in the sand was different – not wrong, but different?  What kind of progress would we make if we could just step outside of ourselves, even for a moment, and look at things from the other side.

There is a passage in Mark 4-5 and Luke 8 describing a situation in which Jesus and his disciples go to the “other side” in the “region of Gerasenes”.  Why is the region significant? –  because this was gentile territory.  Let me explain…. synonyms for gentiles include heathen, heretic, pagan, unbeliever – everything opposite of the Jews.  Now, why would Jesus willingly go over to the other side.  Well maybe because he knew there was a man and a region of people who needed him and the only way to reach them was to go to the other side.

Upon arrival to the other side, Jesus and his disciples find a demon-possessed man “chained hand and foot and kept under guard, he had broken his chains and had been driven by the demon into solitary places”.  Can you imagine the look on the disciples faces?  Really, Jesus, really???  You brought us to the other side, the land of heathens, and this is the welcoming committee?? Really??  So, in true form, Jesus casts out the demons and sends them into pigs – Wow, never a dull moment.  And, Luke reports that the people of Gerasenes were afraid and asked Jesus to leave.  I bet so.  I mean, here’s a Jew, whom we don’t associate with, who just casts demons out of the town freak and sent them into pigs.  Yep – just go.

Now, does Jesus argue his point, his views, or his purpose – No.  Luke tells us that he “got into the boat and left”.  Now the demon-possessed man begged to go with Jesus – can you blame him – dude was chained hand and foot because of the demons and now he’s free.  I’d be begging too.  But, Jesus said, “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you”.  And, Mark tells us that the man did just that and “all the people were amazed.”

Now, what is the point of all of this?  Well, to reach people, Jesus knew that he had to go to them and cross over to the other side.  He didn’t go preach and yell at them.  He didn’t tell them how horrible they were.  He didn’t bombard them with hateful social medial posts (see what I did there?) – he found their most troubled citizen and healed him.  Now, the people were scared and when asked to leave – Jesus left.  But, don’t be mistaken – his message and, ultimately, the reason he went to the region in the first place – remained.  And, although the bible doesn’t elaborate, we do know that they were amazed and maybe changed.

Even if you don’t believe in the bible, Jesus, or miracles, there is still a lesson to be learned.  The people most different from us, most frustrating to us, and most unlike us will not be reached through division.  They may, however, be reached or changed if we go to the other side and make a connection.

Well, I guess I did have something to say!!!!  I’ll just step off this soapbox and be on my way.  My hope is that you’ll find these words encouraging, and the next time you’re tempted to rip someone to shreds on social media (or maybe in line at the grocery store) you’ll reconsider and take a little walk to other side.

Mary Ann




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