So, this isn't my first blog. It's actually my third. You see, for the last four years, I've written about all things family here. I had a handful of faithful readers - primarily my mom, my mother-in-law, my college bestie, and the occasional extended family member. I saw that blog as an homage to my kids, and I plan to continue updating there from time to time, although I'm certain it will be of little interest to anyone who doesn't know us personally. But, a few weeks ago, I tried something new. After hearing my pastor preach about telling our stories of hope, I felt called to write my testimony and share it with the world in the hopes it might encourage someone else to trust in Jesus with their own battles. To be honest, I didn't really tell anyone my story was there at first, and I really had no intention to.
Well, God had other plans. (Doesn't He always?!!)
I posted my story on a Tuesday morning, and the following day at MOPS, we had the amazing Heather Creekmore (comparedtowho.me) come speak to us about body image and finding our worth in Christ. I listened intently, and as a table leader, I facilitated a discussion with my table very hesitantly. I wasn't sure I was totally ready to let them in on my story at first, but as I slowly began to recount what I had just written the day before to them, the response was overwhelming. With a lot of hesitation, I shared my post with my table. They were beyond encouraging and gave me the courage to share it with Heather. I expected her to reply with something simple. Maybe she would say, "Glad you are doing so well. Thanks for sharing." Or maybe even something like, "I experienced that, too. I'm so glad you are healthy now and finding freedom in Christ Jesus." Well, she said some encouraging things for sure, but then she asked me if she could share my story on her (much larger and more well-read) blog with her readers.
Wait, share MY story??! Why would anyone really care about ME?!! I'm just a hot mess of a suburban mom with an excessive stock of yoga pants, a ridiculously large weekly Target bill, and spit up on her shoulder. But as I began to think about her offer, I began to think to myself, why NOT me? Why not allow strangers to see my broken past when the result of it could further His kingdom? Why not allow some teenagers who might be struggling and contemplating that next diet to be encouraged by my story? What if it could help? What if my courage could change just ONE person's mind about getting help? Wouldn't that be worth it?
I ultimately, of course, gave her the go ahead, and in a few weeks, you can read my story there. But writing this story stirred up a passion in me that I forgot I had long ago. I've spent the last three and a half years buried under diapers and formula, and in the midst of all that goodness, I forgot that I had a passion to WRITE. A passion to CONNECT. A passion to HELP. Writing my story that day lit a fire in me that I haven't felt in a long, long time. I forgot how much I love this art.
So, here we are. I decided I would create my own little corner as an outlet for this passion. I'm not sure what all I will write about here...we'll take it a day at a time and see where we go. But, I am SO looking forward to the journey.
OH. And as far as the title is concerned...funny story for you. During my sweet girl's colicky months, which you can read about here, I managed to escape occasionally for mom's night out with my sweet MOPS girls. Well, on a December night while we were having a Christmas party, she was apparently a whole new level of crazy, and my husband couldn't take it anymore. He sent me a text begging me to come home and help, and at the end he used his very first hashtag to describe sweet Kate...at the end of the text he wrote, #hotmess. We just about died laughing, and thus, baby Kate's new nickname became #hotmess. (And y'all...she really is. It fits her perfectly. God love her.) The blessed part of the title came this year at Christmas, when I received this shirt as a gift...I about died. (And no, that's not me in the picture. My hair is not that fluffy.)
So, I combined my #hotmess with the message from the shirt, and thus, we have "A Hot Blessed Mess." And after all, if we're really honest with ourselves, aren't we ALL just little hot blessed messes? :)
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