In my writing and speaking, I speak to the challenges of finding faith in everyday life through a voice that reaches out to readers and invites them to join me in the midst of my own failures and mistakes. Though my writing has been largely faith-based, I am interested in writing in other markets, especially in ways that will help women and families.
If I’m not off hiding somewhere with a good book, chances are I’m chasing a kid or a dog or sleeping, because every mom can use a nap! I found Prince Charming and married him, and now we enjoy the idiosyncrasies of life. Oh yeah, and we root for the Buckeyes. Every time.
I live in Ohio. I’m married to a great guy and we have three children. I’m a writer (more about that here and here) and an avid reader (as you can see). I’m also a bit of social media junkie, so let’s connect on Twitter, Pinterest, Google +, Goodreads, LinkedIn, Facebook, or by email.
If you want to read a story about me, here you go:
Once upon a time, there was a little girl whose nose was in a book all the time. You might remember her curly hair or her loud laugh. Maybe you teased her into conversation a time or two.
In junior high, she was normal. In high school, she found a niche in FFA, though after student teaching in college, she abandoned her dream of being an ag teacher for a job at a John Deere dealership.
It was there, surrounded by farm machinery and the smell of grease, that she met Prince Charming. It was then, having met him, that she discovered she was really a princess.
I may not look like a princess to all of you. My treasures look different than the gold you might expect: two daughters, a son, and a loving husband, family friendships, and a community that grows and embraces us daily. Until very recently, we lived in an old farmhouse that’s only quaint if you’re visiting — the reality of constant do-it-yourself projects and something always broken gets old after a while.
But imagine the adventures we have at our fingertips! Think of the history around us, from the brick in the house to the animals in the barns.
My oldest daughter would insist that the lack of a crown probably disqualifies me. But not so long ago, she considered our house a magical castle on the days when the world around us was dreary — and sometimes, on days when it wasn’t. She could tell you stories of the pretend games we play together, of the tales we tell, of the fun we have.
Though I’m wearing cotton and my hair is mussed, there’s not a princess anywhere in the world who is more blessed than I am.
I’m a different kind of princess, I suppose, but without that sparkling crown — invisible though it is — I could easily start a Poor Me Pity Party and never emerge again.