when it rains.

I know this can’t possibly be true but it really feels like it has rained nonstop since I moved to Naples.


First, it was your regular ol’ summer-in-Florida situation in which the sky would turn a mean black around 2pm and then vigorously pour buckets for all of ten minutes before clearing back up.

Then, one day, it just kept raining.

And then a tropical storm rolled through.

And it kept raining.

Really put a — wait for it — damper on things around here. (I COULDN’T RESIST. I REGRET NOTHING.)


Yesterday was one of those five-star parenting days in which I was operating on very little sleep and it was all I could do to not burst into tears and so, despite the tropical conditions outside, I took Dax out for a drive hoping the lull of the car and the sound of the rain would calm him.

I told you; five. star. parenting. (It worked, by the way.)

While I was waiting at a red light, enjoying the sound of my baby not crying, I tiredly stared through the windshield while the wipers swish-swished back and forth rapidly to clear away the cascade. My eyes fell upon that triangular space between the wipers that never gets wiped and I remembered analyzing that same spot as a child driving with my mom. I could hear my tiny voice in my head, whining: “Why can’t they make wipers that wipe the WHOLE windshield? There is so much left of the glass that has droplets all over it!”

(I’ve always been a perfectionist, I guess.)

As an adult, I looked at the glass differently. Instead of being upset that, all these years later, they still haven’t made wipers that actually wipe the whole windshield, I felt grateful for those wipers and their persistence. No matter how hard it rains, no matter how many drops (or buckets) fall, those wipers keep on keepin’ on, with no regard for how many drops have already previously fallen or how many will fall in the future. Swish-swish-swish-swish. Dry-not dry-dry-not-dry-dry. 

One of my last days in Tallahassee, I was out wedding dress shopping with my best friend. Toward the end of the trip, though, I got a frantic text from Dan asking me to come home as soon as possible to nurse a very cranky Dax. I headed home as fast as I could which evidently wasn’t legal because I got a speeding ticket.

I was so angry with myself because, I know better. During my twelve years of driving, I’ve gotten more than my fair share of speeding tickets and, until that moment, I had finally cleared all points from my license and was again deemed a “safe driver”. And one stupid misstep of speeding home cost me all that.

When I got home I yelled at Dan and yelled at myself, saying, “I’m just so sick of the fact that I’m such a crappy person.”

“You are not a crappy person,” he said, “you are just a person. Who does crappy things sometimes. Because you’re a person.”

“But I always do this!”

“Just because you’ve done bad things doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. You’re forgiven.”

It’s amazing to me how often this happens to me. I make some (relatively) minor mistake and I fall apart because it makes me think I am forever doomed to making mistakes and that I’ll always be bad and nothing can fix that.

It just keeps raining.

If you have the same issue I do — you seem to remember every dumb thing you do and beat yourself up every time you do another dumb thing — just remember the windshield wipers.


Forgive yourself as persistently as my wipers clear away the rain. Forget the drops from the past, don’t anticipate more drops in the future. Just wipe them away as they come, just as fast as you can, so you can see what goodness lies ahead.

Because if I was still angry about all the rain that has fallen in Naples over the past three weeks, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself right now, sitting outside at a Starbucks, warming in the sunshine with the dry sidewalk beneath my sandaled feet.

on totally blowing it.

If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you know that I absolutely love Jon Acuff’s writing. I look up to this dude for so many reasons. Not only is he a compelling storyteller but, through his first blog, Stuff Christians Like, he’s been able to raise the money to fund all kinds of humanitarian relief efforts, like building two (TWO!) kindergartens in Vietnam.

Today, he wrote an interesting post on his other blog about how when a blogger’s Internet persona appears perfect, readers will lose interest. It makes sense if you think about it — no one can relate to a perfect person because no perfect people exist. Even in my own life, I’ve had to stop reading blogs because the writers seemed to have flawless lives. I’d compare my behind the scenes footage to their highlight reel and feel too awful about myself to keep reading. (I am SO TEMPTED to mention one in particular that can’t POSSIBLY be real, but, WHAT WOULD JESUS DO, AMIRITE?!)

And so, after reading that post, I started thinking — is this me? Do I do this? Do I blog about all the great things and leave the crappy things in my life hidden?

Since I’m not an unbiased reader of my own blog (ha) I can’t really make that call. But! I can be intentional from here on out and post more honest, more raw, more real content. And, mind you, this isn’t just so I don’t lose readers. (Although  seriously, don’t leave me, my insecurity can’t handle it.) This is all about being real.

All that to say, I blow it. A lot. Recently, I blew it big time.


After our bible study, we all like to hang out and shoot the breeze about life. Last time, Eric, Emily, and myself were all standing in a circle. I’m not sure what was said (I probably just stashed it away in my fail-odex so, don’t worry, I’ll find it later) but my reply to that word/phrase/question/whatever was a heartfelt and grunty, “DAMNIT.”

With 13-year-old Emily and her dad standing right there. RIGHT AFTER, YOU KNOW, STUDYING THE BIBLE TOGETHER. Awesomeeeeeeeeeeeallidoiswin.

I apologized to Eric and he responded in love and grace because he’s like, a PASTOR and junk. But I still beat myself up over that one for a day or so. (Let’s be serious — I’m still beating myself up over it.)

So. There you have it. I’m pretty awful sometimes. My mouth has always gotten me in trouble. And then, when I get in trouble, I punish myself for days on end. It’s so unfortunate.

Oh, and um, let’s not forget the oh-so-frequent-and-undoubtedly-unattractive nervous breakdowns I experience.

But hey! Then I look in my bad day file and life’s good again, dig?

The point of this hodgepodge, poorly constructed, intentionally-unedited-to-prove-a-point blog post is that IT’S OKAY TO NOT BE PERFECT.

Say it with me, now, one more time with feeling!