All in Guest Bloggers

7 Heavenly Promises for the Weary Mom

Diaper change number four. BEEP! Good, laundry load number 2 finished. BUZZ. Text: "What’s for dinner?” Sigh. Well it’s thirty minutes until nap-time, so soon I can figure that out, and maybe wipe down the kitchen. Wait, isn’t church Bible study tonight? I haven’t done the homework! I'll have to scan it on the drive over.

It's God's Grace

For context, I was 12 years old, weighed 86 pounds, wore glasses and was freshly removed from an unforgiving elementary stint with braces. There was no mistake. His cruel taunts were in reference to my noticeably underdeveloped body.

Throughout my adolescent years, the destructive messages I internalized were everywhere. The lighter skinned, long-haired women frequently featured in music videos on BET’s 106 & Park told me that my short hair and darker skin were not as pretty. I seriously believed nothing about me would ever be desirable.

The Hopes and Fears in Raising a Minority Child

The day I started dating my husband, Edward, was the first day I started hearing comments about how our future children would turn out. One of the first reactions I received on my interracial relationship went something like this: “Hey, I’m happy for you, but oh my, I can already see it, you’re going to have really dark kids with crazy hair! What are you going to do about your child’s hair?!” Comments like this annoyed me and made me wonder why my future children being dark with tightly coiled hair was such a bad thing. Contrary to what everyone expected, my firstborn son, Emmanuel, was born with light skin and fine hair, and the comments turned into: “Oh he’s beautiful, so glad he got your good genes!” To most, he is a precious Hispanic boy, seemingly without a trace of blackness. I easily feel offended and a myriad of fears creep into my heart. 

Breaking My Silence

What story? That of a writer, an artist, and someone who typically loved to uplift and encourage others, who had been battling with a serious feeling of inadequacy as a mother, wife, business owner, and most importantly, as a Christian. This feeling had affected me so that it actually silenced me for an unfortunate amount of time. I went from being encouraging and speaking of God’s graciousness almost daily, to feeling as if what I wanted to say just wasn’t good enough at all. That I couldn’t possibly put into words just how great He is, has been, and forever will be. And so, I managed to just not say anything. Every time I would go to praise Christ openly, I was at a loss for words. Seriously, the words just left me.