 March is finally here and, in South Carolina, that means we start to feel the shifting of seasons.
It’s not spring yet… but almost. Winter isn’t over yet… but almost. March is a month of transition — where the weather flips up and down, flowers begin to emerge but remain tight in their buds, and the world slowly wakes up from winter’s rest without fully coming alive. Many of us know this transition space well. We’re living in a March of the soul. We’ve prayed the prayers but haven’t received an answer. We’ve submitted the job application but are still waiting for a response. We’ve received a diagnosis and are awaiting treatment and healing to begin. We’ve been mothering in quiet, unseen places, longing for even a small acknowledgment. Like seeds ready to sprout from soon-to-be spring soil, we are waiting — hidden and hopeful for the season to come. But we’re stuck between the now and the not-yet. For a short year of our lives, we lived in Colorado. Winter there stretched on endlessly. Looking out over the snow-covered ground, it seemed logical to believe the land was barren. What could possibly grow under all that snow after months of freezing temperatures? Turns out… a lot. All it took was one short month for that snow to give way to some of the most lush late-spring forests and gardens I had ever seen. In the in-betweens of life, it’s easy to make the same assumption about God because everything feels barren. Is He even there? Does God answer prayers? Is He punishing me? Why does God feel silent?
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 If I’m Honest…
I’ve always felt insecure when it comes to relationships. Dating. Friendships. Even marriage. For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried this quiet fear that a beautiful connection—once found—could evaporate into conflict at any moment. Here’s why. In high school, I learned firsthand—like so many girls do—that a friend can quickly become a frenemy. Girls I had known since early childhood began to gossip about me and bully me. At first, I confronted the lies head-on. I tried to explain. I tried to defend myself. Eventually, I was exhausted—and I gave up. High school became miserable. I avoided the lunchroom whenever I could, opting instead to eat quietly in whatever teacher’s classroom would let me hide out. While people cried at senior graduation, I threw confetti. I couldn’t wait to leave. Only to enter college terrified to make new friends. I didn’t know how to trust anymore. I ended up dating a guy who emotionally and spiritually abused me for a year. At nineteen, the stress of relational failure—combined with my relentless drive to succeed in both regular and honors classes—finally broke my body. Shingles erupted across the entire right side of my face, leaving nerve damage down my neck and nearly blinding my right eye. I’m sorry for the heaviness of that story. But I want you to see the full picture—because by the time I entered my twenties, relationships had left both personal and physical scars. Already prone to anxiety, I approached deep connection with intense apprehension. I made friends, but kept most people at arm’s length. I dated, but usually ended things after a few months. I didn’t know how to guarantee I wouldn’t be betrayed again, and it felt safer to love lightly than to go all in. So I didn’t. I’m sure I hurt people along the way too. I wasn’t a great girlfriend—I was distant and flighty. I was a good friend and spiritual confidant, but I rarely asked for the favor returned. It was fine for others to need me, but I wouldn’t allow myself to need anyone else. Does this sound familiar? Have you ever felt abandoned, lonely, or just downright broken when it comes to relationships?  During my time in ministry, I was a part of a night dedicated to talking about relationships. At the Q & A portion of the evening, I got this question that I ended up thinking about a lot. When I first read it, it seemed like the answer was obvious, but the more I thought about it and how I was going to answer, the deeper the answer seemed to become.
This was the question….
Let’s Be Honest
Relationships will inevitably disappoint us. People will let us down. And—we will let people down. Why? Because every relationship is made up of imperfect people loving imperfectly. I’m cutting to the chase because disappointment in relationships isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, Scripture shows us that disappointment can exist even alongside deep faith. To be fair, there were many people who had a relationship with Jesus—and were disappointed in Him. Think about this…
So You Want to Be in Love Like the Movies?
Windows rolled down, my hair billowing around my face, the college version of myself had the Avett Brothers cranked almost all the way up and was singing at the top of her lungs: “So you want to be in love like the movies But in the movies they’re not in love at all And with a twinkle in their eyes They’re just saying their lines So we can’t be in love like the movies.”* As a self-declared non-romantic, these lyrics always felt like a duh statement to me. Of course real love doesn’t look like the movies. There’s no perfect soundtrack swelling behind an ordinary morning coffee when we accidentally reach for the same mug as a handsome stranger. We don’t lock eyes, smile, walk away, and then discover our phone number magically written on a to-go cup. We don’t fall in love on the first date and go on to live a flawless life with a picture-perfect family. It’s just not real—and I’ve always known that. We all know that. People fight. They carry flaws, baggage, and wounds. They hold reservations and secrets, doubts and expectations. And still… don’t we all secretly want to be in love like the movies? Behind our realism lives a quiet longing for the meet-cute moment. We want to be unexpectedly swept off our feet by someone who gives us security and worth. Someone who chooses us out of a crowd. Someone who loves us as we are, never makes us question their loyalty, and somehow makes us feel—well—whole. This is the tension we live in: the longing to be fully and perfectly loved feels like fantasy—something reserved for rom-coms and fairy tales. And yet, we yearn for it anyway. So what do we do with our desire to be loved--and to be in love?  Hey friend,
Some of you have known this space as The Hermana Blog… and while that season mattered deeply to me, I realized something important: everything I write, speak, and create has always been pointing to the same truth — God is faithful in the middle of the mess. So as we head into a new year, I’ve brought everything under one name: ✨ Miracle in the Mess ✨ Here’s the back story and how you can become a contributor:
“You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go…”
-Mark 16:6-7, NIV “HE’S HERE! BABY JESUS IS HERE!” Gather around the manger this morning and look, there He is! Jesus. A Savior born to us. Guess what? He remains here. The promise of Christmas is that Jesus didn't stay in the manger. He didn't keep His profession as a carpenter. He didn't hang out only with the disciples. He wasn’t left permanently on the cross. He didn't even become swallowed by the grave. Instead, He conquered death and upended the power of sin. He ascended to heaven and left us with His Spirit. So, He stays, with us, in us, and through us. As a result, Christmas morning is a charge to do one thing… 
“For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”
-Colossians 1:16-17, NIV God isn’t Santa, He’s sovereign. But, we like to imagine Him as Santa. We desperately seek happiness and fulfillment. So, when something seems bad or a negative emotion arises, we try to run from it. Basically, the rule is this: If it’s bad it’s Satan. If it’s good it’s God/Santa. The reality is that bad things can happen and God can still be working them out for our good. 
“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him— the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord— and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.”
-Isaiah 11:1-5, NIV Our first Christmas season as a married couple, my husband and I lived in a snow globe. Out of our window in Aspen, CO, I would watch the dance of snowy, white dots before the evergreens while I listened to the rivers roar. While our view was picturesque, our studio apartment was not so dreamy. It was tiny. To give you some perspective, I cooked on a hot plate and washed our dishes in the bathroom sink because we had no kitchen. The only tree that would fit inside was basically a Charlie Brown tree. It was only about a foot tall and bent a little toward one side because I insisted it must have a little star on top, though it could barely hold the weight of it. As I started to place presents around our "tree," I found a clue to what God was up to when He created Christmas. 
“The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
-Luke 1:28, NIV Did you know that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a teenager? The Jewish tradition of that time was girls were married around 12 or 13 years old. It’s estimated by some scholars that Mary was probably between 13 and 14 when she gave birth to Jesus. Can you imagine God appearing to your teenage self? |
