When Grief and Love Collide

Whiplash and grief. These two words were given to me by my therapist on my visit to her office last Spring after I shared with her all that went down in my life the previous two years. These two words accurately described those tumultuous years. When I first arrived at my therapist’s office, I felt disoriented. Not lost but definitely at a loss.

Judah was 6 months old at this time, and I was still reeling from his unexpected presence in my life. I fell in love with Judah

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Being a bartender made me a better Christian

The first time I encountered alcohol in my life was in third grade.

My friend invited me over to her house to play after school one day, and when I walked in, I saw her dad in a recliner holding a bottle of beer and watching tv. I froze and felt a rising inward panic.

Why, you may ask?

Because as a kid, I understood alcohol as a bad thing. And in my kid logic, that meant bad people drank alcohol and alcohol made people do bad things.

All I remember from that day was watching her dad from the kitchen

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A Poem on Belonging

For those who know me well know that my passion is bringing people together. Finding common ground amidst our differences. Creating community out of unlikely places with all sorts of people. Connecting people with one another, for both pragmatic and relational reasons. But all with the goal of fostering community.

It is how I am wired. It’s how I view the world and how I make decisions that I do.

I often think questions like: How can I make this world a more loving place? How can

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Breathe

I have a dear friend whom I knew for years before I ever learned she was a secret poet.
We’ve laughed together, cried together, raised our kids together. We’ve had deep conversations, hard conversations, and life-giving discussions. And yet this poetic side of her was always kept in the dark.

I don’t remember what made her send me one of her poems that first time, but I am so grateful she did. Not only because her writings are awe-inspiring, but because I was grateful

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Living Shame-Free

(13 minute read – Sermon from 9/22/2016)
(In the first few seconds of my audio recording I’m choking back tears but I sound normal after that:)

I love Brene Brown’s definition of shame. She describes it as the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging. 

In other words, shame is the fear of disconnection, the idea that something about me makes me unworthy of love and belonging.

Shame is the phrase “I’m not ________ enough.”

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Divorcing Mamas: You Are Not Alone

You guys… my friends are being abused; their children are being abused. This is not a joke. This is their reality and they’re opening up to me about it. And the hesitancy and the fear these women have had in telling me and their loved ones about the abuse is palpable. And it makes me realize two things:

  1. Domestic abuse has got to stop. Now.
  2. We have to create a culture where women feel safe to tell their loved ones that they are in a toxic and/or abusive marriage and need to get out.

In the past 6 months, I have had more women come out to me about abuse and infidelity in their marriages than I can keep count. It’s heartbreaking and it’s horrifying.

The

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My Unexpected Healer

As you all know, it’s been a couple crazy years for us. We’ve experienced job insecurity, financial loss, broken relationships, adoption delay, and an unexpected third child – and that’s just in our personal lives. Add to this the ongoing injustices done to black, brown, queer, and/or female bodies in our nation, and I find myself reeling from hurt and pain, anger and rage.

How easy it is to live in love towards one another and yet it seems so

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Adoption Update

Whether I’m ready or not, our baby is turning one next month – one! And I am so in love with him. It’s been a bumpy ride in the Mitchell household the past couple years, my last pregnancy notwithstanding. Judah went from being an unwanted baby* to a baby who has been my unexpected healer.

(*I’m being very vulnerable here, so please be gentle with me. It’s pretty scary for me to write the word “unwanted” next to the word “baby” on the internet

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Pain and Loss and My First Tattoo

Friends tease me about the fact that I find papercuts painful and that I hyperventilate whenever I get poked with a needle. (thanks to having donated my plasma one too many times in college). But giving birth without meds? No problem. It hurts, but pushing a baby out seems natural to me; stabbing my skin with metal (aka a needle) is not natural to me, which does something to my psyche and causes me to freak out (being an HSP probably

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When Parenthood Sucks

It’s been one of those days… one of those really bad days as a parent.

Where you no longer think happy thoughts but only angry thoughts that are fueled by sleep-deprivation and toddler temper tantrums of epic proportions. Where all joy and happiness that exists in this world are suddenly gone, vaporized by the volcano of chaos that’s erupted in your home. Where on the outside of your four walls, you look like any other typical happy small family on the neighborhood block. But

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