When I was a little girl we went over to a friends house for dinner. The family had an older son who had lost a leg to amputation. Without hesitation, I told him, "Don't worry, it will grow back." I wanted everything to be better for him. But I did not understand his condition. Most people who have not experienced a form of mental illness often don’t have the first clue how to speak to someone who has. This is apparent in the many cliche and seriously unhelpful one liners I have become accustomed to hearing over the years. The intention is good, the result, not so much...

Congratulations mankind, you have finally reached the age of the human Barbie. Let’s face it, reality is no longer reality. From scripted 'reality TV shows' to air-brushed magazine covers. Reality bites. And it's showing, people. Like a bad pair of underwear.

Pills. Knives. Silicone. Razors. Veneers. Waxing. Dyes. Cosmetic tattoos. Underwire. Contacts. Fake nails. Injections. Braces. Perms. Piercings. Tanners. We willingly and masochistically pursue the fallacy of barbie perfection.

Excuse me, Jesus, while I go eat my weight in mini Twix bars...

I forgive you. Now excuse me while I file away what you just did so that I can bring it up at any random point of my choosing in the future. When you grow up in a family that only speaks the language of conflict, it’s hard to acquire any other method of communication. I am an expert at remembering everything that anyone ever said or did to wrong or offend me.

Why? Survival of the fittest memory, people.

Scores are kept. Wrongs filed safely away. Like ammunition...

In 2007, after years of drug and alcohol addiction I began a long, painful journey to health. After growing up deep seeded in church culture, I was angry with religion and consequently, God. The absolute last place I wanted to be was in a large church setting. But God had a cruel sense of humor. Or maybe he just knew exactly what I needed.

My husband was hired at a fast growing multi-site church. Ugh. Initially I refused to attend. I waited, expecting a backlash. The, “Your wife should be here.” “Why aren’t you more involved?” “If you are going to be employed here, there are certain expectations we have.” It never came...

As I sit here in tears, it should be noted that I seriously considered not posting this. Seemed too divisive. But reading another post by someone I know and love that is at the expense of someone Jesus came for, fought for, died for, has me, well... I recently shared in my post, “Real Love Does Not Ask Us To Change First,” that my life was saved by love that accepted me where I was at; A fully functioning addict. It didn’t shout judgment at me from internet posts. It did not impose harsh criticism. It did not make fun of me. It did not plaster generalizations about my particular proclivities online. It did not use posters and bullhorns on street corners to bring me to Jesus...