I grew up with a very religious background. Because of that, I heard a lot about modesty. Most of the modest talk referred to how we dressed—specifically, how young women dressed. It seemed to be how most things were at the time, very black and white. These clothes were good. These clothes were bad.

Many years ago, I started following a cooking blog. Every recipe was delicious, and nothing was very complicated. Plus, a friend of mine actually knew the cooks behind it all, which I liked. I was a fan.

“I don’t like the look of those X-rays at all. It looks like cancer.”

My heart stopped. I looked down at my cat, Cosmo. I was having a hard time believing the veterinarian.

The internet is a tricky place. Anyone can really put anything online, and it may or may not be accurate. Regardless of that fact, we tend to trust people—and the information online.

One of my daughters had an experience with some other girls last week that was hard. The girls were mean. As I listened to her story, I started thinking about mean girls in general. Do some girls just come wired that way? Is it in their DNA? Or is it learned behavior? From my perspective, it does seem like girls are getting meaner and meaner all the time.

Three years ago, we went sledding in Utah.

It wasn’t our first sledding experience, but it was the first time we had gone to this particular place.

Have you ever seen mistletoe growing organically? Like, in the wild?

I have. A few years ago, I started noticing bunches of green in the branches of trees that had recently lost their leaves. I had no idea what it was, so I started asking around. One friend told me it was mistletoe.

We were in Hawaii, and it was raining. A lot. The forecast called for rain the entire week we were there.

I stood in my family room, looking at the freshly washed windows I had once loved. Something was wrong. Where was the light?

I was shopping in Bath and Body Works a couple of weeks ago. I was wandering around, picking up some of my favorite things and smelling new lotions. Predictably, a saleswoman came up and asked if she could help me? I told her what I was looking for and she sprang into action.

When I was 8 years old, I contracted Chicken Pox. I was very sick, and although I ultimately recovered, I came out of it with a new illness that would never leave. This new condition was a huge obstacle for me. My new life had lots of doctor appointments and tests and medications. I hated all of it and wished so badly that I would be cured. I wasn’t.

The process of becoming is messy.

It was late, and I walked outside to get my cat. He wasn’t coming when I called, so I brought my dog, Bailey, out with me.

One of my favorite life coaches, Jody Moore, wore a shirt that said World’s Okayest Mom across the front. I loved it so much…

My kids had a few days off of school for fall break in October 2017. We decided to drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico and go the hot air balloon festival that weekend.

I love a good story. I love funny stories, heartbreaking stories, and all the ones in between. I probably love telling stories even more. In the last couple of weeks, I have been thinking a lot about stories, but not in the typical sense.

I broke my foot when I was 13. The next day, I showed up late for school with a cast on my leg and crutches under my arms. I must have looked fairly helpless because I had several offers of help.