Welcome to Hope That Soars, where together, with my husband Ryan, we navigate the messiness of life by pointing people to the HOPE found in a relationship with Jesus.
Our journey is filled with heartache and the daily struggle of chronic illness, scripted by a loving Creator.
It is through Him we find LOVE, JOY, and STRENGTH to press forward.
I pray you will join us as we share life lessons gained through mishap, adventures, and everything in between. Perhaps somewhere along the way, you too will find, a HOPE that SOARS!
I could barely contain my angst as we attempted to console our new addition in the midst of a torrential downpour on that hot July evening. Finally, home in our small one bedroom dwelling, we sat with her for hours acclimating to the bathroom. This was the space where our new bundle would remain until introductions could be made with our more seasoned housemate, (Tasha, our flat-faced Persian Ry had before we married, who barely tolerated my presence.)
Not long after I was born, I was given a small blanket. One that I slept with each night until I was nearly twenty-five.
Now, I know what you're thinking... This chick has some serious separation issues!! You’re right, but we didn’t put a label on it back then. I just knew it provided comfort and reminded me of home.
My mind began to drift however, to much earlier days of my youth. Years as a young girl when Saturday mornings meant my sisters and I fighting over which chore we had to complete.
As we grew older, Santa’s presence caused major anxiety because at what age do you stop sitting on his lap and just stand beside him for the photo-op (so you still receive your gift), all while maintaining your cool status. Although, I cannot speak for the others, the awkward pictures lead me to believe they too shared my angst.
