Candidly, this year I lost and found (and lost and found) my way so many times that my journals look like darling art projects, smeared with rough drafts of schedules. By October, when the dust settled, I came to terms with what’s mine to do, and God used a very unexpected truth to glide me back on course. He began by asking me a question.
When I was little, I was known as a Goody Goody. A Goody Goody was the person in class who would be likely to tell the teacher she had red yarn clinging to the sizable rear of her houndstooth skirt rather than let the class bust a stitch every time she turned to write… Continue reading goody goody