“Slow down; it’s not a race. There is no finish line.”

I’m over at Alamo City Moms Blog reminding you to slow down, there is no finish line.

The moment she feels her baby move inside her womb, she imagines the life her child will have.
She tries to picture the precious face of her baby and what color her hair will be.
She can’t wait to give birth, to get through the pregnancy and let her new life begin.
The mother-to-be rubs her belly, sighs, and says out loud, “Mom, I just want it to be over. Am I going to be pregnant forever? I can’t wait to finally have this baby!”
Her mom takes her by the hand and gently whispers, “Slow down, sweet girl; it’s not a race. There is no finish line.”

She’s exhausted from long nights and short naps and can’t remember the last time she slept for more than a few hours at a time.
The laundry is piled up, and the sink is full of dishes.
She plops herself in the glider, lifts her shirt, and begins to feed her newborn.
While her baby quietly breastfeeds for the millionth time that day, she twirls one of her daughter’s curls around her finger.
She sighs and thinks, This can’t be what my life is all about. When will she sleep through the night? I can’t wait until she’s able to walk and talk!
Then she recalls her mom’s gentle whisper: “Slow down; it’s not a race. There is no finish line.”

Read The Rest Here

There Is No Finish Line

Coparents, please don’t pack your child’s suitcase.



A little girl stuffs the next few days worth of clothes into a small backpack and waits for her mom to pick her up.
Her mom adores her and she adores her mom. She looks forward to this day each and every week and can’t wait to spend then next few days with her mom.

When she gets to her mom’s house she sets aside her backpack, careful to make sure whatever comes out of it is washed, neatly folded, and returns with her to her other house. She’s silently taking inventory so neither parent is upset if clothes that might be accidentally taken to the other house don’t make it back. Over and over she’s heard her items refereed to as “mom’s stuff” or dad’s stuff”, even though she’s the one who wears them.

The older she gets the more she feels the divide between her homes. The older she gets the line becomes thicker and darker.

Unintentionally her parent have made her feel like visitor in her own home.

Unintentionally her parents have divided her into two different people.



Coparenting can be tricky and because we are busy struggling with the big details, we often overlook the small ones.

It’s a balancing act.
It’s hard work.
It’s extremely sensitive.

One thing we can do for our kids who glide between two parents in two different homes is to not make them pack a bag. It tends to make them feel like a visitor, like when we arrive at a hotel pulling our luggage behind us. It never feels permanent.

Don’t pack a bag.

Whether it’s their own room or their own drawer, give them the security to know that, even when they aren’t there, there is still a place for them. Have everything they need for their time at your home. Don’t make them pack a bag. Don’t fight over whose clothes they are. No matter who purchased them, they’re her clothes. Give her the freedom.

Coparenting can be brutal  but one simple and easy act can minimize some of the stress for the child. A drawer full of clothes, a tooth-brush, her own hair brush, and an extra pair of shoes can give her a sense of security.

It can also eliminate some pointless arguments when an article of clothing doesn’t make it back to its original home. It’s one less thing that stands in the way of finding a way to healthy coparenting. There are already enough things to navigate through, remove this one.


A little girl gets dressed, brushes her hair,  and waits for her mom to pick her up.
Her mom adores her and she adores her mom. She looks forward to this day each and every week and can’t wait to spend then next few days with her mom.

When she gets to her mom’s house she grabs her pajamas out of her special drawer and cuddles up on the couch with her mom, settled in for movie night. She’s thankful to freely spend time with her mom.  Over and over she’s heard her parents remind her that both homes are hers and she is safe and wanted in each. She doesn’t even think about what clothes belong at which home, they’re her clothes and she knows her parents allow her to have her space and her things.

Intentionally her parents have made sure that both of their homes are hers and a place she belongs.

Intentionally her parents have found a way to be one united front so their little girl doesn’t have to stress over little details of two different homes.

Intentionally her parents are working their way towards healthy coparenting for the sake of their daughter.

Confession: Church people freak me out a little bit.


Photo credit: Lisa Snell Photography.

I use to think church people had their lives together.
So I stayed away from the church.

They few times I accidentally ended up in one I just smiled and kept my eyes from making real contact with anyone. I thought my clothes weren’t right and my kids weren’t lined up perfectly the way they were supposed to be.
I never spoke to anyone because I didn’t want them to find out what a mess my family was or that my marriage was a little out of whack…scratch that, a LOT out of whack.
I thought I needed to tame my hair, hide my tattoos, and buy nice church clothes in order to fit in.
I didn’t want to learn about Jesus because I thought he was for the good people, the ones that dressed right, acted right, lived clean lives, and knew all the verses in the bible. I didn’t want to be rejected by Jesus because I couldn’t get my life together.

Then I met a “church lady” and she was real with me. She sat me down one day and told me what a mess her house was, physically and emotionally. She was real and honest and showed me that you can be broken and Jesus still sees you. I love you for that, Barbara. You saved me.

So I took off my mask.
I realized I wasn’t made to fit in and that’s okay.

I often get asked why I tell my story, good and bad. I get asked if I worry about what people are going to think when they learn about where I’ve been and what I’ve done.
Nope. I sure don’t.
God already knows what I’ve done and what I’ve been through and he loves me anyways. He forgives me and adores me and that’s the beauty about following Jesus.
You can come to him frayed and stained and he opens his arms wide open.

I’ve learned how important it is to not pretend to be something that I’m not.
My kids will never be dressed in church clothes, whatever those are. On that note, I’ll always be the girl in church who makes people wonder what the hell I was thinking when I got dressed that morning.
I’ll always have a tattoo peeking out somewhere.
My house will never be clean, like never ever.
There will always be a wrinkle in my marriage.
I’ll always need forgiveness for something.
I’ll always need to forgive something.

But here’s the beauty of church.
It’s filled with messy church people.
It’s a place for the broken to gather.

If you’re showing up to church feeling like you need to fit in or put on your best face, let that lie go!.
The people on the outside looking in need to know how messy we are.
We need to set an example of brokenness.
We need to show that we are the hurting and Jesus is the healer.
We need to take our masks off for the sake of those who don’t know Jesus but are desperate for what he has to offer.

If you’re on the outside looking in let me tell you about the people inside.

The pastor is a sinner.
The youth leader sometimes wants to throat chop the teenagers.
The Sunday school teachers loves the little kids but doesn’t always like them.
The marriage counselor sometimes wonders why the hell they, themselves, ever got married in the first place.
The lady preaching to the women’s group cusses a little too much and enjoys adult beverages with dinner (sorry, that one’s me.)
Every person in the building has something they need to stop clinging to and hand over to Jesus.

To the people inside the church,
There’s a lady hiding in the back pew. She’s desperate for truth and honesty. Her marriage is a mess and she spanked her kids in the parking lot for not acting like humans. She needs you. She needs you to kneel next to her and say “We’re all jacked up in here. Sorry for pretending like we aren’t. You belong here. Our sweet Jesus loves you just the way you are. Welcome home.”

Her life mattered before she was born. I’m with her.

This is the first picture of my daughter, Bella.
She was a little unexpected. My husband and I decided to have another child and ended up pregnant with spontaneous triplets.


Bella was in a sac by herself and her two sisters were together in a separate sac.

The first doctor we saw suggested we selectively reduce the number of children we were pregnant with. In other words, he suggested that we terminate Bella’s part of the pregnancy to give the other two a better chance and to make sure I didn’t have as tough of a pregnancy.

We were not prepared for triplets.
It was a shock.
We did not think we could handle or afford three infants at one time.
We knew there would be struggles.
We knew that a triplet pregnancy would bring physical struggles to me during the pregnancy and the babies might be born with health issues.

She was unplanned, posed a risk to my health, could have been born with health issues, and we didn’t know if we could properly provide for her.

My husband took a job that he needed, not the job of his dreams. He worked nights, days, weekends, and holidays. He took a job that provided a safe salary and insurance. After being in the work force for 16 years, I had to quit my salaried job and stay home with the triplets. We cut out all unnecessary expenses, let go of many of the things we thought we wanted, and changed our lives so that we could provide for our children the best we could.

When they were born we required help from the government so that we could feed our babies. After putting into the system for many years, we accepted WIC for one year. Formula for 3 babies was more than we could handle. After a year of taking advantage of the program that was set up for families like ours, we opted out because we were finally in a position to not truly need it.

Bella was in and out of the hospital. She was born prematurely and struggled with lung issues. We spent many nights watching her as she slept in a hospital bed.

Even with all of those struggles, the choice not to terminate her life was never a regret.

Bella is 10 years old. When she was six she started a homeless ministry and since then has touched the lives of hundreds in our homeless community. She is dedicated to helping the lives of others and I have no doubt that she will grow up to be an amazing humanitarian.

Because we knew Bella’s life mattered, even when the doctor thought it would be less of a burden on us if she didn’t exist, lives have been changed. She is changing the lives of others because she was given the chance at life.

This is the most recent picture of Bella on the day she provided 100 pairs of new shoes to our homeless community and reminded the least of these that, no matter what their circumstance, size, gender, political view, religion or status, they matter as much as she did before she took a breath of air.

She mattered before she was born and because of that hundreds of people, who might not ever know what unconditional love feels like, have gotten a glimpse of what good in this world looks like.


This is what social media and texting are doing to our “selfie” generation.

How did we raise a generation of selfie taking narcissist who are constantly sending their friends pictures of themselves. I told my daughter to send something else instead of a selfie to her friends on snapchat and she looked at me like I had 2 heads. “Like what? What else would I send?”

Candice Curry - W3

I want to say the duck face picture days are behind us but I’m not sure if that’s a safe statement yet. We still have the mouth wide open, peace sign pics but I haven’t seen a duck face pic in a while so I’m hopeful.

I’m not one for selfies. They actual freak me out and when I see my teenager take 75 selfies during the 3 minute ride to church, I completely lose my cool. She says she has to get it just perfect.
She once tried to get me in one of her selfies so I shot the camera the bird in an effort to make it unsendable (I know, I know, there’s no need for chastising comments) …it ended up being sent anyways and now she’s the kid who’s mom flipped off the camera.


Snapchat is nonstop in our house. We have two teenagers that use…

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The Heart Of The Batter.



He takes a deep breath and grips the ball tightly.
His face is serious; his lips are straight.
He repeats the lecture his dad gave him before taking the pitcher’s mound, the stern and demanding words still echoing in his head.
There are many waiting to bump him from the mound and take his place.
He’s stressed.
Scouts line the stands, watching to see if he’s good enough for their future team.
His coach yells from the sideline, and his palms start to sweat. He refuses to meet his coach’s eyes.
Everything he is rides on this moment.
For a split second he remembers when the game used to be fun, before he let the pressure consume him.
If he doesn’t play a perfect game, then he’ll be lost in failure.
If he fails, then all the hard work was for nothing.
He prays for the ball to speed across the plate and land safely in the catcher’s mitt.
He prays for the batter to fail.
What he has at stake overrides anything that’s important to his opponent.
The batter’s failure means his glory, and that’s the way he wants it.
He can’t focus on anything else; he’s zeroed in on the catcher’s fingers, signaling behind the batter.
He winds up, releases the ball, and hears the crack of the bat.
He panics over a line drive or a pop-up fly.
He feels his worth lies solely in whether there’s an out or a base run.
He thinks this very moment defines his entire life.


He takes a deep breath and taps his shoes with the tip of his bat.
A smile sneaks up the corners of his mouth, out of his control.
He remembers his dad telling him to do his best and enjoy being a player.
He knows not everyone gets to stand where he stands now, and many dream of being where he is today.
He feels blessed.
Scouts line the stands, watching to see if his heart is truly in the game.
His coach yells from the sideline, and he gives him an understanding grin accompanied by a wink.
He’s excited for this moment.
If he fails he’s still thankful to play the game.
All the hard work was worth it just to stand with the bat in his hands.
He prays for the pitcher to throw the perfect ball.
He knows the pitcher has a lot riding on this game, and he wants him to succeed.
Even if one’s success means the other’s failure, he still has the courage to cheer on his opponent.
He’ll do his best, but if the pitcher wins it won’t define him.
The pitcher releases the ball, and immediately his bat connects.
He takes a second to watch the ball sail across the sky, into a perfect arc.
For just a brief moment he soaks it all in: the smell, the sounds, the cheers.
He knows that this moment will pass quickly, and he wants to remember every detail.
He feels a surge of pride for connecting with the perfect pitch, and even though he knows the ball will be caught before it hits the ground, he relishes the moment and looks forward to his next chance at bat.

We have a choice.
We can bring the attitude of the pitcher or the heart of the batter.
We can let the smallest moments steal from the big picture or unfold into amazing beauty.
We can let the moment break us, or we can build upon it.
We can let a split second dictate how we act and feel, or we can simply live in that second and move on.
We can cheer on others while fighting for ourselves.
We can be brave with grace.

No single moment defines us.
No single moment determines our worth.
We have a choice.
We can bring the attitude of the pitcher or the heart of the batter.





My favorite Cyber Monday deal EVER!

I love a good deal and I love it even more if I can snag it from the comfort of my couch. I’m a lover of online shopping, mostly because no one wants to see me at the store in my pajamas.

My favorite Cyber Monday deal this year is….


You can preorder The Con Man’s Daughter today for only $8.92 and it will auto ship to you in May when it is released.

This is my heart and soul.
This is my how God takes all the broken pieces and makes beautiful stained glass.
This is my redemption song.

Click here to order one or ten 😉

Thank you for all the support and love.

The Con Man’s Daughter.



Unexpected Thankfulness: When God wrecks your plans.



There are things in my life that I never planned on being thankful for and never really wanted to be thankful for but today I get to look back and see how God’s plan is so much better than my own. I get to give thanks for the unexpected.

My plan was to marry, become a judge, have 6 sons and live happily ever after in my huge mansion filled with boys.

God’s plan was different.

I am thankful for His plan and not my own.

I am thankful for my first husband and the daughter we have together. I am thankful for our divorce, not because I don’t love him or want him in my life but because it has taught me how to be a better person and a better mom than I could have ever been inside my own little plan. The divorce showed me how not to be selfish, how to compromise, how to share without stipulations and manipulation. Today I am thankful for my divorce.

I was supposed to live happily ever after with my husband but God handed us a test. In the blink of an eye he showed us what we had to lose. He took us to our very bottom and that became the moment when we realized what unconditional love, forgiveness and faith looks like. This test renewed us and gave us a whole new life together. Today I am thankful for the mess in my marriage.

My mansion didn’t turn out to be as big as I thought it would and while our home seemed big when we moved in as a family of three it is now busting at the seams. Every room is filled with laughter and love. Our family is closer than I ever imagined. I wouldn’t turn my nose up to a bigger bathroom but having my home filled with my children is far better than the floor plans I had in mind. Today I am thankful that my dream mansion is simply our cozy home.

I pictured all of my children being the smartest in class, the funniest, the most social. I just imagined that they would excel at everything and never struggle. I guess these are things that we all hope for our children. God gave us something better than any of that. He gave us a little girl with autism. He gave us a special needs child. It’s the most amazing thing that He has ever given to me. Our family gets to see the world in a way that most will never get to. We get to experience life through the eyes of a child who see everything brighter, clearer and differently than the rest of us. Today I am thankful that God thought this little girl was special enough to bless her and our family with autism.

As for those six sons that I was supposed to have, my house is filled with pink. Lots of pink! I never pictured myself with hair-bows or dealing with girl drama but these little girls light my entire world. They are my sunshine. They have taught me how to be a woman, how to be sensitive, how to be compassionate and how to love in a way I never knew. In three short months our sweet baby James will join our family and I’m actually a little freaked out with the idea of raising a boy. The football team that I dreamed of turned out to be a cheer-leading squad. Today I am thankful for sugar and spice and everything nice but I also can’t wait to be blessed with snips and snails and puppy dog tails.

Today is a day of thanks.
Look around today and give thanks for those unexpected blessings that you may not have seen as gifts at the time.

Today say I love you.
Say I forgive you.
Say you are wanted.
Say you are a gift.

Today give grace and mercy.
Give forgiveness.
Give help.
Give love.
Give thanks.

Break My Heart For What Breaks Yours

I wrote this almost 4 years ago and somehow came across it today. It’s not my best writing but the message seems so fitting for where we’ve been the last few days.

We know the sound of each others cries.

We were made to comfort each other.

We were made to help each other.

We were made to forgive each other.

We were made to love each other.

Candice Curry - W3


Classroom Tears

Our middle triplet has autism and requires speech therapy twice a week. Luckily we have the greatest elementary school in the whole wide world right here in our neighborhood.Every Monday and Wednesday Justin takes special time out of her day and goes with the speech therapist for her therapy.

You never know if Justin is going to be super happy to do something or completely against it. One day could be one way and the next day another.

We basically live in her world.

Yesterday was one of her speech days.

Her teacher said that she got out of her chair and headed to speech like it was no big deal. Then she got into the hall it it was all over. Apparently there was a catastrophic meltdown in the hallway that runs through the middle of the kindergarten classrooms.

When Justin has a meltdown it’s hard to get…

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