Today is the last day of the Write 31 Days challenge. It has definitely been a challenge for me this time. I was so excited about my topic back in August. However, by mid-September, I just wasn’t feeling it. To be completely honest, I didn’t want to write about living loved because I was having a really hard time living loved myself. This has been a difficult season of life for me and I just wasn’t feeling loved. Instead, I felt rejected. Abandoned. Forgotten. I tried to justify not participating as I had planned, but I couldn’t shake the feeling

I love to laugh. Out loud. Giggling is great, too, but I love a big, boisterous laugh. Sometimes I will even snort or cry while laughing. I am quite demonstrative. I laugh very easily- at corny jokes, silly stories, a half-way decent pun, at things that might be considered inappropriate. I can have quite a morbid sense of humor at times. Not everyone appreciates my dark humor, but it makes me very happy. When I think of laughter, I think of my childhood. My father had the best sense of humor! He was an amazing storyteller and his comedic timing

I cleaned out my pantry and refrigerator today. Boy, did I find some interesting stuff! Leftovers, half-eaten bags of snacks, old candy, and even a couple of impressive science-looking experiments that were taking on a life of their own. It was a mess. As I was tossing out the junk and reorganizing the shelves, I started thinking about how our hearts need to be cleaned out from time to time. I’m sure we all have some stuff in there that has gone sour or rotten that could make us sick. Maybe some leftovers. Or some things that we meant to

When I was a little girl and I would start complaining about something, my mom would say, “It sounds like you need to start counting your blessings.” I hated her response. Couldn’t she understand that I was in the middle of some major stuff? I just wanted to moan and groan for a while. I didn’t want to be responsible for my attitude. Where’s the comfort in that? After all, misery loves company and I wanted someone to join me in the pit of despair. Count my blessings?! Come on, Mom. She was right. Of course, she was right. She