Brave Heart, Brave Soul. She who is brave is free.

There’s a saying about Celtic women. It says something like this, “we’re not created for the faint of heart.”  Honestly, that about sums it up.  Just ask my hubby. He’ll tell you straight up his wife is a double shot of whiskey without hesitation. There’s no denying my stubborn streak keeps life interesting around here.  I’m Irish through and through. I've got pale skin, a loud mouth, and yes I’m hot headed. I know I’ve seen that in writing somewhere before, probably on Pintrest I bet. Seriously though, from my red hair and freckles to my blue eyes, my boisterous laugh and all my sarcasm wrapped up in one package I am definitely my daidis daughter through and through. I may get my Scottish roots from my mama but you can bet as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow I get my fiery, feisty, excitable  Irish disposition from my daddy. From the moment Johnny and I met he knew I was trouble. Now don’t read me wrong, I wasn’t the kind of trouble you’re afraid to take home to your

When you stop, thinking about the ladies you call your sisters, your best friends, those who share in your uncanny, quirky and zany ways who comes to mind?  I don’t mean a number, a title or some cute hashtag, I'm talking the kind of girlfriends you can completely rely on, those you trust, who hold your complete confidence, I'm speaking of  your closest allies, the friends who tell you the truth no matter what. I'm thankful, I have these kinds of friends, the sort of kindred spirit's who know your soul deeply, both the dark and illuminated spaces of your heart. These are the kind of kinship's you just don’t know how you’d live without. Some move in and out of my life at different times, yet remain tied to my heart. By God;s grace time never seems to diminish our bond. While all are kindred,some are closer than a sister.These are the friends so close they feel my sadness without  me ever having to say a word. Mindy Kaling sums it best as far as I’m concerned, &

Family has always come first. Growing up an army brat and an only child I knew I wanted two things when I grew up. One was a house, a place I could put down roots and two was to raise a family of my own.  By God’s grace, I have both. I was blessed to be raised by two parents who not only loved each other but loved me enough to let me be little.  Growing up, I had this sense I could breathe fire if I was so inclined. I knew I could rise above, become what I most wanted to be and be unstoppable to boot. I was free to be myself, to spread my wings, to soar and to experience the magic the world around me offered and to be innocent. Childhood is this delicate dance of imagination and first steps. It should always be full of new ideas, experiences and adventures. Our imaginations are wide open, wild, free and untamed. We can dream big and explore without being boxed in.  I wanted the same for my own children. Being a mom, well it’s everything to me.  I wanted nothing more than to be

“I got it from my Mama”, is a saying you’ll hear a lot here in the south.  It basically sums up my life in a nutshell.  I am definitely my mother’s daughter, there’s no other way about it.   Apart from the obvious like our eyes or our smile, we think alike and we share an indestructible, unbreakable bond.  My mom is more than my mother, she is also my friend. With this new chapter of life lessons, I want to really digg in on the diverse and different relationships in my life. I’ve opened up about the influence of my parents and my marriage on my life recently but today I’m going to share a little more about my Mama, who she is and who she has shaped me to be. Life Lesson #54 is the story of a Bold, Relentless Love . I grew up in an extraordinary loving home. I was an only child. Let me make this clear though, I was never lonely, nor was I spoiled.  I had all I ever needed and mostly what I wanted, but I was never a stranger to the word “NO”.  Our home was always full of l

What is it that makes us fear aging? Getting older, as if there’s this trepidation and horror in a number?  I have never been afraid of age. I guess I’ve never really thought long and hard about “getting older”. I’ve never felt old, maybe that has something to do with it. I’m just not one to worry about whether I’m 23 or 43. Age to me is simply a number, not a way of life. I was born into a very lively family, full of vitality, exuberance, enthusiasm, pep and gusto. My parents raised to me love life, to take it all in and never worry about if I was too young or too old.  I was an only child, and maybe that played a part in how I was raised.  We laughed a lot, and still do. We traveled , saw the world, the US ,made long lasting friendships, experienced cultures and music, tasted new foods ( sometimes to my alarm) and soaked in life relentlessly and fearlessly. My Granny used to call us street rats, an old southern endearment for saying we were always on the go.  My parents and

Love, what comes to mind when you think of amore? Is it romance, passion or intimacy? Maybe it’s none of these things at all. No matter what we think love should be the truth is love is many, many things. Love is kind, forgiving and gracious. Love is full of laughter, sometimes angry, other time it’s filled with sorrow and tears. Love offers compassion, love grows and deepens over time, love is an act of self-sacrifice and yes love is difficult.  True love can be bold, fierce and beautiful whereas the idea of love can be destructive, hostel and vicious.  Sadly many times we get caught up in what we think love should be. We compare our relationships to the ones we see in the movies, read about in books or lyrics sung on the radio. We get so caught up in fairy tales, in a writer or songwriter’s version of a love story; we forget who the real author of our love story truly is. Fear can be a driving force in love. Insecurities, uncertainties, anxiety and doubt can destroy love. “F-E-A

They say, “Ain’t nothing in the whole wide world like a southern girl.”  Well speaking as a southern woman, I have to agree we’re a different stock, a totally distinct band of womenfolk.  A bit of sassy mannerisms, conflicting signals, unconventional qualities and independent streaks mixed together.  We’re the bare feet and pearls go with anything kind of girls.  Growing up in the South as a fishing, mud pies and dirt road kind of girl I found my place quickly. I grasped, discovered and learned  from my tribe, my family, from those who surrounded my life, whether in church or around the dinner table to be authentic.  What is an authentic life?  Well, it’s about being true to yourself, not compromising who you are for the attention of the few. Most importantly, it’s knowing yourself, not the idea of who you think you should be. We’ve all heard the saying, “Be an original, don’t die a copy.” Being authentic, being 100% yourself means nothing if you’re continuing to be a knocko

Growing up is scary. And by growing up I don’t mean getting older or putting mileage on. No, I mean growing into men and women who were born victorious.  None of us are born to live a life of defeat. Yes some are given more, while others have to fight to get to the top but we're not meant to live derailed, crushed or rejected. What I do know from my own difficulties, is I want to be the kind of woman who doesn’t settle but walks with purpose, allowing the fire inside me not to scorch my surroundings but to burn brighter inside of me. Growing up isn’t about who you are,where you're from or where you're going in life because we’re all still growing, learning every day whether we’re 10 years old or 80. The truth is up until we take our last breath our hearts and minds continue to illuminate and compose our story. Our tales are never fully told or revealed until the last word is penned on the very last page of the final chapter and the book is closed. Honestly, until

You may know my name, but do you know my story? Do you know who I truly am? The woman I have fought hard to become? One chapter simply does not chronicle or detail, illustrate or depict my whole tale. A paragraph is but one raindrop falling from the sky. Words from a single sentence alone are but one moment, one small glimpse into my life, into my story. Without the complete account no one has the ability to discern the outcome.  Let me take a moment and reintroduce myself to you. My name is Christina, Christina Marie to be formal. My family calls me Christie.  I’m a 40 something year old wife, mother and educator.  I’ve been married to the love of my life for over 20 years and together have raised two practically grown sons. I’m also a writer; I express myself through written narrative.  I can be difficult, headstrong and yes very strong –willed. I’m a bit of a wild one, an only child at that and a certified complete sassy mess. I have a soft heart, a kind nature and I’m