When I had my first child, it seemed weird to refer to myself as a mom. Even though I carried my daughter in my body for 9 months, went through labor and delivery, and loved her instantly; connecting myself with the name “mom” seemed like I was faking something.
And, it is funny, I run, but I don’t really consider myself a runner. I write but I don’t consider myself a writer. But I have been told the same about both: “If you run, you are a runner.” “If you write you are a writer.”
There must be something in me that is afraid of pretending to be who I’m not.
Almost ten years ago, I made the most important decision in my life, I began to live for my Lord Jesus Christ. I did not tell anyone about it for over a month. I wanted to make sure it was real, I was real, that this new me, was really going to stick.
I’m not sure how long it took before being mom was the most natural thing in the world, but now it is. And I don’t remember when I truly started thinking of myself as a Christian, but if I was to define myself as anything, it would be that.
So I guess, in this blog, I will talk about these things. Being real; a runner, a writer, a wife, a mom, and how God is the wind and the breath of everything I do.