True story. 

I’d been wondering for a few weeks now how we were going to make this work. How we were gonna still be us after the move. All we’d ever really known as a couple were weekends together, late nights spent with just the two of us – Laughing and loving each other. I hadn’t realized until now how sheltered we had been. 

Now, laying on this pier together, looking at the stars reflecting on the lake…listening to the crickets sing their lullaby – Waiting for the fish to be caught up in our trout lines…I’m suddenly afraid that this is all about to end. My dream of being with this man for my whole life seems like just that – A dream. 

When we leave the quiet of our small town for college, and he sees me outside of here, under new lights – How will he still want me? But he says he loves me – And I know he means it. I just wonder, will it be enough for us to make it? 

I have to stop this crazy train of thought…I’m lying in this beautiful man’s arms and right now – I trust that this is real. 

“What will happen to us, Michael?”

“We’ll make it work, Beck.”


Y’all – One of my secret pleasures is reading fictional love stories. This morning I started thinking about my real-life sappy love story and I remembered this moment that my husband and I had right before we left for college…laying on our friend’s pier at the lake…close to midnight, just after we’d set trout lines with our closest friends. I remember wanting so desperately to be with this man for all my life – So scared of losing him. And here we are now, 17 years later, still loving each other with a fierceness that has only grown stronger with time. 

I’m so thankful for my nonfiction sappy love story:)

XOXO, Beck


I went to Target today.

I just typed a sentence twice and deleted it…twice. I will not say all of this right – And that’s okay – Now, on with the typing…

I’ve never been one to worry too much about political correctness. It’s never been too big of a deal for me, because I care about human beings. I’m not perfect – I’m just saying that if you love people, you don’t have to watch every single word that comes out of your mouth. NOW – I am NOT saying that my words don’t get away from me – It just doesn’t normally involve the relevance of someone else’s existence.

Anyway, I have a lot of people in my life that won’t agree with what I have to say – And that’s cool…Blog about it;)

I want to share an experience I had with a human being.

A human being that was transgender.

A transgender that was hurting.

I was asked to sing a concert at one of my very close friend’s church. I was excited to just sing for Jesus…just do the thing that I’m gifted to do. So I comprised my song list – Prepared for weeks and was on with the show. It was not a perfect concert, but I sang the songs that I planned and God was glorified.

The last song I sang was Broken Hallelujah, by Mandisa…It’s a beautiful song about how you can still praise the Lord, even when you’re broken – About how God works when we’re at our lowest. I connect to that – Not because I’m a depressed sort of individual – But because I know I’m so imperfect…so flawed. The fact that God loves me so much – In spite of me – It just makes me wanna praise Him more.

After the concert was over and the the church goers were making their exits…A woman that looked very much like a man came walking down the aisle towards me.

She embraced me.

We stood there for what seemed like minutes, but I knew were merely seconds. She looked me straight in the eyes and told me,

“Thank you.”

She told me that the last song that I sang spoke to her. She had pained eyes…Her openness and honesty overwhelmed my soul.

I knew at that moment that she was the reason that God brought me to that church…at that time…to sing that song. She was hurting and I had a message from God for her – Because God loves his creation.

He cares.

God cares about what we’re dealing with…about what we’re going through – Right or wrong – Fact or opinion…

We are His children.

I will not stop going to a grocery store because they allow bathroom privileges to a certain group of people.

I’m concerned with pedophiles in the bathrooms, not transgenders. So, my children will not go in the bathrooms alone. This is the adjustment that I’m making.


XOXO, Beck

You People. 

Okay – so I just have to have a REAL momming conversation with y’all.

Sometimes – A LOT of times – My kids are just Pouty Pattys and Bratty Bradys. I love them SO much…I just have to put that out there – But they have about done me in this past weekend.

I also want to put out there that I’m not looking for sympathy. I am seeking out other parents that are like, “Yeah! My kids are JUST like that sometimes!” Please tell me that we’re in this together, y’all. That’s all I want – To know that I wasn’t the only miserable parent this weekend. It wasn’t all bad – Just mostly. 😉

It doesn’t matter how many surprise pans of brownies I make – How many “Sure you can have a toy at Target” trips we make – How many staying up extra late on their iPads evenings – How many “You can BOTH sleep with me tonight!” bedtimes we have…

My kids can STILL find a way to figure out how they aren’t getting EXACTLY what they want.

I mean, seriously – One of them came home with a bad grade on their report card and I’M the one doing the consoling and figuring out how we can all have a fresh start.


The parent. 

I get my kid some shoes with heels on them this weekend – Mom’s the hero. I tell this kid that the temps won’t rise above 50 degrees this Sunday and she needs socks and boots – Mom’s the villain.

I am about to pull my greying hair out.

I literally almost cried telling the middle child that it’s getting very tiring to never be able to make her happy…

“Momma can’t handle being so wrong with y’all all of the time. I just can’t take the pouting anymore. You people are pushing me too far.”

I speak in third person when it’s all too much – Like subconsciously, Momma is trying to pretend that Momma is talking about some other sad, pitiful human being that’s trying not to cry because an 8 year old won’t be happy.

Momma is cray.

For my dramatic, brink-of-tears conversation, I received an aprehensive hug – A strained apology – And a suggestion on how I could more efficiently put her hair in a bun.


I have no suggestions on how to be a better parent – A better human being – A better anything, after the weekend I’ve had. My children have literally put me in my place for the past two days. I am officially riding low on a shetlin pony – or however you spell it. I hear they’re mean little neighers.

Aaah- I feel all kinds of better for getting that off my chest. Hope y’all have a super good week – unless you need to be on a shetlin pony;)

XOXO, Beck

  Some things can’t be unseen. 

I saw something that truly scared me in one of my own today. A Becky Moore lecture ensued. Our conversation went about like this…

“Yeah, our teacher showed us a video of President Kennedy being shot last year. We saw his head get blown off.”

“I know, you told me…”

My eldest offspring then commenced to do a slight reenactment…

“Maggie, I didn’t agree with her showing you that. There are some things that are  better left unseen.

You do know that you’re old enough to say that you’d rather not watch those kinds of videos, right?”

“I wanted to see it.”

This is where Mother Dearest began her passion-filled speech…

“Maggie – Right now, there are Christians being murdered for believing in Jesus Christ. And do you want to know how they are being slain? Your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ – Your people – are being beheaded. Mothers and fathers are witnessing their children be murdered right before their very eyes. Sons and daughters are forced to watch their momma’s and daddy’s lives be brutally ended.

This is not something to take lightly.”

She looked at me and nodded throughout the entirety of my talk…Then – knowing she had nothing more to add, she changed the subject to the cereal she was eating.


Y’all…I don’t want to raise a sensationalist. She needs to learn RIGHT NOW to fight her natural urge to view an act of violence in order to feed some undefined sick personal need of hers. She needs to protect her spirit…her innocence.

I just wanted to share this with y’all. I’m so thankful that God gives me these opportunities to steer my children – His children, toward Him and away from self. I’m learning just as much, if not more, from our Heavenly Father through these teaching opportunities than my kids. I  pray she really takes this one to heart…

God bless and protect y’all.

XOXO, Beck

Taco Bell can keep the secret recipe to themselves.

Michael comforted Maggie outside, and I went in the house to do the same for Baylor…She cried to me, “Why do people in our family have to keep dying?” Of course I knew that the question was rhetorical, so I kept my mouth shut and continued to rock her. Our dog had died that morning, and he was a member of our family – A person in the minds of our children.

I sat Bay up and looked her in the eyes and began to cry myself…“I loved him very much. He was a good, good dog to us.” Abruptly – Her tears and rhetorical questions ceased – She sat up a little bit straighter, “Momma, are you fake crying?” Say what? “No, Baylor…I do not like to cry. I am not faking.” She then looked up, with her bright blue sympathetic eyes, and wrapped her little loving arms around me.

I just have to say that I was completely blown away by her in that moment. She knew that it was her turn to comfort me. One of my very favorite scriptures is 2 Corinthians 1:4…

He comforts us in all our affliction,

So that we may be able to comfort those

Who are in any kind of affliction,

Through the comfort we ourselves

Receive from God.

My Baylor Joy truly exhibited the essence of this scripture in that moment with me. She took the comfort I gave her – That God used me to give her – and turned around and gave it right back to me.

I’m going to do my very best this week, and in the future, to remember how much I’ve had to be comforted…From God, my family, friends…For things I’ve done wrong and for things that were out of my control. I’m going to do my very best to remember that a quiet moment, many times, trumps my words of wise comfort. Everyone is going through something – And to them, in that moment – It’s huge. There are no comparisons to pain when it’s happening to you. I can’t tell you how many times someone has said to me or I’ve said to someone else, “Well, it could be worse…” – But in my mind…in their mind – Worse was the present situation.

Sometimes…A quiet hug is best.

***Oh my goodness, I just got convicted for one of the ways I tried to comfort Maggie yesterday…This is a sidenote, btw…“Maggie, just be thankful that Jerry was our pet – In some countries, he would have just been dinner.” Yep, I said that.

I hate to end my blog on that sidenote…but I’m gonna. I love you guys:) Thanks for sharing this crazy thing called life with me!

XOXO, Beck

One more sidenote…

***I guess I need to cry in front of my children more often. The child actually asked me if I was fake crying.

White trash. 

“Wow…YOU have a tattoo?!? White trash.”

Yes, someone actually said that to me last week. I was all…”Yeah, I’m slowly but surely making my way outta my white trash closet.” She laughed…because evidently trashy white folks are HILARIOUS. She’d probably think I was related to Eminem if she took a gander at my other inky statement piece.

Seriously though, do I not look like someone that would have a tattoo? When people say stuff like that to you, does it remind you of how little they actually know about you? It does for me.

I waited until I was in my thirties before I got my first tattoo. I decided to ink my left ribcage with my husband’s roman numeral two, over a heart.  Every single time I see it – I’m reminded of how his love really is forever branded on my heart. It hurt like the dickens and I loved every second of it! 😋

My second tattoo is two blue songbirds, on my right inner shoulder…One for my sister, Rachel, and one for me. Rae is precious to me. We don’t see each other but twice a year – So when I look at our tattoo, I’m reminded of our unique bond and my heart is filled with joy.

What I want to say is that…

Life is short.

Don’t worry about what other people think all of the time. If you want to do something, that’s not against your moral belief system, do it! Travel the world! Eat dessert! Run a marathon! Tattoo NOW on your wrist where your watch should be…the time is NOW – get it? Maybe not ALL of those things…but you get the


I will never regret getting my tattoos. When I’m old – When my skin is sagging and splotchy…I’ll Look at them and smile. I’ll think about my thirty year old self…my thirty year old white trash self:)

So guys and gals…don’t worry about what people that don’t know you think about your situation. You do you.

Love the Lord.

Love your friends and family.

Love yourself.

XOXO, Beck

Nicki Minaj?!?

She’s just sitting there, looking at me with those big green eyes…trying to pay attention to the words coming out of her momma’s mouth.

The problem with Momma is that there are SO many words coming out of her mouth…it’s difficult to hear them all. She’s always trying to tell me something important. How many more important things can there be for her to tell me???

Is she really hearing all of this? She looks like she’s getting it, but something tells me that she’s perfected that look…

I hope she doesn’t see that I’m totally lost with this conversation…I’d hate for her to start over.


Bless our daughters’ hearts! This morning my oldest told me that I looked like Nicki Minaj, however you spell her name, in a top that was too small for me…and I was all, “How do you know about Nicki Minaj?!?” Then she brought up plastic surgery and I just about fell out. The first thing I noticed was the way that she regarded plastic surgery, like it was a terrible thing for someone to have done to themselves. I made sure to tell her – In all of my explaining – “It’s not your business what someone else does to their body. You don’t know their reasons and more to the point, it doesn’t matter what you think about it anyway.” Then I carried on explaining to her that some women get sick in their breasts and have to have them removed, so they have them redone. She agreed that that was an acceptable reason for having plastic surgery.

But is that enough? Does she really need to go through life only accepting what she can wrap her mind around?

Well, I guess since I could see MYSELF doing that…then it’s okay for you to.

The fact of the matter is that since I can’t ever see myself making the decision to augment my own breasts, I have difficulty understanding why you would want to have it done to yours. See, the problem with this logic is that I’ve always been quite proportional, physically speaking, so why would I ever have to really deal with this subject?

My point is this…It’s easy for me to jump to conclusions about your life decisions – Especially when I have no idea what I’m talking about. I can look at you and say, “Oh, she/he shouldn’t be doing that. I would NEVER make that decision.” Then turn around and live my life completely outside of your circle…with no clue what you’re really going through. I want my children to see other people and the decisions that they are making in their lives and choose to love and respect – Not to assume and reject.

I’m not sure if my sweet daughter heard all of what I was trying to explain to her…but I know that if I tell her enough times – That a beautiful woman is strong and confident in her own skin – That a beautiful woman builds other women up, doesn’t tear them down – That a beautiful woman loves others through the eyes of Christ… that she’ll remember Momma’s words when it really counts.

Love y’all…Beck

P.S. If I weren’t such and extremist…I’d totally get work done – But once I started…I could NEVER stop!;) XOXO