After I lost my angel pup Maddie at the beginning of this year, I started struggling with moving forward. It felt like I froze while life kept spinning around me.

It’s hard admitting that season is over. I miss Madds so much. Sometimes I still break down sobbing like I lost her yesterday.

This week, I took a brave step by letting our “adventure mobile” stroller go.

This silly pink stroller meant Madds could comfortably go on longer walks, come to my gigs, and sneak into grocery stores and restaurants.

She wanted to go everywhere with me, and I was able to make that happen most days.

But for nine months, that stroller has been collecting dust, a sad reminder of what once was.

I wasn’t ready to lose Madds when I did. Nine months later, I wasn’t ready to let her stroller go. I’ve been afraid to move forward because facing the loss is so dang hard.

But I’m forcing myself to move forward. I’m forcing myself to accept the present, to accept that in a year it won’t be any easier to let some of Maddie’s things go, because I’m still just going to wish she was here.

I don’t want to move on, but I have to. Everything else in life has moved forward.

And so… a fluffy tabby named Butters will be exploring Havasu with his new wheels. 😹 I’m glad someone else will get to adventure with their beloved pet, and I hope it enriches their lives like it did mine.

Letting that ridiculous stroller go brought up all the sad feelings in full force. I let myself grieve.

What I’ve found in letting some things go is that the memories are still there.

It wasn’t the “adventure mobile,” it was Maddie’s spirit of adventure that made each day special.

It wasn’t about the sweaters, but the sweetheart who rocked them. And her precious cuddles.

It wasn’t her beds in every room, but the fact that she always wanted to be close. 🥰

Her spunk lives on in my heart, not in her things.

I love you forever, Madds. Thank you for over 10 years of spunky joy.

You’re still my angel baby, and I’ll see you again someday.💛 😭

“Angel”
A song I wrote for Maddie

I’ve learned the hard way recently that these two verses can actually go hand in hand:

• “Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.” -Proverbs 13:20
• “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” -Proverbs 4:23

Sometimes I walk with the wise, surrounding myself with people I admire. Those times I typically flourish and find joy.  Sometimes I surround myself with people who believe foolish things and act accordingly, and it does hurt me—deeply.

But I think the worst is when I’ve acted foolishly, and my companions have “suffered much harm.” I don’t just mean acting like an idiot and hurting someone once in a while, only to apologize and behave better afterward. I do my fair share of that, and unfortunately I’ll never be perfect in that regard.

I’ve learned recently that by systematically not guarding my heart, I’ve ultimately hurt not only myself but others. I’ve always heard to “guard your heart” but I didn’t know what that looked like in friendship, or that it even mattered until recently. It’s a terrible feeling to know you acted out of ignorance and it resulted in pain for both yourself and others.

Sometimes foolishness in friendship is subtle…

• It’s giving someone the keys to your heart and home before they’ve proven they can cherish them properly.
• It’s being committed to someone before getting to know each other, only to later realize that your expectations vary greatly.
• It’s excusing unacceptable, harmful, or destructive behavior and expecting the end result to be ok.
• It’s ruminating on the way someone “close” to you hurts you and displays their immaturity instead of addressing it, forgiving, and moving on.

It’s so easy to point a finger at the other person, but I have to admit I’ve been an ignorant fool when it comes to my heart and friendships. The result has been unmet expectations and a lot of pain for not only me, but other people I care about. They’ve had to be cut from a place they never really belonged (or they’ve cut me), and that severing is painful for everyone. What could’ve been something beautiful—even a distant friendship—becomes an abandoned rose garden, former beauty wrapped in thorns.

One of my wisest and truest friends once told me, “Christine, people will tell you who they are. Are you going to listen?” For much of my life I’ve been in such a rush to trust my first impression of people I like, I haven’t given them enough time to tell me who they really are, what they want, where they’re going. I foolishly haven’t waited for them to get to know me either. The more we learned about each other, the less we liked, the more we felt slighted when our needs weren’t met, and the more bitter we became. By the time the stark differences in our values fully emerge, we’ve had no choice but to let each other go.

I don’t mourn for releasing the companions who never should’ve been. In fact, in that regard I am relieved and joyful. By the grace of God we were able to wish each other farewell and harbor no bad feelings. I feel light knowing that my heart and home are once again protected.

But I do grieve for the pain leading up to the parting. For the ways we hurt each other without being mean or rude, but by operating on a false sense of reality. It was preventable pain caused by the foolishness of not guarding my heart from the beginning, which consequently would’ve protected theirs.

I’m grateful to have learned about letting a friendship develop gradually instead of letting every wall down from the start, allowing both parties to disclose who they really are and what they want. And I’m really glad to be moving forward. This lesson is one I will regard highly in order to prevent similar pain with other good people. I’m pressing in to the perfect Friend (Jesus, God, Holy Spirit) to heal, grow in wisdom, and continue with healthy friendships.

Today I am thankful for grace in my personal situations. I’ll spare the finite details of it all, but the summary is that God is beyond faithful in all of my shortcomings. (If you want to roll your eyes at that cliche—test it! It’s true!)

In humility I’m sharing this lesson with hope that others can learn from a blog instead of painful experience. Don’t be a companion of fools, and don’t be the foolish companion who causes harm. Seek wise friends and guard your heart—even in friendships.

photo: Sam Manns

Like so many of you, 2016 has been a whirlwind. I’ve felt pain, shame, heartache… and also unimaginable strength, joy, hope, and freedom. Fear has played a prominent role in this year’s script, but more than any year before, so has courage.

When I first started this year, my only resolution was to do something that scared me EVERY DAY in 2016. I had completely different expectations than what actually happened. I planned to do some epic things like skydive and maybe backpack to some remote spot. I hoped I’d finally feel comfortable performing in front of big crowds by getting on bigger and bigger stages.

Well, my plans to skydive fell through and I have yet to reschedule them. I spent most of this year performing more—and on bigger stages—hoping that for once what other singers promised me would come true: “The more you do it, the less scary it is.” I kept facing my fears, but I got sickly nervous every time.

Early on in the year, I kept a record of each day’s fear I conquered. But after about a month I realized my “fears” just weren’t that impressive. Much of what scared me were things so simple, not even I would enjoy reading about it at the end of the year. So I stopped keeping track, but I made sure to do something each day.

It became a habit to do things because I was afraid. My inner dialogue began to look something like this: I don’t want to do _____ because I’m scared. Great! That’s exactly what I need to do! At first it was about checking off my fear for the day, but it soon became about living. I started going straight towards the things that made me want to crawl out of my skin, knowing they were the very things I had to face in order to keep fear from ruling me.

I’ve had some very real “conqueror” moments this year—some that many of you have witnessed, some I can’t wait to share with you in the New Year, and some that only my closest friends and family get to celebrate with me. In 2016, I did amazing and horribly frightening things like:

• Having incredibly uncomfortable yet necessary conversations with friends
• Owning up to embarrassing mistakes and offering sincere apologies for my poor behavior
• Sending emails I feared would result in “no’s”
• Posting videos I knew weren’t perfect
• Reaching out to people I was afraid would reject me
• Choosing honesty and vulnerability with trusted people
• Taking on work I was afraid yet fully capable to do
• Performing on stages big and small throughout Orange County

At first, the voice of fear was just as loud as when I started. Sometimes I gave in to it. Most days I chose courage at least once. By the end of the year, I started noticing most of my fears didn’t happen. Even when my fears came true, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as playing it safe. Giving into fear only forfeits the chance to truly feel alive. The voice of fear just didn’t carry the same weight after a while–I knew the promises of safety were not only empty, but debilitating.

By far I gained so much more than I lost by taking chances. My friendships developed from good friends to bonded sisters. I got some “no’s” and a decent amount of rejection, but I also got some yeses that resulted in amazing opportunities. I learned as I went on some jobs, and my clients were happy—I even got paid!

The greatest takeaway was finally noticed in the last couple of weeks. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t nervous to perform! It wasn’t because I finally had performed enough. It was a total shift in my perspective.

Through choosing courage in my personal life, I gained the paradigm shift I needed to face “bigger” obstacles head on. All those sent emails and persevering through uncomfortable situations helped me learn I am far more capable than I typically give myself credit. I realized that if I can have an incredibly difficult conversation and deal with the aftermath of those emotions in a healthy way, I can easily show up the next day and play a few of my favorite songs. I also began to see myself as someone who has something really special to offer.

I never could’ve anticipated this kind of result, that I would feel more like myself rather than have a cool list of things I’ve accomplished. To loosen the grip between fear-based living and who I really am truly is the greatest gift of freedom.

Not every day went perfectly, but because I chose courage more times than not in 2016,
I HEALED.
I GREW.
I LOVED.
I CONNECTED.
I LIVED.

It is my plan to do the same in 2017—and for the rest of my life.

I can’t encourage you enough to kick fear’s butt and truly live! Send the dreaded emails, have the scary conversations, and try new things you’re afraid of!

May you have a wonderful and FREE 2017! Happy New Year!

In my (albeit short) lifetime I’ve never seen the U.S. so divided. It’s not just a split between two parties; it’s egocentrism for many people on differing sides. It’s a complete disregard for the thought processes, values, and everyday realities of others. It’s the absolute refusal to admit that you may be wrong in your conclusions, or that someone else may be equally right in a different way. I’m seeing people threaten each other, put people down, and “unfriend” people because they’re voting for someone with different convictions.

I’ll be the first to admit it’s frustrating to hear rhetoric I disagree with, read news stories that are clearly spun (at least in my opinion), and not judge people who seem to lack basic critical thinking skills. But it’s equally important to try to understand where people are getting their information, why they think the way they do, and look for their heart and soul in it all.

What I’ve found is that the majority of people on any side want similar things; they just have very different ideas on how to accomplish them. I don’t think we need to be so divided.

Everyone thinks they’re right. But obviously it’s impossible for everyone to actually be right. Odds are, you’re probably wrong about at least one voting point. I suspect I am. I think leaving room for the possibility of error even in our own thought process is key to uniting as Americans and people. I know this is a very “threatening” opinion to people who feel so passionately about issues in this election, whose livelihood and freedom seem directly left in the hands of the winning candidate. 

I completely support voting for what’s best for YOU and YOUR values, but try to understand other people are doing the same. (My favorite example of this is how many of my Christian friends and family members are praying for opposite candidates to win the election. Both have extremely “Christian” and “biblical” convictions to support their personal choice, and yet overall it seems to be split.)

The golden rule is “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Don’t you want people to hear you, consider your perspective, and respect you even if they disagree? Don’t you wish more people would admit that maybe their ideas won’t be as beneficial to society as they imagine? I believe we have to first practice that ourselves.

At the end of the day, I’m choosing to love people by respecting their values and understanding that what’s most important to me isn’t always as important to everyone else.  Certain policies which negatively affect me may benefit someone else, and vice versa. Maybe I’m wrong about the effects of the very policies I firmly support and oppose.

We will never all unite on policy, but we can unite as humans. I’m trying as hard as I can to understand where others are coming from and to maintain a loving perspective. After all, isn’t love what life is all about?

So here’s my attempt at accepting my propensity for error. Here’s my commitment to search for the perspectives of people I don’t agree with so I can truly hear them—not try to convert them. I encourage y’all to try it too. I’m pretty sure I’m right about this, but—hey—I could be wrong. 🙂