Take a journey back in time with me....to January of 2012....
I mean, sure. As a kid - I had always thought that marriage was going to be part of my life. But then, I grew up and my friends coupled off and married while I stayed single. I wanted to find love, but it seemed that it wasn't going to happen for me. I had accepted it. I had even embraced it.
In walks the plumber.
Literally....my sewer backed up the first weekend I was in my house and I needed a plumber. Little did I know, that $400 service call would introduce me to my husband.
I never thought the relationship would work (a blog post for another day) but I stood in my kitchen about 2 weeks from my wedding day in April 2013, when the idea for this blog was born.
You see, my husband has a little girl. An incredible little girl who is beautiful, energetic, smart, loving and full of laughter. But as a woman entering into marriage, a woman brought up on Disney and who's first musical performance was in the show Cinderella the idea of becoming a step-mother was terrifying.
I stood in my kitchen, placing one of my most prized wedding shower gifts into the cabinet. A matching set of wine glasses (thanks to my 3/4 wing friends!!). I wouldn't have to use mason jars anymore (alright....fine. You got me. I still use them unless I have company...) I was a big girl. But I opened the other side of the cabinet and saw my soon-to-be step-daughter's sippy cups sitting on the shelf next to my new wine glasses. I just had to laugh.
I don't really know what this blog will turn into. I don't know if anyone but me will ever read it or benefit from it. It's my thoughts and mistakes and victories along this adventure called life. It's my realization that step-mothers don't need to be evil (although when my step-daughter asks me to read her Cinderella before bed, I still get nervous). And most importantly, how God works in our family to work all things for good - even when it takes us a long time to see the good.
So - there's the back story. Thanks for joining me on the journey.
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