I live in a hotel by myself on the edge of a field and I spend my Saturdays drinking cinnamon coffee and watching the snow fall.

I think, how did I get so lucky to be here?

I breathed through a panic attack in a room full of Christian women on Wednesday night. I left that house sobbing so hard I couldn't see the road to drive. I cried to God.  And what I feel like he's been telling me since then is that my life doesn't have to look like the other women's lives at my church. That I have my own special relationship with him, and my own gifts from him, and if it looks different than theirs does, it's okay.

Being childless is a gift, just as children are a gift.
Being single is a gift, just as much as marriage.

This hotel is my gift. My family is such a gift. Stretching out and rolling over and not having to take care of children on Saturday is a good gift.