Today is the day! I’m proud to announce…

I am finally able to share an original WordPress short story with you all: “A Dead Man Walking.”

This short story features 10 bloggers who contributed 300 words each. Each writer was given five business days to complete their part.

I’m so grateful that I was able to participate in this unique collaboration, and I hope you all enjoy the read!

Be sure to check out all of the contributors’ links!

I would also like to thank Denny and Em for making this project possible and to Liz Charnes for designing our cover!

Without further ado, I’d like to introduce…


Part 1 by Denny McBride,

Darla Nyte plugged her PalmPal into her car’s navport and set her office as the destination.  The car drove, and she half-heard the radio report of the mysterious death of the young heir to the Bond family business fortune while she observed the faces of other riders as they passed.  Most were lined with worry or concern. Darla smiled, pleased with her own good fortune.

America had endured a long, difficult recovery following 20 years of the disastrous Great Again wars and the resulting Trumpocalypse that finally prompted the Joint Chiefs to forcefully remove the ancient, senile President from the Oval Office handcuffed to his hospital bed.  Darla was one of the MPs escorting the removal detail. She had been appalled by the corpulent, ranting despot as he raged, apopleptic and foaming at the mouth, unwilling or unable to accept his ignominious end.

While the country worked to heal and recover, Darla had remained in the Army.  When her final term of enlistment was up, she had enough money saved to buy a small apartment and an even smaller office in the city, where she achieved her dream of opening the Nyte Detective Agency.

She parked and took the stairs 5 floors up to her lobby.  Her assistant, Steve, greeted her. “You’ve got a doozy of a case in there today, Boss.”  She sat down behind her desk and was struck by the strange pair across from her. The older man wore a white lab coat with a name tag identifying him as a coroner, and the extremely handsome younger man was uncommonly pale.  He stood and extended his hand. Darla stood and shook with him. His hand was dry but shockingly cold. “I’m Franklin Bond,” he said, “and I want you to figure out who killed me.”


Part 2 by Jo Frei,

Darla covered her surprise by taking a sip of the coffee that Steve had left for her.  She made a face at the awful taste. She was going to have to teach him how to make a better cup of joe. Sighing to herself, she lifted her gaze to Franklin. “It would seem to me that if you are dead, you would be your own best witness,” she said.

Franklin gifted her with a beatific smile.  Her breath caught in her throat. He was completely not her type, but he made her heart skip a beat.  “I assure you that I am quite dead,” Franklin said. “I brought Dr. Dawson here to testify to that fact.”

Dr. Dawson, looking a bit shell-shocked, said, “By every scientific test we ran, he is dead.”  He handed her a signed death certificate. “Thank you, Dr. Dawson, I think you can leave now,” Franklin said.  Dr. Dawson, looking much relieved, headed out the door.

“So, Ms. Nyte, now that I have assured you that I am indeed dead, will you help me find my murderer?”

Darla tilted her head and looked hard at Franklin.  “Before I agree to accept your case, I will need to hear more,” she said.  “First you must to agree to this,” Franklin replied, pushing his PalmPal across her desk.  She looked down and saw what appeared to be a standard non-disclosure agreement. After reading it, she had the AI notarize it with her thumbprint and retinal scan, then handed it back.  Her PalmPal chirped to let her know that it had her copy and that it had been filed.

Franklin sat back looking satisfied.  “I am cursed with being a draugr until our family heirloom is recovered and returned to my family,” he told her.


Part 3 by Liz Charnes,

A draugr?  That’s a new one.  Darla sat, careful to remain professional.  No need to vex the crazy. “What do you remember?”

Franklin ran a hand through his thick blonde hair, frustration marring his handsome face.  “I don’t know. It’s all a blur. The last thing I remember is dinner the night I died. It was at my Uncle Jeff’s home with him, his new wife Alina, my sister Ingrid, and her husband Malcolm.”  He grimaced. “It was bad. Ingrid and Alina were at each other’s throats.” He paused. “I’m sorry. That’s probably not relevant.”

It wasn’t, but it made for some lucrative gossip she could sell later.  One good thing that came of the Trumpocalypse was the demise of NDAs. These days only fools thought non-disclosure agreements had any power.  “Why doesn’t your sister like your uncle’s wife?”

“Alina was a strip… Uh, exotic dancer.”  He chuckled. “Jeff’s got a thing for exotic dancers.”

“Don’t we all?”  Darla winked, then swallowed a burp.  Damned acid reflux. Where are my Rolaids?  “Anything else you remember?”

Franklin shook his head.  “Other than the fighting, no.  I was tired, so I went to the summer house.  When I awoke, the room was dark, and I was dead.”

“That’s it?”  The Rolaids were hiding under her calendar.  She took two, then two more just in case. “You died in your sleep?”

He nodded.  “Pretty much.  Oh!” He snapped his fingers.  “And the Spear of Destiny was missing!”

Oh, for God’s sake.  Darla felt a headache coming on.  “You’re saying that your family has the Spear of Destiny?  The Spear that supposedly…”

“… killed Jesus Christ, yes, my family has…er, had, the Spear of Destiny,” Franklin finished. “My great-grandfather brought it back after World War II.”

Darla stood.  “Frank, you need a therapist, not a P.I.  I can’t help you.”


Part 4 by Kristian Fogarty,

“You must help me, Ms. Nyte.  I’d hoped you would do so voluntarily, but I took a precaution in case you wouldn’t.”  He smirked, “How was your coffee?”

Darla felt a cold feeling in her stomach, a feeling of dread, as she caught the threat in his question.  “What did you put in my coffee, you freak?!”

“Nothing that will harm you permanently, dear, there’s no need to call me names.  Have I not suffered enough? It’s not easy being dead, you know? I have a dose of the antidote to the potion, and I will give it to you if you help me.  Please find out who murdered me and help me retrieve the Spear of Destiny. Then I can rest.”

“I don’t seem to have much choice, now, do I?  I think we should start at your uncle’s home, the scene of the crime.  By the way, how did your uncle and the others react when you woke up dead?”

“I don’t know.  No one else was there.”

“Tell me more about your uncle, his wife, your sister, and her husband.  They are after all the chief suspects here.”

“Uncle Jeff has always been an eccentric, but then, most of us are in our family.  You don’t become guardians of a holy relic without it affecting you. Alina is a tramp on the make, nothing more.  I believe Ingrid, who’s ten years older than I am, rather resents me, the heir, but I don’t think she would have murdered me.  Her husband Malcolm has always been … distant. I never knew what went on in his head.”

“Well, let’s get back to your uncle’s and start looking around.  What is that stuff you put in my coffee going to do to me exactly?”


Part 5 by Melisa Lewis,

“It’s a hallucinogenic.  Ancient Mayans supposedly used it to see the future.  Some people say it opens your mind to unimaginable possibilities.”  Franklin stood, ignoring the perplexed and worried look on Darla’s face.  “Will you drive? The law doesn’t look kindly on deceased drivers.”

Darla nodded and gathered her belongings as quickly as possible, her mind counting down the minutes until she might start hallucinating.

On the ride over, Darla was increasingly uncomfortable, noticing her breath was the only sound between the two of them.  They arrived at a large stone mansion surrounded by wrought iron gates. Security cameras swiveled about and turned toward the car as they drove up to the intercom.  Franklin reached over her and placed his forefinger on a scanner. Darla arched her head back to stay out of his way. She noticed he smelled like sandalwood and citrus.  She quickly reminded herself that the shoulder that grazed her chin was cold because he was dead, not because of the weather.

The gates creaked open, and they drove just a few feet inside when a tall man with a fur coat and skinny blue jeans held up his hand to stop them.  His thinning hair was greased back, and he wore a gold ring on every finger.

Franklin stuck his head out the window and hollered, “Uncle Jeff! Is something the matter?”

“You’re not welcome here, Franklin!  You are a thief! I’m filing a police report!  Stay back now, don’t come any closer!” Uncle Jeff remained planted with his hands out in front of him. Darla checked Franklin’s expression, unsure if she was starting to hallucinate or if she really did see a smirk as he lowered his head back into the car.


Part 6 by Kara Bernard,

Her gaze drifted back to Franklin’s uncle.  Darla leaned out of her window and directed the mass of fur blocking the driveway.  “Mister Bond… Do you mind if I call you Jeff?”

“You get away from here, you hear me?  I’m warning you, Franklin!” The rings on Jeff’s fingers clinked as his hands shook, the sound crashing like thunder in Darla’s ears.  She winced as she stepped out of the car. Her thoughts went … fuzzy.

She took a step forward.  “Look, Jeff, I need you to step aside.  My name’s Nyte, and I’m here to – oh, god. Oh, god!”  Darla sank to her knees, eyes wide, as the rotting corpse of an animal slithered its way out of Jeff’s fur coat.  Matted fur dripped off its skin like oil. A slimy tongue smeared itself between black, jagged teeth. A sound like bones on metal pierced the air as the creature fell to the ground and began dragging itself toward Darla.

A collision of sounds – screams, claws on gravel, dragging limbs – forced its way under her skin. She covered her ears and shut her eyes before an ice-cold slab of flesh gripped her arm.  Darla cried out, tried to pull away, and then … nothing.

She woke to the smell of cinnamon.  Slowly opening her eyes, she saw Franklin kneeling beside the couch she found herself on.  He held a steaming cup of tea up to her.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”  He smiled. “Well, Uncle Jeff’s humble abode.”

“What?”  Still groggy, Darla’s words slurred together.  “Wha’appened?”

“Well, you see, the thing about hallucinogens is, well, they make you hallucinate.  Sorry ‘bout that.”

Darla groaned and reached for the tea.  “Wait, you said we’re inside. He let us in?”

“Hm.”  The corner of his mouth twisted upward.  “Not exactly.”


Part 7 by T. Shaw,

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“Shortly after you stepped out of the car and politely introduced yourself to nice Uncle Jeff, the hallucinations started.  You fell, and my previously unwelcoming uncle was so startled by your altered disposition that he bent down to see if you were alright.  Who knew you’d almost kill the guy?” Darla’s eyes enlarged as she sprayed Franklin with the gulp of tea she’d been about to swallow. Franklin reached for his handkerchief and annoyingly dabbed his pale face dry.  Darla would have apologized, but since Franklin was the reason she had lost control of her faculties in the first place, she held back. “Like I was saying, you fought valiantly. Unfortunately for Uncle Jeff, he got a little too close.  I’m pretty sure your punch to his throat is what sent you both into darkness, which is why I maintained my place on the sidelines.”

Darla set her cup of tea on a nearby end table that looked a few hundred years old.  “Before becoming a detective, I served in the Army.” Darla stood up; although still shaky, she was ready to gain momentum in Franklin Bond’s case.  “Is this the same room where you woke up and realized that you were dead?” Darla began her search before Franklin could respond.

“No, this is the parlor.”

Spying several gaudy antiques, Darla said, “Seems like you and your family really admire objects with a bit of history.”

Franklin smiled.  “Yes, but we most prize the Spear of Destiny.”  After perusing the room with no luck, Darla decided they should visit the kitchen and interview the cooks to determine whether Franklin had been poisoned, but before exiting the room she glanced back at a portrait on the mantelpiece.  The subject’s eyes reminded her of Dr. Dawson’s.


Part 8 by The Britchy One,

Leaving the room, Darla stumbled and had to lean against the door frame.  “Wait,” she commanded, “you want me to solve your murder, but you’re withholding facts.  Why did your uncle accuse you of theft and threaten to call the police? That’s not exactly the reaction of someone who thinks you’re dead.”

“Ahh, Ms. Nyte,” Franklin chuckled, “here are the shrewd deductions you’re famous for.  It’s true, I have been economical with facts. I was hoping you would solve my murder without incriminating me.”

Darla ground her teeth.  Coherent thought was becoming difficult.  “If you want me to solve this, give me the antidote.  I can’t proceed if I can’t think.”

“Very well.  I’ll give you half now, which will abate your symptoms, and the full dose upon revelation of my murderer.  If you take too long, I’ll be stuck as a draugr forever.”

He gave Darla a small vial of clear liquid.  She wouldn’t normally take anything without knowing what it was, but she’d never been in a situation like this.  She felt her mind sharpen. “Where were you when you started to feel sleepy? Were you in this house? Why did your uncle accuse you of theft?”  She had more questions plus the niggling feeling there was more to Dr. Dawson, but she had to start somewhere.

“You’re correct in guessing I wasn’t inside the house.  I was in the summer house near the tennis court.”  “I’ve had a bad run at the casinos lately, and my creditors were pressing for payment,” he whined.  “I’d arranged to sell a couple of treasures that I would’ve inherited anyway. It wasn’t really theft.”

Darla wasn’t surprised at his attitude.  She’d seen his type before. “Surely you weren’t selling the Spear of Destiny?  Is that why you’re still here?”


Part 9 by Rachel Ann,

“Do you know how much the Vatican would pay for it?”  Arms crossed and frowning, Franklin’s façade of victimhood had vanished.  “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

Darla was reminded of the former president thrashing in the Oval Office.  His comb-over had flapped around like a wounded vulture’s wing, its white roots long overdue for a dye job.  “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with!?” Trump had railed. “None of you will ever work again! Believe me!”  The Velcro straps had held, but that hadn’t stopped his mouth. Nyte had to listen to that sewer-pipe overflow as she escorted his gurney to the waiting ambulance.

Why are the rich such egomaniacs?  Darla wondered.  If Bond is a draugr, she thought, it’s due to sheer stubbornness.  Everyone owes a death, but when his came due, he’d been too arrogant to succumb.

“You can’t buy your way out,” Darla said, wrinkling her nose. “And holding me hostage won’t change facts.  Your cologne won’t cover the stench of your decomposition much longer.” Franklin glared. “But you were murdered, and the culprit must be brought to justice.”

“Right.  To the summer house then, shall we?”  Franklin gestured. As they approached, they heard a woman’s screams.  Darla kicked the door in, gun drawn. A man had a woman pressed against the wall, in flagrante delicto.  Her screams weren’t of fear, but passion.

“Alina…really?” Franklin said. “With the gardener?”

The gardener’s pants slipped down farther than they already were. A metal object fell from his back pocket.

“The Spear!” Franklin yelled. “Thief!”

“What, this?” the gardener said, picking up his pants first then the object.  “This is just a Hori-Hori.”

“What did you call me?” Alina shrieked.

“Not you,” he said, brandishing the Spear of Destiny, “isn’t this a weeding knife?  I need it to weed the rose bushes.”

Darla stared at the gardener.  She felt her mind going fuzzy again.  “Doctor … Doctor Dawson?”


Part 10 by Em,

“What doctor?” Alina squeaked.

“D-Dawson,” Darla stuttered, pointing a shaky index finger at the gardener.

Franklin shook with fury.  “That’s not Dr. Dawson, that’s our son of a bitch of a gardener who’s stealing MY inheritance.  Focus, Nyte!”

The gardener stared at Darla, his eyes burning a hole in her skull.  His lips slid into a crooked smirk. Darla tried to visualize his scheme:  he’d seduced the distressed Alina after dinner, coercing her while Franklin slept in the summer house.  “Let’s bend the rules a bit”, he teased, sensing that Alina ached to be mischievous. After acquiring the Spear, he had spiked the air purifier with Dragon’s Breath and zombie powder.  Overnight the substances numbed Franklin’s senses, made him pale, ghostly cold, and clouded his perception of reality.

“I am Dr. Dawson,” he’d whispered as Franklin lay in a drugged stupor, “you have been unjustly murdered and robbed of your most precious inheritance.  Seek revenge within 12 hours or forever remain a draugr. I have retained an apt detective to solve this mystery. Give her this potion, and she’ll be compliant.”

Darla’s vision swiftly evaporated into floating shreds.  The sound of cracking bones on metal reverberated in her ears once again.  She shifted her gaze, and the creature revealed itself anew, hauling a horrid pile of disintegrating flesh and bones.

Darla pointed her gun at the repugnant creature and pulled the trigger repeatedly without hesitation.

“NOOO!” Alina screamed.

Franklin dropped like a stone.

Uncle Jeff ran in to the room.  “What’s with all the—“. The sight of the half-naked Alina, the exposed gardener, and Franklin’s lifeless body in a spreading pool of blood scorched him mad. “MURDERER!”

Darla saw only stars, spinning in infinite spirals.

Dawson pulled his pants up and sauntered out, simpering as he fondled the Spear in his pocket.



You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading. We would love to hear your feedback, and if you are interested in participating in a similar project, I encourage you to follow Denny. He will definitely initiate more collaborations in the future.

Take care,

T. Shaw



Upcoming Collab!

Hi ya’ll,

I have been MIA but for good reason! Currently, I am frantically revising my master’s thesis so that I can graduate May 3rd! After meeting with my committee, they believe it is 100% possible for me to finish on time. I can’t tell you how relieved (and stressed) I feel that I will be done with school in less than a month!

In other news, I want to announce that I will shortly be posting an exciting collaboration initiated by Denny from The Ceaseless Reader Writes and Em from Earthly Brain.

After Denny posted a compelling short story on his blog (which you can read here), Denny’s readers voiced their desire for a sequel. Instead of writing the sequel himself, Denny challenged his readers to write their own sequels. Em from Earthly Brain was one of many who decided to give it go! (Read her sequel here)

This mini collaboration inspired Denny and Em to create an even bigger collab that would involve eight other bloggers. I’m here to reveal that I am one of those lucky eight bloggers!

I can’t express how thrilling it was to work with such amazing and creative writers. I also can’t wait for you all to see the finished product.

Today, I give you a delectable tease!
Here is the cover for our project designed by Liz Charnes, a fellow contributor.


Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for our upcoming short story!

– T. Shaw

With you each step of the way

I have a thesis update! I completed a rough draft for all five chapters. 😅

If you’ve been following my journey, you know that after I finished the first chapter of my thesis, I celebrated by visiting Disneyland with my husband.

After having a fantastic time, I decided that I should celebrate just as big for chapters two, three, four, and five. I made plans to go to the zoo, a hockey game, and Universal Studios.

But, the writing process proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated. I faced setbacks and missed due dates, which meant that the days I set aside to treat myself quickly evaporated.

But after finishing chapter two, I came home to this.

I’m reminded of Proverbs 12:25, “Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up.”

Worry is a heavy burden. This isn’t the end. I still have several rounds of revision to look forward to, but I’m so grateful to those who have supported me during this crazy process.

If you know anyone who is having a hard time right now, I encourage you to leave a post it or send a card. It might just be the very thing they need. 💜

Who am I? DNA testing.

Today, I started the introduction for my thesis, and I began by talking about why I am drawn to Isabel Allende’s novels. She is a Chilean-American writer.

I am Mexican. This is what I have been told and how I identify.

The truth is that when my grandparents came to America, they shed their culture. It was not important that their children spoke Spanish. I do not speak Spanish, even though I took three years of Spanish in high school, and I even studied the language in college. We didn’t just lose the language, none of the Mexican traditions were preserved. As I’ve grown up, my identity as a Mexican has been challenged, because there are so many traditions my family does not practice or are not even aware of.

I also don’t look Mexican. I’m not really sure I look like anything. I remember when I was working as a receptionist, a Chinese man walked into the building. He didn’t even say hello. He just stopped and bluntly asked, “Are you half?”

I responded, “Half of what?”

He thought I was half Chinese. Typically, when people ask me what I am, I say, “My skin is white, my heart is Mexican, and my stomach is Asian.” That pretty much sums me up.

Since, I was raised with an empty title: Mexican. I’ve done my own searching. In college I studied Mesoamerican Art History and Mesoamerican mythology. There is this deep longing for a culture I can pin down and possess.

I recently watched Disney’s Coco. The ending had me in tears. Immediately after the movie was over, I called my older brother to say, “You have to watch this movie.”

He finally watched it this past weekend, and he cried too. Being a dad of four, my brother’s heart has grown to be quite tender, and I think it’s the sweetest thing ever, but I digress.

Our mom questioned our tears (even though she cried too), saying that we shouldn’t be moved, because we couldn’t relate to the Mexican culture within the film, which is silly, but that’s okay.

In one of Isabel Allende’s novels, the protagonist proclaims, “What matters is what you do in this world, not how you come into it.”

For a while now, I have wanted to take a DNA ancestry test. (Em from the Earthly Brain also wrote a post about this today. Check it out! She makes some interesting points.)

Maybe one day I will, but will it change anything?


T. Shaw

900 Followers and Counting . . . Time for a GIVEAWAY!

Happy International Women’s Day!
Today, I’d like to support my dear friend, KaylaAnn, who is on her way to reach 1,000 followers. She’s celebrating with a giveaway! Check out her blog for the official rules.
On her blog, you’ll also find some great writing tips, blogging advice, and some killer poetry! You won’t be disappointed! 💜


Thank you to all of my followers who have made this possible!

I started this blog in October 2017 and as of today, I have reached 900+ followers!

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This is such a huge accomplishment for me! I want to give a special shout out to those followers who I engage with every week! So to those who are regularly stopping by, liking, and leaving a comment, (you know who you are):

Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU!

Now, that I’ve hit the 900s, I want to host my first-ever Giveaway! That’s right, I’m going to reach for the stars and attempt to hit that 1,000 mark! Here’s how it will work!

Giveaway Prize:

  • In keeping with my love of The Hunger Games trilogy, I will be mailing out a brand new box-set, containing all three books to the winner of this Giveaway! This box set includes The Hunger Games, Catching…

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Sunshine Blogger Award

Hello everyone! Happy Monday!

I apologize for falling off the grid. School has been keeping me busy! I officially have 47 pages of my thesis written. I’m looking to write 30 more pages in the next two weeks. Pray for me! There are moments where I feel overwhelmingly confident, and then, out of no where, I just feel plain overwhelmed.

Now for some fun! I’ve been nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award, and I cannot begin to express how blessed I feel. (That was a mouthful!)

A big thanks to Rishabh and Issy from Wandering Waffles! They are a fun-loving, long-distance couple who enjoy exploring this wonderful planet we live on. Please, check out their site. Issy takes the best pictures! They are continuously inspiring me to go out and embark on an adventure.

Image result for sunshine blogger award

The Sunshine Blogger is an award given to bloggers by bloggers for bringing creativity, positivity and sunshine into the lives of readers. And of course, there are a few rules that we have to follow:

If you have also been nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award, please follow the given set of rules:

  • Thank the blogger(s) who nominated you in the blog post and link back to their blog.
  • Answer the 11 questions the blogger(s) asked you.
  • Nominate 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions.
  • List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award Logo in your post and/or on your blog.

Here are the 11 questions from Wandering Waffles. Check out their Sunshine Blogger Award post here.

  1. What inspired you to start blogging?
    I needed a creative outlet; I was spending an outrageous amount of time in YouTube land.
  2. Which post of yours, do you consider the best one and why?
    The “The New Girl” is my favorite post. Why wouldn’t I want to revisit those traumatic years in middle school? Ha! In all seriousness, this post provided an opportunity for me to speak with my nieces and nephew about “popularity” and how it isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Plus, my youngest niece thought it was hilarious that I hid in a bathroom stall.
  3. What is your favourite sport?
    Hockey! Nothing like it!
  4. What was the last place you have travelled to?
    Last May my husband and I enjoyed a cruise in Mexico. This year, after graduation, we are planning a trip to Alaska and Missouri.
  5. What language do you want to learn and why?
    I really hate that the only language I speak is English. I took three years of Spanish in high school, but it just didn’t stick!
  6. Name 3 of your pet peeves.
    I get most bent out of shape when driving. Rude/inconsiderate drivers annoy me to no end!
    Poor customer service also sucks.
    I also hate the sound of silverware sliding against teeth.
  7. What is that place you don’t want to travel to and why?
    I’m pretty willing to go anywhere. Safety would be my only concern.
  8. What would you be, if you weren’t a blogger?
    I used to paint, but it’s been so long, I wouldn’t be good at it. Maybe I should get one of those paint by number kits, just for funsies.
  9. What is your thought on being vegan?
    I’m not vegan, but I respect those who choose to be!
  10. What’s that one skill that you always wanted to learn?
    How to play an instrument…
  11. Do you want a build a community? If yes, then what would it be aiming at?
    A couple of months ago I started a book club. We met once. Ha! After I graduate, I’d like to get back into that. Really, I just want to turn all my friends into book lovers.

I would like to nominate these amazing bloggers! Be sure to check them out!

And these are the 11 questions for them!

  1. Who/what currently inspires you to blog?
  2. What are you currently reading?
  3. What is your go to comfort food?
  4. What is number one on your bucket list?
  5. When and where do you write?
  6. What are you looking forward to?
  7. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
  8. What is one tip you’d offer new bloggers?
  9. Where would you like to vacation?
  10. What is your most valued possession?
  11. What song do you have on repeat?


Welp, that’s all folks! Again, a big thanks to Wandering Waffles! To all my nominees, I look forward to reading your answers.

Have a happy week, everyone!


Monday Night Bible Study

I’m rarely plagued by loneliness. I can spend hours alone in my home and be perfectly content. In fact, the only time I ever experience loneliness is when I’m in a crowded room. It can be difficult for me to build connections with new people and even more difficult to sustain those connections.

As a person who enjoys lounging in my comfort zone, I’m tempted to avoid large group settings. Even so, I’ve always enjoyed attending the women’s Bible study at my church. There I am able to worship alongside a large group of women, and then we break up into small groups for discussion.

However, for almost two years, Monday night Bible study has conflicted with my school schedule. Even though I wasn’t able to attend the study, I continued to do the Bible study by myself. I believe time spent in the word of God will always be fruitful. I can say the Lord ministered to me in the comfort of my own room and that it was a necessary season.

This semester I no longer have class on Mondays, and I have been able to officially rejoin the group. This past Monday, we met in someone’s home to belatedly celebrate Valentine’s day. While eating spaghetti and lasagna, I witnessed the love of Christ in these women. We vary in age; some could be my sisters, mothers, or grandmothers. Some are single; others are married. Our group is composed of a stay at home mom, a surgical tech, a teacher, a nurse, an executive, a student, among many other occupations. God has also empowered each of these ladies with unique spiritual gifts. Some are listeners. Some serve.

For this reason, I wholeheartedly praise God for the diversity within the body of Christ.

Upon opening a valentine,  Colossians 3:14 was taped inside.

“Above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.”

Colossians 3:14-16