Wildflowers {www.boldlytanya.com}

Wildflowers

May 9th, 2017

God made me a wildflower, but He placed me with Grandpa so I would learn how to grow, and how to bloom, and how to stand tall and to be who I am made to be, and what to look for, and how to take root, and how to uproot, and what to hang on to, and what to let go of, and how to survive thrive in what ever garden I happen to grow.

What Matters: Learning From the Omissions {www.boldlytanya.com}

What Matters: Learning From the Omissions

Dec 12th, 2016

Then there was the year we received a few newsprint wrapped packages tied with red yarn. I remember asking why the paper wasn’t Christmasy. Inside each package was the discarded toy of some other child, rewrapped and presented to us as treasure. The one with my name contained a doll. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her hair was cut at jagged angles. One eyelid was stuck open. I hated her and her simple stained dress. But she was given especially to me. I imagined my grandma painstakingly choosing her and figured she was the best offering. So I held the abomination close, said my thanks, and tried to love her as best I could.

Boldly, Tanya || My path to heaven's throne room is paved with gospel bluegrass

My path to heaven’s throne room is paved with Gospel Bluegrass

Jul 11th, 2016

Nothing exposes my roots quite like turmoil. When I feel the sting of despair, I know where to find the soothing salve. It is in the worship of my Lord. It is in the hope of my salvation.

But, I also know that for me, gospel bluegrass paves the shortest path to heaven’s throne room.

Dear Old Dad

Jun 19th, 2016

My father: partially responsible for my existence, wholly responsible for that one time I was interrogated by NCIS (not kidding). That pretty much sums up our relationship. Everything about my dad is large. Unless he is outside, he is ducking; always too tall for whichever confining place he happens to be standing. As soon as he is seated, he stretches out his long legs, his size fourteen…

Boldly, Tanya || Yellow Cake

Yellow Cake

Jan 14th, 2016

Grandpa taught me not to give convention the power to steal my joy and rob me of blessings. Maybe what I have doesn’t fit the pattern or look like the things other people have, but that doesn’t make it less. Sometimes, there is more beauty in the unique than the ordinary, and more value in the unprecedented than the expected.

Discarded Treasures

Dec 15th, 2014

Originally posted at Hello, Darling (Which is such an honor. Thank you.) As the days grew shorter and the lake grew colder, my grandfather and I spent our evenings in the junkyard. We would go from car to car ripping out wire harnesses so we could salvage the copper and sell it to the scrap dealer. Admittedly, Grandpa did most of the work, while I…