(Come on. Isn’t my girl positively fierce?!)
One steamy afternoon when Uganda wouldn’t stop blowing her hot breath in the faces of some oven-baked writers, someone (maybe me) inquired,’Who wants to rope swing into the Nile River?’ Against all sound advice from American doctors, a couple of the crazier types took turns for the better part of an hour splitting open the Nile with our bodies and splashy screams while an actual one ton crocodile near the same area that would be caught two weeks after we left probably briefly considered us.
It was somewhere around that time I recognized a kindred in a sister who thumbed her nose a little at life and got the belly giggles and muddy feet doing it, too.
Later that evening, we all sat outside tucked into a soft circle of light nudging at the darkness caught up in the low static of several conversations.
Then Mo began to tell her story.
And there was no more static.
Only a fine, razor-sharp silence that seemed to etch and highlight a rare combination of vulnerable strength as the trees themselves seemed to lean in to catch more of her words.
Something always happens when someone takes the time to hand you a piece of their heart…and I’ve never for one second forgotten the gift.
Since that night two years ago, I’ve been waiting for Mo’s heart to come out in the form of this book.
And it’s kind of a wild story, y’all.
Unapologetically, breath-caught-in-your-throat beautifully tender and bold, Mo has been favored the gift of words and she is over-the-top generous in her offerings to us.
Several times while reading, any false skin I’ve consciously or otherwise allowed to grow soft and wobbly was flayed right off to expose again the basic bones of good, true faith.
Oh, how I love a sister that will cut you up with truth and bandage you with love in the same sentence.
Maybe like you, I have more than a few blog posts that show up in my inbox. Many will sit there among the 1,868 (that’s the for real number right now) emails, unopened like old Christmas caramels. Mo is always one I read because I trust her gut-honest words, I like the way she strings hers together, and always want to know what’s in that heart (because I know God talks to my friend).
A few years ago before my knees started loudly protesting in two year old candy-aisle-sized fits, I would willingly participate in runs long enough to warrant the use of energy gels. Between good music and those magic beans, I felt like I was able push through a race that, at moments, felt like it might take my life from me. After scarfing the gels like my last meal, I felt like I could just free-fly right on home across the finish line.
This book is just like my favorite flavored energy gel.
Reading Mo’s story makes me lionhearted brave and I know my race will be different now because she had the courage to go first.
Want to win an autographed to you copy of Wreck My Life?
Comment, like, or share on Facebook or the blog and you’ll be entered to win. If you share this post and tag me (just so I’ll know)? I’ll add you to the kitty twice.
You’ll never be so thankful for a wrecking.
Can’t wait to win this or want to get an extra copy for anyone you love in your life because it would be a kind and right thing to do?
Like all the conference-goers attending all conferences everywhere, I quickly scanned the list of…04 August 2016