What happens when I block the door and don’t let KC out of the podcast closet without spilling the beans?
This episode of the 4:13 Podcast!
If you’ve ever attended one of my Fresh Grounded Faith women’s events, you know that my guests and I always “Spill the Beans” during one of the sessions. We take the stage with a stack of your questions and answer them unplanned.
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Do you feel like everything in your life has to be perfect for you to be loved and accepted?
According to the General Social Survey, which has tracked Americans’ moods since 1972, women are becoming less and less happy. While there are many variables, one big reason is our self-imposed drive to be perfect.
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Merry Christmas, my friend! It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
You won’t believe who is here this week. New York Times bestselling author, Karen Kingsbury, and singer-songwriter, Michael O’Brien, are on the 4:13 Podcast! [Insert cheers here!]
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“What is that on your arm?” gasped Kim, my faithful nail tech for the past ten years. “I’ve never seen it before. You need to get that looked at!”
I had no idea what Kim was talking about, so I asked.
“A mole. Feel it!” she said, as she took my free hand and dragged my finger across the top of a tiny, bumpy mass. “It’s irregular in shape. I know that isn’t good.”
I overheard the World’s Most Patient Mom shopping with her two boys.
The little troop was there to get pillows for their bunk beds. There are only about 50,000 pillows in that particular home store, so selecting just two was pretty ambitious.
“Mommy, the ball! I want the ball! The ball!” I listened as one of the boys called out. “Get the ball! The ball … no, not that one! The owange basketball! The fuzzy wound piwwow…”
Well, you get the idea.
As I stood there in the guest room, I panicked.
Even though I’d turned on both dresser lamps, I couldn’t detect any light. Usually, I could recognize at least a little light with my left eye.
I placed my hand on one of the bulbs to make sure it was working. It was warm. If the lamp was on, the problem wasn’t the light bulb.
My heart sank when it hit me.
This could only mean one thing—the few fragments of retina I once had in my left eye were now gone. It’s not like there was real vision there, to begin with, but at least it wasn’t the vast blackness of nothing at all.
