Here I am.

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Home is where the Navy takes you.  And seriously, why does it have to take you everywhere??  Any-wayz, we’re at a new church.  Can you imagine if you got to start over at a new church every couple of years?  It’d be tempting to gloss up your life a little.  Talk about all the things you did at your old churches, fluff it up, talk about how reformed you are, how you read a Tim Keller book once, casually mention your mother was the church secretary.  They don’t know you.  Maybe they’ll think you have it all together.  Or maybe you could ‘fess up.  Tell them how you were deeply and darkly depressed over the loss of your baby, how you were mean to your dog, how you were hopelessly lonely.  You could tell them that instead of turning to Jesus in your despair, you simply got a sewing machine and became a fabric hoarder.  You sort of  imagine Jesus looking at your time in Mississippi and saying “You done messed up A-A-ron.”

So, I’m going to be who I am.  A butt hole.  A little (a lot??!!) inappropriate.  Someone who unapologetically watches Game of Thrones, even though they show girl’s boobs sometimes. And who also watches Keeping up with the Kardashians, even though it follows the Kardashians.  Someone who God relentlessly pursues, no matter what hijinks I get myself into.  Because no matter how hard I try, I can not walk away from my black belt in keeping it real.

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