Mr. Perfect ~ Part One


When I was only 16 years old, I met the man I thought I would be with for the rest of my life. He was… perfect. At least I thought he was as close to perfect as one could get. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. It was definitely love at first sight. I had started working at a Steakhouse, it was my first paying job. One day, I was working behind the counter near the kitchen. There were lots of people working that day, but as I looked across the kitchen I saw a young man walking from the employee entrance/office area
towards the door leading out to the dining room. He was gorgeous. His hair was perfect, his build was perfect, his eyes… perfect. He was dressed nice with a high school letter jacket on. He walked with confidence like he knew who he was and where he was going. As he looked my way, I was mesmerized and as our eyes met I wondered who in the world this guy was. He turned and went through the door out of sight. Something inside me sparked. I had no idea who he was, but I was “in love” with Mr. Perfect. It was a feeling I can’t explain. It’s like something inside of you is missing your whole life so far and all of the sudden, there it is. You’ve found it and it is amazing.

I found out that Mr. Perfect had worked there before, he was a cook and was coming back to work. He worked in the kitchen right next to the front line and we would see each other during our shifts together. We began to talk and our chemistry was incredible. He was a senior in high school, he had an older sister who would also be working with us soon and his Father was a Preacher like mine. We had so much in common. We were raised similarly and our parents were very strict. We could relate and we had an immediate bond being preacher’s kids. One day, he asked me out on a date and I was so excited to be anywhere with him other than work.

I remember getting off work that day and getting ready for my date in the dark employee bathroom. I was so nervous. We mostly drove around that night and talked. We could talk forever. Mr. Perfect was unlike any man I had ever known. We became boyfriend and girlfriend pretty quick. We saw each other at work, he introduced me to his parents, we went out on dates, we spent time with his family at their houses, we went with his dad to the radio station when he did a live program and I remember hearing his Father on fire for God giving it all he had. I had tremendous respect for Pastors. Our relationship got serious. No time spent with Mr. Perfect was ever enough. He gave me his class ring to wear. Remember those days when the girl would wrap yarn around the bottom of the ring so it would fit on her finger? I thought it was so cool.

One night, Mr. Perfect was picking me up for a date and my parents were out of town on business. My older brothers were home that night and I had permission to go. I remember being so excited. I took a shower and put on white jeans and a white blouse. I fixed my hair and did my make up just so. Every detail taken care of. I wanted to look my best for him. Mr. Perfect arrived and as I got into his car, he handed me a single red rose. He was the most romantic man. I remember Whitney Huston’s “I’m your baby tonight” was playing in the car and I was the happiest I had ever been. I’m not sure exactly where we were going, but we never made it. We were driving on a two lane country road not too far from my house, it was dark and just as I turned to look over at him… we had a head on collision. I wasn’t wearing my seat belt (16 year old stupidity). I flew forward and my face hit the dash. It felt as though the floorboard came up and hit my knees as I hit the dash. I’m lucky I didn’t go right through the windshield. It all happened so fast. From what I remember being told, the other vehicle hit head on Mr. Perfect’s driver side and rolled, I believe we went off the road and hit a tree.

As I pulled back from the dashboard, I heard Mr. Perfect’s voice. He was alive! He was hurt pretty bad and yet he was asking me if I was okay. In the dark, I looked over and there was enough moonlight that I could his face. He could see mine too and the look that swept across his perfect face was horrifying. He yelled out, “Your face!” and I reached up not knowing what he was seeing. I had blood on my face from bashing my jaw into the dashboard. I started freaking out and he did something I will never forget. Mr. Perfect looked right at me and said, “I love you.”  In that moment, I felt something I had never felt before… I felt unconditionally loved. He loved me no matter what and he wanted to make sure that I knew it.


Amazed By His Grace,



Following my heart

F9474A67-A661-4969-9D41-EC0A86C076D9(A spring gift for my oldest daughter)

Have you ever started to do something and then hesitated first or didn’t do it at all? I used to be pretty bad about letting fear, doubt and shyness stop me in my tracks. I still have a hard time making decisions because I don’t want to make the wrong one. I have stayed silent when I should have spoken up. I haven’t always defended myself verbally when I should have. Most importantly, I haven’t always followed my heart. The feeling I get thinking about moments in my life that I wish I could “do over” are what have made me start to finally stop letting fear, doubt and shyness steal the moment from me.

The other day, I got the sweetest little white bird decoration with a cute plant inside it. I had picked up two, one in each hand and was debating if I should get one for my oldest daughter. I was afraid she would say, “Oh, thanks Mom. That’s really sweet, but I don’t know where I’ll put it.” She loves birds and when I saw them, they  reminded me of her. She and her husband have a lot of cool things on their shelves at their place. Before she decides on something new, I can tell her mind is figuring out if they have a space for it. As I talked myself out of possible rejection, I sat one bird back down on the counter and went to check out. I let fear steal the moment from me.

When my daughter saw my newest decoration, her face lite up and she REALLY wanted a little bird. She told me that she would set it on her desk if she had one. I so wished that I had got the one I had in my hand for her. There it was… the feeling I dislike. The “I wish I had…” feeling. I’m tired, tired of letting fear, my mind or other people overrule my heart. A goal of mine is to stop having any new, “I wish I had…” moments in my life. The next day, I was determined to go back to the store to see if they still had the little bird. To my surprise, they did!

This was just a little thing and I was able to change my mind and go back. This wasn’t one of those huge missed/messed up moments that brings me to my knees with gut wrenching, heart breaking pain. The kind of pain that comes from knowing I can never go back in time and change my mind. I’ll never be able say or do what I should have the moment I could have. I’ll never be able to go back and stop things that shouldn’t have happened. The past is over in real-time, but it lives on forever in my mind. I’m doing my best to learn from it, try to understand it all and NEVER let it happen again. Like lots people, I have a great deal of post traumatic stress. However, the thing I’m desperately wanting to have is post traumatic GROWTH.

That starts here and now. I’m learning to not be so afraid, to stand up for myself, to say what I need to say, to apologize when I need to and most of all…  to live life and follow my heart. Don’t let anything or anyone steal your moment. 💜



Amazed by His Grace,


Confession #1 I don’t feel welcome


(A Sunday morning text I sent to my oldest brother whom I love dearly)


I stopped going to Church/Bible study… for now. I used to be appalled when I heard people say stuff like that. Yes, I now understand what other people mean when they say that they “don’t feel welcome”.  The last time I went was not long ago at all. Being a Pastor’s daughter, I grew up going to Church religiously, 3 times a week, Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night. I sometimes say to my Father that under his “Hell fire and brimstone” preaching… I got saved 3 times a week. I attended youth group events, and spent many Saturdays going door to door selling fresh doughnuts to raise money for the church. Saturdays were also spent alongside my mother and other volunteers inviting children to children’s church. I mostly just stood there and let the others do the talking. I was too shy to speak most of the time.

I’m the youngest of 3 children and the only girl. I never really fit in. My parents could take the stage at Church no matter who was there and captivate their audience in person and by television for hours. My brothers were extremely talented and could perform in front of thousands, no problem. Me? I would rather run behind the stage to get out of sight or be mixed in with the crowd enjoying the service. Being on stage was not my thing. Talking to people… not my thing. I hated attention. I loved to go to Church, listening to my Father’s powerful sermons, taking notes, highlighting scriptures in my bible and I especially loved praise and worship, just don’t make me go up on stage… PLEASE don’t make me get on the stage!!!

I’m all grown up now and I have two beautiful daughters. My youngest daughter has special needs and in my desperate attempt for the both of us to attend Bible study together, I would bring my “bag of tricks” with me and pull out anything I could to keep my daughter happy for 3 hours. That was NOT easy. She has an extremely hard time sitting still and being quiet. However, she loved singing at Bible study and she was my little sidekick. I would breathe a sigh of relief when I saw my oldest daughter arrive on Sunday mornings. It’s always good to have backup, another set of eyes, ears and hands when caring for anyone with special needs or a disability. I don’t know what I would do without my oldest daughter. She is freaking fantastic. She was there the Sunday I realized I should probably stop.

Like lots of people, I’ve been through too much and I’ve seen too much in my life to keep silent. I speak my mind, I have questions, I have my own opinions and sometimes… I have too much compassion for people. I didn’t know it was possible to have too much of something good like that. I have learned the extremely painful way that people do not always love you the way you love and or care about them. Church people are no exception. One of the last times I was at Bible study, I got a verbal smack down from a usually sweet sister in Christ. All because I was thoughtful enough to bring color pencils and a coloring page for her special needs nephew. He had repeatedly asked me Sunday after Sunday to borrow my coloring pencils and for a coloring sheet out of my “Scripture coloring book” for adults. The coloring book was a birthday gift from my oldest daughter and son-in-law. Every time, I cheerfully shared my coloring pencils and a coloring page when he asked. It made him so happy. He was able to sit still and color a beautiful picture. Then, at the end of Bible study he would always pick a special person to give his artwork to. It was so sweet. The final time though, I brought him a set of color pencils just for him, I had even started printing out bible pages for him on my printer. As I handed them over to my oldest daughter to give to him, I was happy that I had thought of it before he had to ask me this time. That’s when I got a verbal smack down from my sister in Christ right in front of everyone within ear shot on how I don’t need to be doing that for him. Yep, it is entirely possible to have too much compassion.

Sad truth is I have too many stories like this or rather, too many truths I could share about my brothers and sisters in Christ who sometimes behave nothing like Christ. And that’s what makes me want to run the other way.  Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE going to Church, I LOVE praise and worship. I LOVE opening my Bible and feeling the pages between my fingers. I LOVE hearing my daddy preach. I don’t love drama or being talked to like I’m an idiot. We all have our moments, we all hurt other people’s feelings. Growing up in the Church the way I did and having to smile through anything… I’m extremely sensitive to how I make other people feel. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’ve been called “too nice”.

After this incident though…. I’m done being nice. And I’m done with being disrespected. I’m not living like this anymore. Why do I waste time on people who don’t give a rat’s behind about me, my family or other people’s feelings? This has to stop. Sometimes, the truth hurts. Sometimes, you have to call people out on the carpet for doing you wrong. Sometimes, you need to call yourself out on the carpet for doing wrong, stop and take responsibility for your own actions. And sometimes… you have to just stop, bite your tongue and walk away. Separate yourself from the drama and reevaluate the situation. Don’t live to please others. Don’t be a “dancing monkey” (another post for another day). Right now, for me that’s staying home on Sundays with my sweet special needs daughter who I don’t have to constantly “hush!” or chase down. I put on my favorite TV preacher’s service live on YouTube and remember whose daughter I really am.



Amazed by His Grace, 



Welcome to my blog! My name is Charity and I’m so happy you are here. After years of putting two and two together, freeing myself from “preacher’s daughter syndrome” (keep your mouth shut, sit still, smile and look pretty), my oldest daughter finally convinced me to start a blog. She thinks it will be therapeutic for me. She’s brilliant and a writer herself, so I’ll give it a shot.

Grab a cup of coffee or whatever makes you happy and join me on my journey of overcoming “preacher’s daughter syndrome”.


Amazed by His Grace,