"Who are you?" asked the caterpillar?
"I hardly know, Sir. I know who I was, but I think must have changed."
Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
My name, as you can guess, is Hope. Born and raised in a small town with a population less than 700 in southern Indiana by my two awesome parents. I grew up around animals - cats, dogs, and horses mostly - but I have a love for all things furry, hairy, four legged, and fined (notice this excludes spiders and snakes!). I like dying my hair weird colors, and I own about twenty red lipsticks of varying shades. Pearls are a staple in my wardrobe, and I have a nervous habit of biting my nails. I'm a lover of all things Jane Austen and Robert Frost, early jazz and old houses, strawberry Twizzlers and Cherry Coke, drawing, candles, reading and hot tea.
Like many kids, I thought I was going to grow up and do something great like become a veterinarian or a nurse, but after changing my major four different times in college, I dropped out and pursued my passion: writing. As of today, I've written two books with one soon to be published later this year, own a flooring business with my husband, and I couldn't be happier. I'm a firm believer in following your dreams, even if the road seems unconventional and scary.
Before I was born, my mom would read children's books aloud, and when I finally reached school age, she pushed education and reading. At the time I thought it was pointless - "Uh, hello, Mom. Don't you see all these Barbies I could be playing with right now?" - but I'm glad she did. I never would have such a passion for words and imaginary places if it weren't for her encouragement.
Speaking of imaginary places, if I could travel anywhere, I'd go to Neverland (but I'll settle for Ireland - ah, a girl can dream can't she?). I'm a Disney nerd. I grew up watching The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and even at twenty-three I still will have a Disney movie-thon in my living room and sing along to every song. Being a kid at heart keeps us young and holds onto the last thread of innocence we have. I still dream of adventures in the great wide somewhere, and I'm happy to report my husband supports all my shenanigans and irrational dreams.
My husband is my number one supporter and absolute best friend. When we were dating, we somehow put two-and-two together and realized we had gone to daycare and elementary school together for years without ever really knowing each other. We have two stories where our paths crossed way back when, both taking place at daycare.
He recalls this story clear as day and loves to retell it, but I somehow don't have it in my memory bank. We - supposedly - were playing in the yard by the garden at daycare one day and he asked me who I was. I told him my name was Hope, and my name and my crazy-curly hair - I'm a natural curly-girl, thanks, Dad! - stuck with him all those years. Cute, isn't it? My story isn't nearly as romantic.
My mom used to work at our school, so I would stay after with her some afternoons and ride with her to go pick up my little sister from daycare. On this particular day, it was stormy. There was tornado sirens blaring and I remember just wanting to get Faith - my adorable sister - and get home. But, that didn't happen. We walked into the daycare and the owner was frantic and shoved me into the bathroom with a few other kids while she hysterically told my mom all about the tornado sightings and whatnot. While I'm hanging out in the bathroom, there's this boy curled up in the tub crying his eyes out for his mom. He was sobbing. After seven long hours at school, my little brain was not up for coping with a delayed snack and rest, so naturally I ignored him. I don't know how long we were all in the bathroom for, but it was long enough for me to come to the conclusion that he was a cry-baby and a Mama's boy. And guess who he ended up being?
We "reconnected" online when I was a senior in high school and went out once, but I didn't hear a word from him for another nine months. It wasn't until December of 2012 that we started dating, and October of 2013 we were married. I was 19, he was 21. This year we'll be celebrating our fourth wedding anniversary.
I'm the child of an alcoholic. I'm a survivor of abuse. I battle depression and anxiety. I am, in all definitions of the words, a beautiful mess, but most importantly I'm a child of God. My faith carried me through some of the worst days of my life, and I'd be silly not to mention it. I believe we all have something we cherish and hold on to that keeps us going when all we want to do is throw in the towel and be done. God's promise of love is my secret weapon. Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28) So I know regardless of my troubles, I am loved, I am cherished, and I am welcome.
God bless, lovelies.
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