I have them
Lots of them
They mark my body
In woven connect the dots pattern
They tell my stories
Of a fighter
The life of a scrapper
A survivor
A dreamer
A believer
Broken pieces
Taken out
Stitched together
I step
I keep stepping
Can’t stop the wheel
Because if I stop
And deal with the scars
Will I like the woman looking
Back in the mirror?
They are my story
Of redemption?
Of peace?
Of hope?
Dark eyes stare back
I touch the scar on my cheek
Two inches
Covered in make up
Sewing scissors
Do you remember?
I don’t think she did
Broken pieces
It is coming
I hate it
This process
I think I would rather just step
But those scars… they are mine
The woven pattern of a life
Worth living
And worth telling
One day
But first I must connect
The dots
The pattern
Of this life
And stop
For a time
To grieve each scar
And put them squarely
At your feet, not mine
I may carry the scars
You won the battle
Please stitch me together again
Only better

Even When

I had the joy of being the guest speak on PF Women Radio today.  I shared this poem at the end; enjoy the listen and below is the poem.


Even when you can’t take one more breath,

You doubt

You cry

You can’t imagine life alone

You feel unworthy


You feel afraid and lonely

You’re hungry

You’re sad

You stand in disbelief

You think you can’t do this for one more second

Let alone one more day

The walls feel like they are crumbling in around you

You no longer have joy

Your marriage isn’t something you hoped it would be

The pain gets so great, you wonder if you will ever be the same again

Your children no longer want you in their lives… they’re grown

You picked out a name and the miscarriage took that name and dream away…Multiple times

You miss your Mom who died too soon

And you simply want to stop crying

You struggle to let go and let God

The diagnosis is death

You mourn those who have died

You think you will never be the same again

Even when one or all of these things are true

In this moment

This is NOT the end of your story

God is our life, our strength, our hope, our redeemer, our rainbow after the storm

Our everything

Our What’s Next

Our miracle

Our healer

Our joy

Our warrior

Our peace

Our everything

Even when it seems like the walls are crumbling around you

Hold on to Him

He’s got this, He’s fighting for you

He rights the wrongs

He fights for us

He holds every tear in his hands

He is for us

He loves us


Even when you think things will ALWAYS be this way

God says… Not today

God says… I am here

God says… I love you

God says… follow me


Even when…

Her Chair

A place of wisdom

Well worn, re-fabricated

And re-purposed over the years

A place where they flocked

All came for words of wisdom






For soft and loud wisdom of a woman who was beautiful

Inside and out

She’d work the room like a fine conductor

Everyone waited

Everyone wanted

Everyone welcomed

Everyone heard

Everyone accounted for

Everyone mattered… to her

Everyone got her insights

Sometimes if they wanted it or not

Her chair

She sat in on days she didn’t feel well

Or could not sleep

An area that was tidy

Resourceful and bright

Just like her

Whose eyes twinkled with inappropriate thoughts

She’d never dare say

And funny innuendos of those who irritated

But she always loved and cherished

Her Chair

A place of grace

Christmas packages

Unable to separate memories of Christmas and that chair

The cane that rested on its arm

For the lady who never complained

About her pain

Her life

Or others

Never ever, others

Grace. The best belief in others always offered

She embodied strength


Zest for life

Passion for her Savior

Adoration for her husband

Love and awe for her children and grandchildren

Her chair

He sat

In her chair

A little lost

Soaking up her scent

The memories

The laughter

So much laughter

He sat in her chair

It was hers

He couldn’t NOT sit

In her chair

It was a part of her story

Their story

A beautiful love story

Of 67 years of a gorgeous love story

That is precious and inspiring. A legacy

He sat; it was touching

Wonderful and sad all rolled into one

We are the ones left missing

Missing her

Holding court

Conducting the room

In her chair

In Memory of Janet Maurine Paulson McCreary- I love you.

9/10/1931- 4/6/2016

Jeni McCreary 4/7/16

Her Chair Photo

Not Unto Death

The last four months have been some of the hardest. To be faced with a diagnosis of leukemia that was ruled out by a painful bone marrow test. Then to be told that I have “Valley Fever” that I contracted in the Nevada desert when my Mom was dying two years ago. A potential diagnosis with a worse mortality rate than leukemia…it was ruled out by sinus scopes & scrapes, CT of my sinuses and lots more  blood work.

I had such moments of panic. Do I have enough life insurance for my family? Will I see my little girl grow up? With my husband already out of commission and in bed 95% of his days…who would care for my daughter? My son? He has his own life to live. These panicked thoughts I let in and allowed.

It had to stop.

I called out to God. I cried to Him:

You gave me breath! You wake me up every morning. You are the rock on which I stand.

In those darkest moments with thoughts racing…I made a choice. To believe His word & that these diagnoses, these diseases were NOT unto death.  God will renew my strength. I am healed. I am strong. I am a overcomer. God is good. God is for me. God loves me.

My life has purpose bigger than my now. Bigger dreams. Bigger goals that wrap around His will only. When those waters would not part in those months of unknown, I still stood in my trust in Him.

Today I stand in joy, I’m alive! Not unto death. God has plans & purpose for my life….it is good. I trust Him, period.

See You Soon

Today I was having lovely text conversations with two amazing friends. We started talking about our Mom’s and how hard it is to leave them when they live out of state. It was always hard to leave my Mom. Instead of saying “Good-bye”, we’d always say, “See you soon.” We got that saying from my Grandpa and Sister.

It’s always hard to say good-bye. When I had to leave my Mom on her deathbed, when I bent to kiss her goodbye for the last time that’s what we said to each other, “See you soon.”

Grief is different for each person. Acceptance takes time and healing is like a roller coaster. Where does my strength come from? As I grieved today one of my favorite songs came on from Dara MaClean titled, “You Are All I Need”


This is where my strength comes from, this is how I lift my head and keep steppin daily. Grief is a process… acceptance takes time.

The Movie: About Time

The movie about time (while some language is rough) had me crying the other night. I literally cried into my homemade tacos during the scene where the son & his family leave his father knowing that he only has weeks left to live.

I get it. I too had to leave my mother…I couldn’t stay and walking away from her knowing it would be the last time I would see her. It was the hardest moment of my life. I wanted to flee. I wanted to fight. I wanted her to live. Regret in not staying until she died still haunts me to this day. She died 8/5/2013 at the age of 69.

Two days into our visit (we drove like the wind from Florida to Nevada to get there in time), her hazy morphine eyes looked into mine and she asked, “Do you think I really have cancer and am going to die? Do you think there is a chance the doctor’s are wrong?” Her twinkle of hope floats in my ears, her voice raspy and dry. I smile at her sadly looking at her abdomen that in just these few short days has doubled in size from the cancer that is ravaging her body. I swallow hysterical tears, clear my throat…look into her eyes, “I think they might be right about this one Mom.”…. I’m dying inside when the words come out.  She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. “Yeah… I was just kind-of hoping…”  Me too Mama, me too.

Her box of jewelry and trinkets arrived on 12/1/14 the same day my brother Scott died. I looked at the box and knew immediately what it was. Petrified I opened it and there she was…every piece of jewelry holding a memory, a moment of time within my childhood. A laugh, a giggle, a thought. And then… her perfume hit me… all the velvet boxes and cloth sacks smelling of her perfume. I inhaled and cried…quickly closing the box in effort to preserve her and contain that smell and those moments that right now… I simply can’t deal with.

I miss her. Every day is precious and fleeting. Am I living my now? These things I think about when I look at that box and of the woman who died too soon. My friends…we must continue to live.