Hi. I’m Haley.

I was born in the suburbs of Lee County, GA. I was raised by both of my parents in one household. I have an older brother who was homecoming king and president of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. We attended church every Sunday. I married my high school sweetheart, and we have a gorgeous blond-haired, blue-eyed 3-yr-old son. My parents loved me. I had a lot of friends. We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. I think that most people would leave their bio at that, but I’ve always had a habit of saying too much.

Despite having an amazing childhood, I was riddled with anxiety. I was sensitive. I feared death as a toddler. I overthought everything. I over-felt everything. I have always felt so much. Too much, some would say. The harder I tried to fit into the mold, the more I fell short. I tried and I tried and I tried. The harder I tried, the more painfully aware that I was of my imperfections. I was always just a tad overweight. I was always a little too desperate for relationships. I always lacked a filter when it came to… well, anything. I was always hanging out with the “wrong crowd”, always questioning authority, always talking, talking, talking. I had so much to say. I was a round peg trying to wiggle myself into a square hole. And I sucked at it. I was really good at striving, though. And did I mention talking? I was smart and made good grades, but would not shut up. It didn’t matter where my teachers put me; I would talk to a damn brick wall if they sat me by one. I experienced a handful of traumas, which assisted in making me both cynical and funny. I discovered that it doesn’t matter how you looked, how overweight you were. If you were funny, people wanted to be around you.

The older I get, the more I am learning to hone all of that mess. The more I am discovering that God is not disappointed in my personality, how much I talk, how I question the status quo. Jesus wants to hear me talk. He loves to hear what I have to say. He hangs on my every word. I’m not sure where exactly the shift happened, but my cynicism has turned to optimism. Idealism, even. The closer I grow to Jesus – the real Jesus, not the authoritative, disappointed, judgy Jesus I learned about in Sunday School – the more He pulls the curtain back and reveals to me what he loves. People. Jesus wants me to love him and to love others – recklessly, scandalously, and unconditionally. Jesus wants me to be compassionate and full of grace. Jesus wants to me to view every single person, even the asshole who cut me off this morning, as a human being with a soul and a story. (He also wants me to quit calling people assholes, but I’m not completely sanctified yet.) And I truly believe that Jesus wants me to tell my story – the good, the bad, and the ugly – in writing.

I have always loved words, loved the ability to communicate. My mom said that I had my own language as a baby, before I learned to talk. I would get pissed because I would try to hold a conversation but didn’t know any words. Once I learned words, they couldn’t get me to shut up. Words are powerful. Words can be a weapon or a salve. Words create both death and life. We can read a book and simultaneously visualize every single detail in our minds. Just with words. We can give a compliment and turn someone’s entire day around. Conversely, we can create a detrimental emotional wound by spewing hate. As Dumbledore says, “Words are our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.” Words help us feel less alone.

It is my prayer that my words can move you, comfort you, empower you, humor you, inspire you, give you hope, and make you feel less alone.

Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.

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