Lessons from the Crack House

• Never try to help fat people out by giving them less biscuits or cornbread. They will always ask for more. always. The only good thing about that is getting a few steps more of exercise in an attempt to not look like them yourself one day.

•  My two best weapons on the waitressing war path are:

1. a big smile
2. a sweet tone of voice

• Compliment womens' purses or shoes--it's a way to connect with them beyond the food you are serving them.

• NEVER give too much personal information [creepy story I don't wish to relive inserted here]

• Offer large families with small children their bread first--they will love you forever.

• Sometimes you just have to act WAY--I mean WAY--more sorry than you actually are. (Example: "Oh, sir I am SO sorry that there wasn't enough extra white gravy on your country fried steak that came with a double order of mashed potatoes and hashbrown casserole along with biscuits, extra butter and jelly. Really--I am so sorry.")

• People really do believe that they can eat whatever they want...but as long as they are guzzling Diet Coke, they are on a serious diet.

My job makes me laugh. : )

Awake my heart!

This song reminds my heart to leap for joy because of the Lord Jesus, and bids me come and dance for the Prince of my heart.

Christ is Risen by Matt Maher (check it out)

Praise. His. Name.


Wading through the pressures, hurts, and unknowns of life sometimes leads me to emotionally curl up in a ball, cover my eyes, and say, "I don't want to think about life."


The hope I have in Jesus Christ reminds me to throw out my arms, jump off the floor, and race around the house like a little girl saying, "I can think about You! Woohoo!"


Nothing should excite me more.
Not engagement. Not marriage. Not babies. (Although I do desire these immensely and will be ever so thankful for them...)

Christ is risen from the dead and I am one with Him.
It's so good I can hardly believe it.
But I do, because miracles can come true.

Cornbread and Aristotle

After going to bed at midnight, yesterday morning I stumbled out of bed at 5am and surprised myself by making it to the 5:45am "boot camp" at the local YMCA. Interval cycling, suicides, squats against the wall, and crunches were all a part of this bless-ed experience. ; ) It feels somewhat amazing to be done with your workout at 7am. I then showered and went to Starbucks. Because I was planning on taking a short nap before work, I ordered a decaf tea instead of beloved coffee, and pulled out my not-so-faithful-yet-still-running laptop. And I wrote.

In December I graduated with a degree in English Literature from a small, yet respected, Christian college. I made good grades and was patted on the back several times. It felt good. I pushed hard and wrote about topics that I never thought I could. And then I came home. And now I'm a waitress. But as my former beau sweetly told me, "Audrey Ann, it's what you do--you serve food--but it's not who you are."

Instead of asking for clarification on one of Aristotle's remarks, I now ask questions like, "Sir, would you like biscuits or cornbread with that?"

I feel stupid, and I have a gut ache from seemingly too much humble pie.

Yesterday when I wrote at Starbucks, the Lord reminded me that I am still that "academic person" I was a year ago. I have learned SO.MUCH. from being a server that I would not have learned with a posh or cushy job. I have shared the beautiful gospel more than I ever have--and am becoming aware of how astoundingly blessed I am.

There is much running through my mind--and I am excited to share it with you. KNOW THIS--the Lord is so faithful to teach us and mold us.

Needle and thread

I am waiting, praying, dying on this bed and no one knows.

Remedies of my own only induce more symptoms--regret and sorrow.

Oh, Jesus, you made the little girl live again.

Hear my prayer, please take me with you--past this feeble amen.



Let me wake--hungry for your word, not for raisin bran.

Let me run--not for five pounds lost, but so I can better stand for you.

Let me love--out of love for you and not for what I can gain in the end.



Please, take my heart and mend.



Memories find me--They are thick and rich, much like cheesecake

I miss him--it's both simple and complicated, but no mistake.

He is yours, and I know it. But he feels like mine-despite the sever.

As the orchestra played, we danced and we swayed, but not forever.



Let me wake--longing for You, Lord, not for his arms and that smile never meek

Let me see--that your plan is much more beautiful than the mole on his cheek

Let me know--you are with him now, and he's okay


Please, take our broken love. We give it to you. This I pray.