Hello? It’s me—the one who wrote dire daily updates from the pits of hell…and isn’t sure how to best transition outta there. But I’ve got a lot of words swimming around in this little jacked-up brain of mine—words about hope, words about survival, words about joy, words about motherhood, words about trauma, words about my favorite shows/books/podcasts/shoes—and it feels better to blow a goodbye kiss to CaringBridge and sidestep over here.
I’ve always been a writer—there’s countless “Chapter Ones and Chapter Twos” of potential-best-sellers written by nine-year-old Holly in long-forgotten composition books, and I still can envision—and maybe even recite, if I tried hard enough—the poem that won me a language arts award in the fifth grade.
I loved the blogging boom of the early 2010s. I probably overdid it a bit, first on a blog with a title I was so proud of—Farmer Takes a Wife: Cowgirl Boots with No Mud. The self-deprecative wittiness was gold. I started writing essays about my faith for various blogs and publications, and then moved over to my more mature, professional page—HollyPaulette.net, the “.net” solely because it rhymed. I wrote about all sorts of things, but mostly about our journey through the world of foster care. I wrote monthly letters to “Little B”—our Bentley—for years. It was therapeutic for me and a way to make seen the unseen trials and joys of the roller coaster we were on. God used that space as a kind of foster care PSA to those who read it—it was very, very special and sacred to me.
And then, we walked into our final adoption hearing, and the defense attorney plopped down hundreds and hundreds of pages of paper on the witness stand, with my Canva-created “HOLLY PAULETTE” logo on the top page. He took one line—"Dropping you off at visits breaks my heart because I see what it does to you”—as a launching pad to argue that Morgan and I were unfit foster parents. It was bogus but painful, and my words felt unsafe. Vulnerability turned into susceptibility. So I stopped writing cold turkey—publicly and privately.
In December of this past year, I was talking to God about the year ahead while deep cleaning the bathroom (a typical time of communion for me), and I prayed, “God—I think this is the year I write again.” My kids were a bit older, giving me some margin to step away without the fear of someone stuffing a stuffed animal down the toilet—and the sting of that court date felt less like a stab and more like a scar. I thought, “I’ll write about the joys of motherhood, I’ll joke about my life as an accidental farmer’s wife, and I’ll share Jesus in it all.”
How cute.
You probably know what happened next—but in case you don’t, here’s the TL;DR (too long; didn’t read [the months of CaringBridge updates]) version: On January 5, 2023, my completely-healthy, 32-year-old husband was put on the most extreme form of life support after a bout with the flu turned deadly. We spent two months in the hospital, and Morgan tiptoed along the brink of heaven many times.
But God—through both the brilliance of an incredible medical team and mostly through His abundant grace—saved his life. It’s a story that changed absolutely everything about our lives—and I pray changed a lot of others’ lives, too.
God gave me that story to tell—those words to write—and this became the year I wrote again.
The darkest days are behind us—hallelujah—but I think I’m ready to keep writing. I’ll share more about how our family is healing, but I’m hopeful I’ll write about all those things I was hoping to write about, too. As a forewarning, spending months in crisis has stripped me of some filters, and the rawness of reality will probably seep out of my fingers as I type. But the raw will be paired with hope, because you can’t make it through the valley of the shadow of death without being drenched in gospel-infused hope.
Logistically, I’ve got no clue what this Substack will look like. For those unfamiliar with Substack, hi, hello, me too. But my posts will come directly to your email, if you choose to subscribe. I’ll share both deep and shallow things, maybe some recipes and recommendations, and my prayer is that my words will always point back to the King.
Thanks for continuing to read my words. I promise I don’t take it lightly to get to share a little of my heart through this space.
"Testing.....Testing"....I'm so glad that you will continue to write, Holly. God has blessed you with a talent that He is using to His glory. Your words DO point back to the King of Kings.
Love your words!