We All Matter To Someone

We All Matter To Someone

"I promise you do, you matter too."

The lyrics above come from one of my favorite songs from the new musical Waitress. If you haven’t heard the song “You Matter to Me,” I encourage you to give it a listen:

After writing my article last week about love and relationships, and scrolling through my news feed on Valentine’s day and seeing so many adorable couple’s photos, I started to think about people that I love and care about. There are so many people in my life that matter to me, and I am so incredibly thankful for them. There have been years in the past when I have felt super depressed and lonely on Valentine’s day because I didn’t have a significant other, but this year I didn’t mind. There are so many people in my life that I love, and I know they love me back.

See, we all have people that matter to us, whether it be a significant other or not, and I’m sure those people value us every bit as much. I’m sure many people have a spouse or significant other that matters to them, but I currently do not, so recently I have been thinking about all the people in my life that matter to me.

I have my lifelong best friend, whom I go to for everything. I thank God all the time for bringing her into my life, and I don’t know what I would do without her. She matters to me.

I have my amazing friends here at Judson; my original friend group that I found my freshman year, and some newly made education major friends. These guys always have my back, and are always there when I need them. We worship together, laugh, study, and act crazy; they matter to me.

I have my friends back home from high school, and even though it’s challenging to get together when we’re all home on break, I can still text them with an old inside joke and expect a response. They matter to me.

I have my children. Not literally my children of course, but the little ones I take care of. I have been babysitting for almost nine years, and I have been able to watch many children grow up, and it’s awesome to be a part of their lives. They matter to me.

I have my mom, who I quite honestly never thought I would miss so much while away at school. She calls me her clone, which is fitting, because we are almost exactly alike. She’s taught me so much, and deserves the world, which I will probably never be able to give her. She matters to me.

I have my dad, who is helping me get through school, and teaching me about life. From him I learn the important things, like how to change a tire, or fill out tax information. He matters to me.

I have my sister, who may not talk to me a lot while I’m away at school, but is always good to laugh with her when I come home for a visit. She matters to me.

Most importantly, I have Jesus Christ. He lives in my heart where I have asked Him to stay, and will be there forever. He matters most.

As I stated in my last article, I can’t wait to meet the man that God has in store for me, but I don’t need one to tell me that I matter. I know I matter to all these people, and because of that, there’s plenty of love in my life. And whether you know it or not, “I promise you do, you matter too.”

Cover Image Credit: Google

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3 Reasons Why Step Dads Are Super Dads


I often hear a lot of people complaining about their step-parents and wondering why they think that they have any authority over them. Although I know that everyone has different situations, I will be the first to admit that I am beyond blessed to have a step dad. Yep, I said it. My life wouldn't be the same that it is not without him in it. Let me tell you why I think step dads are the greatest things since sliced bread.

1. They will do anything for you, literally.

My stepdad has done any and every thing for me. From when I was little until now. He was and still is my go-to. If I was hungry, he would get me food. If something was broken, he would fix it. If I wanted something, he would normally always find a way to get it. He didn't spoil me (just sometimes), but he would make sure that I was always taken care of.

SEE ALSO: The Thank You That Step-Parents Deserve

2. Life lessons.

Yup, the tough one. My stepdad has taught me things that I would have never figured out on my own. He has stood beside me through every mistake. He has been there to pick me up when I am down. My stepdad is like the book of knowledge: crazy hormonal teenage edition. Boy problems? He would probably make me feel better. He just always seemed to know what to say. I think that the most important lesson that I have learned from my stepdad is: to never give up. My stepdad has been through three cycles of leukemia. He is now in remission, yay!! But, I never heard him complain. I never heard him worry and I never saw him feeling sorry for himself. Through you, I found strength.

3. He loved me as his own.

The big one, the one that may seem impossible to some step parents. My stepdad is not actually my stepdad, but rather my dad. I will never have enough words to explain how grateful I am for this man, which is why I am attempting to write this right now. It takes a special kind of human to love another as if they are their own. There had never been times where I didn't think that my dad wouldn't be there for me. It was like I always knew he would be. He introduces me as his daughter, and he is my dad. I wouldn't have it any other way. You were able to show me what family is.

So, dad... thanks. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for being strong. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for loving my mom. Thanks for giving me a wonderful little sister. Thanks for being someone that I can count on. Thanks for being my dad.

I love you!

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Batter Up

Because someone needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat a woman.


I have this memory from when I was younger,

I must have been six, maybe seven? An age

When you can remember, but not quite

Understand. I remember the landline

Ringing sometime in the middle

Of the night in my grandmother's small,

But adequate house. I had been sleeping,

Tucked under a shield of satin covers,

My grandmother next to me, blanketless,

And stiff, on the very edge of the queen mattress

Like she was anticipating some sort of disaster.

It wasn't the phone that pulled me from my sleep,

It was my grandmother's instant jerk, her eyes

Flipping open quicker than a light switch,

The mattress springing back up, adjusting

To the new lightness as she fled the room. My waking

Was soft like a song. Slow and humane.

My eyes adjusting to the dark, my ears absorbing the ringing,

My mind reminding itself that I was at my grandmother's house.

Then, the ringing stopped;

Abrupt, like a disarmed fire alarm.

It was just a drill, I thought.

But, then I heard the mumbling

From behind the door, panicked mumbling.

Rapid, like gunfire. My grandmother's Rs

Rolling down the hallway and under the door crack.

She only spoke Spanish when she was angry.

The call ended, my grandmother returned to the room,

Wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the night.

She buckled me into the backseat of her Toyota and said,

We were going to Auntie Mandy's house because someone

Needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat

A woman.

When we arrived at the house, we found the front door

Wide open, the house lights spilling out onto the porch.

A truck, I had seen once before, was parked a foot away

From the front door, aggressive. The truck had trampled

Over the dandelions and daisies, which lay wounded

In the front yard. A scene that begged for investigation.

My grandmother told me to stay put in my seat.

I watched as she walked to the back of the car, her normally pretty

Face turned straight, looked masculine. I watched as she pulled

Something wooden out of her trunk, then in her feline walk,

Approached the house. She turned to me, and I saw the

Baseball bat, immense in her female hands.

I slouched in my seat, the window above my head.

I never saw her go into the house.

I don't remember how long I sat,

Until the red and blue lights came.

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