Ryanne Molinari

Writer & Musician

body-dysmorphia

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Did you know this hymn? It was somewhat new to me but I love it. Let me know when/if you recognized it using the poll or comment HYMN HELP for the answer. Very excited to share that I’ve signed a contract for my first children’s book! So sweet to see Spirit-Filled Singing at #TGCW26 —and in such good company, too! I can’t wait to attend in person once Martin is just a bit bigger. 🥹 Thank you to my lovely publicist for snapping these pictures! This looks like I asked AI to generate a picture of me (a pastor’s wife with a love for coffee, music, and laughter) but it’s just a real photo of me in my basement gearing up to practice while wearing my new favorite sweatshirt. Order your “sermon illustration” sweatshirt using the link in my bio (or maybe order one for a good-humored pastor’s wife in your life). In Spirit-Filled Singing, I talk about how the fruit of self-control calls us to steward our bodies for the sake of physical participation in worship. Not featured: an extra large soda and bag of potato chips. Not a very classy breakfast, but they kept the pain at bay and helped my vision come back enough to read my music. 😂 The heat and barometric pressure are really doing a number on my noggin! Martin loved his new onesie so much he rolled right over! (Probably by accident, but I’m counting it as a milestone.) Want to order a “sermon illustration” onesie for a pastor’s kid in your life? Head to shop link in my bio to purchase! 😂 (Multiple colors and sizes available.) When my son was born, we were the grateful beneficiaries of two church meal trains. I have never eaten so well in my life! Although I recognize the dedicated preparation that went into the meals my family enjoyed, I like to think that we made it fairly easy on our friends. Not only do we not have allergies, we don’t really have preferences. Both my husband and I are happily omnivorous. The best meal, in my mind, is the one I don’t have to make. Last week, I lost my top subscriber. I know I’m supposed to be tough and keep writing regardless, but blogging just isn’t the same without her. She used to comment with astonishing, almost unsettling swiftness. Mere moments after I pressed “publish,” my inbox would ping with her praise. It was an antiphony I miss already.