On the farm, the fourth of July means farmer’s market and baling the grass hay. It means chopping up cabbage for pico de gallo salsa while listening to YouTube playlists of patriotic Country music (since the radio wasn’t playing enough of the good ones). It means a bring-your-own-beef barbecue with a few friends after the…
There are so many parenting books available today, with seemingly conflicting ideas about how to train your children up in the way they should go. So sometimes, it’s nice to just go back to the basics and remember that God has given us everything we need in the Bible, which is “useful for teaching, rebuking,…
Dearest, Ten years ago today, we walked down the aisle together for the first time. I’ll never forget the way you looked at me, standing there across the stage at your sister’s wedding. Thick as the emotions were, there was no way I could help that big smile from flooding my face as we walked…
Sometimes, writing our story is the best way to focus on the good memories. Other times, writing out our story is the only way to process the hard times. Sometimes, our own story hurts so much to write that we need to lose ourselves in another’s story for a while. Sometimes, reading another’s story brings…
Dear Ruth and Mary, You may be farmer’s daughters, but you’re still little girls. And when the rain came yesterday afternoon, you shouted, “Yay! Rain for Daddy’s fields!” You are always ready to welcome everything as a gift. Even if it’s rain on Daddy’s hay that was almost dry enough to bale. I stopped your…
I can hear them from my spot at the kitchen sink. All three girls piled on the bed, the oldest telling a story to her cousins, my girls. Eager to join the party of giggles and laughter, the only boy of the party toddles and crawls to the bedroom. My own oldest has been playing…
If I had all afternoon, I’d get that box of letters down and find it. The alfalfa would probably fall out of the envelope, just as it did that first time I opened it. And I’d get lost in re-reading his letters… I think it was the spring before we got married. My farmer sent…
Dearest, We always said we’d learn to dance when we got married. But first there was a broken leg to prevent it, then there was always a baby belly or a baby in the way. We keep saying we’ll take dancing lessons when they’re older, laughing that by the time we get around to it…
I sign my name at the bottom of every letter I write. But it still feels a bit strange to put it at the top of the letterhead, as well. I don’t know the color of your house. But I recognize your smile in the comment box. I might not be able to recall your…
I left a webinar today that was filled almost to capacity. The beginning didn’t grab me, but I waited and listened. I had learned a lot in another webinar of similar format, so I wanted to give this a chance. Common blogging pitfalls, converting readers to subscribers, not having to create too much content—these topics…
To write is to risk. To put heart to paper in black and white, even if it’s hidden in a private journal, is to be vulnerable. To sign one’s name and click publish, without hiding behind a brand or a logo, is to bare one’s soul. To know you were made a writer, but that…
I’m not sure if it’s because God’s creation speaks so much of Him, or if it’s that the only time my mind and heart are quiet is when I’m out of doors, but my herb garden always has a life lesson for me. Last week, with the scent of rain fresh in the air, I…
The End.
The End.
