Dear Ru, Some days, I think your brain runs circles around mine. Sometimes, I’m laughing as I try to keep up. But sometimes, I’m humbled as I hear what you want to be when you grow up. Here are some of your quotables from the past few months. “I want to grow up to be…
It seems like the parenting books that have the most answers are the ones about which most questions are asked. And the more I parent, the fewer answers I have. Which is, perhaps, why my two most favorite books on parenting at the moment are books of personal reflection from a mother’s heart, and not…
Still. “Be still.” “Peace, be still.” “Be still and know that I am God.” Still? When am I still? My hands are busy holding, doing. My mind is busy thinking, planning. My ears are busy listening, trying not to hear. But He commands me, just as He commanded the waves that day—“be still.” I step…
Dearest, Every year about this time, it all comes flooding back to me. The reality of how close I came to the loss hits me full force. The loss of you…my then-newlywed husband, my best friend, the father of our then-future children (whom I already knew would have reddish blond curls!). You laugh when I…
Dear Daniel, Wasn’t it just a few days ago that I glanced at the clock in the early hours of the morning and realized it was the 14th of the month, and thus you were 2 months old? How can tomorrow already mark you turning 3 months old? It’s been quite the 3 months, little…
I used to be so sure of myself. I remember when it was all cut and dried, life was easy to figure out, I knew what I was supposed to do and who I was supposed to be. I’m not sure of much of anything any more. Or rather, I’m sure of only One—and His…
“Thank you, Mommy, for the beautiful new sunglasses!” I looked down at her sunglass-bedecked face in slight surprise. Was this the same little girl who had just been crying because I had not bought the orange sunglasses she’d wanted? Was this the same little girl who didn’t like the fact that the yellow ones fit…
Can gratefulness be measured? Can a once-widowed woman’s appreciation for new love be compared to the joy of a late-blooming romance? Can a woman whose quiver is full be any more grateful than a woman who finally gives birth to a long-awaited child? Does having little make one more grateful for the little things than…
Everything I love about summer is everything that makes me long for autumn days turning to winter. The long sunny days. The warm nights. The crickets chirping peacefully in the evenings after the little ones have gone to bed. But the long hours of daylight mean so much work to be done in our short…
“Miss. Daddy. Miss. Miss.” Her one-word sentences threaded together with long pauses and much emphasis on “miss” melt her daddy’s heart. We all try to give him a warm welcome when he comes home. Sometimes, I can’t get up from nursing or holding a sleeping babe, but he comes over and leans down to kiss…
Home is four walls he built with his two hands. Home is a little pink house that has grown bigger through the years and isn’t even pink any more. Home is where the chickens cackle to let me know they’ve laid another egg and I better race out to get it before they do. Home…
Backwards sixteen years. My almost-twelve-year-old world had changed overnight: I had a brand new baby sister. Positively adorable, positively perfect. A real live baby doll to dress and photograph. When she was little, I helped with a lot of the cooking and cleaning—I helped be a mommy. And I told that little person I’d expect…
The End.
The End.