Someone spilled their juice at breakfast. Again. And it’s no use crying over spilt milk or juice, but it’s the fact that it’s spilt over and again that tries one’s patience. Too often I react to my children’s little spills and mistakes with less patience than they show towards me. And it’s in the midst…
Christmas was the first trip we’ve taken with him that we didn’t pack the Boba or the Ergo or the wrap—or all three. And I only wished we had it once. He’s twenty months and getting oh so very man-like. Think ahead to a time when your little boy’s a man And you’d give anything…
I still remember the view from the diving board at the city pool where we took swimming lessons. I’d stand there, hesitating, my teacher and the rest of the class watching and cheering me on. I knew it would be fine, once I jumped. But it was the fear of jumping that kept me there….
“It will kill your heart for motherhood if you compare yourself to everyone else’s ideals.” (Sally Clarkson in Desperate) There are times when I begin reading a book and realize that if I could only keep one book on the topic, this would be it. The author isn’t just speaking my language—they are speaking God’s…
I tend to think of opportunity in the terms of something new and different. A new book to read, a different project to work on. New scope for my imagination. But I’m learning that sometimes the biggest opportunities are the ones I’m already part of. It’s just that need to dig in and get to…
They see it in each snowflake and every twinkle light, they hear it in the note of each carol and the rustle of every piece of tissue paper. The wonder and excitement of it all. They thrill that Christmas is coming. They sing the tidings of His birth at the top of their lungs. No…
They filled the airports that weekend, as I travelled home. I wondered about their stories as I saw them. How much have they given up to serve our country? What all have their families gone through to support them? I wanted to go up to each one and say “thank you.” But I’d have missed…
Our oldest daughter was born the day before Thanksgiving, November 21, 2007. In honor of her fifth birthday today, I’m sharing her birth story, transcribed from her baby album. Dear Ru, When Mommy went to the Dr. on November 21, 2007, I sure wasn’t expecting to be holding you by the end of the day. Everything had been…
“Stay where you can hear His voice.” It’s the lesson from Allume that keeps reverberating in my head. When I want rules, when I want guidelines, Ann Voskamp’s words echo back. She told the story in parable form, as she does so well. Their daughter asked how far she could go away from the church…
It’s when the quiet settles in after a long day that I feel my body relax. I can finally hear myself think. If it’s naptime, I can write or work. If it’s nighttime, I can curl up with a book or cuddle up with my husband. But those quiet moments are so few and far…
It was one of those mornings. Other people’s to-do lists crowding out my own, yesterday’s laundry begging to be washed, and constant phone calls on a dying cell phone. I was feeling sorry for myself, running high on caffeine and low on patience. Then someone fell and there was blood and a quick trip to…
My daddy’s roots go deep. He planted his family not 30 miles from where his great grandpa raised his own children. The tilling of the land might have lessened a bit with each generation, but that hasn’t changed the way these men are tied to the place they’ve always called home. I like to think…
The End.
The End.