I have spent so much of my life being afraid of what people will think of me. I should have worn something different tonight — I am going to stick out like a sore thumb. Her hair is so gorgeous — everyone must think mine looks awful. My house is a mess — I can’t…
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….
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…
“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…
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…
Last Friday, their black and white words came alive when I heard each voice read her own creation aloud. With the sound of her voice, her message took on the full color of life. There was no losing her meaning with those inflections, those choked back tears. At Allume, I hugged women who’d been only…
I look down and I see my wrinkles and rolls, stretch marks and blemishes. I see legs that are anything but tanned and an outfit devoid of style. I look up and I see their bright eyes and a beautiful smile. I see shoulders that hug and arms that hold. I see hairs that He…
The End.
The End.