"You cannot have a heart for the gospel and a fussiness about your life at the same time. You will never make any difference there if you cannot be at peace here. You cannot have a heart for missions if you don’t have one for...
Dearest Abigail, Today you turn five. They say this is a milestone. As you've been learning in math this year, it means a "whole hand" worth of years under your belt - and what do you think? From what I see and hear each day, you really...
We don't get to choose what our children see and hear. I know that sounds wrong somehow. Well, in some ways it is. We get to choose what they hear from our mouths and what they see on our faces (sometimes good, sometimes not so good). We...
Dearest firstborn girl, Your beauty, it takes my breath away. From the crown of your curly mane to the tips of your colorful painted toes. From your ink-stained fingers to your sometimes tear-streaked face. You radiate. But. Beauty is a fleeting thing, straw that looks very much like...
Every day we wake once more with the sun. We help them brush teeth, make beds, get dressed. We pack lunches, wash dishes, fold laundry. We sing that favorite song as we take their hands to walk across the street. We cook meals and wipe noses, teach...
Certain quotes stick to your ribs like biscuits and gravy on a summer Sunday: "We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." --Anais Nin I can't remember the first time I read it -- a LONG time ago -- but the idea...
Last Saturday we went apple picking with friends to a "you pick" farm in MD (Homestead Farms). We brought home a whopping total of 58 lbs of apples! We have six people in our family and normally go through about 2 big bags of apples per...
Sometimes I forget to serve my children. Sure, I make dinner, and wipe little bottoms, and tidy up messes, and so on and so forth ad infinitum. They are fed, semi-rested, and usually clothed. We snuggle at night and read books over and over and over...
I Want You. I want you, sweet baby. I want your painful birth, your downy head, your midnight cries, your drooly teeth slicing through tiny baby gums. I want your tottering first steps, your magic smiles, your barely intelligible first words. I want you. I want you...
(September is all about our favorite ladies. I've already written of my mother here, so here I'll tell you of my husband's mother.) Dear Gigi, Thirty-nine years you've had this boy (man), and for the last twelve, you've ever so graciously relinquished him to me. You embraced me...