Last night we sat around our friend’s dinner table. These friends who always include us in all their kid’s birthday parties, like we’re just part of the family or something. They’ve got this wooden table and they always have to pull up another folding table because there’s so many of us and we can’t all fit, but somehow we do. My friend, Deb, makes the best food. It’s not that she loves making food, it’s just that she loves us and she knows that people feel loved when they get to share about their day or a funny story from the past or a dream they have over a steaming bowl of chicken curry soup. And whenever we leave their place, Brent and I always walk away feeling a little more healed. Like, we didn’t know we were aching for something until the need was met. These friends of[...]

There are some moments that are just so beautiful, they hurt. Like, Saturday morning moments, when my little girl in her mismatched pajamas wakes up early enough to go with her Daddy to retrieve donuts. She's got this certain little grin on her face and that extra bit of glimmer in her eyes because she gets to ride in the Jeep with Daddy and surprise her brothers with overly sprinkled sugary goodness when they wake up. I had stood there by the front door and watched them go as the sun came up over that rustling corn field back behind the neighbor's house. There were just enough clouds to make the light soft and pink and the sun a round smear across the sky. Yes, there are some moments when I can feel the worth of my soul. When the edges of my heart bump up against the nearness of[...]

Every night I tuck my babes in to bed. And it never fails, they always need a dozen things before they can drift off to sleep. No, they really do need them. I can tell because there is this certain sort of exasperation in their voices, that goes along with those begging pleas. For one thing, they need a snack. For Hopey, it's usually cereal, in a bowl, without any milk. The rainbow kind. And Gideon always asks for toast, so I bring him bread, all warm and buttered. Then they need a drink of water. Just one more drink, actually.   Hopey usually asks for just one more after that because she is for real, seriously thirsty and she might just perish if she doesn't get another gulp. And of course, they want a story so if I'm not too overwhelmingly exhausted, I let them pick out a li[...]

Today I had this anxious heart. It was all tied up in knots and I knew that I could keep knocking out my to-do list at this frantic pace, or I could just come away and be with Jesus for a minute. I chose to come away and be with Jesus. I spilled out my guts to Him and then opened up His Word to Colossians 3 and I began to pray those things into my life. I let His Word make its home inside my heart and I praised my God. Then I sat still in His Presence and breathed deep and let Him calm and quiet my soul. God's perfect love flooded out all my fears. Then I sat on the couch and sang. This is what I sang: I don't know if you've got an anxious heart all tied up in knots, but if so, well, consider this me singing to you. Little heart, why are you troubled? Why do you walk aroun[...]

Happiness is shutting down the glowing screen and stepping away from the wreck for just a bit and taking a barefoot walk in the grass after the rain. And happiness is pausing long enough to peer up into a thousand tiny branches. It's sticking out your tongue and sipping up the rain from the tips of trees... Or letting the edges tickle your shoulder as you walk beneath. Happiness is stretching out and reaching up... To feel the world around you, so you can more fully see. Happiness is pressing close, And stooping down and leaning in to all the wild things. Happiness is cupping tiny cheeks in the palm of your hands and looking  into little eyes to whisper kind, "I'm so glad you're here. You're a good, good kid! I'm thankful God mad[...]

A while back, I stopped calling myself a Christian. I don't mean to insult anyone. It's just that I didn't like what the term "Christian" had become. To you that may seem strange but I’d like to explain. I suppose there was a time when Christian meant something altogether different than it does today. Today, at least in American culture, a person can be a Christian without actually being like Jesus. Christian can merely mean a person who aims to do good and be good. Or someone who goes to church. Or believes in God. Or someone who reads the Bible religiously. It doesn’t have to mean that Jesus is your life. I’ve met so many Christians who care nothing at all about Jesus and who don’t resemble Him one bit. So, for the most part, I stopped referring to myself as a Christian. And[...]

Over the weekend, Brent and I took a rest. We loaded up the kids and took them to meet their Grandma and Grandpa. Then we gave them smooches and waved good-bye and got back in the van and had so much fun together—just the two of us. We ate good food that we didn’t have to cook and laughed a good deal at each other. In all the daily grind of things, I had forgotten how ridiculously funny Brent can be. Because when he comes home from work, it’s supper time and I can hardly hear him tell me about his day (or vice versa) over all the chaos. Like trying to get Hopey to stay in her chair and eat her food while Gideon explains the difference between steam engines and power trains and Samuel protests loudly that he’s through with his meat and taters and really needs his sippie cup. And I [...]