Six years ago, I began a couple new adventures. For one, I became a momma. It had always been in my heart to stay home with my babes once they came along, so I shut off the computer down at the office, came home and entered into a new season. At first, it was a lot of trying to figure out how not to spend the extra paycheck or what to do all day without anyone sending me task lists and evaluating my work through performance reviews. Let's just say I felt a little bit lost. And lonely. And purposeless. And confused. So, I decided to write. Throughout my childhood, I had written often, usually sitting underneath the oak trees, with my journal in my lap and the river rushing by. I wrote poetry, mostly. As I got older, I journaled thoughts and short stories and even went through a se[...]

I've been scratching out words for another book. Now, I haven't signed a contract. However, I did send the book proposal last week and then realized I hadn't followed the directions. (Mom, are you laughing? You can stop now.) I'm secretly hoping that the acquisitions editor hasn't had time to open my email yet. I should probably just tell her swet self to scratch that...I'm trying again. When I get my act together. On the way over to the coffee shop today to do some writing, I had this internal struggle. Sometimes I forget the value of my work and I veer off and begin thinking this project is just another book "to get under my belt." You know, because if I have more books under my belt, then I am somehow more qualified. I'm somehow more valuable. More respected. More important. [...]

You wanna know the truth about me? The truth is, I do more striving than I do resting. I want to have a peaceful disposition, no matter what chaotic things are going on around me. But, I stress a lot. I stress about the crud on the kitchen floor. The piles of laundry. The ring in the toilet bowl. (Okay, let's get real. There's not really a ring. The entire inside is like a whole weird shade of grey.) I stress about the dirty dishes. The overgrown flower beds. The spider webs in the corner. About whether or not I'm investing in my children. Whether or not I'm loving my neighbors. I stress if I'm writing too much. Or not enough. Or from the right motives. Or about the right things. Truth is, I have the awfullest time overcoming myself with all my weaknesses. I want to be a ru[...]

Dear Sam, You didn't know this, but a lot of the time, your momma feels like a failure. Because I haven't been reading books to you and your big brother and sister lately. And I can't seem to keep this place spic and span. (Have you seen the toilet? Yeah, it's not actually supposed to be that color down in the bowl.) I'm not as organized as I want to be. Sometimes the bills get paid late. I get distracted too much on the internet. And I don't know if I'm doing anything right. Sometimes I'm just awfully annoyed with my own self. But, there are these moments. These quiet moments when I go and peek at you while you're sleeping and you make me smile. Or when you're trying to wrestle your brother down to the floor and he's yelling for you to quit and you're not about to budge an[...]

I have this kitchen floor. The other day, I sat down on it and leaned my back against the fridge and just thanked God for that space. I thanked Him for the grit and the grime. The way that linoleum, even though it's not my favorite and I'd really like to update it someday, has held me up as I've prepared food for my babes. It's been a cool place for my feet to rest as I've sat down beside them at the table and nourished their minds with library books and their souls with Scripture over a peanut butter and honey toast breakfast. That floor has kept me humble. All the times I've bent over it, to sweep up the crusty ramen noodles and the smashed cheerios and have had to scrub away at the sticky syrup smears and popsicle drips. The other night, Brent and I got to do one of my m[...]

The other night, a friend called. She struggles a great deal with fear, anxiety and depression. So, she called to talk. To ask questions. To hash things out. To be prayed for. The thing is, she called me at one of my lowest points. The last few days had been hard for me, too. I’d been bombarded by the same sort of struggles and emotions and I was fighting for my own joy. I let her know right from the get-go that I wasn’t sure how encouraging I’d be. It occurred to me, though, that she wasn’t calling to hear a 10 point lecture on how to overcome fear and conquer anxiety. She was just needing to walk through this with another human being who could understand her and help her in her own battle. Mostly, she needed to know that she wasn’t alone. So, I stepped out the back door and pac[...]

At the farm, we hunt for kitties. And scoop them up any ole way we like. Some kitties are a little more tolerant of our lovins than others. At the farm, we pick peas with Grandma. We walk barefoot through the dirt. We just calm down our hearts a little. And listen to the horse and buggies trotting by. We catch fireflies and wave to the fellas on the tractors. Some of us are a little envious that the Mennonite neighbors get to mow their own lawns at the ripe old age of five. At the farm, we pick blackberries by the fence. Well, some of us pick blackberries. Some of us wait till there's a little bucket full and then we gobble them up when no one's paying us any mind. Then we climb on the fence and let the juice dribble down our chin. Because it's fun to climb [...]

Here lately, I've been practicing a little solitude. And silence. I'm taking a month off of social media. I don't know that I've ever done that before. And Brent and I are taking a month off of our regular show watching activities during the week. We want to talk more. And pray more. Think more. Read more. Listen more. Really see each other, more. Sometimes you just have to shut down the screens in order to actually do that. Last night, we sat on the couch and talked about paint colors for the living room. We argued and laughed. Compared paint swatches and even changed our minds a couple times. It was good for us, just thinking and planning together. We would have missed that if both of us had our lap-tops on. Something is different without all the noise of Facebook and Twitte[...]