The other day, Brent and I drove into the big city. We went to Chicago to see the folks at Moody Publishers because we had never been and we wanted to thank the team that worked on the book. Now, I don't go to the city much. I live in a little neighborhood across from a great big corn field and I only have to drive a few miles before I'm in the middle of grape vineyards and apple orchards and strawberry fields and a big ole view full of sky. So, as we entered Chicago, I was struck by the strange beauty of all those grey skyscrapers huddled up together and the impressive labyrinth of overpasses and roads. Everywhere, there were just so many people. I looked over and noticed these two men in bright orange vests way up high on the roof of one of the buildings and in my heart, I grasped [...]

I walk slow. Slow enough to really feel my life. Slow enough to notice the asters that have gone to seed. The honey crisp apples mottled in shades of yellow and red. That one fuzzy caterpillar on the leaf. Slow enough to enjoy my kid's wild laughter out there in the yard. To catch a glimpse of Hope's eyes as she runs and the way her hair bounces as she bounds along in her pink Crocs. Slow enough to pay attention to my soul. I've been reading this book where John Ortberg asks Dallas Willard about the one thing he would recommend that could bring new energy into Ortberg's spiritual life. Dallas Willard looked him in the eye and said, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life, for hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our world today.” It's hard to calm ourselves[...]

Each day, we’ve got this rhythm in place. After lunch and a little play time, I lay Samuel down for a nap, and Gideon (5) and Hope (4) head up to their rooms for a rest. Well, they can either rest or entertain themselves quietly. They do this for a whole hour. At least, that’s the plan. I had to buy an egg timer because it didn’t work so well at first. One of them always needed a drink and a snack and the other kept coming out every ten minutes, asking if rest time was over yet. So, I learned after several times, that it works best if firstly, everyone takes a bathroom break. And secondly, I round up a drink and a snack for each of them and set the timer. And thirdly, I threaten them a little that if they keep coming out to interrupt, they won’t get to watch a movie later. This i[...]

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[...]