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 [...]

So, I'm kinda addicted to the internet machine. Because I really like Facebook. And email. And my favorite blogs. And there's always something entertaining on the Youtube device. And Pinterest is intriguing but then it always makes me really hungry. And angry. Because I never seem to have all those ingredients in my kitchen. And there's this thing I've noticed about myself. This thing that I do that I don't like when I notice myself doing it. I often come to the computer looking for love or fulfillment or something. I know that sounds strange, but do you know what I mean? Like, I click on my email box to see if there’s anything in there that will help me feel significant. And then I check my Facebook to see if someone has posted something that'll make me laugh or if enough people[...]

Dear Samuel, You’ve only been living here with us on this tilted earth for one full rotation around that blazing sun and I’m already having troubles remembering what our life was like before you came. Actually, I don’t even want to think of it. You’ve brought so much happiness here. I remember when you were just the tiniest thing and you’d cry at night so I’d pace the bedroom floor back and forth and back and forth when everyone else was asleep. I didn’t even mind so much. Because I knew you’d get big soon and you’d be sleeping through the night and a momma only has so long to hold her tiny son. You’ve got the most amazing smile. And your eyes-- they’re chocked full of light! You were the first of our kids to laugh at such an early age and you’ve laughed a little bit (and ofte[...]

Dear Believer, I know you want to know your Maker. You’ve got that ache, deep down, to just sit still beside Him and hear what He has to say. And you’re tired of just gathering up a bunch of facts and instructions. You don’t want more knowledge, mere chapters and verses to stuff in your already information-overloaded head. You desperately want relationship. To somehow come to the words of God and meet with the Word Himself. But, you’ve got that check-list and it seems like you should just sit long enough to do your duty and cross it off and go on to the next thing. Your Bible has gotten boring. And it’s not exactly helping much. Before you give up, reach out and grab hold of my hand for a minute. I'd like to help if I can. Now, I grew up mostly Christian. I say mostly b[...]

Some days are darker than others. Today the sky skuds up with clouds and while I'm thankful for the rain, I wrestle with angst. Because on my insides, in here in my heart, I resonate with the sky--an endless stretch of gray and a little foreboding, too. Headlines can do that to you. I've read plenty of heart-break this week and honestly, I don't know how to live between the lines. Those lines that hem us in on all sides here--all the joy on the one hand, running right alongside all the pain. So, I sweep up yesterday's grime off the kitchen floor and I cry a little. And then I glance over at my kids with their eyes brimming, an eager exhilaration, and I listen as they tell me what they want to learn this school year. Gideon, he wants to find out how trains work, and jet planes and rac[...]

Over the next week or so, I plan to post a few synopsis' of my book. The first one comes from my friend Jeremy Allen, whom I have a deep respect for. Jeremy is insatiably curious. He is a researcher, professional photographer, map lover and sometimes poet. After 32 years in the Christian faith, a tour in the Army irrevocably shook his faith. As an agnostic he now pursues graduate studies in philosophy and social theory. You can find out more about him here, at Eighteen Chains. Maggie is a spirit full of the world’s wonders. The dirt in her sink, the snowflakes on her kids’ faces, and the farthest corners of the universe do not escape her delight. Her heart bursts onto these pages in word-images bright as the sun. But Maggie knows darkness, too. She experiences tra[...]

About a year and a half ago, a bully came to church. Now, he was small. Like maybe three, but he was in Gideon’s Sunday school class and he was mean. Gideon has recounted the day, in vivid details, many times for me. “Momma, his eyes looked like this,” (glares eyes) “and his face looked like this,” (squints eyes and shows teeth) “and he sat on top of me and I couldn’t get up.” “He just kept getting me. I didn’t have time to ask for help.” “He didn't get my cupcake, though. I don't know why he didn't try to get my cupcake. But, I'm glad he didn’t eat my cupcake.” And even though that bully only came to church, like once, from that moment on, Gideon wouldn’t set foot in another Sunday school class. Pretty much he wouldn’t go anywhere without us. And there was no speaking log[...]

Gideon walks around the house singing, well, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Everyone knows about ME!” I think he wants to be famous. I shush him because his little brother is trying to sleep. And then I wonder how in the world a momma is supposed to teach her boy how to be humble. I even get confused myself sometimes, what humility really means. Because there is this certain sort of longing inside all of us. An ache to be known, for our lives to count. For the things we work on to matter and to make a difference, a lasting impact in the world. And those longings do seem to be innate within us. But, how do we know when we’ve crossed the line, that thin small line between God given ambition and pride’s ugly practice? Now, I can pretty easily detect it in others. That annoyanc[...]

I love trees. They are good for our souls, me thinks. At least, there have been some trees in my life that have been a great comfort and solace to me. And I know I’m not the only one. There was this young Jewish girl, Anne Frank, who died in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. You most likely know her story already. Before she died her and her family hid for a little over two years in a secret room upstairs, above her family’s business. I feel sad when I think about her sufferings. How she couldn’t even go outside. No running in the yard after lunch. Or walking over to the ditch to pick wildflowers or check on the wild blackberry bushes. There were a few times at night when she would sneak up to the roof and look up at the stars, but she wasn’t able to do this much. [...]