One time, I wrote this book. I never set out to write it. It's just that when I had my first kid, I decided to stay home with him and teach him about salamanders and rocks and how to read and be a human and since I was lonely, I began to write. I wrote on this here blog and that all began about ten years ago, but about five years in, my friend who had been reading my blog and could see that I was a fairly decent writer said to me, "Maggie. I'm going to go work for a publisher. And I'm going to make you an author." That was her shimmering dream, that she believed God had put into her heart, and so she went and did that. And wazaam. We published a book. People ask me all the time, "How do you publish a book?" And I say, "I don't know, but I think you need a really good friend.[...]

  One morning, I sat on the couch and had coffee with my Hope girl. Well, she had some creamer, with a little bit of coffee in it. I asked her if there's anything she's been thinking about lately. She only just had ten things. Ten very big, heavy things, that made her cry into her coffee cup. Ten things that she's been carrying around in that little tender heart of hers--things that made her feel scared and afraid. Some of those things that had created anxiety in her chest, were words I had said out loud to my friends, about my own fears. I didn't realize she was quietly listening. We forget that us grown-ups can process out loud and then be fine. But, kids absorb and worry. There were some words I had rashly and flippantly spoken, that I had to apologize for. So, w[...]

When I was carrying my first babe, I decided that about six months in, of my belly growing out big, that I would shut the computer down at the office, and clean out my desk drawers and just work from home. Only, I didn't have a boss anymore. And I didn't have any deadlines. Or a paycheck. Or emails to keep me busy. I just had me and my little babe stretching me out, and my house to clean and some food to cook. Honestly, it was overwhelming. I was so tired already. And how was I supposed to know what to do everyday? No one was there to assign me any tasks. No one was around to tell me if I was being successful or not. Well, there was Brent. But, he was figuring out what it meant to have a stay at home wife, so he encouraged me as best as he could, but I still felt a bit lost. [...]

Somewhere along the way, I become a Martha. Do you know what I mean? There's this story in the Bible. It's the story about how Jesus speaks into the lives of two women who are desperate for meaning and peace. It goes like this: Jesus is traveling around town, preaching and teaching and healing folks and Martha, (whose family is already good friends with Jesus and greatly loved by Him) invites Him over to her house. Which amazes me because I rarely invite anyone over to my house unless I'm good and prepared. She must have been good and prepared. The dishes were probably washed and the floor was swept and the windows were wiped down and the toilet was scrubbed. When I do finally have someone over to the house, I'm usually scrubbing the toilet RIGHT as they are walking in the door. [...]

I love my church. It's like medicine for my soul. I get bruised up a lot during the week. I go to church to heal. Maybe you wouldn't know I was healing if you looked over at me. Because usually I'm crying. But, crying is the way I heal. It's this great, frustratingly necessary release. It's funny though because it's really hard for us to get to church. At least, it's hard for us to get to church at a reasonable time. Brent and I had a spat about this on the way to church. Which means that we got to church but we arrived there frowning and ready to cuss. We've learned by now just to go there anyways. And we're learning that we don't have to pretend like everything is okay once we get there. But usually just seeing our other struggling-along friends that somehow managed to make it the[...]

It matters what we do with a year. Let me back up. It matters what we do with our days. With our hours, our little ordinary moments here and there. It matters how we spend them. What we fill them up with. And I don't mean to instill any frantic feelings in us. I've had enough of those. I don't want us to scramble around and try so hard to impact the world and succeed at life, with a frenetic, worried, angsty kind of energy. I know that all too well. It doesn't bring a lick of peace. Just like that ancient prayer writer once wrote in a song up to God, "Teach us to number our days, (to realize the brevity of life) that we may gain a heart of wisdom," (from Psalm 90:12), I want us to be aware that time does move forward and we don't get any of these moments back. So, it matters. [...]

If you’re alive, then you have some things you’re carrying around. Some things that crush in on your heart, that cause you some angst or maybe a great deal of pain, even. Probably things you can’t control, or else you would, and you’re not quite sure what to do with them. In fact, you might be so busy that you don’t even know all the things that are there. You just walk around with this gnawing sense that something is there, always there, and it’s crowding out any semblance of joy you once had and infringing on your ability to relax, ever, and take deep breaths and enjoy your life. Or perhaps you do know exactly what the thing is that’s bugging you, keeping you awake at night. Maybe it’s that one strained relationship that causes your heart to be sore every time you think of it a[...]

Some days start out pretty hard. Well, not hard compared to the friend who is battling cancer, or the neighbor who just lost their job. And not hard compared to the folks who don’t have enough to eat or the ones on the other side of the world who are being kidnapped and murdered by that terrorist group. Not that kind of hard. But hard to you, because there are just things that are difficult in the day to day where you are actually living. You know, with the kids who keep fighting and that one room you had resolved you would for sure finally clean today but for the life of you, you can’t seem to make any progress…on anything. Because soon as you get to work, someone gets whacked with a toy truck and another gets into the treats in the pantry and someone just made a big ol[...]

Isn’t it strange how you can be going along in life, just plugging away at all your regular things you do, like sweeping cheerios and dried peanut butter toast up off the floor, and loving your kids and trying to stay connected to your spouse, all the while this anxious stuff is quietly piling up there inside your chest? At first you're blissfully unaware. Because you’re busy and so you think you’re doing just fine. Meanwhile, you skim headlines on the news and your friend writes to tell you her world is falling apart, and a few friends ask you to do them a favor, and the kids keep making messes and you can’t find that one bill, and you’re laying there in bed at night, tired as can be, but for the life of you, you just can’t fall asleep. And this happens more frequently until one[...]