The other day he was building one of his new sets at my parents’ house next door when I told him it was time to come home. But at some point along the route, he lost a piece.
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With our words we bear our souls, say I’m sorry, tell our kids we love them; we fill books and write songs and give speeches and make campaigns.
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I thought a fun, light-hearted post might be in order this week, so I’ve compiled a list of things that are making Springtime a little bit sweeter for me this year and divided them into categories. Some of them are products and others are weekly habits or activities.
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I am she. And here’s how I know. I find this particular season of motherhood both incredibly fulfilling and inexplicably draining. I am guilt-ridden over
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I want to build a world for my kids that is far less scary than the version the news likes to tell us.
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To my fellow stay-at-home moms and dads—we carry the badge of dark circles under our mascaraless eyes, hungry for interaction with humans who can make their own snacks and wipe their own bottoms.
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“Daddy, what are they doing?” Cyrus asked from the gray steps of my parents’ porch as protestors marched past chanting the words, “I can’t breathe.”
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I want to live a life chasing the big expressions of God’s handiwork. I want to count my blessings every day and never come up short. But that’s not where the real growth takes place, is it?
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I’ve been having a lot of dreams about breathing under water. They say that this represents being overwhelmed by negative thoughts, emotions, or uncertainty
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Last week I had one of those days—the one where mid-way through you wonder where things went terribly awry and wish you could crawl back into hibernation and wake up and start again.
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Phone calls at 3 AM rarely bode well. My sister called me at that time when they were driving through Texas on the way to their vacation. My nephew, Whittan, had 3 seizures and
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Not everyone is in a place in their lives where they can be a foster family. This does not mean that there is nothing else you can do. There are SO many ways you can get involved.
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As I sat on those steps, I could feel a shift in the air. The seasons were changing, and it made me wonder if the same could be true for my own.
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Some days I forget to breath until I finally lay my head on the pillow, realizing that I’ve eaten a handful of Frosted Flakes and an on-the-go dinner.
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In the weeks between finishing school and starting my job, I felt an unusual amount of pressure to answer the question, “what did you do today?”
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When I was pregnant with Cyrus, I (like most mommas-to-be) had a lot of fears about motherhood.
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I can’t begin to tell you how much I have thought about this phrase in more than one way this past week. In terms of staying the course, I have questioned whether or not fostering was the right choice for our family. It has wrecked us.
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As I sit in this quiet, empty living room, listening to the faint hum of the noisemaker breathing through the baby monitor, I’m overcome with this deep fulfillment but also an unrelenting sadness.
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Yesterday afternoon, I sat with a dear friend on my front porch, sharing a slice of leftover birthday cake, while she expressed the heartache and frustrations that come with
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