Our latest project is under way! We’re spending seven weeks in our tiny house in the Blue Ridge Mountains, soaking in the beauty of this place in the springtime. We came with big plans,
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I acknowledge that your yes to their life very likely opened up a world of “no’s” in your own life.
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The year Matt and I got married we were completely broke. We were just kids living off of savings, trying to figure out what our lives ought to look like.
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As I sit here at my desk typing out these words, it feels like the only appropriate intro to this post should be a deep exhale.
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Because heaven is about belonging. It’s about being accepted and seen and known and loved like you’ve never been loved before.
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When things are hard, all I want to do is pray for health and happiness and for the burden to be lifted. I want
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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 was told once that we should speak to ourselves like our own best friend.
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It’s a word we throw around so casually but I wonder sometimes, are we really getting it? To know and be known – to love and be loved – it’s the greatest human desire, right?
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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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Light points the way. It warms our souls and takes away the chill of fear and confusion.
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It’s rarely quiet in this house with two active little boys, incessantly climbing and questioning and asking for attention. Yet, I find it is not quiet I crave, but rhythm—
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Darron and I spent the last three weeks in the mountains of rural North Carolina where we bought a little bit of land and a tiny log cabin. This is something we’ve dreamed about and saved for, something we’ve been waiting for until the time was right.
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How are you doing? Have you asked yourself lately? If I’m being honest things have been a bit of a rollercoaster in these parts.
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I can feel it already, and I’m 100% here for it. The Advent season is my World Series, my Olympics, my March Madness…
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Heated debates, political turmoil, another wave—It’s been a week. Heck, it’s been a year. I don’t think anyone would refute that claim. Thankfully this blog is not about any of those things. Which is how we found ourselves, two days before a presidential election, clinking glasses to Ella Fitzgerald at an intimate Jazz Age Murder Mystery in my parents’ cozy home.
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You know how it is in sporting events when things start to ramp up and the coach calls for a timeout? Maybe the players are on the verge of exhaustion or fights are breaking out or their strategy just isn’t working and everyone needs a minute. I feel like we could all use a timeout right about now.
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As my husband Tim laid next to me in bed with a sore throat, fatigue, and body aches, I read Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place.
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It’s been a heck of a year so far with a lot of big feelings attached, BUT we made it to October, which if you ask me, is cause for celebration.
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