My kids were sick a few weeks ago and had to miss church. I lay quietly on the couch stroking my daughter’s hair as fever felt like a sunburn, hot and sensitive across her skin. There was an inner exhale. It was Sunday. Today, I didn’t have to overthink my outfit. I didn’t have to hustle or prep my kids alone. Today, I didn’t have to worry about ...
We were childhood friends, college roommates. We shared the carpool lane on our commute and were coworkers in ministry. We were best friends. At least I thought we were. I remember the last conversation we had. She needed space. I needed approval. She needed space. I demanded answers. That conversation was nearly fifteen years ago, and we haven’t ...
It’s okay to be sad. When airport runs are nearly done, and the tree is crisp with dead needles, it’s okay to be sad. When the hallways are silent and the night is still, it’s okay to miss the scurry of little toes and cheerful giggles. When the rush of church services and the hustle of wrapping is done, we can feel like the leftovers in the fridge ...
I’m not one to decorate for Christmas in October, but this year I casually suggested we buy our tree early. My heart has been aching for Christmas. I don’t mean the cookies, lights, or parties (although I certainly love those things). I mean I’m longing for Jesus. I need the soul reminder that a Savior came to save us. I’m yearning for hope in my ...
I haven’t been alone for months — like really alone. Driving to Target or filling up gas or transporting groceries from the car to the fridge kind of alone doesn’t count. I haven’t been away from the noise, chaos, and needs of little children in so long. Now that I’m here, alone, I can’t stop crying. If my tears had words I would tell you that I ...
Last week I left my baby girl, Mea, in the car. I was rushing from school to practice and my schedule was jam packed. I turned off the engine, tossed my keys in my purse, shut the door, and was annoyed that my big kids weren’t hustling. I had one foot inside the supermarket when I turned around to see my nine-year-old son carrying my baby girl. I ...
Most nights I lay awake in bed rehearsing different conversations I had throughout the day. I worry if I said or did the right thing. I calculate and rethink what I should or could have done. I wonder why someone didn’t text back. I toss and turn making plans to fix things tomorrow. Most mornings, my mind is running even before I open my eyes. ...
Eleven years ago I gave birth to my son, Manoah. On the day he was born, I made my mom a grandma. The baton of motherhood passed from her hand to mine, and we now held the same name — Mom. I remember seeing her eyes glow as she held my son, perhaps the same way they did when she held me decades before. Only a few days later, I pulled up to my ...
People told me there would be all-nighters. I was informed that when my milk came in, my breasts would feel like bags filled with rocks. I knew I would bleed for days after giving birth and my belly would be like jelly for, well, forever. Everyone told us to eat out as much as possible, go on a babymoon, go to the movies — all of which we did. I ...
