Skimming over Facebook posts. The night before Thanksgiving. All the talk is about turkeys in the oven and pies cooling on the counter. Potatoes being peeled and cheesecakes setting in the fridge. And I think, “I put my turkey in … Continue reading
One day, we will be given a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of the spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3). We received a taste of this back … Continue reading
In a drawer in my room lies my most prized possession. It rests there, sheltered and protected. My husband took it to a friend to have it prepared to display and I could hang it up . . . display … Continue reading
I had wanted to write something to mark today. I remember thinking that I should sketch out an outline of my thoughts in case I forgot what I wanted to say. But it was simple and didn’t seem necessary. Except … Continue reading
First Advent came and went with hardly a nod. I had wanted to do something. Something to make this time special for my children. Something to help us keep our perspective through this season filled with so many memories. Last … Continue reading
” I can’t do this!” He screams. There’s something in the flushed cheeks, the set jaw, the glaring eyes that cause me to just walk away. I sit on the couch, pull up a blanket and try not to feel … Continue reading
In a hurry, rushing about the house. Bug pours herself a bowl of cereal that could have fed three. LE can’t find her shoes. I’m trying to load the car for a craft show and the hour and a half … Continue reading
Sitting at a concert, only two minutes in and the tears have already begun to flow. I know this song. I’ve sung it with the kids in the car. They don’t really understand it, but it is a bounce around … Continue reading
Children finally to bed. Orders to fill. Emails to answer. Dishes to wash. Laundry to fold. And still I sit and linger over my baby sleeping in my arms. I stroke his cheek, tickle his toes, hold his hand and … Continue reading
Whining, whining, whining. Whining for which I have no patience. Whining that is testing my last nerve. Whining that leaves a little girl wrapped in my arms, head buried in my chest. “I want to go where Tiggy is.” I … Continue reading
I homeschool my children on a small hobby farm in rural Nebraska and write about life more abundantly, from the joy of a baby's smile to the almost unbearable grief of losing a son while seeking beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of the spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3)
