It’s a Jungle, Not a Petting Zoo
It’s a Jungle, Not a Petting Zoo Our oldest daughter, Maggie, is in Costa Rica with her college friends. They went together to celebrate their graduation. Also, to “play with sloths.” This has been a lifelong goal of Maggie’s. Maggie has walked a favored path. She’s been swimming on the beaches of Venezuela, Costa Rica,…
Gently Mommy Screams: The Wrong Words in Perfect Chorus
“Row, Row, Row your boat gently mommy screams!” If there is anything I love about mothering littles it is there obliteration of the English language. The vandals, our three and five-year-old sons, are champion demolition men, both in word and deed. From the their very own gender neutral pronoun, “herm” for he, she, his and…
Stinking Scared: The Smell of Fear
What does fear smell like? I imagine something comes to mind. Yesterday, the oldest vandal, our son Sam came stumbling from his bedroom. Sleepy hair stood on end, he yawned and scratched his bum. “Good morning Sam.” I chirped. “Mom,” he yawned. “What’s dat smell I smell wook like?” The smell he smelled looked like blueberry muffins,…
Stop the Gloom and Doom! Expecting Jesus to be Jesus
Stop the Gloom and Doom! Expecting Jesus to be Jesus Our daughter Sophie expects good things. When she was about 4, we went on a family vacation to Colorado. While on the grand camping adventure, we took a detour, and rode a train, The Narrow Gauge, through the mountains from Durango to Silverton. As the locomotive chugged up the…
Why I am Not a Fan of Mother’s Day
I have never been a fan of Mother’s Day. Today, the day before Mother’s Day is the 22nd anniversary of my motherhood. Our oldest daughter turns 22 today and graduates from my alma mater, Abilene Christian University. She was in the audience when I graduated from ACU, she was one. And I remember my first…
The Dementia Gospel: Remembering My Identity In Christ
My husband and I made a terrible mistake. We had what some might call a brain burp or a brain-urism. Our identity, the core of “us” was lost. We forgot who we are, we neglected our calling. Justin and I are older… well, I am 45-years-old and Justin is 48. We have 4 biological children. The…
To the Intolerant Jesus Squad, Choir Preachers, Fish Mongers, Toe Tappers, Hand Raisers, and Praise Posse: Play Nice
Be nice… Be not… intolerant. Play nice. Look out for the little guy. Sit with the lonely… Feed the hungry. Care for the sick and suffering. These are the things I told my children. Recently, I overheard the vandals, our 3 and 5-year-old sons, discussing niceness from the kitchen. Charlie explained to Sam, “I haf to…
Welcome to Crazy Town: Voices in My Head, Zoloft in my Cabinet, Jesus in my Heart
If you REALLY believed, you would be free from this depression/sadness/illness. Really? If I believed. You mean, if it were up to me? As if I were the mayor of crazy town. So far in my 45 journey, I have yet to manifest anything too spectacular by my own accord. Granted I have birthed 4…
Patience: How to Organize Thoughts and Feelings Without Losing My Ever-Loving Mind
Ah, patience. A buzz word among women. We either have it, need it, want it, or have given up all hope of ever meeting with it in this lifetime. If I had patience would I have peace? If I had peace would I be more patient? My husband Justin, is a prince charming when he’s…
Lost Marbles, Chronic Illness, & The Father’s Love…
“Baby boy, what are you looking for?” I inquired of our youngest vandal son, Charlie. Charlie was digging deep in a toy bucket, tossing this and that over his shoulder. “Maaawbles.” Fully aware there were no “maaawbles” in the house as they pose a serious choking hazard to our baby foster-love, I assure him, “Charlie,…