To the mom who is just starting out… And to myself. You’re excited about homeschooling. And completely terrified. Breathe. God has entrusted your children to you. Not to anyone else. To you. He knew they needed you. You need them too. You are uniquely equipped to be their mom—to love them, to walk alongside them, … Continue reading Dear homeschool mom who is just starting out…
The sun is just starting to push its way above the horizon, and last year’s fallen leaves are etched in frost. The woods quiver with birdsong, a crescendo that rises as the light becomes more brilliant. We wander slowly down the dirt trail, my friend, my daughter and I. Listening. Absorbing. We met at a … Continue reading The Promise of Life
She sits on the floor, carefully placing socks, toothbrushes and snacks into bags. Her eyes shine with excitement as she creates little care packages. My eyes shine with unshed tears. She humbles me, this little one who is growing up too fast. She humbles me and convicts me and reminds me that we can do … Continue reading Starting Small
Fat drops of rain splash on the weathered wood of the deck outside the back window. They mingle with melting snow, washing away the thick layer of winter grime. It’s the January thaw—a brief intermission before the cold and snow return in earnest. Even inside where warm lamplight pushes the mid-morning dreariness away, the damp … Continue reading Restore Unto Me: When Grace and Brokenness Meet
It’s almost autumn. The mid-afternoon sun is hot, and in the orchard, sleepy cows rest in the shade of an apple tree. Although the tree is old and gnarled, its leaves are still green and plump fruit hangs red. Near the fence, thistles are bursting with wisps of seed waiting to be caught in the … Continue reading (Almost) Autumn Hikes and Room to Breathe
Once again, I sit on the dock and soak in the evening sun. Photographers call this “the golden hour”—that hour before sunset when all the world is bathed in gilded light. And this weathered platform at the end of an overgrown boardwalk is my quiet place, my hideaway. It’s beautiful here. Dragonflies and damselflies flit … Continue reading The Golden Hour
We sit cross-legged on weathered wood and look across the lake. Gentle hills, thick with trees, rise and fall on the other side. And in the water, lily pads rise and fall too. “Dose weaves are walking on da water!” my three-year old exclaims. Last weekend, thunder crashed and the lake churned. Lightning lit up … Continue reading The Rhythm of Rest
