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He’s Thirteen.
I’ve been writing about this boy for his entire life. That time he brought me flowers in his grubby four year old hands. His obsession with soy lecithin and BHT that sent our entire family down a new food direction. The lessons he has always been teaching me. If I spend too much time reading back through old blog posts and looking at old videos and photos, I’m afraid my heart will implode and I’ll be a blubbering mess. From his first breath in this world to this very evening when I tucked him into his bed, his last night as a twelve year old boy, Bergen…
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redemption, small scale. (but is there a small scale?)
God can redeem anything. You guys. He really absolutely can. We can have all this head knowledge, right? We can know stuff and say that we know stuff and we can think that we know stuff. And then. Our theology falls painfully short when all the stuff hits the fan. All. The. Stuff. Then we find out in a shameful hurry that our head knowledge just lived up there. It took up no permanent residence in our heart. All head. No heart. All theory. No action. But God is a God who takes bits and pieces that we think are too broken, parts of the whole we think are…
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the weekend report.
It’s that rambling from the weekend time. I took two cups of those delicious sweet strawberries and made my first 2018 batch of strawberry jam – complete with the memories that come with the jam process every year like clockwork. And still in that same old bowl. Goodness, but that jam is delicious. Maybe it’s the nostalgia that tastes so sweet. (That and the copious amounts of sugar.) I also bought our first watermelon this weekend – even though I know it’s not quite local yet. But Mosely has been longing for watermelon for months and we couldn’t resist. Sitting on the porch and enjoying the sunshine, the breeze…
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Five Finds Friday (strawberries and kids who write songs to avoid doing what I ask)
Last week I missed writing this weekly feature because of work deadlines and someone actually told me that they missed reading it that week. Which makes a late night writer like myself feel appreciated – so thank you. funny I live in a madhouse. A circus. A carnival. And like all circuses and all carnivals, when you’re on the tilt-a-whirl you feel pretty good. When the cotton candy is crammed in your mouth in a giant pile of soft purple sugary goodness, it’s all high and no low. Eventually comes the crash, however. Especially when cotton candy stomach meets tilt-a-whirl stomach. My kids are funny. Until…
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A Day in the Life – not so lucky
The day before yesterday Otto found nine four leaf clovers in our yard. NINE. And I found three. (Which beats my life time score of finding four leaf clovers – previously I had only ever found one four leaf clover. In my entire life.) I thought maybe Otto’s luck would transfer over to our whole family. But I don’t know. We drove on a bit of an excursion to visit a dairy farm that provides milk to several local restaurants for a story. The smell of farm air and manure and cow and hay and copious amounts of milk was all very familiar to me.…
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stored up words . . .
Some things. In no particular order. I try to schedule only one or two meetings for work each week. That keeps the load manageable in between homeschool and the pesky fact that everyone in my house (me included) likes to eat at routine times. Plus the additional fact that managing a home takes an actual time allotment. Who knew? At any rate. Last week I broke my rule and had about as many meetings and interviews and appointments as there are days in the week. (More, actually.) And I found myself writing late into the evening and dining out to “save time” and just all around being busier…
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What is there – and what isn’t. What we see and what we don’t.
It’s a funny thing. Perception. What is real vs. what seems to be real. What is true vs. what feels true. What other people see and what is actually going on. What we think we said and what someone else thinks they heard. I’d wager a bet that perception is to blame for most all of our misunderstandings with these pesky things we call relationships from one human to another human. It’s part of the reason why two people can watch an accident and have two different stories to tell after it has happened. It’s part of the reason why two siblings can grow up in the…
Keep Reading . . .
soundtrack of my mind
parenting: the slipping away
Q Bitz Solo: A Timberdoodle Review
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the days.
The stack of stuff to do on any given day is high. The ability for me to focus lately is low. Maybe it’s spring fever or distracted living or too many plates spinning while riding a tilt-a-whirl. It’s not the first time I have felt like this. It will not be the last. They’re all seasons, right? And they all pass. But the nights are finding me too tired to process my thoughts intelligently and the mornings are too early to string sentences together. The days are full of mothering and teaching and business running. Those three situations present some tricky issues for a writer. It’s been a challenge…
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Five Finds Friday (actually four – lyrics misheard and ice cream plus chocolate)
Man. March is ending. The last couple of weeks have been excessively occupied. Here we go. This is just the season currently. (I just don’t want this to be the season permanently.) Of course, if there is one thing the living of my life has taught me it’s that things don’t last. Seasons don’t stay forever. Stuff changes. So what is full force occupying life right now will not be full force occupying life next year. I’m hanging in there – this wild ride. funny Misheard lyrics will always be top of the list funny to me. We’ve talked about them before but recently we came…
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Adventuring with Bergen: An Early Birthday Trip
What a busy busy week it was last week. Even though it was a few weeks early, Bergen and I took off to celebrate his thirteenth birthday. We had to seize our opportunity early because his birthday wish for his adventure was to go skiing. And you just can’t go skiing in the south in April. Shoot, often you can’t go skiing in the south in March. But like a little birthday miracle, not only was the ski slope open for one last week, we actually even had legitimate snow falling all around us. We drove up in the mountains north of Asheville and the snow was…
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don’t stop tucking them in
“Wait,” she says, grabs my arm and pulls me toward her. “Let’s lie here and look for the lightning.” It’s bedtime and the darkness has long enveloped the house and the rain is beating down again. We watch in silence for a few minutes. Then we talk about the movies she wants to see and why Hermione should get some new friends and about unibrows and how to avoid them. Previously, at Otto and PIper’s tuck ins, the conversations were sillier and baby voices were used and giggles erupted and I broke the hard news to Otto that the next day was a bath day. When I…
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Five Finds Friday (fanny packs. green goddess dressing. hats. mug rack. buddies.)
I like sunshine. I like snow too. But the sunshine at the end of the week here has been everything I ever needed, standing right in front of me ….. (Oops. I’m slipping into Greatest Showman songs. It happens more often than you would care to know.) Today is Friday and even though this weekend holds an early Saturday morning away soccer game (which should probably be illegal – DO YOU HEAR ME, YMCA?) I’m still excited for the two days that start with an “S” and represent a change of the regular routine. funny If you live long enough every style circles back around. This…
Keep Reading . . .
teens. parenting them.
back to the grind . . .
oh, the month ahead. and the month now.
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do. not. despair.
I’m watching my girls play soccer at practice and there’s a parade of legging-clad legs, shin guards, hair flapping. It’s cold for March and their hoods are all up and I know the singular focus of foot to ball and the energy spent is something each of my three daughters on that field need, more than they know. More than I know too. It’s been a normal day. The juggling that is this season. A math lesson interrupted by a work phone call. A conversation about a potential story from the field to the farm to the fromage – yes, it’s a cheese piece. Hang up the…
