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breaking routine …
I like writing every day. (And my general routine is to write after the kids are in bed and asleep. I’ve never been one to keep clear and lucid thoughts at the early rising time so it’s night words for me.) But tonight. Tonight I want to eat the frozen Snickers bar I placed in the freezer earlier for this…
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beautiful & terrible
Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. Frederick Buechner I live in a farmhouse that is over one hundred years old. Things fall apart. Ancient dirt rises from the splintery wooden floors. What starts out as white, seldom stays white. But in this dusty home abide five of the most interesting humans I…
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That Plexus Review
Confession: I stink at follow through right now. (I say right now to pretend that this won’t be a problem in my future. To imply that I have this issue under future control.) So. Here I am. I don’t even know how many days later, writing about my Plexus experience. Day One I drank the pink drink around 2:30 in…
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…..
Tonight I sent my friend this text: What is happening? My life is moving so very fast. And so incredibly slow. I can’t stand the task of cleaning. Particularly bathrooms. I spent an hour cleaning our bathroom recently. And yet. Today it looks wrecked again. Wet towels on the floor. (Sure, it’s hard to hang the towels up when the…
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Kipling Speaks
Our poet for this term is Rudyard Kipling. We’ve been learning about his terribly sad childhood where his parents literally hired a family to raise Kipling and his sister when he was only six so that they wouldn’t be burdened with the responsibility. As an adult, Kipling’s daughter died when she was only six and his son was killed in…
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the six year old that lives here
His knees are brown. And it’s not from being tanned. The calendar says September and our basking in the sun days have faded with the end of summer. It’s dirt. Streaky and stained. The boy is just filthy. Ankles. Fingernails. Knee caps. He’s boy dirty. From running and chasing and frog finding and idea hunting and game gathering. It’s the…
Keep Reading . . .
the weekend ramble (1. a mouse 2. a race 3. a whine)
cliff’s edges.
you’re worth it.
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there is no profound here.
There are some nights when the right words – or the wrong words – just don’t arrive on time or in any sort of tidy fashion. Some days you’ve just used up all your speaking and all your feeling and all your you before lunch time even arrives. And when that happens, you find yourself waiting. In word limbo. Sometimes…
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my answer.
Dear Kids, Will you grow up and look at me one day and ask, Mom. How did you do it? There were so many of us. You were outnumbered by lots. We had so many sticky hands and dirty feet and frogs in our pockets and demands in our voices. What will I say? What can I say? I think…
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(hey momma, in case you’ve forgotten …. )
There are days we feel as if we don’t matter. I think, as moms, we really can tap into these negative feelings easily. I was texting with my friend Hilary. And I was reminding her of how I see her – of how much I think she matters – (and I really really do) when I was suddenly reminded of…
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dichotomy
I can hear them from where I sit. Downstairs. On my bed. I’m typing and tears are in my eyes. Carrying the heavy in my heart and across my wrinkled forehead and all alone in this bedroom made for two but only hosting one. Their laughter is sweet. Their game play is kind and momentarily all completely happy and universally…
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tuesday.
Days have been too busy to have very much sit-down writing time for me. With homeschool (and maybe all school) you not only have to fight against spring fever, you have to fight against fall fever. I think fall fever is harder to beat than spring fever. (But that’s probably only because right now it’s fall (ish) and so whatever…
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marriage, that old couple
I still believe in marriage. Is that a weird thing to say? I still believe in the picture of Christ’s love for His people that marriage represents. In fact, I believe in it more today than I did last year. If marriage was entirely for our own individual glory or pleasure, if the picture of marriage was to bring honor…
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rolling the dice
It’s practically feeling like autumn here. And that’s a gift that’s right on time. This weekend our family has experienced the gift of generosity and thoughtfulness and care and provision in new and humbling ways. My heart is overwhelmed and trying to keep up. (It tends to drag a few beats behind me lately.) There are a lot of days…
