Faith, Family, and the beauty of Everyday Grace
welcome to the blog
You
We’re looking for love
We’re looking for connection
We’re looking for acceptance and approval
We’re looking to hang on
We never want to let go
love through generations
You don't know what you don't know.
And I didn't know what I put her through.
My mom waited eleven hours to hear from me. Eleven hours that should've been six, while she was home in Illinois, and I was a high schooler on a January drive with friends, from there to Iowa, to visit my boyfriend's college.
What Good Is It?
Can I be honest?
I’ve been pretty discouraged lately.
Or, more specifically, discouraged with how technology has changed us.
Yesterday, I was in a waiting room and it hit me like it does every time—we don’t talk to each other anymore.
the heart remembers
Words don’t suffice.
There aren’t enough that can express.
A and E, let my heart talk to yours.
You are so adored by your hard-working and fun-loving parents, grandparents, aunties, and uncles: Life will be a great adventure.
Dear Younger Me
May 14, 1985
Dad died in the hospital today. Why, why, why, why, why? Why wasn't I taken instead? Mom, Karen, and the boys could live fine without me. How will any of us survive without Dad?
June 9, 2023
Dear Younger Me,
These are such good questions.
all of God's grace in one tiny face
After I repeated the expression, you told me it brought you to tears.
“All of God’s grace in one tiny face.”
We'd talked on the phone for an hour that afternoon—me swatting bees on the deck of our rental house in Indiana and you back home in Illinois in your comfortable recliner, looking at birds out the window.
the blink of an eye
It happened in a blink, the way these things usually do.
We were babysitting Brett and Abby's puppy, our grandpup; a rascally, endearing, sixty-pound Sheepadoodle named Berkley.
They’re in love with that guy (we are too) and had trouble leaving him for the dog-free overnight they were embarking on.
an ever-present help in times of trouble
My first overriding emotion was embarrassment.
When I heard one say to the other, “It was a domestic dispute,” I felt the blood rush to my face. The emotion immediately following was anger.
“No! You don’t understand. My dad has a brain tumor. He’d never hurt us or our mom!”
Choosing Kindness in a Cruel World
Seeing his arm, waving like a windshield wiper out of his enormous truck, woke me from my buoyant reverie.I was singing along to “Beautiful” by MercyMe, my daughter by my side, and admiring the bright sun, fall colors, and cornflower blue sky when we slowed to make a left.There was unending traffic coming from the other direction so as I waited to turn, I looked into my rearview mirror and noticed several cars backing up behind me. That’s when I spotted the truck driver with an infuriated face, making sure I saw his middle finger pointed high in the air, loud and proud.
a wing and a prayer
Being petrified of flying has its advantages.
Okay, advantages is an overstatement, but there is one reason I'm thankful for my intense fear.
When I'm up in the clouds and my heart is hammering in my chest, I can pray to God for hours on end—which is exactly what I did this past July on an eight-hour flight to Paris.
point to the son
Today is my middle child's twenty-first birthday. Only yesterday, I was dragging myself around the supermarket in tears because it was his first week of kindergarten and I felt like both of my arms were missing. Two kids now in school, and I walked in circles for weeks until I figured out my new normal. Today, this birthday boy is six weeks out from marrying a radiant and vibrant young lady from Canada.