begin.

A really special book launches tomorrow, and the fact that I’m part of it is a dream come true in more ways than one. Just six months ago, I had been thinking and praying about our generation’s need for more voices to speak life and truth and practical spiritual application into the hearts of women. More voices pointing

Here’s to you. Yes, you.

Here’s to you, the one who got out of bed this morning. Who put on her big girl panties and drove to work. Who stayed home and made another. blessed. PB&J. Who got outside and ran one more mile. Who cleaned up somebody’s mess. Literally or figuratively. Again. Here’s to you, the one who thinks she’s not making

Starbucks Confessional (I am a freaking hot mess. Now, what?)

I’m doing something that makes me nervous. I was feeling pretty raw and low last week and it spilled onto the pages of my journal. I’m nervous because I know I’m supposed to share it. I wanted to edit it first – but not in the way I usually edit my writing. I could tell I wanted

Unexpected Laughter: the tale of a blogger, a Pakistani, & a hot cup of Chai

“It’s been too long.” More accusations drum in my head: “I should’ve gone over weeks – MONTHS – ago. What will we talk about anyway? I’m a horrible human being. And a worse neighbor.” My insecurity is unrelenting. My neighbor is from Pakistan. English isn’t her first language and I’m a fool when I talk to people who

Did you know… (One thing your child needs to hear today.)

I have this thing I do every so often as I tuck in each kid at night – and Owen’s reaction has become the funniest. I snuggle him close and say (with great dramatic flair, as if I’ve never said this to him before), “Did you know… if God had lined up allllllllll the baby boys in the

Brow lines, belly fat, & broken hearts. (Thoughts about the marks we bear.)

I’ve become somewhat preoccupied with the lines on my face this year. I’d like to tell you I’m incredibly self-assured, graciously embracing the changes in my skin and my body year after year. But that would be a lie. The truth is, I stare at myself for a shameful amount of time. Inches from the mirror, inspecting the changes

Word Crush Wednesday: Gently (+ free printable)

I’m not sure what your week has felt like so far. But I have a little treasure for you. I found it the other morning as my day rounded the corner from “laugh or you’ll cry” to “no just go ahead and cry.” Mamas, we are the ones that have young, aren’t we? Did you catch that? HE

A Dose of Hope for the Weary

The end of the first week of school draws near, and Owen is sent to his room. Again. (For hitting his sister.) (Again.) I open his bedroom door, compelled to scoop him up into my lap. He struggles at first, but I hold tight and whisper in his ear. As I speak, he relaxes into my embrace, and

Room at the table.

“Am I broken as a mother if I’m not sad about my kids going to school? They’re about to start preschool and I’m not crying. My heart doesn’t hurt. It does NOT seem like just yesterday they were born. It seems like 3.5 and 2 VERY LONG, HARD YEARS AGO.” “The more I read blogs &

Sometimes I QUIT. (& you should too.)

I wrote a post yesterday about this being the last week of our Whole30 challenge. I confessed my failure to follow the regimen perfectly and my resolution to see it through to the finish. Just for the sake of finishing. I referenced a beautiful quote: Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it