Day 19: Bedtime, round two

“I don’t want to go to bed.”

The shower has been running for 25 minutes. I can hear singing. She hasn’t washed her hair yet.

Speaking of hair—one of the girls cut her own yesterday. And no, it’s not the one you’re thinking. I’m still upset about it. I don’t want to be upset about it.

I’m longing to curl up in my chair and watch TV. But I begged God for this gig!

I hear the bedroom door open and close with a whump; here she comes again. This is the fifth time I’ve walked her back to bed.

“I love you! Sweet dreams!” Please, just go to sleep! Continue reading

Day 17: Freezing time

A dear friend gave me a copy of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts earlier this year, and while my multiple-books-at-a-time habit has kept me from finishing it just yet, I’ve been reading a chapter here and there in the months since. Ann’s discipline of recording God’s gifts inspired me to do the same. I’ve been woefully inconsistent about writing in the gratitude journal I started, but this month’s writing project feels like an extension of it in some way.

I love photography. Maybe even more than I love writing, if I’m being really honest. It’s not something I’ve ever desired to pursue as a profession; it’s a hobby. It’s something I do for me, something I’ve been doing since I was a child with a Polaroid, snapping pictures of my dolls and stuffed animals lined up against the wall or propped up by throw pillows.  Continue reading

Day 16: For cheese pops and Batman

“Dear Lord,

Thank you God for praying. Thank you for beds. And thank you God for all the orange juice and cheese pops. And thank you for your clothes. I just love your clothes. And thank you God for Batman. And thank you God for Jesus.


Daisy is three and a half. Her bedtime prayers often go on… and on… and on. And I should really start recording them, because they are pure gold.  Continue reading

Day 15: Awareness

I didn’t intend to write this today. But sometimes paying attention means letting yourself remember.

Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. It’s not a day I keep on my calendar. I’m not even sure I’ve ever mentioned it before.

I’ve touched on our miscarriage in writing—here, here, and most recently here. It’s not a story I’ve documented in full though, I’m only just now realizing. It feels better suited for sharing quietly with other women in person with tears and coffee, too raw to surprise unsuspecting readers with in a blog post. Continue reading

Day 14: Saturday morning

They turn on PBS Kids with the TV at its lowest volume. The older one at least understands that grown-ups prefer sleeping in on the weekends.

They’re gentlest with each other first thing in the morning, wedging their little bodies onto the same couch cushion underneath a shared blankie.

I hear them making little noises and scoot down under the comforter in response, wondering how many more minutes I can get away with before one of them appears at my bedside with some urgent need.  Continue reading

Day 12: Failure to look

It’s not uncommon for me to share something on a specific topic here one day and be challenged in that exact area the next—a clear-as-day reminder that anything worthwhile that gets tapped out on this keyboard isn’t mine to claim. If it’s good, if it’s true, if it speaks to you, it’s not me—it’s Him.

Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:16-17)

I should have that written down somewhere I can’t miss it. Continue reading

Day 10: Dishes and gratitude

I know I’m behind on kitchen upkeep when there are no butter knives left in the silverware drawer. It always seems like we have more butter knives than anything else. I’m one of those heathens who prefers to cut my food with the side of my fork over bothering with a knife, so perhaps that’s why. (Don’t tell my mom.)

The dirty dishes multiply awfully quick around here, considering there are only four of us. I tell myself it’s because the kitchen is small and there’s not enough counter space, but who am I kidding? The kitchen is a mess because I avoid cleaning it.

In fact, at this moment, I’m sitting at the dining table with my laptop open, in a seat I’ve chosen specifically because when I sit just so, the kitchen chaos is hidden from my line of sight. It’s nice over here. This table is cleared off save for a fresh bouquet from Trader Joe’s and this morning’s coffee cup.

I fight the slip into resentfulness when the time comes to clean up, wipe down, put away clutter my children and husband leave in their wake. This is, of course, completely ridiculous, because I am the Queen of making messes and then abandoning them until a tipping point is reached—for example, running out of clean underwear. Or butter knives.

I sometimes forget that this work matters, but worse, I forget the magnitude of what these chores represent—all I have been given and who has given it to me.  Continue reading

Day 8: Hebrews 2:1

Our sermon at church this morning just happened to focus on a passage that began with this verse:

Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. (Hebrews 2:1)

Pay closer attention… lest we drift away.

The words were for everyone—they are for everyone—but in that moment I knew they were for me. I glanced at Dan, standing next to me, thinking, Did you hear that?! and willing him to read my mind, but his eyes were on the Bible in his hands. Of course they were.  Continue reading