On Being A Root Giver

I’ve deeply wrestled lately with identity and purpose.  I believe I’m prepared for the road. I’ve diligently studied the map. But then, BAM, there is an unexpected turn or I encounter brambles that pull and tear at my clothing. Here, in the unknown, I turn into a frazzled, frustrated mess questioning each inch of the cartography.  “Why am I doing this?” “Is it even worth it to continue?” “Why is no one here to help me?” “Where am I actually headed?” I’ve long sought to teach the chickadees that there is a great difference between desire and purpose and that is normal and acceptable to question. Doing what we want to do  is incredibly different than doing what we are called to do. For small humans, it is remarkably easy to redirect the want for the should. It might have taken some extra persuasion, but generally those beautiful, big, soulful eyes showed agreement and little hands slipped inside of mine and we fairly easily continued down a path. They grew, and heels dug in more firmly a

Just Hit Accept

Last night, something miraculous occurred. The phone rang. I answered. In the scope of the everyday ordinary it doesn’t sound like much, the act of seeing a call and accepting it instead of sending it to voicemail. She didn’t want to do anything but talk. Have conversation. Fellowship with me over cellular airwaves.  I answered because outside of immediate family, hers is the number set to bypass do not disturb. The phone knows that outside of regular hours, I’ve let her in.  I think she knows it too. She didn’t call for anything in particular; she was on her way home with an occupied babe in the backseat and had an hour.  She called me. I answered. We talked for the remainder of her trip. The big chick and the professor tried to find a movie to watch and wandered in wondering where I was and when I was coming back. Her little bit was occupied in the car seat and didn’t make a peep. I told them to go ahead without me. She let the golden haired angel watch the coveted tablet. For the fi

All Will Be Well

I have a dear friend who closes with  all shall be well . It's a battle cry and motto, but it's also a deep seeded belief. A series of words that she holds to when the sand passes through her fingers or there is no foothold in the wall. She's beautiful and kind and full of Jesus. She loves her family and her community. She brings awareness to what is important to her. She's also not long for this world. It makes my heart squeeze in a manner I'm only too familiar with. Growing up, September was about the roar of that big stadium in Ann Arbor, the crisp bite of a breeze, the cheer in the air. It was back-to-school clothes and waiting at the bus stop and the first hint of the brilliance of the trees. I met new teachers, lost teeth, found a routine, and loved every minute of all of it. Fall was my favorite, and September brought about all of the things that made it so, for she was the promise of all that was to come. Promises are interesting beasts. As kids, we pi


In a year of uncertainty, we've stood together, arms linked both literally and figuratively. But in the spot we're currently in? I'm ready to let go and get all schlumpy. My gracegirl has flown the coop for extended periods, little bit took on the responsibility of a new puppy, and we changed nest locations. Phew. Too many life events in the span of five months. I'm. Exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Worn. Out. I'm not a woman who stops. It's one of my great features and also one of my almost fatal flaws. I go and go and go. Until I'm no good to myself or anyone around me, unless the "around me" includes the public. Then, I'm peachy. I'm "fine". You've heard what that stands for...right? Yep. I'm that. The problem being, that when I'm that I don't like me . I'm a rare bird. I usually like myself. I don't worry about what others think. I believe that stems from riding the short bus,

Always, Always

Motherhood. It's surprising and joyous and painful all at once. It stretches you to elastigirl lengths. Mostly in your heart where no one else can see the bending and twisting that occurs as one comes to grips with the raising of these small (that become big) humans. To My Dearest Chickadees, I've watched you this year, my loves, leaping and soaring and standing precariously close to the edges of cliffs, both physical and metaphorical. I've watched you journey, with abandon. You're both so very very brave and strong and beautiful and kind. I'm not just saying this because I'm your momma and I have to, I'm saying it because truth words deserve to be spoken. I speak truth. Grace Girl, we've had such a year of firsts and lasts. So many, in fact, that I'm downright worn out. I've heard teenagers do that to a soul. But despite it all you are so worth the loving. Worth every second of it. Remember the days when you were smaller than me? Now I


Choose Joy .  Joy? It's a  choice... ... Choosing Joy. It's how she chose to live her live. It's how everyone is choosing  to remember her as she's partying in Heaven.  Lucky. Duck. She's partying in Heaven... Because as the book that Mary Carver penned from Sara's blog (linked above) discusses, it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Or even mostly sunshine and roses. It was real life gritty and uncomfortable. It was painful and messy and downright awful at times  most of the time. Sara chose. She focused on the joy and the laughter and the family and friendships and community. She picked it. Just the middle of all of it she picked  to focus on the good and beautiful. She made a life for herself when others might have wallowed. She did that occasionally, but always came back from it because she never wanted to be "that person". She never was. In the book from the blog, Mary does an excellent job of choosing post

Stepping In

It’s been forever and a day since I last checked in (when I logged into this account it said two years and one day, to be exact). I’ve been preparing the girls to someday take flight, which has consumed minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and, apparently, years. It’s a process that is full of perspective and breathing and growing.   I’ll share more about the chickadees and their process in the future, but these next few posts will focus on different topics entirely. To be honest, I’ve found it difficult to be in an online space without friend requests and boundaries. It’s vulnerable and open and real. I’ve been all of these things, but on a much smaller scale and with a limited audience, so please bear with me as I take baby-steps back here. I am honored to be part of the Choose Joy launch team.  I am.  But honestly? This is hard. Glennon says all the time “we can do hard things”. I hard core adopted that mantra as I geared up to read. The hard is in no way based