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Showing posts from October, 2018

A Labor Not in Vain

Before we had a little boy, we had a slew of sisters - each so different, wired in her own unique way. My firstborn is quiet and inquisitive, almost always content to walk closely by my side. Her little sister is sunshine and giggles, even and especially when she is not supposed to be. A little dark haired heaven girl followed them and her silence speaks volumes of the grace she taught even a decade later. Our fourth pink bundle is joy in every way and hard wired to love everything that breathes and many things that don't. God then dropped a curly-haired firecracker on our porch and she has been dancing until she slings her shoes off every day since, more so if her uptight mother's back is turned.

I'm tight with my girls. My husband is more at ease with a room full of little girls than just about anywhere else. We love being girl parents. Despite surrounding suspicions, our goal was never to "keep trying" until we added blue to our pink sea. And yet, when faced w…

Home is Near

I stood at the end of the boardwalk, slipping my feet into the sandy shoes I had left there earlier in the day. Little ones waiting impatiently at the other end, I was in a hurry to get to the next thing, but the setting sun over the majestic ocean stopped me in my tracks. Immediately, I exhaled. Surrounded by His glory, I felt embraced by my Father in an instant. One glance and He was no longer distant, but enveloping me - and it felt like home.

Scripture tells us sheep know the voice of their shepherd. It is basic and instinctual. No one need educate them on the intonations of his voice nor of his rugged appearance. When he is near, they simply know.

I get that.

Before anyone accurately educated me on the character of Jesus, before I had the opportunity to understand doctrine, before I knew how divisive religion can be, I knew He was near. When life got hard and sin got heavy and dark, He was the light I ran to. Since those steps, I have not taken a single one alone. He's always…

Road to Celebration

Today, I drove the country roads that built me.

Each Sunday, our little family would pile in the pickup truck and travel with eager hearts to visit my grandfather's farm. While other children were seated quietly in Sunday school classrooms looking at flannel boards, I was spinning on the steering wheel of a Massey-Ferguson tractor, captivated by the stories of an old man in overalls on his front porch beside me. We laughed. We cried. We believed about half of his tales, knowing full well he was apt to elaborate to get a louder laugh out of us. Just before we piled back in the pickup truck, I'd lean over him with my pigtails, and let prickly lips plop a slobbery kiss on my young face. I knew better than to complain if I wanted that shiny quarter that was always waiting for me in his pocket. Besides, I wouldn't have hurt his feelings for all the money in the world.

We adored each other - every day of the week.

He died a couple weeks after my eighth birthday. We moved to our …