Open arms

Open arms

Some days life comes at you in a fast, blurry, haze. You have to take a step back before it knocks you down. You adjust your focus and still can’t quite see things clearly. All you know for sure is that motherhood is a series of meals half eaten but never while...
Open arms

A thousand miles

When I came into work on Monday morning my hair still smelled of Sunday night’s campfire. I had washed it, but the smokey smell clung. Tucked into the back woods of Virginia we had cooked up a storm of hotdogs, burgers, boys at their battle stations, and...
Open arms

Tough guys wear pink

When you can’t find a single one of the hundreds of pacifiers you know must be somewhere in your house and your kid is reenacting that scene at the end of The Incredibles where Jack-Jack takes crazy to a super-sonic, fireball of fury level and there is only one...

A painful conversation with my body

My back is not happy with me today. It’s all, “Hey, you, yeah, I’m talking to YOU, lady who doesn’t exercise enough. I am NOT happy with you.” And I was all like, “What the heck? I totally stretched while bending down to put on my...
How kids see color

How kids see color

My first son was born in South Africa. My homeland. My motherland. The place where my heart is buried deep beneath a jacaranda tree heavy with purple petals. Such a tree waits at the top of my parents’ drive to welcome guests. I would take you there if I could....
On Going Easier on Yourself and Your Expectations

On Going Easier on Yourself and Your Expectations

I work full time outside the home. And I have two kids. It’s hard. But for now, for right here in this season, I am certain it’s what God has asked me to do in order to provide for our family. Nevertheless, on Sunday nights I tend to suffer from what I...