When I was a little girl, I would dress up baby dolls into clothes and push them around in a miniature shopping cart. I would cook them plastic food on my rainbow colored stove and wear little-house-on-the-prairie type outfits because I guess I thought that’s what moms’ wear. I was convinced the most sacred occupation […]
There is a perfect time of day. Somewhere in the space between the sun waning and the first evening chill converging, where the light is a faded gold, like an old photograph, and the landscape is bathed in wonder. Most days, the exquisiteness of this moment escapes me. I am busy with emails, or exercising
I lived my life in emergency mode for so long I almost forgot what it felt like to have some peace. There was always a problem to solve, a sick kid who needed taking to the hospital, a government office who didn’t understand our heart, a mama who needed a hand held while she took
It’s been six months since we left Africa. Six months since I put a sandaled foot on her and breathed her sweet, smoky air after a hard rain. I’m starting to have a routine, starting to have an order to the chaos. I like California. What’s not to like about California? The weather. The people.
Tragedy happens. I don’t believe anyone who woke up the morning of the Boston Marathon believed that they would lose limbs, or worse, loved ones. And yet deeper than the scars on their bodies, the scars they will live with from that day, are the ones on their hearts. And yet many will get up
“How do we stop living like life is an emergency. Something to be sped wildly through.”- AnnVoskamp- I am thankful for the sound of the ocean crash on the sand. Yesterday I did something I normally don’t do. I took a day off. (insert dum, dum, dum, soundtrack here) A mid-week day, mind you. It
Sometimes we have to celebrate our victories in our life, no matter how small they might seem. Like when we say no to a bowl of ice cream. Or hold our tongue from saying that mean word that could wound. As hard as it is to have grace with ourselves, it’s just as important as
I didn’t really think about how different it would be and how hard to face this world of luxury again and not let it seep inside me, to take over my will. As I try to bridge my two worlds of Africa, love, and lack, and the over-abundance of where I live, I feel off-kilter
It’s been a few weeks since I returned from the Justice Conference in Philly. But many of the thoughts, emotions, and inspirations sit with me as I go back to my new existence in America that I’m still getting used to. I’ve been compelled to write about something I’ve been thinking of for a while.
When the mommy brigade takes over Panera with their newborns I want to run. In fact I do run, right out the front door. Tiny heads with tiny hats on them. Little animal-eared sweaters. Most days it doesn’t affect me. Most days I don’t feel like the air has been squeezed out of my chest.
Most people would think that moving to Africa was the scary part. The big leap. But it wasn’t. It was the most natural thing in the world. Moving back to America. This is the scariest thing I’ve done in a long time. Here the fears are loud. Will God provide? Will I become selfish? How
Sometimes the days get dark. The January cold seems to blow right through you. Days where you’re not sure you want to get out of bed, and God seems like a dream you had you can’t quite remember. Transitions can be hard. I don’t think I expected that. Expected to find myself in a new
