Saturday, August 30, 2014


Sometimes you have to do the crazy thing.

You know the one. That thing that everyone will raise an eyebrow or question because it’s out of the ordinary, not the usual timetable, against the grain, or just hasn’t been done before.

I’m not referring to the crazy that’s cool. The kind that gets you noticed and extra points because everyone wishes they had the guts to do it first.

I’m talking about needing to do the crazy that only God can orchestrate. Do the kind of crazy that looks beautiful from above and strange from down here. It’s what the world calls crazy, but we just know it as whispered obedience.

If something popped into your mind and you immediately dismissed it because you assumed it wasn’t big enough or important in the big scheme, take a moment to ask God what He thinks about it. For the kind of wonderful crazy I’m talking about doesn’t judge the size or if it’s understandable to your peers or how it will fit in with others’ plans, but only listens to the quiet whispers and obeys.

Thursday, August 28, 2014


It was a stifling kind of humid this weekend. That’s Texas. It’s a “matter of fact” kind of place. This morning it’s so warm I’m glad I work indoors most days. The air around me smacks of autumn, however, and so I.
We still have this one week before the call of the fall schedule. This one week, to shift gears, let go, and start again.
Sometimes people say, We’re ready! and I think they mean they have all their school supplies and the clothes that fit the season and the growing children. If they mean they are mentally and emotionally prepared, they need to be teaching the rest of us. I haven’t met a mother (or any guardian of a child’s life and heart) that feels ready for such changes.
New school years are like birthdays. As exciting and good as they can be, they are a slap to our nostalgia, our holding on, our parenting hearts.
Almost every single Facebook post with smiling (or eye-rolling) first day-ers this week said something like, “Where did the time go?”
We mark time with these First Days and time is a slippery thief, only slow in grief or illness. Most often, even when seemingly stalled, like at the DMV, time is a future-jumper, laughing and running away and leaving us standing there like our bag was just snatched while we walked along oblivious.
Summer stalls. Time marches on despite it.
Yesterday, I noticed Keegan continuing to shove loose papers into his backpack, as though I’ve taught him nothing. He did this in a few moments while I cleaned and picked up around the house, clanging around in the kitchen, probably messes he made.
I smiled and decided to bite my tongue. It’s the first week. I mean, pick your battles. Life is too short with time doing all that stealing.
Then I snuck the papers out and slid them into sheet protectors.
We ate barbecue. We snuggled on the couch. Played games on the iPad with little brother. We prepared for the next day. We await volleyball tryouts and our first football game of the season.

Every moment shifts, wraps itself around me while I try not to think too much about how we do time. How I miss them during the day. How my heart may never adjust to aging and maturing, and what of theirs? Are they as good as they seem? Will they adjust to school okay? How is it that they can be so resilient? Thank God I have a hudband that is crazy about them and loves to be with them too. Thank God we are trying, so hard, to do right by them, each moment.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014


pinterest. sometimes it's so good that it's too good. other times i find myself mindlessly scrolling and scanning with little interest or inspiration, pinning nothing and feeling otherwise saturated with just more-of-the-same.

but at the end of the day i love that space, i do. sometimes it seems so pointless but there's something so satisfying about collecting images, ideas and inspiration one at a time then going back and looking at the collection as a whole and seeing what it says about what i think, how i feel and what resonates with me. 

so, with that said, here's a pinterest addition of findings.

Thursday, August 7, 2014


Sometimes Pete and I look at each other and trip out. we have four kids. It's crazy how you have a baby, then you have another baby and so on, then suddenly you have four kids.

In one moment I can look at them and think they're so grown up that i can hardly breathe. But then in another moment i see them in such a different light – i see Rip's pudgy hands with dimpled knuckles and sigh in relief that he's still a baby. Or I'll look at Reef and the big boy before my eyes suddenly becomes my little boy curled in my lap with a book.

It's such a push/pull. I want them to grow and thrive and flourish and become who they're meant to be – and it's my life's biggest joy to watch. But i wish i could bottle them up, preserve them as is forever. Or at least slow the clock down. way, way down.

But since the clock seems to be doing the very opposite, i try to soak them in as thoroughly as possible, smother them with smooches and postpone laundry folding in favor of spontaneous cuddle parties instead.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...