Going too quickly…

He comes around the corner, and I catch my breath. It seems with the change of seasons he has changed. Grew maybe. Holds himself a little more like a man than a boy.

I could cry.

His shoes are bigger than mine. I can borrow his sweatshirts. It really is going quickly.

I’ve cringed when people would tell me, “Enjoy it. It goes by fast.” Sometimes I’ve wanted to respond, “Good. I’m tired. I’ve been changing diapers for over 10 years. Let it go on by…quickly please.”

But not today. Not when I have a moment to stop and notice. To look at him. To realize my firstborn has less time left in this home than he’s spent in it thus far.

Is he ready to be sent out? Is he sharp like an arrow? Have we done enough? Taught enough? Prayed enough?

I’m sweating now.

Stop! God loves him more than me. He has a plan for his life. A good plan. I’m sure he’ll struggle. Didn’t I? But I’m also confident God is faithful. To this Mama. To the maturing boy in our home.

“God, help me not to worry. Or be fearful. But more than anything, help me not to miss it! Not to miss one more moment of tangibly watching grace. Of seeing You working and shaping him into who You’ve created him to be.”

“O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am! Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath! Selah. Surely a man goes about as a shadow! Surely for nothing they are in turmoil; man heaps up wealth and does not know who will gather!” (Psalm 39:4-6)



“Artful Mothering”

“It’s the difference between being like and making a likeness. The one’s art, but the other isn’t.”

A kids’ book. And it got me.

When I try to mother according to what she says, or they think, or he wrote…I’ve settled.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10)

We are His masterpiece. Yes, you and me.

What if we stopped looking around and instead looked up? What if His “well done” mattered more than her “Like” on Facebook?

He made me to mother beautifully. It may not look like you do it. It may look completely opposite.

We may homeschool. There may be 5 of them. Our minivan may be nasty. Our meals below par. But if He’s the only audience I’m looking at then nothing else matters.

Let’s live the life God has given us without comparison. Let’s make art not replicas.

And if replicas, replicas of Him only.

Each child is different. So is each mother.

The only thing that’s the same…Grace. And if I believe I have His favor then what else is there to fear?





Grace-filled Margins

She reached her little, brown arm over and pulled me close. “One more minute.” We were on bonus minute 3 of pre-naptime snuggles.

I closed my eyes and pressed my face against her cheek. Breathed deeply hoping to catch one more whiff of the long past newborn scent. I felt her tight curls against my forehead. “Yes, Esther, one more minute.”

Every moment with her is grace. Every moment is grace. I forget.

Food doesn’t feel like grace when I have to cook it. Clothes don’t feel like grace when I have to fold them. Children don’t feel like grace when I’m changing diapers.

But situations don’t change truth. Every piece of each day I call life is grace. Straight from Him.

I haven’t blogged in awhile. There are seasons when He’s speaking to me, but I don’t have the energy to formulate it into words.

Jeremy and I have talked about margins lately. Where are mine?

When life gets too busy grace seems too small. When I take the cross for granted I make grace too small.

Slow. Margins. Gospel. Grace.

He’s freed me not to miss it!

“For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:16)


The long hike down Jockey’s Ridge last week (Notice Esther)!






“If I could, I’d write for you a rainbow 
And splash it with all the colors of God
And hang it in the window of your being
So that each new God’s morning
Your eyes would open first
to Hope and Promise.
If I could, I’d wipe away your tears
And hold you close forever in shalom.
But God never promised
I could write a rainbow,
Never promised I could suffer for you,
Only promised I could love you.
That I do.”

I used to quote this every day to Stephen when he was a baby. Since August 27, 2007,  it’s sat dormant in my heart.

This past week’s incident with sweet Kenan’s fall was a reminder of sorts. And as I whispered in his ear, “I’m so sorry,” the words above came to mind.

I can’t always protect our kids. Not now. Not ever.

And wrecks, stitches, bumps, and bruises…they remind me. Every moment is grace.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.”

Every day is worth celebrating.

I’ve gotten busy and missed it. Forgotten.

Until now…this time of year…when it hits me fresh like the warm summer sun.

Today is a gift from Him. The giver of life. The giver of second chances. Our Redeemer. Our Savior.  And if He was willing to die for me then surely today must be His best for me.

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” (James 1:17)



“I Hate Being a Mom”

It’s nearly midnight. I may never push publish. But I’m writing. Wondering what you will think.

The other day I googled “I hate being a Mom.” Please don’t send me hate mail.

I love my kids. I do. I would do anything for them.

There are people who long to have kids and can’t. There are those who have lost kids.  I’m not discrediting that pain. I can’t imagine.

But I must be real. There are long days here. Really long ones. We’ve covered up this pain far too long with our Facebook pics, “I’m fines,” and cute outfits.

Can I be real? Am I alone?

You see…it’s not the kids that I’m “hating,” it’s myself. It’s the pressure I lay on thick. It’s the way I dread fixing another breakfast and changing another diaper and stopping another fight. Because I’ll never do it just right.

You aren’t the problem. I’m not worried about what you will say. It’s me. The “good mom” inside me that is constantly saying, “You are messing up.”

I can’t be all things to all of them. And if I try you’ll tag me as “helicopter parenting.” But if I don’t try I’ll tag myself as a failure.

Parenting is physically draining. It’s pouring out and going beyond. It’s loving and meeting needs and sacrificing. And somehow it’s an honor too.

I’m overwhelmed.

But He’s patient. He takes me in His arms. Holds me close. Listens to me whine and do unnecessary Google searches. “My approval is all You need. Accept you will fail. You already have. And let me fill you. Carve out time. Let me speak. Be still. Rest. I went to the cross for you. You are so loved.”

Maybe this post will officially push me into the crazy category. Maybe you’ll unfollow this blog. But it needs to be said. We need to hear it. And if confessing my questions and struggles nudges you toward Him then so be it.

Under grace there is no condemnation.

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

He no longer condemns us. We can stop condemning ourselves.

Friend, fellow Mom, you are loved. Today may be long. You may want to crawl back in bed and pull the covers up tight. But He is close. He is loving You. And He calls You His own.

“God, may I please You in my parenting today…not myself.”

Today let’s parent under grace.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:28-31)


Just a typical day in the boys’ room!