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The past couple weeks I have shared with one friend one of the deepest losses in life and with another one, one of the greatest joys. And I find that it is a privilege to know and be known so deeply. To love another human being so much that my heart either breaks or soars with theirs. 
I have also had the privilege in our marriage to know a handful of people who have sat with us in tragedy and cheered us on in our moments of triumph. There were no words spoken; there didn't have to be. A long, firm hug or an "I'm so proud of you" look were all that was needed. And as I think back on my marriage and life, it is those moments I still treasure. 

We are so afraid of emotion, aren't we? As a culture, we freak out when someone is in deep pain or in happy celebration. We want everything to be okay again and "back to business as usual."

Jesus was a deeply emotional guy. We see him crying over the death of his friend Lazarus (John 11). We see the depth of heartbrea…
Recent posts

Lessons from Lunch

Recently, my daughter and I took lunch to my husband at his workplace. He's a re-modeler, so his job site is any home where the crew is currently working. This particular family invited me in and asked if we were going to be staying awhile. Normally, I would just say "oh no, thank you" and I'd be on my way, worried about being an inconvenience. Plus I had brought nothing with me to share so I was too embarrassed to take food or time from them without anything in return.

But I made up my mind this past year to enjoy people's presence for its own sake no matter how anxiety-inducing it may seem. There on their front porch, I decided to silence the voices in my mind telling me to leave and I accepted the invitation to stay. And you know what? I'm so glad I did. The wife and I talked about children, and marriage, and how hard the last year had been on both our families. Then we laughed as we shared that we are both introverts and love our quiet spaces. We played wi…

Body Image

I remember being 6 years old in my dance class. My mom walked out of the parent waiting area and offered me a sip of her Sprite. Two sips in I heard the teacher say from the front of the room, "That's enough. She doesn't need any more sweets. She's big enough." Some of the other girls snickered. After we finished our winter show later that month, I never went back to dance lessons again. 

I remember being 8 years old and my parents had friends over for dinner. The youngest was my age so upstairs we went to play. I sat on the edge of my bed while she ransacked my room. I told her she was being too rough with my stuff. She turned around, poked me in the stomach, and out of nowhere said,"Well at least I'm not chubby." I had no words for her statement but I spent the rest of the evening avoiding her by pretending to help in the kitchen. 

At 13 years old, my best guy friend told me that he would be interested in dating me if my legs were a little leaner an…

Beautiful Things

I grew up with a mom who loves beautiful things. Her room is a treasure trove of drawers lined with velvet boxes of sparkling things to wear, mirrored trays of delicious perfumes to dab on wrists, a bed of feathered pillows to sink into, and a walk-in closet lined neatly with every kind of shoe imaginable. Growing up with her was like growing up with a queen in a castle. 

As I grew into a teenager, a lot of the wonder of my mom's way of life began to lose its appeal. I saw how hard she worked to own all the things she wanted. I saw how much time it took to clean silver, and wool, and delicate hand-painted porcelain. And I started to feel that I wanted to spend my life doing other things with my time. 
My first experience with what I now know is called a minimalist lifestyle, was when I nannied for a toddler whose parents were missionaries. They slept on mattresses on the floor, had only one bowl, one cup, and a set of silverware for each person in the family, and they bought rice a…


There's a secretary desk in my dining room that has been waiting to be fixed and refinished for almost four years. For almost two years after I triumphantly found it on Craigslist, it sat completely untouched. It's been moved from house to house and room to room, waiting patiently. I finally started pulling it apart two winters ago and still haven't managed to paint all of it. Every day it looks sadly at me as I go about doing the rest of the urgent things on my to-do list. Every day it gets pushed back to the bottom of the list. I don't have enough time. I don't have enough energy. I don't have the right tools for the job. And yet deep inside I know I want to do this project and should do this project and will feel so much better once it's done and looking all pretty. 

Sadly, that desk isn't the only project I haven't finished. My daughter's baby shadow boxes, my vegetable garden, my first book, and don't even get me started on my wedding al…


It is a Japanese word that translated means "sunlight filtered through the leaves of a tree."
A word that encompasses all the wonder and beauty of one of my most beloved images. 
In the spring, the leaves are new and bright green and the light that filters through them is fresh and vibrant and whispers promises of new things to come. 
In the summer, the green, filtered light is a rest from the heat and the bustle of life. 
In the fall, the chill in the air and the array of a thousand colors invite us to come and play and be a child again. 
In the winter, the cold breeze blows unhindered through the naked trees, but their absence gives an unhindered view of the layout of the land.
Komorebi in each season of nature is a symbol of a season of my own life. 
Not too long ago I was missing those leaves and missing that sun. Anxiety, insomnia, depression, and awful physical symptoms plagued me until some days I couldn't even get out of bed. It was winter in my life and the ch…

Praying For My Other Half

Something happened in one of our friend's lives recently that made me stop and consider how quickly life can change forever. It also made me realize that sometimes all that stands between our loved ones and a tragedy is our prayers. 
So my heart has been turning over the subject of prayer since then and most specifically prayer for my husband. It seems that I pray for everyone who asks-- close friends, strangers, and missions groups in far away countries. But my husband, the one human whom I share a child, a bed, and a life with, hardly gets any prayer attention. When he does, it's because I'm upset and am asking the Lord to change him. 
I want to change that. I want to become a woman who prays for the most important and probably longest relationship of my life. 
So I went online and found some other women who were also doing the same thing and found some resources to help me stay in prayer for my husband. 
The Better Mom blog has printable cards for 31 days of prayer for my …