Oct 15 2016


Light at the end of the tunnel.
It’s an interesting phrase, cliche, concept, and reality.
I remember spending months and years wondering why every light I would see would end up being a train to pummel me rather than the end of the tunnel.
Just when I would glimpse hope or joy, my life would come crashing to a halt again.
The pain and the sorrow, the tears and the utter devastation.
I kept thinking, I can never survive this again. If it happens again, it will kill me.

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The thick shadow of death’s valley was my home for ages.
And to be honest, I can not put my finger on the time when I felt like I was suddenly out in the light again.
Out of the tunnel.
There was not a time where I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and suddenly realized that it wasn’t another train.
There hasn’t been a moment where I finally notice the darkness is dissipating and I’m almost out of the shadowy tunnel.

But here I am.
I turn around, and I look back, to see that the tunnel is behind me.
That particular dark journey of thick shadows and tunnel vision is over.

Although I did not know it was coming, or perhaps it was simply that I was afraid to hope against hope and chose the path of denial…
I can tell you now, there was light at the end of the tunnel.
I know because I’m there now.

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To be real, frank, & honest, I haven’t come very far out of the tunnel.
It’s not like I’ve journeyed away.
I still stick my toes in there and dance around the opening.
Sometimes I do it on purpose.
Other times, I simply look up to realize I tripped and somehow ended up inside the tunnel again.
But I stay close to the open edge now – I don’t want to get sucked back into the deep darkness.
If a train is coming, I want to be out in the open so I have a chance to jump out of the way.


So here I sit on October 15th.
It’s Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day.
And I specifically purposed not to buy balloons this year.
I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because the tunnel feels too close right now.
Maybe it’s just because I want to feel like I’m making decisions I want to make,
rather than just continuing with a tradition because, well, it’s tradition.

I didn’t used to believe I would ever come out on the other side. I didn’t know how it would ever be possible to “move on.” I disagreed that I would ever reach a light at the end of the tunnel. I clenched my teeth and sighed to myself when someone would tell me, “there’s always hope.” Honestly, a lot of cliches (true or not) made me want to smack something or someone.

But here I am.
There really was light at the end of the tunnel.
There really was hope.

I have full confidence now that if God did not want us to have another biological child after Gabriel that He would have had a different perfectly wonderful plan for our family. But in all honesty, I did not have that confidence at the time. Everything looked bleak from my perspective back then. So while I know now that God would have been faithful, no matter how black life looked from my unfaithful perspective, I understand from experience that you can not see rainbows when the storm is thick & raging so you can’t even see six inches in front of your face.

But today I am wearing my unwieldy necklace with thirteen metal nametags.
Simeon loves the jingle jangle it makes when he plays with it.
Evangeline likes to find her nametag and read it to me.
The big boys like to read the babies’ names, and ask me their order.
These kids know our family is bigger than it seems.

Life is not what I imagined it would be.
(Me with my dreams of three in diapers.)
But life is good.


Crying used to be a form of daily exercise for me. It was that exhausting.
I would bawl my eyes out in the shower each night because I knew it would limit anyone knowing how broken I was.
I used to think I would be drowning forever, that the nightmare would never end.


I know that I’m not longer held in the throes of deep, dark, ugly grief.
But how in the world did I survive that nightmare through to this other side, called “someday”?!
Grief is horrible. It is caused by horrible things, and it in turn can cause horrible things.
I didn’t know that, in time, it could also cause something beautiful.
I didn’t realize that “beauty from ashes” would look this way.


Grief was exhausting. Not just the crying parts.
But the mourning.
The ache and pain and physical manifestation of internal, emotional, spiritual devastation is horrible.
Just surviving hurt.
The life of being a mama to four little kids, and the underlying pain I have in my physical body on a daily basis still make me exhausted and I still deal with daily pain.
But it’s different. Lesser, somehow.

Mommy-exhaustion from my four miracles is less exhausting than grief.
Grief was a full-time job.
And that’s no exaggeration.
I spent years just enduring.
Ask anyone who has dealt with chronic suffering of any type.
Enduring isn’t for the faint of heart.
I don’t know how people do it without Christ’s strength.

I was telling another loss-mama just this week how encouraging it is, not only to be on the other side of the dark tunnel,
but to be able to better see purpose in my grief.
And not just for myself.
It is good to know that God has woven beauty out of the ashes for my own family.
For me.
But it is even more amazing to see how God allows me to share that beauty with others.
Romans 12:15 and 2 Corinthians 1:4 sum it up pretty spot-on for me.
I love to be that other woman who pulls you through the muck, because I used to be there too.
I love that God urges me to send books and make jewelry for other women whose babies have died.
I love that He lets me burden-bear for grieving women around the world.


So for PAIL Remembrance Day today, I want you to know…
I have been there. I get it. Me too. It sucks.

But I also want to gently tell you that while I don’t know God’s plans for my future, or for yours, I do know with confidence that He will be faithful.
He delights in bringing joy and peace to His saints. He rejoices over us with singing.
He is our keeper. He is the shade at our right hands. He doesn’t slumber or sleep.
He knows the beginning from the end, even when all we can see is one moment of dark, tearful despair when it feels like everything might as well be over.

The story isn’t done yet.
I’m praying in whatever chapter is next, His pinions reach you in a tangible peace.


Sometimes when I think about my babies in heaven, it knocks the wind out of me.
How much I love them.
How terribly I miss them.
How often I wish others knew about them or acknowledged them.
How happy I am in life now, even though the tunnel of grief is still visible and touchable.
Yep, even that.

There are times when it hits me so much harder than I feel like it should.
But I’m a mommy.
And those are my sweet babies.
So maybe it’s just that my brain doesn’t realize fully that it should hit me hard.
Being bowled over by the mixture of love & grief isn’t out of the ordinary.
It’s normal.

You know how moms start talking about their kids? They go off on a dozen rabbit trails, and sometimes you glaze over and think about how you can’t pay attention to another single tangent about this woman’s kids?
I feel like that at the moment.
I feel like I got started talking about my babies, and went on a few tangents and a bunch of rabbit trails, and I just realized that your eyes look glazed over.

I am their mommy. They are my babies. You will never know how much I love them, how deeply I miss them, how proud I am to be their mommy, how thankful I am that God gave me these babies.

Covenant Hope, you made me a mommy first. You were the first other soul ever to inhabit my body. I never got to hear your heart beat, but I felt you living inside of me. You are something super special. You are the big sister that Gabriel forever talks about. You, in the palm of my hand, with your precious limbs and that perfect little umbilical cord and the deep blue where your eyes were forming ~ I think of you and the one short evening I got to spend with you outside my womb. You are the one (of my thirteen!) that I have taken camping. Those were horribly painful memories for such a long time, but I love that those memories now make me smile. Your daddy and I got to take you camping.
Glory Hesed, you made Gabriel a big brother first. You would have been just eighteen months apart, and I often imagine the level of crazy you would have added to our home. It makes your mommy smile. I remember the days when I walked around with you underneath my skin.
Promise Anastasis, you are my summer rosebud. Your life gave me hope. I love that I can now look ahead to the resurrection, when I will see you again. I remember holding you. I remember the world caving in around me. I think it was when I said goodbye to you that I found myself in the tunnel-that-had-no-end.
Peace Nikonos, there is so much I remember about being pregnant with you. I remember every detail of delivering you into my hands, too. It has been seven years since you were knit inside me, snuggling in my womb. You came on an airplane with us to the East Coast. You are one of the few babies who had a chance to hear the voices of your paternal grandparents and even great-grandparents. Besides Gabriel, yours was the first heart we got to both see and hear beating. The immense comfort and delight of that was indescribable. I remember thinking you were a strong fighter, and that’s how I think of you. Fast and strong. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I never once even considered that you weren’t my son.
Mercy Kyrie, a little one who came along with me for a jump into the deep end of immunology treatments. I was surprised to learn you were growing inside me, and overjoyed. We spent an entire holiday season with you in my womb, and the joy and peace and hope you brought to my soul were deliciously addicting. Your grandpapa brought me a bouquet of flowers one day when we had good news about your health. Christmas that year suddenly felt redeemed. I think of you when it snows.
Victory Athanasius, you make me speechless. I remember when we named you, it specifically stands out to me for some reason. And saying goodbye to you. I remember the day keenly. So does your daddy. Again, you specifically stand out to us. The seventh child to inhabit my body, I love to think of you as a dancing victor.
Hosanna Praise. My son. I remember when your grandpapa called and confirmed you were a boy. It knit you more deeply into my heart than I could ever tell you. There’s something about a mommy and her boy. I remember carrying you in my belly. I remember taking you to Mexico. I remember seeing you on ultrasound and loving to watch your heartbeat. Your ultrasound photos might be my favorites (shh! don’t tell the others!). I named you Hosanna as soon as I found out God was knitting you. I didn’t know the number of your days, but I knew you would forever be my Hosanna. And although God’s plan is different than mine would have been if I had been the author (and everyone is thankful that Mommy isn’t, by the way!), I am thankful He heard our cries to save you. I’m thankful He is your Savior and your Lord. When I think of my sons, you are always there in the corner of my mind.
Heritage Peniel, you are the sweet little girl who made Evangeline a big sister. You and I shared blissful joys, baby. I saw you numerous times on ultrasound. I loved every piece of you. I still do. No bigger than my thumb, you were the most beautiful little thing. Holding you in my hands broke my heart, but at the same time, it was one of the best days of my life. That’s weird to admit. It was a horrible day. But oh! I’m so thankful I got to hold you. And kiss you. I miss having you running around in your big sister’s wake, wearing her old clothes, sleeping together in a pink and grey room full of flowers. Even though you are my January sweetheart, when I close my eyes, I envision you with peonies and lacy bonnets. There isn’t a doubt in Mommy’s mind that you would have been the quiet little freckle who could never quite keep up with the firecrackers.
Fidelis Se’arah, my wee faithful babe. Another little May blossom. Plucked too soon. Blooming fragrantly in heaven. You took my breath away. I still catch my breath when I think of you. You remind me that there is Someone who is faithful in all things, all times, all ways. You were the darling who pushed me to the end of a rope, and who gave me the courage to fall.

remembering today,
October 15th, 2016
with much mommy love for my nine xxx

2 responses so far

Oct 06 2016

Big Kid Joys

I love babies. My mom might smile and tell you that’s largely because I’ve had “easy babies.” But let’s be honest: to at least a certain extent, babies are babies, and babies are also honed by the hard work of their mama. So while God definitely did give my babies their blessed personalities and natures, He also has used the hard work of my hands, my time, my tears, my discipline, my prayers, my tactics… It’s not like they have grown up into “easy kids” in a lot of ways. So I think it might be safe to say that I’m GOOD at babies. I’m not quite so good at the preschool season. Not yet anyway. I am praying for grace to get there! :)

There are lots of joys that I can easily place my fingers on when it comes to my baby. Each one of my four children has brought me immense joy, and there is nothing I have loved (yet!) more than their babyhoods.

Perhaps that is one reason that I struggle emotionally with having the baby years closing behind me. In another couple of weeks, my baby will be a year old. That is, officially speaking, the end of infancy and the beginning of toddlerhood. This is the first time I’ve come upon a child’s first birthday without being/having been pregnant again. It will be the first time I have celebrated a child’s first birthday without the huge shadows of grief & fear. (I was pregnant with Promise on Gabriel’s 1st birthday, and had just miscarried Glory shortly prior; I was pregnant with Evangeline on Asher’s 1st birthday, and utterly terrified; I miscarried Heritage just two days before Evangeline’s 1st birthday, and was grieving immensely the death of her baby sister.)

Now the only shadow I sit under is the unique heaviness I feel upon knowing that this is the last time I will celebrate my child’s first birthday. (Praise the Lord for the hope of grandchildren!) I have had so much joy with my babies.

But here’s the thing I want to emphasize: there are going to be so many big kid joys in the future.
And this is one of the things I am just now discovering.
Perhaps it is because my friends’s kids, and my nieces & nephews are largely younger kids too. With a couple of rare exceptions, the folks we tend to hang out with on an intimate level are either in the same season of life we are, or are even a step or two behind us on the path.

And I need to know that the biggest joys of motherhood are not exclusively behind me.
Because, in all honesty, that is one of my big temptations, one of my big fears.
The baby years are familiar to me, they are joyful and comforting and deliciously sweet.

I am only barely beginning to see what some of the future joys may be.
The challenges of the older years seem to express themselves more easily.
I know there are hard times ahead. (Oh boy. It looks like menopause may intersect with puberty… that will be fun.)

So I need to start writing down the big kid joys as they come.
I need to look ahead with happy hope.
I need to laugh at, rather than fear, the future.

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I need to remember that resurrection follows death, in God’s economy.

Live the gospel in the things that no one sees. Sacrifice for your children in places that only they will know about. Put their value ahead of yours. Grow them up in the clean air of gospel living. Your testimony to the gospel in the little details of your life is more valuable to them than you can imagine. If you tell them the gospel, but live to yourself, they will never believe it. Give your life for theirs every day, joyfully. Lay down pettiness. Lay down fussiness. Lay down resentment about the dishes, about the laundry, about how no one knows how hard you work.

Stop clinging to yourself and cling to the cross. There is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone.

~Rachel Jankovic~

Yesterday, my 8 1/2 year old (who is, by the way, beginning now to show me lots of big kid joys!) came grocery shopping with me. Now, that’s not unusual. But the unusual factor is that we did not have the 4 & 3 year olds with us. Simeon rode around the store strapped to my chest, I led the way with list in hand, and Gabriel took the initiative to choose a cart & push it along behind me. He was very intentional about letting others go first, about being a gentleman, and about jumping in when he saw an area to help. We talked about math a lot while we were shopping; figuring out which were the best mozzarella and parmesan purchases to make, based upon price per ounce, for instance. We did a good bit of math in our heads but also pulled out the calculator on my phone to help us with minutia.
But the biggest joy to this mama’s heart yesterday hit hard when he pushed the cart into the checkout line for me, while I ran back to the baking aisle to pick up a bag of powdered sugar. When I came back to him, he explained that he did not want to load the groceries onto the conveyor until the older woman in front of him was out of the way, because he wanted to give her space; but then he did not want me to lift a finger (except for the 17lb pumpkin…) because he wanted to do the heavy lifting. :)

He did not wait to be asked to help. In fact, he did not even ask if I wanted him to help.
He simply saw an area where he could help, and his servant-heart jumped into gear.

There also was not a bagger at our checkout line, so Gabriel helped bag things and placed every single bag into the cart.
By the time we reached the car, and it was time to buckle in his baby brother and help me put all the bags in the back of the Pilot, I was bubbling over with happy, humble thankfulness. To God and to my big boy.
I told him so.
And then when given the option of two “rewards” of a sort (two different reward systems we’ve got going on currently), he chose the option that would also affect his siblings, rather than the option that would only affect himself.

These are good things. They are big deals in the moment. (Sure, I understand they are not huge in the grand scheme, but my prayer and hope is that they will lead to huge good things in the bigger picture of our future.)

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There are also big kid joys like bowling league. Ballet class. Kids following their daily activities lists without me needing to micro-manage every hour of their day. Kids who basically fight over who gets to help Mommy set the table or wash the dishes. The joy of being able to play Carcassonne with my son, rather than always needing to play Chutes & Ladders; of being able to play real Monopoly, rather than always the Jr. version. The joy of watching my son both tithe & serve in a worship service with a happy countenance and willing heart.

Oh. And losing teeth. That’s a uniquely big kid joy, too. 😀


There are definitely joys behind. These moments and memories will remain dear to my heart.
But knowing that there are joys ahead is a huge encouragement & blessing to me.
Experiencing the firstfruits now gives me hope for the future.

I so truly love the season of life where my sweet little branches develop beautiful, strong buds.
But now I am beginning to see the beauty of the buds opening, and the petals beginning to open little by little.
And I have hope that when the blooms are fully open, the true fruit will begin to show itself.
And someday, oh someday… those fruits will come off this tree… and I want to have joy & thankfulness about it…

So cheers to the future! Watch me embrace the next phase, as we move into big kid joys.
May God be my strength and establish my roots,
so that the sap is flowing thick & sweet for nourishment all around.
The roots are deep.
The buds are beautiful.
I can’t wait to taste the fruit.


2 responses so far

Oct 04 2016


October has always been one of my favorite months. In fact, if I had been a more patient woman, I would have waited an extra five months to get married just so I could have an October anniversary! But as it happened, seven days post college graduation was all I was willing to wait. (No regrets, by the way!) I had often prayed for an October baby (and an April baby, incidentally), and what’s interesting is that in all of my pregnancies, I never had a due date or a loss date in October. I did have some bad-news days in Octobers, particularly when carrying my sons Peace and Hosanna, both who died in early Novembers. And then the icing of the cake was the delicious joy that God (somewhat unexpectedly) gifted me with Simeon in October.

And now, just a few days into this beautiful month, with its cold nights and crisp days… days for wearing boots & scarves & sweaters… mornings that beg me to bring in an armload of wood & stoke a fire… bellies longing for soup and fresh bread…
Now, on October 4th, I can’t stop crying. No anniversary of anything specific. Not even the 15th, which is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. It’s simply a random day.


A day of blinding grief.

I can not explain why. It simply is.

Most days now, I am so busy with focusing on what is right in front of me each day that my grief is faded into a dim shadow behind the hills. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of it. Sometimes it is like a cloud that filters how I see things on a given day, but it doesn’t fill the entire lens.

But there are occasional days where the grief is simply blinding. I wish I could put sunglasses on so I wouldn’t be walking around squinting, with tears running down my cheeks.
Today is one of these days.
The bright, sharp pain of grief is everywhere I look today.

It is in my bedroom. My bathroom. My kitchen. The bread rising in the oven.
It is in the knowledge that the house where I miscarried seven sweeties is being sold.
It is in these precious freckled faces all around me.
It is in the sound of Simeon’s cries.
It is in the ache of a womb that wishes it could be filled again.
It is in the frustration of not having a moment’s peace & quiet.
It is in the silence I feel when I hold Heritage’s box in my hands.
It is in the meal I am making for a friend who just had her sixth child.
It is in the load of diapers I have rinsing in the washer.
It is in the necklace around my neck with nine little crystals.
It is in the necklace that sits in my jewelry case, because honestly the thirteen tags on it have simply become weighty & awkward.
It is in the canvas I ordered today of my family of six. Only six.
It is in the nervousness I feel as I anticipate meeting new people at a homeschool co-op, and realizing I once again get to introduce my family & our life story.
It is in the ache of my muscles and the chap of my lips.
It is in the wrinkles on my hands and the grey in my hair.
It is in the songs I sing and the prayers I say over the four little red heads around my table.


It is not as predictable as the path of the sun.
It’s about as unpredictable as the weather.
I have come to understand it and live peaceably with it, as a dim and distant part of my landscape.
But these days of blinding grief that appear sharp and harsh… it stuns me.
I shade my eyes with my hand, I squint, I cry, I turn my face… I run back inside.

I don’t want to face it.
I would rather hide.
There are SO. MANY. good things in my life.
I feel ashamed that there are still days where grief eclipses the rest.


But I am not ashamed of missing my children.
I am not ashamed of how deeply I still love each of my wee babes.
I am not ashamed of being their mommy.

So I cry.
And I miss them.
My heart longs for heaven.

2 responses so far

Sep 26 2016

T minus 29 days

Is it really possible that my sweet little baby boy will be a year old in 29 days?!
Mister Simeon James reached the eleven month mark yesterday. It seems the weeks go faster all. the. time.

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Aug 30 2016

Simeon, my sweet

He continues to be the sweetest thing… my Simeon…


Not quite sixteen pounds, his newest tricks are clapping “yay!” eating things like oatmeal, yogurt, and huckleberry ice cream. What a delight to his mommy, our family, and the world!

2 responses so far

Aug 16 2016


Published by under Beauty,Blogs,Thoughts

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Last month, I had the sweet opportunity to host a little online party for LillaRose hair accessories, with my friend (and LR consultant) Kristi. To kick it off, we pulled together a small GoogleHangout time where half a dozen ladies from all three major US time zones got to laugh together, talk about hair, and watch Kristi demonstrate some fun hairstyles and products. In the midst of it, I actually got to hear the voice of a long-time penpal of mine… I wish I could remember when we actually began communicating… but I am certain we have written each other since I was about 15… so, we’ve known each other to some extent for 17 years, only ever through writing, until a few weeks ago. (((Samantha, you bless me.))) There were a couple other ladies that I had only communicated with online as well. Plus, Kristi is someone that I met online in 2009, but have visited in person twice in those seven years.


At any rate, this was a unique little group and reminds me once again what some of the blessings are from living in this modern era. If someone like Martha Washington or Laura Ingalls Wilder or even my own Great Great Grandma Martha were to peek through the veil of time & peel back the mists of heaven, their eyes would grow big with wonder at what magic I was conducting:
Faces, live with movement on a screen.
Voices, clearly heard and easily conversing.
Miles and miles of distance between each one.
Invisible technology making the impossible possible.

But what else they would see would be familiar:
Women gathering together to encourage one another, to pursue feminine loveliness, to laugh joyfully, to connect with words and facial expressions what our hearts and emotions long to communicate.

As women, we long to be adorned.
As Christian women, we specifically long to reflect beauty in being Christ’s bride.
We long to be like Queen Esther, like the Proverbs 31 woman, like the faithful laboring women Paul commends.
We want to be fruitful, make an impact, leave an imprint.
We also want to be loved, needed, useful, fulfilled & fulfilling.
And deep down we even have a need to be beautiful, lovely, adorned.

Now. Hear me.
I’m not saying we need to conform to any specific definition or description of beauty.
But I think it is a very godly thing to pursue beauty and loveliness in the realm of femininity, of a physical nature and also of a spiritual nature.

Of course we can not put our trust or our hope in physical beauty.
Scripture tells us very plainly that beauty is fleeting, coupled with the vanity of charm.
But Scripture is also very plain about speaking admirably of beauty, and the way God created women to be attractive for His glory. He is enthralled with the beauty of His beloved.
Did you get that? Enthralled!! With BEAUTY!

I don’t know about you, but that is something that I should put up on my bathroom wall.
Or tape on the mirror.
Or tattoo on my eyelids. (Okay, maybe not.)

But this is turning into the long version, which is clearly my normal realm of comfort when it comes to words.
The short of it is this:
God loves beauty.
He gave us beauty.
There is nothing wrong with pursuing, enhancing, or highlighting the feminine loveliness that He gave us when He knit us as individuals.


So while you focus on beautifying your inner self (first things first, right?),
seeking a gentle and quiet spirit whose beauty is not fleeting but eternal…
Do not be afraid or ashamed to pursue physical loveliness.
While you are outwardly wasting away, inwardly you are being daily renewed (2 Cor. 4:16)
so remember that your King is enthralled with your beauty.
Beauty of all sorts.
You are altogether beautiful in His eyes, with no flaws (Song of Solomon 4:7).

Do not rest solely (1 Tim. 2:9-10) upon things like gold, jewels, expensive frocks and finery (or Lilla Rose hair clips!),
but be at peace in your heart, knowing that both inner & outer beauty is… well… lovely.

Think on these things.

You are more precious than rubies.
You are a tree of life to those who hold onto you.

Fear the Lord faithfully.
And be beautifully adorned.

2 responses so far

Aug 15 2016

He Makes All Things New

Acts 14:15

“…we bring you good news, that you should turn from vain things to the living God
who made the heaven and the earth and the sea
and all that is in them.”

Revelation 21:5

“And He who was seated on the throne said, Behold, I am making all things new.

Last month, I had the pleasure of participating in a webinar that focused on motherhood & building culture. One of the first things that really struck me in the conversations was when the presenter made the statement that this has never been done before. As a mom, as a homemaker, as a housekeeper ~ I can wonder sometimes why my job description feels so hard, so complicated, so downright daunting. I mean, really: this has been done for centuries. There is nothing new under the sun. Meals have been cooked, houses have been cleaned, homes have been made lovely havens, laundry has been endlessly done, hearts have been trained in the nurture & admonition of the Lord, brains have been educated, skills have been taught, books have been read, catechisms & Scriptures & musical pieces & multiplication tables have all been memorized… over and over and over again, generation upon generation, for centuries.

And living in the modern era of computers, washing machines, microwaves, riding lawn mowers (we do have 10,000 sq of thick grass!), and 2-day delivery of a thousand sundry items from dear old Amazon Prime, I should really have a heck of a lot easier time than many of my predecessors. In fact with reference to homeschooling, I should even have an easier time than my own mama did, who was something of a pioneer in the homeschooling world back in the 1980’s Silicon Valley. There were not the options of tutors, co ops, curriculum abundance, and things like the Homeschool Legal Defense Association were pretty cutting edge.

This can all make me easily wonder, So what’s MY problem?

And this brings me back to a little conversation from the webinar last month, where the idea was posited that this has never been done before.


I am doing something new and groundbreaking and fresh and never-been-done-before.


Well. Yes. In a manner of speaking, with a certain perspective.

I have never done this before.
These particular kids have never done this before.
This specific family with these specific goals & ideals & worldview have never traveled this journey before.

Every day, I face a new phase of my calling.
Each morning when I wake up, not only am I older, but my children are older.
We break new ground every morning.
I have never parented an eight year old before.
I have never taught preschool and ladylike lessons to a daughter before.
I have never taught a child to cook before.
I have never managed a budget for a family of six before.

This is new. Every day. For each one of us.
I need to remember to keep this in my perspective.
Neither I nor my children know what we’re doing, have it all down pat, and know it all by memory.
We learn as we go.
Just like every other woman before me.

And sure, I have amazing modern assistance at my aid (hello, Google!) for everything from laundry scrubbing to coupon clipping to crockpot cooking to finding any answer to just about every question my curious little people could ever ask me (and I don’t even have to drive to the library anymore to figure out the dewey decimal system and pore over volumes to locate mediocre answers).
But I also have modern distractions, and unrealistic levels of comparison & expectations right at my fingertips.

Even when it comes to the grand blessing of living in this modern world and having practically the universe at my fingertips has both its pros and its cons.

It is okay to feel like these things are new.
I am made in God’s image.
And just like He once created the world, and all that therein is,
He continues to make all things new.
So while there was a time of beginning and firsts for me,
I too reflect Him when I realize & acknowledge & embrace
that I am also in the lifelong business of making all things new.

Creating precedes recreating.
And until my King stops time by His ultimate renewal,
this cycle will continue.

This is good.
It glorifies Him.
He continues to create and recreate (to once again make new)
even through my weary hands and often feeble attempts.
And I am thankful that He has chosen me, and my little people, for this good and hard journey.
I am thankful for simple words from other women in the trenches.
Simple reminders of basic truth.
Reminders like, “while it feels like this has been done before, it really hasn’t been.
You are breaking new ground every single day.
And groundbreaking things can sometimes break your back and strain the muscles.
It’s part of your calling.
Simply be faithful.”


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Jul 28 2016

Beauty for your covering

Published by under Beauty,Links

Okay friends… this is outside my norm. Outside my comfort zone. But I love to share things I love. And these things called LillaRose FlexiClips fall broadly into that category. I love these. They get my hair to look gorgeous (whoa- that might have been said all too confidently, haha!) in two minutes flat, and are super versatile. I’ve only had three clips since April, but I am addicted to them.

So since I am buying a few more this week, I wondered if anyone else wanted to join me in some mid-summer shopping to help get our hair off our necks during this heatwave!
Aren’t they pretty? They are seriously the best hair things ever. Long hair, short hair, thin hair, thick hair… the special FlexiClip things are life-changing. You can see how to figure out your size and some hairstyles online. And since I “need” a couple new ones for Evangeline and me (with the heat, we like our hair up every day!), I just thought I would share the love with one of these online party things. 😉
Those three pics above are a couple of the ones that I want to get… clearly, the ballet slipper is for my 3 year old daughter who loves all things pink and frilly. The other two are for me, because I want to add some variety to my hair accessories.
I have a silver celtic knot one, Evangeline has a pink daisy, I also have an emerald one (I don’t think it’s a current style anymore) and a really pretty crystal one that is also discontinued. I am hoping to get the ballet slipper and the ladybug for Evangeline. :) And I also want to get myself one of the leather ones, and either the Keeya or the Roman Stone for myself as well. I wear them almost every day… so variety is nice. 😉
At any rate, this is kind of last minute… :) But I’m hosting a little online ordering party to share the love. LillaRose sells other things besides these clips, like head bands and bobby pins – and they are beautiful too, but it is the FlexiClip that is just amazing in my book. I can do without the other things, but the FlexiClips are now an indispensible part of my daily routine. I was hard to convince that my thick, unwieldy hair could be used in these successfully. But they can! They don’t fall out, they don’t break my hair, they don’t give me a headache. Amazing. People are constantly asking me how I fix my hair, or what the clips are, and it is so fun to take it out of my hair in order to try it out on someone else – and then the happiness I see in their eyes when they realize they can quickly & easily have a pretty hairdo too?! It gives me goosebumps.

So click here if you want to browse around and see some of the pretty things you can get. You can order things through this link for the next few days – through Monday night 8/1 (although I can extend that if you need).
So if you order through Sunday, you will get to use the July special… if you order on Monday, you can get the August special. Or if you’re like me, you may just want to do one of each! 😀

I have to deal with my hair every day of my life.
God gave it to me for a glory & a covering (just ask my 3 year old daughter why God gave her such beautiful hair, and she will tell you that!).

So spending a little extra money on something like this that will help me to enjoy the gift of my hair, and lift my spirits about this golden crown of locks each day, without me needing to spend much time on it… because let’s be honest, my entire “getting ready for the day” routine simply can’t take more than ten minutes (maybe 15 on a Sunday)… it’s worth it. I hope you enjoy pursuing beauty, too, as you embrace your glory & your covering for the praise of God our Creator!

Peace, love, joy, and beauty! :)

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Jul 26 2016

Simeon James… seventy-five cents…

When I mentioned to the boys that Simeon was 9 months old yesterday, I added that it means he is 3/4 of a year old.
That seemed to confuse them until I explained that I meant it like if a year were a dollar, or a hundred pennies, he had reached three quarters’ worth, or seventy-five cents.

Asher was kind of troubled though… he said that Simeon is worth way more than $00.75!

And he’s totally right. LOL.
This little miracle is totally priceless.




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Jun 29 2016


It never ceases to amaze me how our experiences shape and color the lenses through which we look.


Even something as simple as a devotional title this morning… it struck me…
My eyes read “Riding the Rollercoaster of Miscarriage.”
I was surprised to find, upon reading it & then going back to the top to double-check the title, that it was called “Riding the Rollercoaster of Marriage.”

My bad.

Yesterday when I was picking my two big boys up from VBS, someone who I have known casually for over a dozen years made a comment about how perfectly spaced my children are. She seemed to be congratulating me for the beautifully placed stairsteps… and then she asked when the next baby would be on the way (to which my eyes stung and my heart silently cried oh, I wish).



I breathed deeply to keep myself from breaking out into a sweat and allowing my heartrate to rise in anxiety.

I told myself quickly and quietly, she sees my family & me through different lenses.

Another deep breath, a squeeze of my little baby in my left arm & squeeze of my daughter’s hand in my right hand…
They do look stunningly like little stairsteps, I guess, was my reply with a smile.
I continued, Maybe you’d never know that there were nine other babies in there along the way.

I kept smiling, and the woman seemed to try processing my words.
She was blinking.
It’s like I was trying to share my lenses with her, but the glasses didn’t quite fit and the prescription was made for my eyes rather than hers.

Since it didn’t work well to share my lenses,
I just put them back on myself and let her keep her own.
Instead, I briefly explained what my view showed.
I described the picture’s colors to her, since she could not see their variety herself.


We have nine little ones in heaven already. One before Gabriel, six between the big boys, and two between my youngest children.

When she commented that she “hoped I lost them early on,” rather than bristling that her lenses didn’t show her the colors & shadows & silhouettes & nuances more clearly,
once again I just described to her what my lenses show me.
They were young, yes, but they had beautiful little arms, legs, eyes, umbilical cords. I got to hold most of them. They have names. They are my children too, and I love them dearly. Honestly, I can’t wait to meet them in heaven. But until then, I sure am thankful for these four little miracle million-dollar-babies God has given us to raise.

It’s enough.
It is enough to realize that I see things differently than other folks. It goes both ways.
And I praise God that He is giving me peace with my lenses.
He continues teaching me how to see, how to share what I see, and how to learn what others see too.
With thankfulness, grace, contentment, joy.

I pray that He will continue to work on my eyes to better focus
on what He wants me to see in this world
and in the particular life He has given me.

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