still here

DSC_1204“Why do we hear these messages, these stories every year but it does nothing? I go to church every week, more or less because its my job, but I hear about how Jesus forgives us, He makes us white as snow, He died for me. And yet I feel nothing from the people sitting around me. I feel no support, I feel no forgiveness, I feel like its not okay to be a crying mess when my life is falling apart.”

My husband recently connected me to a girl I used to know.

She’s a girl I used to know from camp, one of my campers.  We weren’t supposed to have favorites, but everyone always did, and she was one of mine.

I spent the morning reading through her blog.

There’s so much I want to respond to, so much I want to say to her.  Her honesty is so moving, and it makes me realize how far I’ve come from being honest.

Honesty has a way of scaring people off.

Acute pain has a way of spewing out uncontrolled.  As the pain subsides, is less intense, or goes away, as life lets up, there isn’t the need for such raw expression.

 You don’t forget what it was like though.

As life ebbs and flows, as seasons change and trials come and go, we continue to bear with one another love, offering a listening ear, a helping hand, and an open heart.

Reminding our loved ones that it’s going to be alright

And they aren’t alone.

summer reading


The mind needs something to do, somewhere else to go.

Now that school is out for summer, I need another way to channel my mental energy outward.  Left to it’s own devices, my mind ends up standing still in heavy places, boring itself into ruts and holes.

I’ve been compiling my selection of books and I’m excited to see where these words are gonna take me.  This is not about escape, this is about exercise.  It’s not about distraction, it’s about discovery.

The kids are gonna come along too.


I originally wanted to assign reading and math throughout the summer.

But after thinking about it more, I decided against the math, and against any assigned reading.  I want them to experience the joy of change, to keep that incredible relief and new found freedom that comes with the end of school year, the end of a job well done.

So we transformed the mud room into a summer reading room instead.  This way we can record the stories of all the places we go and people we meet.  When anyone finishes a book, either reading or being read to, we get to fill out a card with our name and book title.

I’m not sure what the cards mean, or what we’re going to do with them yet.

That’s okay though.


Together we’ll come up with something.



out and about


I found the boys daydreaming about baseball cards.

They begged me to take them to Target, even folded laundry for a few quarters.

I needed to run a few errands anyway.


While they stood there and figured out which ones they wanted,

I walked around and took pictures of shirts with cool words.


I ended up finding a globe I really liked.


While the boys open their boxes, finding simple joy in new baseball cards, my daughter and I take pictures, laughing like the Happy Chewbacca Mom who got all excited about that crazy mask.  Please tell me you watched it.  I’ve watched it like twenty times.  Love, love, love that lady.  That’s what I call some serious fun.


We drove through the beautiful Cedars of Lebanon.

I’m not kidding.  I really do call them that.

They’re the perfect landmark of home.


I love my new globe by the way.


She fits right in.

the next transition


We’re in our final week of school for the season.

The kids are ready to be done, and I can tell, sense the relaxing atmosphere in the air and in the school room.  I’m also excited to be done for now, but I’m also sad.  During this time of transition, homeschooling has been a comforting constant for me.  In many ways it feels like we’ve been on summer break for the past three months.  The things I love about summer vacation, mostly spending time with the kids, has been our sweet little life throughout the spring.


I’m sure part of it is the fear of the unknown.  I don’t know what summer looks like anymore.  In our old life, summer was the slow season.  Daddy’s schedule had more flexibility and less evening meetings.  In this life, summer is the main event, the season of climax, the main reason we’re all here.  I know what summer camp looked like as a camp counselor fifteen years ago.  But I don’t know what camp looks like as a wife and mom.


There’s some saying that goes ‘Don’t be sad that it’s over, be thankful that it happened’.  Maybe it’s my stubborn heart resisting the truth, I certainly wouldn’t put that one past me, but I wonder why I have to choose between sadness and gratitude.  I can’t separate the two, and you know, that’s just gonna have to be okay.


Sadness makes me grateful in the end.