Hi, I’m Danica.

I guess I’m a lot of things: a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a crafter, a cook, a reader, a writer, a homemaker, a pianist, and probably a lot more too. But at the end of the day, I’m just a Christian trying to find and obey God’s will.

my two girls. Apr 23

Fiona Elspeth. Look at this smile!

Grandma and her little namesake. They really like each other. Grandma would say it’s because they’re both so sweet; Grandpa would roll his eyes, laugh, and mention something about spunk. Either way, it’s fun to see them together.

celebrating life. Apr 22

There are the preparations:






There is the busy and special morning:




There is the much-anticipated family celebration:









And all of it — all of it — is because of Jesus. Really. Where would I be without Him?

tender shoots Apr 3

Some days are just all small and simple, just like the ones that came before and the ones that will come after, but suddenly something beautiful and really big happens. It doesn’t even always feel big. Sometimes, I’m sure, I miss the moments completely. But days of sowing and praying and faith will yield fruit, and just a glimpse of a tender green shoot completely excites me.

This boy. Lanky and long. Learning. This is him, slipping out of his bed to proudly show me his latest journal entry. The journal he begged me for, which he now keeps near his bed. A little record of the Bible passage he’s read, his little thoughts on it, the prayers that are in his heart. A treasure trove. “Psalm 100. Praise, like, wow, it’s like a super power.”

This boy. He lays in bed and asks Jameson about heaven, about knowing that you’re going there. Ryan hears and brings him out to the quiet family room, where the three of us chat about Jesus, about the gospel, about knowing that you’re His. He prays, and then his eyes shine. He beams. The next morning, he beams. I ask in devotions if anyone has a testimony, and he jumps at the chance to say it: Last night, I got saved!

We rejoice. Jameson bounces in his seat, his eyes beaming now, too. “Can we all tell about when we got saved? Can we??”

He runs to the kitchen. We wait. And wait. Finally he appears.

“It was at the dinner table. Daddy talked to me. He drew me a picture, kinda like this, I think.”

He produces his version of this sketch.

“We all are trying to be good enough, to jump far enough, but we can’t and we fall down to the devil. But Jesus is over here, and then He comes to us. And He brings us over when we believe in Him.”

Yes! We all beam.

Can we sing that song for Easter?, they ask. So we end our happiest of devotions:

Jesus is alive!
The angels say.
Be glad, be glad
It’s Easter Day.


“But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

My heart is filling.

snowy spring Apr 3

The snow has been epic this year, just the way I remember it as a child. We’ve trudged through snow that easily went above my knees, drifts up to my thighs, mounds in which little girls could easily get lost. Paths, forts, angels, trenches, you name it, it’s happened. Except for snow men. Because up here, in the North where it really actually snows for keeps until the absolute very end of winter, kids don’t just run outside and make snowmen. It’s too cold. The snow is flaky and light and as sparkly as fairy dust — and it packs like fairy dust, too. Once in awhile, the temp will eek its way towards 30, and I say, “Hey, let’s see if we can make a snowman! Or maybe just a snow ball. Or… Hey, wanna make snow angels?”

So, when the snow dumped once again on Sunday, and it was wet and heavy and horrible for shoveling, we finally got to make a snowman! Beatrice sang to him. She asked to marry him. William wouldn’t leave his side. Jameson was on to the next thing. Ha!

I was so glad. Finally. We finally got our snowman.

What’s funny about this is that two years ago this week, Jameson was taking the training wheels off his bike and zooming down our yard, wobbling and falling and getting grass stains. Ha! I love the North Country. It’s always beautiful. That’s about all you can be sure of!


The rest of the week has been hovering around 40*. It’s practically summer! The kids get all crazy and wear their winter coats unzipped. You know what? They don’t have a clue that my forsythia bush is buried in a mountain of snow and ice, even though it usually would be budding. And they’re happier for it! Why wouldn’t they be? It’s another day that the Lord made, and it is good.

Fiona’s first “I’m hanging out with the kids!” day. She loved it.

last weekend Apr 3

My boys sang a song for Grandparent’s Day (an annual event through the home schooling program we’re a part of, consisting of choir performances, a talent show, and yummy muffins and coffee cakes!) They worked hard and courageously, completely unfazed by the last-minute nature of it all. They sang with sweetness and joy. Watching them perform from my vantage point at the piano, I purposely memorized the shining eyes, the quivering mouth overcoming a bout of nerves, the dimples, the clear soprano boyishness of it all.

“Boys, I will remember that song forever. I’m going to keep it in my heart.” Jameson smirked and retorted, “Oh yeah? What about when you die? That’s not forever, is it?”

Boyishness, I tell ya. Every variety.

(And now I can’t upload the video. *sigh* Good thing I’ve got it in my heart, because I’ll just never be very good at files and MBs and error codes and such.)


Last Saturday was the final game day of the Upward basketball season. Excitement was high. It was even higher when I said we could stay for the cousin’s games. And it skyrocketed when I announced that after basketball, there was a Grandkid Playday at Nana and Papa’s! Things just don’t get any better.

Missing a handful of babies. Just the “big kids” for special events like this!

Things just don’t get any better.

seven months of fiona Mar 26

She’s been around seven months, or so the calendar says. Gone like a breath. Sweet days, but fleeting.

Happy. She’s found a happy groove. Rolling all around the room, never ending where she began. Talking and screeching and loving to be a part. So big. So cheerful. So precious to us all.

six months:







See? Just like that.

It flies. It drags. It’s sweet. It’s terrifying. It’s highs and lows and calm and turbulent and mundane and beautiful and everything in between. But in the end, it passes. A wise man knows, numbers, and remembers his Creator.