Post Category → just life

one small life

Happy July, fellow citizens of Planet Earth. We are living and breathing here in July of 2022, something millions before us have not done. Those of us living and breathing the new life of the Spirit are doing even more than simply taking our turn, populating the planet. We are the remnant of God, His representatives and own special people. We bear His light to the world, a world He desperately loves.

These are strangely big thoughts for a middle aged woman, sitting along at a picnic table, listening to leaves rustle and birds sing. My eyes are puffy from summer allergies, my back creaky because age + sleep somehow does not = refreshed. My planner has exciting things like, “[eradicate] spiderwebs; chicken out; laundry.” I will shower and dress, my energy will continue for a few hours before I begin to flag, and within a quarter turn of the earth’s rotation, I will already be thinking about making it till bedtime.

And yet, somehow, my life matters. It matters not because of what I will do — although that does, indeed, matter as He has prepared good works for me, and that is such a comforting and exciting thought — but it matters because of Whose I am. His breath fills my lungs. His praise stirs my soul. His voice becomes the thoughts in my head. He directs my path.

I’m not terribly bright. My mind is like a sieve. My talents are so mediocre it’s hard to see them as talents. If I think too far ahead my imagination flatlines. If I look around too much, I get overwhelmed.

I am not special or remarkable.

Except, somehow, I am. My soul is loved, held, shaped, washed, restored, purified by a holy God, the eternal King, the Father of all. His eye is on me.

This is my somewhat private rumination. Private because I’m putting this out there, but without any social media accounts to push it, I’m suddenly feeling under the radar, back to 2004 before I had any accounts anywhere. Did I even have an iPhone? Not sure. I’m back there. I can’t even get my current somewhat broken phone to upload pictures except that one, that sweet moment with Enid’s grubby fingernails and little 4 year old fingers, holding up a treasure for Beatrice to capture with a camera.

So, July 1st, hello. It’s a quiet life in many ways, a small life. But it’s a called-forth-by-God life, where every word spoken has the opportunity to bring grace and power, my eyes have the ability to see according to the Spirit, and my every breath can be a praise to the Lord and Father of all.

June: green gardens, green soul.

In no particular order, June so far:

A well done piano recital, Jameson off to D.C. with his high school classmates, evening strolls with Daddy, gardens tended and enjoyed, beautiful daughters, kindergarten completed, 8th finished and a launch into high school, last year’s geranium loving its life as an indoor plant.

Birds in the morning, soft sun on lush green, pollen making my head fuzzy and slow. Pink and green my absolute favorite colors — at least, in June.

Deep in my soul, the Holy Spirit shaping me, tending me, even enjoying me. Digging my roots deep into gospel truth, rivers of grace, letting my leaves unfurl, lush green. Days of quenching dew and gentle sun and a breeze that makes 75* more than perfect — days of dry and harsh heat, or torrents that threaten to drown and erode. No matter that climate around my soul, I am firmly planted, green-leafed, fruit in season as I allow myself to be shaped, tended, fed by HIM.

a bit about Mother’s Day, a lot of Just Because photos

(These pictures are Just Because.

Half of the pictures I don’t even take, but instead are happy surprises of moments or vignettes that my children think to capture. This is even more fun — to be busy living my life only to realize that they are as happily aware of blessed as I am.)

I must write that my Mother’s Day was the laughably perfect Mother’s Day:

I got to play keyboard for my son, who led worship at church. Jameson was the drummer and I got to enjoy his brand new 8″ mahogany Gretsch snare with him. (Those details mean almost as little to me as they probably do to you, but I know that he loves it!) My lovely daughters helped Ryan get everyone else to church with plenty of time to spare.

I was thrilled to share a message at church for my fellow moms.

Ryan grilled perfect steaks for dinner, which was enjoyed around the dining room table amidst laughter and chatter. A stunning bouquet was the centerpiece, also thanks to Ryan, and the kids gave me sweet handmade cards filled with touching sentiments that just must be saved forever!

The boys rested and watched basketball (I think?) while the girls and I took our Ben and Jerry’s to the beautiful outdoors and had a nice little girl party.

I finally returned indoors to find that — oops! — the dinner clean up memo had been missed and a disaster awaited me. Classic! That’s okay. Moms are very good at expedient clean up, and I put my talent to work in a jiffy.


An hour or so outdoors with my own dear mom, brothers, several sisters, and their families was the cherry on top! Then home, utterly exhausted, to bathe children who were supposed to be bathed Saturday night but oh well. You win some, you lose some, but really, I think we’ll all live.

And I couldn’t get bedtime started quickly enough. I happily fluffed my own pillow and collapsed before 9pm. A full day of mom-ing. A full day of being loved, which I do not take for granted.


And waking up to the dawn of another full day in which I will take my place, simultaneously buckling on my sword while resting in the grace of Jesus. Here’s to another year of motherhood!


Daffodils from Fiona, birds’ nest from Beatrice — do gifts get any lovelier?

life, to the hilt

Oh, life! So, so, so much. Little toes to tickle, letters to learn, papers to grade, hearts to win, arguments to hear, schedules to straighten, rides to give, priorities to sort, a husband to love, passports to procure, ballet buns to pin, beds to change, hair to trim, smiles to give, cheeks to kiss, tantrums to tame, worship to lead, scripture to share, phone calls to receive, wisdom to seek, meals to plan, choirs to teach, friends to connect with, sisters to keep up with, vitamin C to pass out, baths to run, clothing to sort, plants to water, parties to host and dinners to serve, visitors to welcome, and oh yes! Exercise and water and feeding my soul.

So something has to give, and I see it in my sparse camera roll, my neglected writing (and let’s be honest, my dirty refrigerator, my dresser-top piles, and the barely-noticed daffodils.)

I find this to be a season summed up in two favorite quotes by two favorite heroes, Jim and Elisabeth Elliot:

“Wherever you are, be all there! Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.”
“Just do the next thing.”

We are living to the hilt, for sure, and while there is the knowledge of being stretched, of much being demanded of Ryan and me, there is abundance and running over. Laughter of children and excitement over what we’re all doing and rich moments gathered together in prayer and putting our backs into it, as it were, all together, heave ho. I may not quite recall all the fuzzy moments of March and April, but we lived it!

Jesus is so good. So faithful and so near. He is the answer for every befuddling encounter we have in life — mine, yours, all of it. The small cares and anxieties, the global conflict that is larger than any man. He stands forever as the Savior of the world, and He is the Way of life and overcoming.

love what you do.

Once in awhile I’ll have a kid observe me performing some menial task and ask, “Mama, do you like changing diapers/washing the toilet/matching socks/cooking dinner/making the bed?”

It’s always a funny question because on the one hand, most often it’s asked in relation to a chore that no one in their right mind would list as their favorite activity. But it’s become an increasingly funny question over the years because I generally find myself trying to explain why YES, in fact, I do kind of like doing this boring or dirty or endless job.

You know what the secret to living a fulfilled life of purpose is?

Love what you do.

No, that’s not a typo and I didn’t get it backwards. While everything around us (and our carnal hearts within us) screams, “Do what you love! Settle for nothing less!”, we find ourselves transformed by the Holy Spirit until one day we’re confessing crazy things like, “I delight to do YOUR will, oh my God!”

His will becomes a delight. He calls me, and enables me, to love what I do.

And what is His will?

He shows me. He shines the light of His Truth on the shadows of life, and suddenly daily acts of service are seen to have meaning and worth. Nothing is beneath me, because nothing is beneath His notice. Making a name for myself starts to seem a bit like vanity when I see the incredible value of the people around me. Better is one day in His courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked. Wherever His presence is, there I find joy.

What has God called you to today?

Maybe it’s not your dream job. Maybe you feel like a square peg in a round hole. Maybe you’re hoping this is a stepping stone on the way to somewhere else.

But maybe it doesn’t matter.

Not in the equation of purpose and joy. Those things exist in nowhere and in nothing else but Jesus.

Maybe you’re raising babies and feeling like you’re not cut out for it, and overwhelmed by the never ending cycles of mundane work that are not what you were picturing. Maybe it’s older kids who are giving you a run for your money.

Maybe you were born a woman and that mere fact chafes against your soul.

I’m telling you: the secret to a life of purpose and meaning is found right here, right in this moment, right inside the lines He drew for you. You can love what you do when you realize it’s the thing He’s asking of you. “I delight to do You will, o my God!”

Do you? Do you delight in that?

Oh, many times have I paused and confessed in anger, in weariness, in frustration: My soul is freaking out and I’m not good at this and I hate it. God, show me Your ways. Let me see this in Your light. Set me free from selfishness and striving. I want to delight in Your will!

And He answers. Through His Word, by His Spirit, He washes me with truth and leads me in paths of righteousness.

And somehow, years later, a kid asks me, “Do you like making dinner every night?”, and I pause and realize, there is delight in this task because I am doing it with Jesus, for the people He’s asked me to give my life to.

Pretty much, kid. Pretty much I love what I do.

a morning in January.

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

It’s early. The horizon is just now turning pink, the dark canopy overhead fading to a moody blue-gray that is reflected on snowy field. Fire is noisily burning while oldest son occupies the choice seat on its hearth, reading Acts by the light of flicker and flame.

I sit with my journal, Bible, planner, and the laptop that gives me instant access to Naves and Strongs and countless translations. This is my routine, and while it is disrupted now and again, it’s the baseline I return to. I dump the noisy nagging of my brain onto planner and push it away — no more, be done, time for still. I open my journal and awkwardly pen “2022.” It’ll take approximately 11 more months for that to feel normal, just in time for “2023” to make its entrance. My journal has been woefully ignored this last year, and I am determined to recover that habit. I love to flip through the pages and be reminded of the prayers I prayed, the struggles large and small, the testimonies to accompany those. And so I write.

A head cold that passed quickly: thankful.
William’s knee, still sore and swollen: praying, asking.
Another regular school day dawning, the third in a row!: testimony

I am, of late, studying “peace” in the Bible. Today landed me in Romans 14, and so I read verses 17-19, read the chapter, check the Greek, read it in other translations. And I mull it over, deeply aware that whatever this all means, it’s attainable only through the transforming work of the Holy Spirit in my life.

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”

The kingdom of heaven is never about what I bring, but about the supernatural move of God in my heart. I am struck by this. Yes, righteousness and peace and joy work themselves out through my doing and my decisions and my convictions, but those doings and decisions and convictions are not THE kingdom of God, but rather its outworking. The wellspring of life bubbling up within — that’s the precious thing. Lean into that. Guard that. Oh, for more and more of that!

Baby cries, little girls wake, and clock says it’s time for breakfast preparations. We will honor the Lord today in what we do, eating and drinking and working as unto Him, but with hearts that are hungry for His Kingdom come: Righteousness, peace, and joy in abundance.