What to say. Oh, what to say. More often than not, my words fail me (hence the need to type them out once my brain has had a chance to connect with my tongue). A few months back, my husband took the pulpit to preach to our small, faithful congregation that meets each Sunday morning
The hardest thing I’ve done in my life is live through the every day. It’s mundane. It’s sloppy. And it’s hard. I want to be all like “Yay! Cherish the moments!” but secretly inside, I want to crawl away to a quite home where there are no little ones to constantly peck me to death.
This. Every morning, this. I could wake up seventy thousand more times, roll out of bed, scramble to find a mismatched pair of socks, and throw on an oversized, overworn sweatshirt before hobbling out to the thrift store couch (where no less than four little ones will soon find me) and never tire of it.
I wasn’t always this person. But don’t remind me of that. A decade ago – I was much, much different. Those of you who have read my testimony (part two here) can… well… attest to that. I’m not going to tell you who I was because I don’t want you to know her. But this past
A wee bit back, Stuart and our oldest two littles headed off to North Carolina to visit family. Originally, when the trip was planned, I was a zillion months pregnant and couldn’t bare the thought of traveling with no less than four little ones. Throw into that decision the eighty nine animals here reliant on
Ever get in a funk? Of course you do, you’re human. We all do. You know what else will put you in a funk? Finding A STRAY CHIN HAIR ON YOUR FACE! What the what?! Funk level = maximized. I found myself that way today… wandering around like a “mombie” who’s heart was heavy with
Changes, y’all. Big changes. I felt so melancholy a few nights back, I wanted to just crawl out of my skin. I sat in bed, nursing Juliette… staring out the window… praying with Stuart. The sprinkler was watering the field off in the distance and it’s faithful tick-tick-tick gave a rhythmic undertone to my heavy
Life Snippets Daily snippets of life in our homesteading madness. Welcome to the party, rockstars.
Summer has a bit of magic that swirls around the fringes of complete insanity. Just when I think I’ll surely hole up and die of exhaustion, there are teeny moments of pure, well, magic that revive my soul enough to complete another task… another chore… another harvest. While I was snuggled up to Sally’s flank,
My husband delivered a few meditations at our Good Friday service yesterday, and as I sat there with my three fussing children, crayon wrappers littering the aisle, the smell of a poopy diaper wafting through the air, I listened passionately to the words he shared with the congregation. And then, tears began to stream down my