One of the hazards of bearing a baby bump is the avalanche of advice on how best to raise your children. Friends and strangers suddenly feel the impulse to touch you without warning and share harrowing stories of traumatic birth experiences. And they always want to know, “Are you going back to work?” For some…
It was the middle of the night when I drove myself to the emergency room. My lungs were burning and I had coughed up a bit of blood. I tried to keep myself calm, to avoid panicking prematurely. If it was what I thought it was, there was a very good chance that I could…
I'll admit that when I have a question about motherhood and homemaking, the first place I turn is to Pinterest. That's great for inspiration, but when you really need to soak up wisdom, nothing beats a great book. These are my top recommendations for moms who want depth, meaning, great stories, and great advice.
I believe that motherhood is a ministry as well. Don’t I? I believe that God called me out of teaching to be fully present to my husband and children, to attend to their needs and joys with the fullness of God’s tenderness. So why am I still asking myself if this is enough?
I’m always perplexed when I see people at concerts trying to film the experience. What we can capture on our phones won’t look or sound all that great - certainly not as great as the recorded version or professional photos we could look up later. Really, the purpose of being at a concert is just that: being there. Feeling the music vibrate through you, being among the crowd of fans, enjoying proximity to someone whose talent you admire. None of what is great about a concert can be captured by our devices. In fact, trying to do so actually places distance between us and the experience we seek to capture.
“In order for something greater to grow, something lesser has to die.” This is the first rule of the spiritual life, according to a dear friend and trusted advisor. A man who knows and loves Jesus like I one day hope to. This principle has certainly held true in motherhood.
God was offering me a glimpse of what he feels for us when we turn away from him in moments of fear, of shame, of self-loathing. The isolation of sin is self imposed. If only we would turn to God, we would see the face of love. Like the father in the story of the prodigal son, he waits and watches for us to come to home. Our capacity to receive his mercy is contingent only on our own willingness to turn and embrace it.