Broken Goals, Glorious Plans – the “starving time” of summer

I remember a time when I decided to write daily…to read news articles, blogs, and novels. I created a huge summer reading list for myself – both fiction and non-fiction. I was excited and confident about the goals I’d set for the months ahead. It was a perfect summer project, and I needed one. Then I found out I was pregnant. Every time I tried to read a single sentence, my eyes closed, and I awoke some time later to a closed book, my place lost, and an incredulous 10-year-old. “Mom, you were out,” he said. “I came in here
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It’s Not Enough to Just Be Thankful

The last year of our family’s life has been hectic. We endured seasons of late nights, little sleep, over-commitment, too much work, and little rejuvenation. It wasn’t all bad. We have a beautiful baby boy, Tyler and I have put more money in savings than ever before, and we enjoy the community and friendships we’ve built over the last few years. I’ve maneuvered homeschooling E, though it’s rarely easy but amazing anyways, and Tyler has built a pretty decent portfolio in design and photography. I discovered a new-found love for hot yoga and re-entered the running world with some sluggishness.
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Valentine’s Day – Seasons and Immense Joy

I’ve felt like we have been sinking for the past few weeks. My heart has been gripped in a vice of fear and despair. Peace has abandoned me for the moment. I can be happy for just a brief second, and you probably have thought I’m fine, if you’re my friend in real life. I haven’t been. Don’t be deceived; I’m good at keeping up a front. It’s been tumultuous. I won’t go in to it because it’s not beneficial, and my journal has been drained and badgered with all of it. Instead, I’m practicing love and thankfulness. I’m thinking
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Compare to Despair

Have you ever given a friend advice or responded to complaints with words much later you wish you hadn’t used? While it’s certainly not the only time this has happened, one particular instance is stuck in my head. Even today, weeks later, I found myself sitting on the floor in the den, playing with Martin, still thinking of what I should have said and what I would go back and say if we shared the same conversation again. It wasn’t even a really important or life-changing moment, but my faulty advice has stayed with me and plagued me. My friend
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Gospel of God

I notice more and more the religion so many churches preach is the gospel of me. God loves me. God is all about me. God is committed to me. God creates his will and commands around me. God wants me to be happy. God wants me to be free. The risk in holding fast to these statements is that we forget the basics of who God is, himself. While God does love us, we tend to focus the gospel solely on ourselves, and somewhere along the line start to believe this idea – God exists to love and please me. While many of us
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2015 – The List

Since I posted my “Hopes for 2015” post, I’ve had at least three people ask me if I would be willing to post the whole list. Initially, I refused. It’s too personal. While I do put myself out there a lot on my blog, posting a list like this names things I hope will happen. What if they don’t, what happens? Will people think I’m a failure if I don’t succeed in all of my aspirations? Will I feel like naming them aloud, making them public, will change them from hopes to resolutions? These are the types of questions I
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Hopes for 2015

Earlier tonight, while getting Martin to bed, I was contemplating the year. Not just 2014 or 2015, but the idea of the year. I’m about to head into my last year of my 20’s, which seems young to some but quite old to others. I was thinking how when I was in elementary school, anything over 18 seemed old. Once I was 18, anything over 55 seemed old, and here I am, almost 30, and 55 doesn’t seem quite as ancient as it used to. In fact, my parents are over 55, and they don’t seem old to me most of
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Eating Well: A State of the Mind

You know, food is one of the most interesting things we interact with daily and yet so infrequently recognize for its multi-faceted features. It’s a necessity. It’s beautiful, colorful, natural, or unnatural. It’s comforting. It’s filling. It’s exactly what we want. It’s exactly what we need. It’s a “solution” to all kinds of emotions – boredom, fear, grief, nervousness, excitement, anger, celebration. It’s misused. It’s delicious. It’s greasy, dry, brittle, flexible, chewy. It’s served frozen or bubbling hot. It’s created for the purpose of sustaining you. It’s been manipulated into worship of the body. It’s spicy, sweet, bitter, tangy, pungent.
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Not Girly, but Feminine

I’m not a girly girl. I never have been, but for years I wanted to be one. I envied all things girly girl, but not anymore. Don’t think I hate girly girls. I don’t. Actually, if anything, I respect them. I don’t know how they do it with matching accessories, jewelry, and lipstick for every outfit. Their manicured hands and pedicured feet are lovely, and a sweet smell always encircles them. So many are incredibly sweet, and I’ve felt loved so many times because of their kindness and etiquette. I am absolutely serious when I say I can’t even imagine
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Governed by the Memoir

I love a good memoir. They’re raw, funny, sad, and real-ish. I say real-ish because memoirs are given more creative liberty than autobiographies. No one actually remembers all of those conversations, and sometimes what we remember isn’t exactly what happened. However, memoirs are based on truth, or at least the truth according to the individual writing it or according to how the individual perceived it as truth. Sounds vague, right? But the thing I love about a memoir, not only me but we as Americans love, is that the memoir is the embodiment of experience. Here in America, we worship
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