The posts below this one are from 2012-2016. If you've heard my story, you may remember that it's been 10 years since I've written a blog post. I still remember the day God asked me to put down the pen and turn my focus to homeschooling and my kids. I was sitting on our back deck -- the one we just tore down this summer -- writing an ode to our oak tree. It was a magnificent tree that provided shade and beauty to our backyard. Not long after I wrote about, that magificent tre

23 years ago, we were on the Big Island of Hawai'i for Thanksgiving as was our family tradition. But something happened on that trip that I'll never forget though I had no idea the significance it would hold in my life two decades later. We'd spent the afternoon at Magic Sands Beach on the Kona coast sunbathing, snorkeling and boogie boarding. Without question this little stretch of sand along Ali'i Drive was one of our favorite spots. The soft, pale yellow sand hugs the bay

The internet of the 21st century is creepy. With all the tracking apps and spyware, it's easy to feel creeped out by technology. I do, at least. I mean, seriously, a week or so ago, I sat down and planned an imaginary vacation. This is something I do from time to time. Pick a place, usually somewhere tropical, and pretend I'm going on vacation there. I look for flights, hotels, restaurants, you name it. And I plan the whole thing as if it were going to really happen. Anyhow

During the summer of my middle school years, I was on the swim team at our local tennis club. I was a strong swimmer, but not especially fast and certainly not fast enough to ever place or earn a ribbon. My talent, if you will, was holding my breath. I could easily swim the length of the Olympic size pool on just a breath or two. And I remember shocking the judges and coaches at my first swim meet because I swam the entire distance without taking a breath at all. In the s

3 Comments This week I commemorated 12 years as an Avon lady and it got me thinking about all that I've learned on this journey. And I'm not talking about how to pick a lipstick or why it's important to use the right cleanser and moisturizer. No, I've learned much more than that and it might surprise you. Or maybe not. 1. Women worry about wrinkles. Even my oldest customers, those in their 80s and 90s, are looking for the miracle cream, ointment, or serum that will s

I wish you hadn't brought your porcelain doll into the kitchen. Not because it's not where she belongs -- it's not -- but because if you hadn't, she wouldn't be broken. And her cute little ankle-wrap shoes and feet would not be cracked and glued. That doll. I don't know what it was about her that captivated you so, but honestly, sweet girl, she captivated me too. Maybe it's her dress or her face. No, I think it's the shoes. Definitely the shoes. You and I both commented on

The world is not made of Legos. Today, you learned this important lesson when you tossed your sister's porcelain doll to the floor. Her delicate feet made an awful pinging noise as they shattered on the oak floor of our kitchen. Your sister immediately cried the saddest tears I've ever seen her shed. "My doll, my poor doll," she sobbed over and over. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't mean to. I didn't know she was made of glass," you replied, your own eyes tearing up as

1 Comment "The Titanic was built by professionals. The ark was built by amateurs." In the last week, I've seen this cutesy quote in two different places at two different times and that has caused me to turn it over in my head, investigating it from every angle, considering its truth and wondering about its supporting evidence. And I think I've maybe come up with a reason why we can stamp #truth on this little church billboard gem. The Titanic was built for man's glory. The

2 Comments Yesterday, as every November 1, I replaced all of our light-up smiling pumpkins, candy corn bowls, and silly costumed stuffed animals with "Give Thanks" plaques, cornucopias and a light-up fiber optic turkey. Yes, that's a real thing. But in the center of our kitchen table went my most favorite November decoration of all: a cardboard oatmeal canister wrapped in construction paper and adorned with crayon-colored leaf cut-outs. It's the cheapest decoration we ow

How is my cup supposed to overflow, when there isn't even a dribble inside? Parched. Drained. Dry. Nothing left. Not even a fairy-sized sip. I've poured out every drop and there's simply nothing left. I yearn for an abundance. But even a splash would feel like a desert oasis if I could swish it around in my cup, watch it swirl around the sides before lapping it up, savoring its sweet wetness before it slides down my burning, exhausted throat. My cup is cracked. It's chipped.

Last week, we visited the Heritage Center here in Bismarck. It has recently undergone a beautiful update and rebuilding and is perhaps my most favorite museum of all time. And I've been to the Louvre and El Prado. That should tell you how much I love this gem of history. But, while we were there, God showed me another of those life applications that He so often does when I'm not expecting it. After touring the exhibits, we went to the James River Cafe, which, if you haven't

The other day I was reading a book about the Sputnik. When the Russians launched that satellite in the late 50s, a lot of Americans thought it was the beginning of the end. Now that they had a satellite overhead, could they also drop atomic bombs from it at any time they wished? And as the book said, nobody wanted that nor did they want to live under the red flag of communism should Russia manage to destroy the US and take over. Now that we're nearly 60 years post-Sputnik, t

Considering the headlines lately, I think we need to talk about reality and identity. Reality and identity are different. For some of us, I think, identity and reality might actually align. But, I think for most of us, we live in a deluded reality where our identity is actually not accurate. When I was a teenager, I felt I was fat. I thought I was fat. I saw myself as fat. In my mind, I was fat. When I look back at pictures of myself, I realize I was not fat. I don't remembe

My cell phone did not stop beeping and vibrating as texts, Facebook messages, comments, emails and phone calls poured in offering meals and places to stay and asking, "how can we help?" Honestly, I could barely wrap my mind around what I'd just done and what was currently happening. And there really wasn't anything anyone could do. "Just pray" was my reply over and over again. Pray. Please just pray. As I drove to Wal-Mart, re-routed once because the sheriffs were keeping

I calmly but quickly loaded the kids and the "go bags" into the car. Stopped to look at my beloved house and drove away, a lump in my throat, and my heart pushing at my chest. Twice I've done this. Twice I've evacuated my house not knowing what -- if anything -- we'd come back to when the worst was over. Twice. Twice I've left my home, my offspring safely buckled into the backseat and my most precious of belongings stuffed into every crevice of my SUV. Twice I've told mysel

I see it lurking in the corners, jeering at me. I hear it whispering, scratching at my mind, trying to get inside. I smell its sulfury death, curling around my nostrils like smoke. I feel it grasping at my arms, my legs, trying to pull me in, pull me down. It's there, palpable and real, waiting for a weak moment when I am vulnerable and it can overwhelm me. I breathe deeply. Softly whisper "Jesus." It scatters, dissipates like steam. Gone. For now. But I know it will return.

It's Thanksgiving week. Christmas is pounding on the door. For some of us, it has been not-so-gently knocking for several weeks. And if you're like me, you've been quietly heeding its call, slowly preparing for the mass mayhem and crazy chaos that will explode this Friday. I've made my list of gifts and I've already done most of my shopping. I kind of shop all year long, picking up good deals or special gifts I find as I go. This helps reduce the insanity and also the blow t

If you're battling against the stress of providing an amazing Christmas for your family, if you're feeling doomed to failure, if the season has already made you wish for January, then you should sing this carol to the tune of "Let it Snow." Oh the struggle inside is frightful. Though I wish it were delightful. All this stress is my foe, Let it go! Let it go! Let it go! Oh, it doesn't show signs of stopping And I don't just mean the shopping. I'm already sick of the snow, Let

This afternoon I put up 8 quarts of spaghetti sauce, 3 quarts of pumpkin puree and put 3 quarts of shredded zucchini into the freezer. There's a cheesy zucchini bake in one oven and caesar chicken thighs in the other. The dishes have all been washed and put away. This morning my mom and I picked the remaining tomatoes -- about 5 pounds -- the spaghetti squash, and more than a dozen pumpkins. Then we pulled up all the plants and cleaned out the garden. After that, we rearrang

“He maketh me lie down in green pastures…” So many times I’ve recited this verse and wondered about a God who would make us lie down. Often, I’ve thought of a small child being forced to take a nap. I never liked to nap as a child. Because when I’d awake, my grandmother --Baba I called her--would be gone. She’d lie down with me on her big bed covered in pink roses and tell me silly stories till I fell asleep. Then she would go to work at my mom’s store. I was always so angry