No one told me it would require solitude to put pen to paper And yet my loneliness provides a voice In the space between wonder and wandering my soul speaks The margin between exultation and despair is the place I ...
Isaac, my son. As your mother, every birthday celebrates the gift of your tender, sweet, soul. In all you wiggles, cuddles, and giggles I’m thankful that you’ve brought laughter into our hearts and home. Your life is the answer to so ...
Brokenness is not something we like to celebrate. It costs too much, it’s not pretty or convenient, it lays us bare at our most vulnerable. However, it finds you it’s physical, emotional, and spiritual. It’s thoughts that you’d never admit ...
M y daughter is saving her hard earned money to buy a doll. The desire to mother is another instinctual feeling for many of us. Miscarriage and infertility are a part of our family’s story but, in many respects, motherhood ...
A delicate mirrored box sits in my hutch surrounded by pretty heirlooms and souvenirs. In a way, it’s a souvenir of some of my darkest moments, a memory kept in honor of the friendship and the beauty that comes from ...
I want to be pretty! It’s the screaming demand of my anxious heart and it gets my full attention. On any given day the demand can be different. I want to be loved, accomplished, adored. There is nothing wrong with ...
I t all starts with MOOOOOOMMMMMMM! Isaac ate dog food! MOM! Isaac’s sucking on a sponge and spraying water all over the bathroom. Mom! Isaac’s climbing into the dryer! The chaos seems all consuming lately. The prettier I try to ...
