Weak and Loved

Dear sister in the pew beside me; Dear sister with the weight on your heart; You said you are “fine,” and your eyes try to smile but I can see in your quick looking-away that you are not fine. Nobody here would understand, you think. Nobody here has real problems. They all love God and love each other and here I am with this oozing wound that they can’t see, and I can’t let them see because they wouldn’t understand. Dear sister, you are not alone sitting there with your bleeding heart. You are not the only one Whose hands are bloody, whose heart is stained and broken; Whose heart has erupted violent hatred against God and others; Whose breath has been taken away by grief or betrayal; Who screams questions at the God who died for you. You are not the only one who cries on the inside while trying to keep the smile on the outside.

"Mama, can that wait?" Thoughts on technology, boundaries, love, and a handsfree morning

Hand on the mouse, eyes on the computer, I asked the child standing closest to me, "Honey, would you get me my hairbrush please?" She brought and said, "I'll give it to you in exchange for a hug." Again, that article came to mind. Slow down, focus on your kids! They want you, they need YOU! In other words, A child cannot kiss a moving target! Yep, it's time to make some changes. Let me just say first technology is a gift and a blessing. However, a person can love it too much. It is a gift, meant to serve those around me. It is a gift, meant to serve those who read my blog and my book , and my future books, if there are any. But sometimes, I use it to neglect those around me, and simply to entertain myself. Seriously, self, do you really need to check facebook at the park? Right now, I have very few boundaries around my own technology use. And what has been the result? I'm constantly connected. I'm constantly entertained, if no...

Suicide: A talk I did not want to have.

I hold back tears all morning. If only I can make it until naptime. Your doctor is dead, children. I can’t say it yet. I need more time. Kids, please go play outside while I make lunch for you. He was our pediatrician and we loved him. He’s dead, and by his own hand. A child came upstairs playing, smiling with a toy gun in his mouth. I yelled at him, irrationally upset telling him to never, ever, ever do that again. “It’s just a toy mommy.” He said. Would that I could protect you from all evil by banning such toys, son. Come quickly for lunch, kids. Our doctor is gone and it makes no sense. Quit goofing around and eat your food already! I want them to go to bed so I can grieve and wrestle in peace. Two boys run down the hallway holding hands and they crash into me. I yell. “This is NOT getting ready for naps, is it boys? Now DO what I TOLD YOU!” Creating chaos is not helping this house get quiet and my heart hurts so I need quiet NOW. ...

Kiddo, Will You Pray for Me?

To be fair, mothers, I don’t think this is entirely our fault, this tendency to think we are the Ultimate Need Meeters for our families and children. Our job starts out this way. As an expectant mother, my tiny child really is 100% dependent on me, and I am 100% required for his or her survival. The weight of it is on me, and there is nobody that can pick that job up for me, even for one minute, to give me a break.

Writing & Fear Part One: 10 reasons I pause before I publish

I can tell by her emails to me that she’s a writer at heart. I asked her to write for me. She was shocked, honored, and afraid. She protested: “I’d be so exposed. Someone might find me out.” I know that fear. It is pretty scary out here on display. But tell me, friend, what exactly are you afraid of?

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