Everything was ready. The suitcases, the extra pillows, the hotel reservations, my traveling pharmacy of carefully stocked children’s Motrin and Tylenol, the snacks, the grandma traveling in to keep our younger son, the plan to check into the hospital at 5:15 a.m. Everything was ready for our return, too—the shower chair, the bed rail, the…
Children
Parenting, Unpictured
I remember what I was wearing the first time I held each of my children. Not hospital gowns, for my kids didn’t come to me that way. With my oldest, I wore a black blouse with white stitching around the neck and arms. I had a short, angled bob with blonde highlights at the time….
Our Only Hope in Life and Death
I never heard the word ‘catechism’ until I was an adult. Well, that’s not entirely true. I remember reading the word in a book once as a child and wondering what it meant, pronouncing it cat-a-CHism in my head, with a hard CH, like in the word cheese. I grew up a Southern Baptist and…
The Bad News is Really Bad
“I’ve got bad news, kids. You’re terrible people.” That wasn’t my exact opener for my Wednesday night kid’s class at church, but it might as well have been. We’ve been going through Old Testament history for a few months and are currently working through the judges material. My synopsis of the book of Judges was…
A Thousand Times, Yes
I was sitting at a table in a Starbucks seven hours away from home. We’d come under the pretense of wanting coffee, but the real reason was we needed to feel normal for an hour. After ordering, we crowded tightly around the table. Our seven-year-old was watchful as I gently pulled the week-old baby from…
Simplicity and Front Doors
Dishes are stacked high in both sinks, spilling over on to the counter tops. Of course, there are also the stock pots on the stove, waiting to be scrubbed down. Trails of bread crumbs meander through the house, evidence of children who found the table to be too crowded with adult conversation. Hardened, dried spaghetti…
I Don’t Promise My Kids That God Will Keep Them Safe.
I was five years old and tucked into a bed that was pushed up next to a quaking window. Outside, tree branches bent and swayed beneath slashing sheets of rain and house-shuddering winds. Tornado sirens were blaring while lightning lit up the sky every few seconds. I remember curling up into as small a figure…
Ordinary Grace
Concern sat in the passenger seat next to me on Tuesday, kept me company while the miles spun out in front of us with the familiarity that comes on a road well traveled. I’ve made this round trip three times in the past month. Concern is always a willing traveling companion. The last several weeks…
An Invitation to Hurt is an Invitation to Trust: guest post at The Content Mom
There was no way we could hide it from him. We’d brought a baby home with every intention of adopting him, but the entire process was being derailed. Our seven-year-old was with us from the moment the plan began to unravel, and I knew I couldn’t hide it. He was watching and asking valid questions….
To the Brink: a Tribute to Parents
The first eight months of our youngest son’s life epitomized uncertainty to me. I rocked a baby against my chest every night, a solid fragile weight pressed next to my heart, not knowing if I would ever be able to call him “son.” It was the riskiest version of love I’d ever known. As every adoptive parent…