Happy Independence Day! 


Help Me Fight the Pharisee

Well, here I am again talking about something in the Bible. This blog isn't here for me to preach, but if I'm going to be real about our family and my life, I've got to share the struggles too; and so many of my struggles are spiritual (and the way we work through our struggles are mostly through prayer and consulting scripture). So if I'm going to be real here in this space, it's going to include some Bible. Ok? Ok. 

A few weeks ago, our pastor preached a sermon on how to know if you're a Pharisee. While I won't go into detail, I must admit I saw a couple traits of the Pharisees in myself. With just the smallest amount of self-reflection, it instantly became clear to me that I am a hypocrite. YepI notice and judge the sins of others while holding onto sins of my own. YIKES. Anyone who knows New Testament scripture knows a Pharisee is the last thing a follower of Christ wants to be. But here I am. 

Today, still studying in the book of Luke, I read in Chapter 16, verse 15:

And He [Jesus] said unto them, Ye are they which justify yourselves before men; but God knoweth your hearts: for that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God.

Ouch. I can't count how many times I've justified myself and my sins to other people, but mostly to myself. If I'm honest, I've been struggling a lot lately. Our family, and I personally, have been under some real spiritual attacks. The enemy is real, friendsand he seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. 

For the good or the bad, God sees my heart. He knows my heart. He sees the sins I've been unwilling to let go, but justified to myself "it's really not that bad." He sees when, in my own pride, I've worked for that which is highly esteemed among men instead of seeking to do the Lord's will. He knows how I've seen the splinter in others' eyesthe eyes of my husband, children, parents, and the people I lovebut failed to see the beam in my own. And now my eyes are being opened.

I only share this because I am entering a stage of self-examination, and I covet your prayers. I haven't been putting on the armor of God to protect myself against the enemy's attacks. Now it's time to suit up. So friends, will you pray for me? Will you pray that I hear and heed God's conviction and guidance? 

With all sincerity,


I am the Prodigal Son

I sat down to write about Sierra's first birthday that was last weekend (since I've only written one blog post in the year since she was born); but this came out of me instead. I don't typically share this kind of thing via our family blog, but this is what I've been led to do this morning, so here we go. 

I am the prodigal son. Or daughter, I guess. For those of you who don't know the story, it's a parable in the Bible, found in Luke 15. Here's a quick synopsis: 

A man had two sons. The younger asked his dad if he could have his inheritance now rather than later (the older son would get the land/home, the younger would inherit just a small amount of money compared to the olderthat was Jewish tradition at the time). The father said okay, and the younger son basically ran off and squandered all his money on partying and prostitutes (see, the Bible has some serious DRAMA, huh?!). He was gone a long time, and after a while his father thought he must be dead. 

After the son had "wasted his substance with riotous living," the place he lived (which I envision as the modern-day Vegas) was hit with famine, and he began to starve. He was basically homeless and hungry and sleeping with the pigs. Then one day it hit him that he could return home and, though he could no longer be a family member because he had disgraced his family, he could perhaps become a hired hand so he could eat.

He returned home, and Luke 15:20 tells us that "when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck and kissed him." Although the son told his father how he had squandered everything and sinned against heaven and was no longer worthy, the father loved his son, forgave him, and welcomed him back home into the family with open arms. He threw a big party to celebrate, and the rest was history.
The older son was a bit jealous, since he'd been faithful and "worthy," staying home to take care of pops and the farm and all (again... this is a brief summary and extremely paraphrased).

I, too, had a time in my life when I strayed from my heavenly Father. I didn't go to Vegas or blow money on strippers or anything like that, but through my teenage years and early adulthood, I was an angry, resentful, hurt girl who felt like her life had been ripped from her, and I was angry with God. I was so angry, in fact, that I willfully and purposely lived in direct opposition to scripture. I'll spare you the details, but I was astray. I was saved; I'd given my life to Him at a young age. I was born again. ButI. Was. MAD. I went on living life angry and rebellious until I was about 22 years old, and had traces of it left in my system for about another 2-3 years after that. (And let's face it: we all will have it in our systems until we get to the other side of eternity.)

Yet, God never forsook me. He didn't turn from me; He didn't even admonish me. When I hit a wall and decided to surrender and finally come home (to Him), He had compassion for me. He loved me through it, and when I came back, I believe He rejoiced just as the father in this parable that He authored.

This is a story of grace, but grace was not extended ONLY to the prodigal sonbecause grace is for everyone who will accept it. The other part of the story involves the older brother who basically threw a fit that "it's not fair!" because he had stayed home and been responsible while the younger brother was out partying it up and trashing his body and the family name. He was mad that Dad had never thrown a party for him.

Rather than chastising the son for being jealous, saying he's being silly, or telling him not to be so selfish, the father said, "Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine." Then he continued, "It was meet that we should make merry and be glad; for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found." You see, the father could have furrowed his brow at the older son and told him to cool it, but instead he offered words of affirmation and assurance: Thou art ever with me. All that I have is thine.

And this is the lesson for me as a parent, as well. I've said so many times that I wish there was a handbook for parenting. Here it is, folks. This is the handbook. GRACE for your children. GRACE for my children. My babies. There are times when discipline and admonition are practical and necessaryfor instruction. But I've often struggled as a parent, even with girls so young, to have an attitude of compassion and grace. At this stage it applies more to my older one since Sierra, just barely 1 year old, hasn't had a chance to "transgress" against anyone yet; but the time will surely come.

I want my relationship with my children to be a reflection of my relationship with my heavenly Father. If I want my children to know the Lord, I need to show them who He is. Not only is it important to have grace and compassion when my children have sinned, but also to have words of affirmation and assurance when they are insecure. So many times, just in the four short years since Sophia was born, I have missed the mark. I've scolded her when she's been jealous of my affection toward Sierra. I've been frustrated when I just barely got Sierra down for her nap, and out of desire for attention, Sophia made noise that woke her. Even when I tried not to let my irritation show, I have failed to have an attitude of grace.

I will never be able to love my children like God loves them, nor am I capable of the grace He has bestowed on me. But this parable offers a perfect instruction on and example of how to give my girls a glimpse of Jesus. 


Momming is hard, yo.

My goodness, friends. This mom stuff is hard sometimes. And I'm in the thick of it. Today was one of those that everyone tells you about but for which nothing can prepare you.

My biggest little has all the feels lately, and she swings like a pendulum from cheerful to devilish and from laughing to devastated all within about three minutes. My itty bittiest had a flare-up of eczema today, and she screamed and flailed and cried in the worst way until she broke my heart. I have a mountain of dishes in my sink that I need to load into the dishwasher, except that I first need to empty the clean ones out of the washer and into my cabinets. I really could use a shower (or a hot aromatherapy bath complete with spa music and a massage), and I haven't yet sat down to pay my mid-month bills. Or finished Sierra's birth announcements. Or written all the thank you cards for baby gifts and meals after she was born. Or finished unpacking from moving into this house 2 months ago.

I put my 3 year old to bed three four times tonight, the last of which came after a scolding because I found her surrounded by books with the lights on in her room (this actually happened while I was writing this blog post). Then as I walked the floor with my not-quite 4 month old on my shoulder after she woke for the second time, I fought tears for the second time today. This time I lost the battle. As I gently patted her bottom to the rhythm of my footsteps and told myself to just breathe, I heard it.

It was an almost-audible whisper: It is just a season. I am here.

I Am. Here He is in the midst of the daily things, the life-altering things, the laborious things: The Unchanging amidst the ever-changing. He who counts the stars and calls them by name also watches me in the darkness of my bedroom, pacing beside the bed. And He reminds me that I am His, and He will not abandon me.

Isn't that what every parent wants for their children--to know security and love? It's my job to be that for them, to show Him to them. Through the toughest, most emotionally exhausting times even, I must be His hands: reaching out, comforting, healing. Caressing hairlines. Kissing boo boos. Shushing whimpers and wrapping my arms around tiny bodies. Remembering that what they need in me is who I have in Him.

So if you see me and my ponytail is halfway falling out, or if I say the wrong word or refer to one of my children by the wrong name, or if I invite you over and then apologize profusely for the mess, please do excuse me. I'm in the thick of it. This mom stuff is hard sometimes.


Our Little Miracle

Both of our girls are, without a doubt, little miracles from God. We're so grateful for them.

I'm pleased to share these priceless photos of the birth of our second daughter, Sierra Lorene, with our family and friends.

Enjoy. 💗

Images by Brooke Forwood Photo


Closing Time

Just a few short weeks before we had our second sweet baby girl, our dear friend Chelsea of PhotoChic Imagery & Design captured these precious photos of our family in a maternity session.

I adore these photos of our little family! We couldn't be any more excited about our beloved new daughter, but so glad we have these memories of us with our Sophia before Little Miss #2 was born.

"Closing time... You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."


St. Patty's Day Crafting

Every year we go to the local St. Patrick's Day parade, and Sophia and I dress up a little bit wacky in lots of green. I found a cute t-shirt for Sophia several weeks ago, but all the maternity shirts I've seen (or non-maternity shirts that would fit) for the occasion were more money than I was willing to spend. So I decided to make my own shirt this year. Sophia helped me out.

We used fabric paint and made "shamrock" stamps by cutting a green pepper in half. Luckily, it worked just the way I'd hoped.

When we were done, Sophia did a little finger-painting. She's quite the artiste

The shirts turned out great, and they were cheap to make! Shhh~we made one for Daddy, too! It's a surprise for him!