FEED LOVE
My mother has spent her life feeding us love. Her love languages are acts of service and quality time, but that is only because cooking is not technically one of the five love languages.
My mother has spent her life feeding us love. Her love languages are acts of service and quality time, but that is only because cooking is not technically one of the five love languages.
I am a feeler and a fixer. I often keep the feeling internal and demonstrate my concern by trying to fix. I am getting slightly wiser with age, and I’m learning to try to keep the fixing to myself and share the feeling.
Life is chaos and mess, and, yes, we have to work hard at it, but even in the decay there is something valuable. Perhaps, it is even something worth all the gold and luster being worn off so we can see it.
I know you see it-the shirt just in front of the hamper. Although finding a piece of clothing on the floor next to the hamper is a daily occurrence, in the moment, I was struck by how that shirt looks similar to so much of my life. The laundry almost makes it IN the laundry basket; my house is almost as clean […]
I am not a Facebook post, a selfie, or photoshopped image. I am a human- flawed, broken, and beautiful. I come closer to being whole when I am with other flawed, broken, and beautiful humans.
I share so much of my life with you all in this blog. I decided it was time for you to meet my husband and hear our story.
All I have to do is tap a button. The pillow is so soft, the blankets are so warm, and my husband would be so lonely without me there. Is that a tickle in the back of my throat? Maybe I’m sick and need to sleep more. I can text to let the others know to go on without me.
I know the truth. Where God gives vision, he gives provision. I know that I know that I know… and, still, I sit here unable to sleep.
I had almost missed her soft whisper as I left her room: “Cover me, Mama.” The words gripped me as I pulled the blankets up to her chin. She gave me the words I have been trying to find to express the emotions stirring within me the past couple of weeks.
Like my Christmas star decoration, we were messy and beautiful. We shared life together without attempting to create perfection and order. We allowed the strands and clumps to come together to form something warm and sparkling.