I am devastated. Okay, that might be a touch melodramatic, but I am seriously bummed. I applied for a job I really wanted, and I found out after work yesterday that I didn’t make it past the first round interview. Now I’m sitting here wondering what to do with myself. Do I lick my wounds, work three times harder to […]
I thought a student said, “My Mom’s Hand” as a title. He actually said, “My Mom’s Ham,” but if I’d heard him right, this post wouldn’t exist. When I was erasing the board after class, the title caught my attention. My mom’s hand… Over the years her hands have washed me, been run through my hair, wrote notes and cards, folded […]
There is a feeling gnawing and growing inside me. It is tugging at me and retreating again. I can’t pin it down or hold it long enough to examine it. It is the a sense that things are on the verge of change. I am changing. No. They are changing. No. We are changing. My son was a babysitter tonight. The house […]
I have been at pastors’ wives retreats and leadership events/trainings where dealing with the loneliness of ministry has been a topic of discussion. I never really understood it.
It seems I have served in some capacity of ministry my entire life, and I have never felt lonely in ministry… until now.
As we approach the new school year, I often see advice to parents about how to help their children become successful in the classroom. The advice is generally very good, but it never quite says what I wish it would. My three children run the spectrum of academically advanced, on pace, and learning disabled. As a parent and an educator […]
I was so proud of RCC and how hard everyone had worked to get to launch day. Why was I allowing perfectionism to take away a moment that cannot be relived?
I can’t get that moment back. I can make a choice that, from this day forward, I will see myself as fearfully, beautifully, and wonderfully made. Valued. Loved.
I chatted with this mother as if we were even remotely in the same world, but I cringed inside about how insanely messy and not put together my little section of family was in front of pristine beauty.
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 girls look at me, and they see beauty because they look at me with eyes of love.
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.