I’m giddy to share the podcast episode where I am the interviewee.
The gratitude for the friends alongside me runs deep.
I’m laughing with my husband.
I attended a funeral for a sweet and faithful 95 year old woman who was a mother figure to my Dad (as well as many others in our Church family).
We took a family walk and picked weeds and discovered a snapping turtle.
A graduating high school friend brought flowers and a local coffee shop gift card as she came over to visit.
I’m stuck on words my pastor’s wife said as we waited for the funeral service to start: Suffering is just as much a path to sanctification as “safety” is. and God is not safe; God is just right.
I’m asking God for help with a few things; I’m adoring Him for the beauty in a lot of things.
I was snuggled by my 11 month old after she threw her pacifier out of the crib.
I’m fielding fun, encouraging birthday messages.
I’m smiling at these words someone sent me: “Of all the things I’ve done and made, my home is my favorite. Not the building or decor (I’ve never been very good at that) but the softness, fun, peace, and wildness. Even when someone is stomping angrily upstairs because I said no, everyone knows they’re safe here. Making a home is the most beautiful of things, I’m convinced. So maybe today go a bit easy on yourself when you look at the stack or mail, plates in the sink, or pile of unmatched socks (there should only be one color of sock available). You created a home. Your people are loved and you’re caring for them as much as a human can do. No one is perfect. I let God cover where I come short and whisper prayers into their hair and hope my hugs will leave permanent indentations in their hearts. Keep going, mama. You’re doing the most beautiful of things. Making a home.”
I am reflecting on a handful of people saying the same comment about the podcast: It’s a real ministry. It delights my soul.
We are splurging for dinner at home, steak and homemade Oreo milkshakes (not at the same time), with the girls running around at our feet.