Vacation Stories

Written by on July 31, 2010 in mothering, relationships - 3 Comments

I live for stories. Love them. Love to hear snippets of people’s lives told over hot coffee or cold beers on the beach. I love to read a great story, like the novel I read this week on vacation. (The Help, by the way, and I highly recommend it!) I love to listen to stories about people’s grandfathers, or of their college antics, or of middle school angst. I love stories in sermons and stories in songs. I love how stories bring the themes of love, suffering and redemption to life. Stories, whether past memories or future dreams, bring life to LIFE.

So you’d think I’d be better at cataloging my own memories. I spend a lot of time in my head and being in other people’s heads, because I love it. But that means I’m often caught without a camera, and that even when I take pictures, I’m terrible at downloading them, even worse at printing them, and a complete failure at creating frames, scrapbooks or other memory paraphernalia for my kids.

One of my college roommates disagrees. She thinks I have a great memory for stories, and when I think about my days with her, I do think of lots of snapshot memories: her Laura Ashley pink and green flowered bedspread, the hours we’d spend watching Talk Soup on E, our long runs around campus, the way she wrote her name on the top of her notebook. I can remember inside jokes between her and our other roommates, things that make no sense to anyone else. But most of the big details are a bit fuzzy.

I think that’s how I see life, in the snapshots of memories that hard-bake into my memory like pottery, turning strong and shiny and durable. So in the spirit of little memories and the stories they tell, I thought I’d share a few from our vacation this week:

1. playing a game of “Family” with eight children under seven, which turned to complete mayhem that was so loud, we couldn’t have heard a roaring lion even if it was in the room with us.

2. a piggyback ride race that involved my hubs carrying another hubs, both of whom tried too hard to win and immediately planted face-first into the sand.

3. the taste of fresh-caught shrimp, prepared and peeled and served, all without me doing a thing. Delicious on so many levels.

4. the moment when walking through the sand and realizing that “sugar sand” is a completely accurate descriptor for such a gorgeously fine substance beneath my toes.

5. the look on my two sons’ faces as they attempted to ride a boogy board together, the toddlers chubby cheeks next to his brother’s tanned face that already has begun to show clues of the man he is becoming.

6. shared looks of understanding and compassion between the three moms, trying to raise good kids while staying sane.

7. Realizing that there is more love and more tension in every marriage than I think most of us ever let on. Going away together for a week is a good way to see the reality of marriages, that they take a lot of work but they are infinitely worth it.

8. The blessing of a break from daily routine, which actually makes me grateful for the daily routine.

So how do you remember things? Are you more prone to the snapshots or do you remember every detail? What’s your favorite snapshot memory?

Weekly WrapUp

Written by on July 16, 2010 in mothering - 3 Comments

A weekly wrapup from the random bits of my life:

P.S. You have the weekend to leave a comment from this week’s posts, and then I’ll pick a random for a great book for all the mommas struggling to find themselves post-baby: Mama’s Got a Fake Id. Check out Caryn, Kristin, or Anne’s post and leave a thought!
  • After my own post about the ups and downs of mothering, I appreciated my friend Tracey’s own ruminations ice hockey, bloody noses and the rapid cycling of great mom/bad mom on any given day.Pop over and check it out.
  • Words of the week: I told my mother today that “a bathroom cleaning caddy has changed my life.” Seriously? Am I too dramatic for my own good or is this really my life?
  • My hubs came home from work today and was greeted with this wrapup from my oldest son: “Mommy burned off her finger hair in the grill and we watched two IMAX movies today.” I would wrap up that same thought with this: ghetto grill and Groupon. Gotta love it.
  • In other notes on learning from my kids: one child today had a total “too many people around” meltdown and needed a good cry. I was reminded about how a good cry is definitely a good thing. It’s so cleansing, and I think there’s no reason to avoid them. Just go with it.
  • I got pretty excited about my day Tuesday, which I call “blog-worthy.” Might tell a better story another day but here it is in a haiku:
    no kids and camera
    friends and burgers for three bucks
    random tuesday rocks.
And here’s a picture from that photo shoot. Tuesday was good for many reasons, but mostly because I got to be a part of some great talent. One was my friend the photographer. Can I tell you that photo shoots are a little awkward. Especially when the photographer is your friend, who also happens to be married to a girl who was at one time a middle schooler that you led bible studies for and now they have a baby, which makes you feel really old. But I digress.
Every girl should get a chance to look as good as possible in a picture. The story behind this shirt: a friend of mine saw it for a dollar at Charlotte Russe and had to buy it for me, seeing as I am the resident blogger of our little church circle. Little did she know how much longevity this thing would have. woop woop.

Next up was three dollar burgers for lunch at a sketchy little pub, where I got to talk to some other friends about a video project coming up at Hope that we are working on, as well as some design aspects of my bible study coming out in a couple of weeks. It felt deliciously creative (the conversation, not the burger).

I know you are now gripping the edge of your computer screen, wondering when and how you will be able to purchase hundreds of copies of the aforementioned study. Release your computer screen before you hurt yourself, and rest easy knowing you will be a-flood with information in the upcoming weeks. Here’s what you need to know tonight:

1. It’s gonna be awesome.

2. It’s called The Divine Pursuit and it’s a study of Jonah.

3. I’m going to do some cool stuff, like run an online group this fall, which will be a great experiment on further connections–and if they work–through the blogging/online community.

Finally, there is only one thing I love more than a good pet trick. A good toddler trick. Check this one out:

I get real about punching the mother clock.

Written by on July 15, 2010 in mothering - No Comments

This is a word week that I needed help on. I appreciated Guest Post: Is Mothering a Dirty Word?because, like her, I have always been ambivalent about mothering. My ambivalence was a mystery to me…how could I love people so much and not love children just the same?

As I reflect upon that, I realize that the intimacy and weight of being a child’s mother felt smothering. Sometimes it still does.

I stopped babysitting when I was thirteen (I was gangbusters before then, but I burned out bright and fast). I set my sights on other things, like ruling the world. But like most dreams, the reality of adulthood wasn’t exactly what I pictured. Post-college, I found the most life in youth ministry, being goofy one second and serious the next, building relationships one ice cream run, breakfast date, and bible study at a time. My favorite memories were driving girls home and sitting in the car talking in the dark.

I left feeling emptied, but in the most satisfying of ways. Like I had poured my life into something that mattered. Youth ministry softened my heart toward mothering, but some kind of warning system deep in my soul kept blinking bright over what I was embracing. When I succumbed to the fact that I didn’t want to be a forty-year old mother of toddlers, I found myself quickly pregnant. I breathed a sigh of relief when it was a boy. I was convinced God would give me all boys so I could keep being a cool youth leader for girls without ever having to deal with trying to mother one. And like most dreams, this was not reality either. My second was a girl, born twenty-two months after the first, and I fell in love with pink all over again.

Both my dreams and my fears about adulthood have strangely come true. My dreams of doing big things haven’t faded, and a mix of intensity, tenacity and God’s hand have opened some doors. I left youth ministry but kept working with teenagers in counseling, and I continued to be emptied, and filled, emptied and filled, but this time, on empty, I came home at night to teething babies and cranky toddlers and dirty bathrooms.  

Mothering introduced a new definition for empty. This emptiness is much deeper, as if there are reserves that I didn’t know about, probably somewhere down next to that red blinking light, the warning system set in place to avoid completely losing myself. But it has to be done, as a mother. As a mother I forsake sleep and privacy and dignity. I forsake dreams and plans. I often forsake showers and highlights and pedicures, things that take precious time. I marvel at how many hours I spend with little people every day. I marvel that every woman is type-A to work this job, after all, it’s all day, into the night, and sometimes through the night. Who works 100+ hours/week and doesn’t seem fried?

Of course, I look around and sense that some women don’t feel this way about mothering. It’s not a job, it’s a calling, they might say. And while I most certainly agree that mothering is far more than a job, my little warning system tells me I act like it is. I punch the clock at seven AM, just as I’ve immersed myself into my writing or work or coffee. If I’m needed before that, I’m resentful. I punch out at 8:30PM. If I’m needed after that, I’m angry. Like a factory worker who follows protocol until that whistle blows, I punch the clock. I put in my good hours, and I want time to myself. For the other stuff I do. The stuff that I think “fills” me up.

So I punch the clock. I’d like to believe the women who tell me, as they always do, “this time goes by so fast! You’ll miss it when it’s gone!” and now that my youngest is three, I get brief and intermittent flashes of that truth. When someone loses a tooth. When someone rides a two-wheeler. When I see that the chubby-cheeked, round-belly toddler is beginning to grow.

But most of the time, it’s punching the clock.

The past week I’ve said no to most things. I’ve stayed home. I’ve tried not to be a work-at-home mom, which is like trying to do quality control on the factory line while also running the forklift. It’s dangerous to my soul, to let all those boundaries dissolve. Some women do it beautifully, and sometimes I do too. But for now, I’ll write in the early mornings and late at night, and spend the rest of the day (mostly) being a mom. And I think there will be rest in that, less clock-punching and more calling. 

We all do our best to make mothering work. For some it feels just right, like the emptying and filling I feel in youth ministry. For others, like me, young children might feel more smothering than satisfying. But we do what we can. We make it work. We find out what feels right. We correct course, continue on, check course, correct again.

And we pray for those wonderful flashes of moments where we know that mothering matters. Faithfulness to the job matters. Loyalty, forgiveness, laughter, love, the joy and the pain of it all…it matters. It’s a messy complicated love, neither total dream nor bleak reality. It’s the best picture of life there is. And I hope that when my children are grown, I will look back and find satisfaction in the struggle. That I will be changed for the better, and that they will have survived living with this mess of a mom. :)

Guest Post: Is Mothering a Dirty Word?

Written by on July 14, 2010 in Guest Bloggers, mothering - No Comments
A lot of things can be dirty about mothering, and my momma sisters out there know exactly what I’m talking about. But what if mothering feels like a dirty word for another reason? What happens when mothering doesn’t come naturally? Today’s guest is Kirsten Oliphant. I met Kirsten randomnly at church one Sunday when she was in visiting from Houston. We talked writing (she’s got an MFA and is working on her second novel) and blogging, and I thanked God that our paths crossed.  My favorite fun fact about Kirsten: she does roller derby. Yeah, she’s that cool.

Mothering Is a Dirty Word

Mom jeans.  Your Momma jokes.  In so many ways, motherhood carries negative connotations in our culture. Moms are often portrayed as old, uncool and unattractive—a picture the young Hollywood set has recently tried to challenge by racing to lose that baby weight so they can squeeze back into designer jeans and parade their baby around in the latest trendy carrier.  Neither end of that spectrum promotes a healthy (or realistic) view of motherhood.

For me personally, the term “mothering” held a secret shame for a totally different reason:  I have always felt like I was missing the Mom gene.

Most women see a newborn and exclaim, “How adorable!  How old is he? Can I hold her?”  Watching these encounters genuinely filled me with panic because I had no desire to hold that baby. I’ve never really thought newborns were very cute.  Puppies and kittens are great—but I’ll pass on the human baby, thank you. 

In many other ways I felt disconnected from traditionally feminine things.  I grew up as a tomboy wearing shorts under my dresses to church.  I let my hair air-dry and didn’t wear makeup throughout high school and college.  I prefer a poker night with the guys to a chick flick and girl talk.  I play roller derby, where I’m much more likely to get a black eye than a trophy.

None of those things really bothered me—in fact, I embrace that identity.  But having no mothering instinct toward babies seemed like a cardinal sin.  What was wrong with me that I didn’t find babies adorable?  I decided that this must mean that I wasn’t cut out for motherhood and probably shouldn’t have kids.  

Then I fell in love with a guy who has six siblings and loves big families. 

Before Rob I had started to question my no-kid policy, but before I said “I do,” I really sought God and reflected on my own fears and desires about having children.  In that time I not only realized that I did want children, but maybe even a lot of them.

So what changed? 

I still don’t go ga-ga for babies.  Unless they’re my own.  (As I write, I am being lured away by the toothless grin of my four-month old.)  What I came to terms with is that I don’t have to think every baby is adorable to be a good mom to my own children.  I don’t have to fit some kind of standard—whether that’s the trendy-hip Mom, the June Cleaver model, or something in-between.  And I certainly don’t have to have it all together.

It’s a good thing, because I don’t fit into some neat little package, and I most definitely do not have it all together.  What changed is that I gained the confidence to be a mother knowing that in Christ, I have the freedom to fail. 

Failure?  That doesn’t sound too optimistic or even very responsible.  But when you get to the heart of it, Christianity is based on failure.  Because we fail to meet God’s standard of perfection, God provided Jesus as our savior in the ultimate picture of love.

Despite my best efforts at mothering my children, I am going to fail.  Probably every day.  I will never be able to model or teach perfection to my kids.  I can’t possibly meet God’s standards, and neither can I meet those expectations of others, or even my own. 

Knowing this gives me a strange sense of freedom.  I can be a mother without succumbing to that pressure for perfection.  I still want to do the best job I can, but don’t feel the need to compete with other people or wrack myself with guilt when I screw something up. 

I never would have imagined myself embracing motherhood the way that I have.  I adore my two boys and can’t wait to have more.  Being freed from the inherent pressure of the word “mothering” has enabled me to dive headlong into it.   And let me tell you—where I’m swimming, the water is fine.

Kirsten is a wife, mom, writer, and roller derby-er living in Houston, TX. You can find her blogging at Still Hate Pickles. And leave a comment here or on Guest Post: Photographer Anne Gaskill on “Mothering”or 12 Great Questions for Author Caryn Rivadeneira posts for a chance to win Caryn’s book, “Mama’s Got a Fake ID.” I’ll pick a random winner on Friday!

Guest Post: Photographer Anne Gaskill on “Mothering”

Written by on July 13, 2010 in Guest Bloggers, mothering - 16 Comments

 

Today’s guest post comes from photographer Anne Gaskill, a great friend and fabulous photographer. If you are in the Richmond area, check her out…she can make your kids look as cute as hers with her photographing skillz. :) And answer Anne’s question in the comment section or answer an interview question from Caryn’s interview yesterday for a chance to win “Mama’s Got a Fake ID,” a fab book on (re)finding your identity after children.

Here’s Anne:

I’m writing this in the midst of a kid-free week, blocking out the memory of all the noise and mess my kids make.  I have two sweet little rascal boys, but when the grandparents offered to take them for a week at their home 2 hours away, Mr. Gaskill Rascal and I said “where do we sign up?”  I had a busy week ahead and taking two little munchkins out of the equation led to a more productive time.

As “the most peaceful week ever in our home” went quietly along, I really had some moments to think about my time being a mommy and everything that this stage of life is teaching me.  What being a parent teaches you about your relationship with God is profound and amazing.

I love my children so much, but to think that God loves them a million times more.  I think that sentence is so much bigger than me and my meager explanations.

www.gaskillrascalphotography.blogspot.com 

As parents we often struggle.  A friend of mine is currently in a battle to keep the twins growing in her belly healthy and safe for a few more weeks.  She is dealing with some issues that could cause her to lose her two babies and just thinking about her battle is breaking my heart. So many stories like hers make me think about how hard we often work to bring children into the world.  And then they grow up to be teenagers and we struggle even more to love them and teach them so that they will be happy and successful in life.  I am reminded of the struggle that God goes through to rescue us from the sin that keeps us from experiencing the life He planned for us.  He did more than I could ever do to save us, His children. 

I talk about love, but I do not even begin to understand.

And then God tells us to have faith like a child.  Seriously, I never got that for many years.  Does He want me to ask 500 questions in a mere 30 minutes like my sweet little 4 year old?

Maybe.

Does He want me to hop through puddles on a rainy day and enjoy his creation? 

I think so. 

My son asked me the other day if he could snuggle God when he gets to heaven. 

Yes sweet boy, I think you can. 

We could debate the theology on that one, but I don’t think we should.  A young boy knows that he can snuggle the people whom he trusts and the One who loves him most.  I think he gets it better than most of us.

Now your turn…what have children taught you about your relationship with God?

Anne is a mom, blogger and photographer in Richmond, VA. You can find her blogging at The Gaskill Rascals.

Keepin’ It Real…

Written by on June 11, 2010 in mothering, Uncategorized - 2 Comments

A Day In The Country:

Yesterday me & the crew met the most fertile group of women you’ll know out at Mt. Olympus Farm, north of Richmond. I say fertile because I do not exaggerate: it appeared there were about 8 moms and 80 children under five at this gathering. We had a great time picking blueberries and visiting this cute little farmstand.

Of course, my attention was immediately diverted to a little bookshelf beyond the potatoes.

I found a couple of great books for $1.


For those of you who read mommy blogs, this might actually seem like one of those sweet posts that captures the fun and simplicity of raising young children. And that is good. But LEST you think it’s all fairy tales….I”ll tell you two things.

#1: While my mommy attention was diverted by this used-book treasure chest, my two year old and his three-year old twin buddies tromped up the farm stairs, chasing down a terrified cat. The eight-year old farmer-in-residence had to scold me, “ma’am, ma’am, ma’am, those kids can’t go up there” in the sweetest accent you’ll hear. So much for that sign I saw on the way in, “Children Must be Supervised At All Times.”

#2: A picture is worth a thousand words. Just wanted you to see the two treasures I picked up.

Let me inventory the front seat of my minivan for you:
1. large purse
2. smaller purse
3. toddler foot (missing one shoe)
4. Daily Readings from Oswald Chambers…from yesterday’s find at the bookshelf
5. My Idea Journal
6. Sunglass case (with no sunglasses)
7. Spiritual Readings 2002–also from the bookstore
8. More crumbs, wrappers, and empty water bottles than I can count.

Picture #1 & #2 represent the life I’d like to live. Picture #3 is the reality.

Isn’t it true that we have to make peace with both? Tell me moms, what picture represents your life?

And a special shout-out to Anne Gaskill, who took all these amazing pictures (minus the minivan shot.) Check her out here to learn more about her photography.

Why I Hate Mother’s Day…revisited.

Written by on May 8, 2010 in mothering - No Comments


This is a post I wrote two years ago at Mother’s Day. In it, I assert that I’m going to start thinking of other moms first. Read on to find out what happened!

I woke up on Sunday and groaned. Let the self-pity party begin. Where was my gift? My breakfast in bed with homemade cards and flowers picked from the yard? How about just a cup of coffee? My mother’s day vision and my reality were not aligning!

I continued on to church, grudgingly picking up the coffee for the fellowship hour. Couldn’t a MAN take care of this, just this once? The middle-aged woman behind the Starbucks counter had the countenance of a storm cloud. It was obvious she could think of better things to do on HER mother’s day.

I talked with a friend at church. She rolled her eyes about making dinner for her mother-in-law. With six young children between us, we wondered aloud about when we would get a whole day of honor we deserved, or at least a break from making dinner!

I came home and struggled over my mother’s day gifts for my mom and mother-in-law. They won’t be making it in the mail in time.

This is why I hate Mother’s Day. It’s so forced. I don’t want Hallmark telling me when to honor my mom, nor do I want that burden thrust upon my children. But mostly, I don’t want to buy into the pity party of a day when I don’t get what I “deserve.”

How is it possible for all mothers to be happy and served on mother’s day? I have friends who’ve recently lost their mothers to cancer. I have friends who wish they could be mothers but it hasn’t happened. This is a sad day for my friends. How about the single mothers? Who’s cooking for their kids tonight? How about all the mothers who work in restaurants today, serving other mothers? It’s a recipe for discontentment.

But I won’t let the corporate machine keep me down. Earlier this week my five-year-old son taped a sign to my bathroom mirror. It said “I (heart) Mom.” A spontaneous expression from his heart? I’ll take that over a forced facade of love any day of the week.

Next year, I’m going put myself aside, and think of those women that don’t get exactly what they are looking for on mother’s day. A phone call to the one who lost her mother. A note for the one who’s husband is deployed. A little gift for the ones who have been spiritual mothers to me. Hallmark makes money on people feeling guilty about what they “should” be doing on this day. But next year, I will reclaim this day for good … if I could just get that cup of coffee in bed.

I did make a change on Mother’s Day 2009. I ordered my own present. Maybe this year I’ll reclaim this day for other moms too!

Your Turn: What do you think about Mother’s Day? How do you reclaim this day back for good, or is it a lost cause?

For more great reading, check out my friend Caryn’s post on the mandatory Mother’s Day Sermon.
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Why I Hate Mother’s Day…revisited.

Written by on May 8, 2010 in mothering - 7 Comments


This is a post I wrote two years ago at Mother’s Day. In it, I assert that I’m going to start thinking of other moms first. Read on to find out what happened!

I woke up on Sunday and groaned. Let the self-pity party begin. Where was my gift? My breakfast in bed with homemade cards and flowers picked from the yard? How about just a cup of coffee? My mother’s day vision and my reality were not aligning!

I continued on to church, grudgingly picking up the coffee for the fellowship hour. Couldn’t a MAN take care of this, just this once? The middle-aged woman behind the Starbucks counter had the countenance of a storm cloud. It was obvious she could think of better things to do on HER mother’s day.

I talked with a friend at church. She rolled her eyes about making dinner for her mother-in-law. With six young children between us, we wondered aloud about when we would get a whole day of honor we deserved, or at least a break from making dinner!

I came home and struggled over my mother’s day gifts for my mom and mother-in-law. They won’t be making it in the mail in time.

This is why I hate Mother’s Day. It’s so forced. I don’t want Hallmark telling me when to honor my mom, nor do I want that burden thrust upon my children. But mostly, I don’t want to buy into the pity party of a day when I don’t get what I “deserve.”

How is it possible for all mothers to be happy and served on mother’s day? I have friends who’ve recently lost their mothers to cancer. I have friends who wish they could be mothers but it hasn’t happened. This is a sad day for my friends. How about the single mothers? Who’s cooking for their kids tonight? How about all the mothers who work in restaurants today, serving other mothers? It’s a recipe for discontentment.

But I won’t let the corporate machine keep me down. Earlier this week my five-year-old son taped a sign to my bathroom mirror. It said “I (heart) Mom.” A spontaneous expression from his heart? I’ll take that over a forced facade of love any day of the week.

Next year, I’m going put myself aside, and think of those women that don’t get exactly what they are looking for on mother’s day. A phone call to the one who lost her mother. A note for the one who’s husband is deployed. A little gift for the ones who have been spiritual mothers to me. Hallmark makes money on people feeling guilty about what they “should” be doing on this day. But next year, I will reclaim this day for good … if I could just get that cup of coffee in bed.

I did make a change on Mother’s Day 2009. I ordered my own present. Maybe this year I’ll reclaim this day for other moms too!

Your Turn: What do you think about Mother’s Day? How do you reclaim this day back for good, or is it a lost cause?

For more great reading, check out my friend Caryn’s post on the mandatory Mother’s Day Sermon.
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Signs of Spring

Written by on February 22, 2010 in Girl-Life; God-Life, mothering - No Comments
 
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Experiencing *real* winter here in Richmond this season has been intriguing. I look at my window and see snow, still lingering after several weeks. Snow-laced pine trees and the brightness of the landscape make up for the inconvenience of slippery roads, cancelled schools and muddy boats. But as the winter drags into mid-February, I long for a change of season. And never have I looked forward to it more than this year. Perhaps that represents a bit of my own internal season…a long spell of waiting, of holding on, of being faithful to what I’m called to do while looking ahead to what might come next. Looking for signs of spring.

Yesterday the temperatures rose into the fifties. After such a cold spell, the kids were convinced it was summer. Out came the water guns, the bare rubber-band arms of elementary-aged children, and the ubiquitous lemonade stand.

I swirled up some powdered mix and sent them on their way. Charlie paused though, to add to his sign: “For Haiti”. There’s nothing like the excitement and fervor of child peddlers to induce a grown-up to part with their spare change, so business was brisk.

At one point, two men jogged by. By the looks of their dri-fit shirts and well-worn shoes, they were serious runners. I was touched that they interrupted their pace to visit the stand, a red wagon attended by so many children it looked like a chicken coop, their hands and arms flapping this way and that as they tried to gather cups and pour lemonade. One of the guys reached into a zippered pocket and handed the gaggle a bill.

The children shouted in amazement, “Twenty dollars!! They gave us twenty dollars!!” A celebration worthy of the world cup ensued, with every child running in circles, doing cartwheels, or screaming in ectsasy. The runner turned to me sheepishly, “uh, we are going to need some change from that twenty.” I smothered a laugh. The kids didn’t even consider the possibility they didn’t intend to fork over their entire twenty for two dixie cups of lemonade.

But not even that refund could flag the children’s enthusiasm, and an hour later, that had collected $20.73 for Haiti relief. I breathed deep in that late afternoon. Spring.

 

Whether a long dreary winter or the muddy transition of early spring, God is in these details. He encourages us and inspires us in the little things, like a child’s enthusiasm and a red wagon of pink lemonade.

What pictures describe the season of your heart?

Daily Life

Written by on February 16, 2010 in Girl-Life; God-Life, mothering - No Comments

Sometimes words aren’t enough to capture life around here, so today I thought I’d share some images. Charlie prefers to be behind the camera, so capturing this expression was priceless. We had just completed the Five Day Challenge and were celebrating with a feast!

Jes VanFossen and her boyfriend Andrew completed the challenge with us. We polished off a large basket of Frings (fries and onion rings) and then thought we needed more. Overkill. Keri Wyatt Kent, author of Simple Compassion, where I first read about the Five Day Challenge, suggested that we break the fast with a “simple meal” with friends. Friends? Yes. Simple? Hmmmm….

Not only did we avoid simple, Charlie took his hunger pangs as an opportunity to conquer the 1/2 pounder cheeseburger, which culminated in this cheeseburger hug and his picture up on the wall!

Celebrating snow days….

Getting creative with spelling words…

In case you wondered if everyone’s lost their sense of humor about all this snow:

We certainly haven’t! At the studio recording a fun surprise for the Hope Women’s Retreat. More footage later!

Pictures help me remember that the good stuff of life is in the little things: good cheeseburgers, laughter with friends, letter tiles and snuggly moments. What pictures capture your winter this year?

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