life. faithful.

  May this Memorial Day serve as a time to renew your dedication to the restoration of our nation as the beacon of hope it used to be to the rest of the world. May we all dedicate ourselves to living lives that honor those who gave their lives to defend and preserve our nation. Stand for truth, refuse to cower, honor equality over equity, value justice, and remember our rights are from God, not men. "He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8)

 I wish I had more than words to offer. I wish I could somehow take the pain of families in the midst of unbelievable agony right now, that I could somehow offer them hope and comfort. More than anything, I wish I could give those parents back their babies and bring back the heroic teachers who tried to shield their students. This world is broken, and sometimes it's made painfully obvious by people who do unspeakable evil. In these moments, everyone is searching for answers. Everyone wants to figure out something to do, something that will somehow stop the hurting. We try to find meaning in the unimaginable, try to make sense of an atrocious act. Can I offer some advice? If you know these families--or anyone facing grief--you don't have to offer answers. You don't have to come up with reasons. You don't have to try to find the silver lining or the lesson to be learned. Don't turn their tragedy into a talking point or something political. Instead, just sit with them ...

I heard an excerpt from a Christian podcast a few days ago and it hit me wrong. Two women were talking and one said something along the lines of, "I wish I had lowered my expectations for my children." She went on to explain how that was the better, more loving thing to do--how we should make it a point to welcome people just as they are and reassure them that however they show up is good enough. I call bull (sorry if you think that's too blunt). Maybe it's the years I've been in education, but there's not much that makes me more frustrated about parental behavior than parents who have low expectations for their kids. I sat in a conference once where I listened to a mom talk about all the things her daughter wasn't capable of. I could only watch the tears welling in the 14-year old girl's eyes for so long before I spoke up, and I'll never forget the look on her face when I chimed in with what I thought she was capable of. I've been on the rece...

  I live down a couple miles of dirt road. I love where I live--protected by the hills all around, tucked back where we have to cross the creek multiple times to get to our house--but it isn't the ideal place for my little Prius. While my tiny hybrid is an ideal vehicle for my 2-hour round trip every day, it isn't ideal for rough dirt roads, creek beds, and a driveway that winds through the field. So it wasn't surprising when I had a flat. Frustrating, and a definite inconvenience when we got home Sunday evening, but not surprising. My husband was going to be volunteering at our kids' JR High track meet on Monday, which just happened to be in the town where I work, so we put off fixing it for the night and I just bummed a ride with him for work Monday. When we got home, then, Nathan jacked my car up and got the tire off. That process wasn't without it's own challenges (which I won't get into, but which involved my dad and the tractor), but it was done. My da...

 Early in the morning on the 4th of July, I woke up with a familiar tightening of the muscles around my stomach. They weren't intense, but I knew what I was feeling--contractions. I waited for a while before I told Nathan what was going on because I knew it was still early. After a couple of hours, though, we made arrangements to drop off our oldest with family and made our way to the hospital. Once there, the nurses hooked me up to a monitor. They read my contractions and watched me for a little while, then told me that the monitor must be off because I should be reacting more (insert major eye roll here...). They sent me home, saying they would see me back in a few days. I didn't argue, but I knew I would be back much sooner than a few days. We called our parents to let them know what was going on, then picked up our daughter and headed home. My parents came down and spent the day with us. We hung around the house all day while my contractions got stronger and closer together...

I spent a big chunk of my life involved in cheerleading. Through all the years I cheered, my favorite thing to do was stunt. I was always a base--as I've mentioned, I've had trust issues since the time I was little so that ruled out being a flyer and relying on somebody else to hold me up in the air. I was always the one with my feet planted firmly on the ground. A lot goes into stunting, and my favorite (and best) cheer coach always made sure we understood the importance of what we were doing. His favorite thing to tell us was "Drop a stunt, run a mile." As a base, I took that to heart. My job was to always be between my flyer and the floor, no matter what. Since my feet were on the floor, that meant that it would hurt a whole lot less for my body to end up on the floor than it would for my flyer's body to end up there. How easy that was for me to do, though, depended in large part on my flyer. One of the most spectacular stunts to see is a basket toss. Even if y...

 More--do more, be more, have more. It's all around us all the time, pushing us to push harder, that constant feeling that it's simply not enough . Do you hear that voice in the back of your head like I do? Call it perfectionism, imposter syndrome... or just be honest and call it insecurity. The feeling that I'm just not enough is something I've dealt with my whole life. Every grade, every project, should have been better. Every meal cooked or room cleaned. Every important conversation with one of my kids. Every gift given. Every accolade won. Every promise made. All of it should have somehow been more... I should somehow be more, fit more into every day, figure out how to give my kids more. I should be able to be the best at work and give more, then turn around and be the best at home and make sure my house looks like the magazines (or at least like a tornado hasn't just come through the living room), then keep the farm running. I should be able to find a way to h...