Think big

One of the projects I was most excited about this summer is one of those purely delight-driven, purely fanciful little endeavors that make the best kind of memories: a sunflower house. We attempted one once, years ago, in Washington. I probably should have just hand-fed sprouts to the slugs for all the good it did me. I think we grew three sunflowers that year, which was lovely, but it wasn’t a house. It didn’t create the sweet little hideaway I had hoped for. Call me a pessimist, but I never tried again.

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On rest

I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, we mothers decided that we should be busy. I blame the NIV Bible, which translates Titus 2:5 like this:

to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.

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Embracing what is

This isn’t a milk and honey season for us. Everything– time, money, the ability to stop and simply be present for a few hours each day– seems to be in short supply.

The temptation, then, is to mourn the loss. To look backwards at those years when the bank account was fatter and we could routinely bless others, to regret that days are no longer spent curled on the couch reading book after book to the children splayed all over the floor. To recall all of the moments that are not now and wish them here, to be lived again and again, forever.

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Open hands

There are plenty of things I don’t understand in the Bible. Some are routine, “how did He do that?!” impossibilities that my brain can’t wrap around. Others are bits that I cringe away from, like God saying, “That people group? Wipe them out. All of them. Women and children, too.”

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The starting gate

I was 17 when I met the man who would become my husband. Seventeen! Today that seems ridiculously young and yet, somehow, perfect timing. I love the fact that we grew up, in many ways, together. Yes, we had a steep learning curve in having fallen in love before the realities of mortgages and careers set in, but we climbed those hills hand in hand. Not always gracefully, mind you. But as a team, nonetheless.

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Wading

What is it with us moms? We’re so often so focused on finding the great recipes to feed our people, picking the perfect read-aloud, or balancing the best of the play dates and the free museum days and the opening of the splash pad that we forget to stop and abide– just linger — in the very season we are so grateful to be in.

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