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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Lessons from a weekend

We’ve had a bug slowly meandering through our family, afflicting members one by one, bringing this one some sniffles and nothing more, leaving that one in bed with a fever for a day and a half. It’s the “no fun” part of the start to cooler weather, but all in all, it’s just a niggling little First World side note. Even Jude, whose version has resisted my elderberry/oil/tea protocol for two weeks now, is nowhere near the line that divides sick from sick. And if he were, well… doctors.  See? First World problems.

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Upside down

I’ve spent a lot of time lately pondering the innate upside down truths of the Gospel. Dying to live. Loving enemies. The meek inheriting the earth. All of it is foolishness … and yet, I have seen it, lived it, been blessed by it. My story is full of moments where what should not be was, and what man called impossible came to pass.

I bet yours is, too.

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Following the tracks of a legacy

This past Saturday was a pretty decent Saturday, as they go for teenagers. I slept in, (thank you, Mom,) relaxed in the morning, played a game with my peer-aged siblings in the afternoon, and spent the rest of the time leading up to dinner outside. It was a beautiful day: the perfect level of sun combined with just enough wind to make it tolerable to my Washingtonian tastes.

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Simply perfect

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Some days are remembered for the balance of wonderful or awful they bring. A wedding. A death. A birth. An accident. A loss. A blessing long asked.

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The only one

Years ago, I learned a lesson the hard way. Mired in depression and struggling with the fact that my life at that moment was good, but not best by my own definition, I lost a huge chunk of what was truly precious to me: my joy.

I lost whole days and weeks and months because I forgot the truth that God so patiently sows into my heart new every morning:

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Introducing … Straddle Parenting

Back when we started this website, our focus was fairly clear: we were called to provide encouragement to families taking the road less travelled. For two years now, we’ve shared our path, hoping that our transparency in regards to our family’s walk would glorify God. Over the past 24 months, we’ve been on both sides of the learning curve, cataloging our ups and downs and gleaning wisdom from those of you who have shared your own journeys with us.

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This morning, I woke up in a bed given to me by someone I’ve met only once, at a wedding, more than a decade and a half ago. I came downstairs to a kitchen rented out to me by a couple whose name I know only from a lease agreement. I made cinnamon rolls for the family I did not create in the silence, using tools sent to me by a host of friends, some of whom have faces I have never seen.

This is my life. And I am thankful.

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