“No! Those are MY marbles!”
Our early morning mommy & me playtime was turning into a game of “hog the marbles”. These two little boys of mine love each other dearly- and bug each other fiercely. I know I had my share of these moments with my little sister (although the times I remember tend to revolve around who got the biggest piece of cake. Priorities).
I never dreamed of becoming a writer.
I never imagined my name gracing New York Times best-seller lists, lining shelves at Barnes and Noble.
Oh, there’s the green notebook full of scribbled stories from seven year old me.
The letters bursting from boxes stacked in the basement, memories of far-reaching pen-pals.
Duct-tape wrapped journals dipping with teenage angst and emotion.
Words have always held a fascination, a special magneetism.
And I'm long convinced words hold the power to change a life.
Read MoreYou probably know that moment just as well as I do.
That moment the kids run out to find their bikes just before you need to leave, dressed in the clothes laid out the night before. You are thankful for this quiet minute to brush your teeth, double check your bag, walk out the door glancing at the clock knowing you’ll be right on time. And maybe even early.
And then you hear the yell. The yell you know fluently because you hear it every day. Around the corner dash two soaking wet boys. That hose stretched across the lawn pulled them in like a magnet: one is soaking by choice, the other is dripping by another’s choice. He’s the yelling one.
Read MoreI’m sitting on the hardwood bedroom floor, running my fingers through a yellow Lego box, thinking another moment sifting will inspire a masterpiece. The little boys next to me need no such help. The younger one scatters waves of blocks with his Lego speed boat, the older one proudly holds up his one-of-a-kind car for my praise.
My body may be inches away from these boys playing next to me, but my mind flies miles away and years ahead. The swirls in my head aren’t just urgent questions and necessary decision making: my mind drifts to places I’d rather be, people I’d rather see. My imagination constructs future conversations, someday accomplishments.
Read More“Would you have married me then, if you knew everything you know now?”, he asks, midway through a heated argument.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t have married me either!”, I spew back. “There were some bright red flags waving all over the place!”
Anger is written across our verbal ping-pong game, carried in the sharp-tipped word arrows flying back and forth across the room. Our tucked away histories, our not-so-hidden expectations, our never-dealt-with feelings, our barely-covered sins, they all come tumbling out as our emotions free our tongues.
Read MoreThose mornings the three year old’s whine sounds more like a war cry, a high pitched declaration of battle between his childishness and my sanity; the eight-year old’s foot dragging a shot fired against all my glorious intentions. And the almond-eyed two year old, those whacks he gives his brother are blows to the grace my heart embraced in the early morning quiet, before the walls of this house echoed with the noise of three life-filled boys.
Days come where it seems this white sided house is a casualty laden battlefield. We line up, them against me. Their to the death stubbornness against my i will survive determination. Their quick shifting emotions against my fast fading patience. Their muddy shoes and soup dropping hands against my momentarily clean floors. Their childish cries against my not so adult-like sighs.
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I was one of those lucky kids, with grandparents right down the street in our quiet town. I could make a quick phone call, then jump on my bike, riding off to eat some chocolate chip cookies, sew a new doll dress, and play a game (or two, or ten) with my grandma. This is an entirely non-exhaustive list of games to start your own traditions with your younger kids. Whether they are Candy Land professionals, or gaming newbies, there is sure to be one that will light the game spark in your home!
Read MoreThis morning was one of those moments.
I was standing at the sink washing dirty sippy cups.
You know when your kid can drink just fine from a regular cup, but you aren’t ready to wash the floor five times a day? Yeah, that’s me. And while any floor in this house of three boys could use a good scrubbing five times a day, ain't nobody got time for that.
Read MoreIt’s finally here!
This eight-day devotional, a free download, to walk your family through the Most Marvelous Story.
I know myself, and the daily struggle to find the right words to share the realness of Jesus with my kids. If you are anything like me, you wonder too: “How do I share this reality with my kids in way that draws them to the wonder and greatness of Jesus? That makes them see themselves in His great story? That gives them a glimpse of the whole picture to spark their hearts to want more?”
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When that newborn baby cries louder than any shower concert you’ve given; when a few hours of connected sleep sounds like a fantasy; when it takes longer to get out the door than your average drive, there is life here. Life is found in seeing the face of God, in hearing the voice of God. And this entirely dependent baby, who can’t speak their needs, who can’t voice their fears and discomforts, is the perfect picture of our dependent hearts.
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