Welcome to the place of overflowing grace in the midst of messy motherhood.
There are a lot of kids up in here, a lot of noise, and a lot of life. It's raw and real, and often sticky.
But I wouldn't trade it. (Except maybe the sticky part.)
Join me for the journey.  

The Minor Profits

What are little boys made of? Snips, snails, and puppy dog tails.  That’s what little boys are made of. Slime, grime, and mud all the time.  That’s what little boys are made of. Youth, truth, and a missing front tooth.  That’s what little boys are made of. Truth. The test is small, the size of a pen.  I’ve used one many times before this.  But the result is always weighty.  I felt it on my shoulders this time.  Heavy.  And I felt the smallness of my house, the weakness of my own arms, the onrushing responsibility of soul-raising threatening to close over my head. But I took a deep breath.  I tried to step out in faith, once again, and simply be amazed.  And… I stepped on a lego.  I stepped o

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times. But at the time, I didn’t realize it. It was one of the times I walked into the grocery store with my brood.  There were boys in the cart, around the cart, under the cart, and every other preposition physically possible.  I scraped one child off the side as the automatic entrance doors stopped opening abruptly, as if they weren’t expecting to accommodate a load that wide. We took our time (that’s how you do it with kids), heaped groceries in every cranny of the cart where there wasn’t a body, and eventually made it to the checkout without too much drama and only a few scratches from the fight over who got to hold the bacon. The lady smile


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