kindness counts
"Mommy, mommy!" my six-year-old came power-walking over to me in the library, eyes bright and waving a five-dollar bill. Doing his best to keep his voice at a library whisper, he exclaimed, all in one breath, "A guy dropped this five dollars, and I saw it, and I picked it up and gave it to him, and he said thank you and gave it back to me and said I could keep it because I was honest and kind and thoughtful!" Excitement spilled out of every word he spoke."Really?" I replied, a bit wary of the possibility of something like that happening, yet sure that he couldn't have made up such an...
Seekers of the Lost Boy – A Review
“‘What is that?’ Simon half-whispered his thoughts aloud. Ignoring the icy fingers of wind that slipped down his coat neck, he trained his eyes on the strange object at the water’s edge. There was something mysterious about the smooth object embedded in the beach’s shoreline. It glowed.” Thus begins Taryn Hayes’s new youth novel, Seekers of the Lost Boy, a story set in the Western Cape of South Africa. The tale focuses on a homeschooling family, the Wards, who embark on a journey to track down the author of the message in a bottle. What they learn in the process about their country and...
when cancer comes
I was 21 when the word that nobody wants to hear forced its way into my reality: Cancer. My mom was the one who received the dreaded diagnosis at age 50, and I immediately fell into a panic. Would she die? How much longer did she have? Right away, it was as if the cancer was now in control – as if it had a mind of its own. The very fact that the cells were unseen made it even more scary … were they spreading even as she slept? Where were they now? Just how vicious and aggressive were they? Could they be stopped? Few things were more crippling or paralyzing than waiting...
the grief club
In an article entitled, 'Anniversaries of Grief,' Matt Mooney echoes sentiments I've expressed in my Open Letter to Grief and an article called Loss Observed. He writes: "Let me tell you early grievers — those new to the club that everyone runs from admittance to: they’re lying to you. It does not get better with time. Cuts get better. Wounds heal. But when you lose an arm, it’s sheer foolishness to await the day that it “gets better.” You simply learn to live with one arm. When it’s gone, it’s not getting better. You’ll figure out how to tie your shoes and get your coffee. It will get...
highlights reel
So we made it to the end of The Nester's 31 Days Challenge. I hope at least one of these posts was a blessing and an encouragement to you. If cased you missed some, here is my personal highlights reel: That time I tripped over a simple question That time my sisters walked 60 miles in three days That time my son thought we were moving again That time I was a compulsive mover That time I wished I had a Pottery Barn nursery That time I was singing alone in the car That time I almost threw up in an airport That time I cried through sixth grade camp That time my friend and I swapped blogs That...
home sweet home
So here we are. Day 31 of 'Defining Home in 31 Days.' It was a teeny-tiny goal in the grand scheme of things, but the fact that I made it to the end carries with it a sense of accomplishment. Those who have taken part in 31 Days may be able to relate. We have arrived. We made it to the end. Maybe you've had other goals you've accomplished. My sister writes novels in 30 days. To reach the end of the month with 50,000 words is a great accomplishment. Some of you are runners. To train for a race and make it to the finish line feels amazing. (At least, I would imagine ... I've never...
walking with a wider lens
Today is my mom's birthday. I didn't bake her a cake. I didn't call and sing to her over the phone. I didn't even send her a card. If I decide to stop by to wish her a happy birthday, the closest I will get will be to sink my knees into the cold earth next to her grave. Every time I go to 'visit' her at the cemetery, an inner transformation takes place. My fingers grudgingly turn the steering wheel into the driveway, and dread sits indian-style in my stomach, unwilling to budge. I go in with a narrow lens zoomed in on my own self-pity. Then I start to walk around, slowly, intentionally. ...
heaven is …
Just sixteen days after my mom died, I wrote this on a former blog of mine: I'm thinking a whole lot more about heaven these days, mostly wondering what it is like. Silly thoughts, really, like when it is a beautiful day outside and I think to myself, "Oh, what a pity that Mom is missing such a glorious day. She would have loved this blue sky and sunshine." Then I think, "Hey, idiot. The weather is infinitely better in heaven on a permanent basis. We're livin' in the Shadowlands." Yet again, I will drive past one of mom's favorite restaurants and think, "How sad that she'll never be able...
the trip of a lifetime
Have you ever thought about how we can prepare for heaven? I found the following excerpt to be very challenging and thought-provoking. It comes from the book, Relationships: A mess worth making, by Timothy Lane and Paul Tripp. “How do you stimulate your imagination in any area of life? If you have a vision for decorating your house, you buy decorating magazines and pore over them until you get an idea of what you want to do. If you want to take a vacation, you sit down with someone who has been where you want to go. You talk about his trip, gaining insight and excitement about what...
let her stay
One of the books that has challenged me most in my faith, my ever-present battle against selfishness and my attitude toward death is a book called 'Stepping Heavenward,' a journal written by Elizabeth Prentiss (1818-1878). I have read it twice, and both times, I hoped that I would remember a certain excerpt when the time came to release my mom from this binding world into eternity. Thankfully, the Lord did in fact bring it to my mind, and I originally wrote this post two weeks after she died (now two years ago). I hope the following excerpt will be a blessing and a challenge to you as...
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