The Wellspring of Gratitude

I’ve been dreading the holidays. The magic began its silent ebb years ago, when work ballooned into the spaces needed to prepare and reflect. I’d hoped to recapture some of the wonder and joy with the kids, as they played with tinsel and nutcrackers, and crawled under the Christmas tree to gaze up into the…

Love Other Mothers As Thyself

When we disparage fellow mothers in their parenting choices, we note only fail in our mandate to love one another, but also discount God’s sovereign work in parenting. From desiring God:  Love Other Mothers As Thyself

Counting It All Joy

I reeled from my pitiful attempt at gravy curdling on the stove, and wagged a burned finger. Homemaking, I thought again as I backpedaled from the mess, comes as naturally to me as kung fu to a fish. “Here Mum!” I turned to see Pip standing in the kitchen, his pants dusted with a kaleidoscope…

Parenthood Is a Refining Fire

I sat with my back against the door to keep him from bolting, and to wait out the tempest. He screamed inches from my face, his breath hot, the curves of the cheeks that I adored contorting as he howled. My joints ached as he writhed and flailed like a cornered animal in my embrace….

For Now, We Groan

Those of you familiar with the challenges with my son will recognize the impetus for this next Desiring God article. We are all out-of-sync. Only Christ can heal our fractured hearts. For Now, We Groan: Finding Hope in a Fractured World 

How Surgery Prepared Me (and Didn’t) for Homeschooling

In many ways, my career ill-equipped me for homeschooling. Surgery is all about protocol. In an emergency, when the blood pools on the floor, the blood pressure on the monitor drops, and panic swells in the room, surgical training teaches you to lean into procedure. You cut out the noise, ablate the chaos from your…

The Gift of Mom Guilt

Is “leaning in” or “opting out” really the issue? Or does mom guilt alert us to something deeper? I explore this question in my next article, published this morning on CT Women. The Gift of Mom Guilt

The Wrong Question

“Mum, look! Boulders!” I chuckled to myself as both kids ignored the playground structure slick and glistening in the August sun, and instead darted for a series of rock formations. As their laughter intermingled with the rush of wind through the treetops, I reveled in how few bells, beeps, and whistles kids really need. Forget…

Not Mine, but His

I’m struggling. I hesitate to even use the word, as blessings surround me. A friend visited recently who calls Kenya his home, and discussions about the challenges of his neighbors shamed me. In this corner of the world, we bathe in resplendence. Who am I to speak of struggle? Yet I’m grappling spiritually.  For the…

Antimony in the Sandbox, Stars on the Ceiling

“I’m making antimony in the sandbox.” “What?”  “I’m making antimony. It’s is a nitrogen element.  A metalloid.”‘ Despite Pip’s infectious enthusiasm, the three-year old sharing the sandpit with him gathered his excavator and pail, and at his mother’s prompting, retreated to another corner of the playground. Later, Pip pointed to the light over our bathroom…