Movies, Memories and Movement…

It is how it makes you feel. When you sit in the movie theatre and cry when the daughter and father embrace. When you lay in bed later in the evening and wonder what would happen if countries shared what they had and it was received as gift. When you read and re-read that one italicized paragraph because it perfectly declares what you’ve been thinking for a long time.

mumbling midnight mom movies

Between Blank Panther, How to Stop Time and A Wrinkle In Time my head and heart are spinning. It is a reminder, art speaks to us.

My husband and I were talking in the car today and I was recalling how growing up music wasn’t a big part of our home. So much so that I never really CHOSE what I liked until college and by that time several decades of music had come and gone.

Whether reading or film or music, putting words, thoughts and emotions into contexts not our own changes something in us.

Perhaps questions arise, or memories are recalled or something new is unwrapped.

For a very long time art in any form (except maybe food) has been at the far bottom of my to-do list. Between kids and work and marriage and life, it hasn’t seemed important, even trivial.

Maybe it it just the season I find myself in but currently, art is where I am meeting God, looking at His world and pondering my own purpose through movies and books and the music of my children.

It is often hard to discern what is frivolous and what is necessary. I often think we put way more into the “necessary” column than is truly necessary.

Yet, there is a place for beauty. I think of all the ways God shows us that He is WITH us. There is sunrise and sunset, colors across a canvas. There are ancient scriptures, words to be read and pondered. There are communities, people where that God image is revealed back to each other and shown redeemed.

Thankfully, God is not a single note played over and over. Instead, He is a complicated and beautiful symphony, heard best when each part is experienced.

And so, I sit, and listen…ready to hear the symphony of grace.



Is it really that simple?

We dwellers of Earth live in chaos. In the last week alone in France and Africa we’ve seen open acts of violence. In small countries like Bulgaria and large ones like Russia the political unknowns are causing citizens so much fear. In my own state and town concerns about the economy create stress and anger.

A very long time ago when I was probably in the haze of newborn life I chose the subtitle “simple words for moms” for this blog. Without knowing it that small phrase has continued to shape my life, who I am, what I say and how I relate to the world.

The world is a crazy place. While we carry this great weight of motherhood we are also not blind to the chaos of the world outside our four walls.

Some days it is difficult. We think about our kids and their education. We think about our own careers, what could be next for us and what we need to do to get there. We think of all the things we want to do and should be doing for our immediate communities of church and city.

Just the every day doing of life can seem like so much. Then, then we turn on the news or read an article and our heavy heart becomes heavier.

How do we talk to our children about death and fear and anger? What do we teach them about the beauty of their individual identity AND their place in as a citizen of the world? When do we grieve the hurt that we see and feel in the brokenness that surrounds us and still find a way to carry on?


In the beginning. There was heaven, there was earth. There was light, there was dark.


We are battered, bruised and broken but live with the promise redepmtion.


Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough worries of its own.


Grace. We will never be big enough or strong enough or powerful enough to fix all the problems in the world but we are blessed enough to be recipients of grace.


In the receiving of grace we are filled up to give grace. To our husbands, children, job, church, community, our world.

As we engage the complex of the social, political, economical and religious quesitons, let us not drown. Let us remember that even the most complex things came from the single breath of God.


“And God said…” Genesis 1:3 What is he saying to you?


“For it is by grace you have been saved…” Ephesians 2:8 Do you live like it?

Want to change the world? Simple.

“…Love one another….” John 13:34

Can you? Will you?

Reclaiming Rest


Christmas Day is always one of my favorite days. We tuck away our phones and electronics, we soak in every moment and we take the whole day slowly. I enjoyed my kids and husband so much.

On multiple occasions since then I have wondered why it can’t be like that more often.

I have so much guilt about sitting down. About letting the kids watch TV. About not doing something around my house every minute I’m here.

Some of that is just me, I have a huge amount of energy, I like to go. But some of it is fear. Fear to have quiet spaces. Fear of others thinking I am less than. Fear of being lazy instead of restful.

As I commit to re-reading the books on my own bookshelves this year I ran into this CS Lewis quote this week “The leisure activities of thought, art, literature and conversation are the end, and the preservation and propagation of life merely the means.”

I think I’ve had a lot of things backwards until now. I have taken the preservation and propagation of life as more important than the life itself.

In those moments when I really stop and enjoy the leisure, the art, the literature, the conversation, I really enjoy it. I feel full by the beauty and stories and life of those around me.

I’m realizing that to live a life that is generous and welcoming to others also means I have to be generous and welcoming to rest.

I can not give what I do not have.

If I am not rested, I can not give rest. If I am not healthy, I can not give health. If I am not wise, I can not give wisdom.

This year I am reclaiming rest. I will sit down and just breath. I will let the kids watch a small bit of TV that they didn’t have to earn or schedule. I will be in my house without being controlled by its material presence.

I do this for good. I want to be the mom that can focus, the wife that can go above and beyond, the neighbor that does a favor, the friend that is supportive.

I reclaim rest, so that I can reclaim life.

Linking up today with Unforced Rhythms

Lying on the Kitchen Floor…


A friend was going to come over and a few days later a group of girlfriends was headed over. While cleaning the kitchen, the bathroom and putting away toys I was feeling quite motivated. I really was getting a lot done.

“Why can’t I be this motivated all the time?” I thought. “Why don’t I get this organized when my family needs me to? Why do friends and strangers motivate me more than the family I declare that I so deeply love?” I wandered in and out of that question all day. “I thought I was past the need for outside approval and was satisfied with being uniquely created and living that out?”

Friends, when you raise 4 small kids with a husband who travels it is easy to go down these rabbit holes. Most of the time I dismiss them but this one seemed to be going somewhere. Here’s what I learned…

Yesterday, Tomorrow

When I think about picking up the house for my friends I am focused on what is coming. When I think about picking up the house for my family I am focused on what has already been.

I’m a hostess type, sort of. When I was growing up we had an open door policy of sorts. People were always welcome, even if it was a little crowded or a little inconvenient. Some of my best memories surround those moments so we’ve carried a similar tradition into our own family. Friends coming over is one of the things I look forward to the most in my chaotic weeks. I don’t mind the tidying up at all because I am looking forward to what is coming.

When I walk around the house, step on yet another Lego, spot another pile of discarded dress up clothes and see small stacks of books everywhere except the bookshelf all I can think of is the mess the kids have left behind. Left behind. The housework I do for my family often makes me feel left behind. My kids already had fun and left me behind. My husband went to work and left me behind. My friends have gone back to work life and passion projects and have left me behind.

In hindsight, it is a little irrational. My daughter set up this sweet tea party and invited me, she only left it behind when her sister asked her if she would help her get dressed up too. My husband is heartbroken to leave me with all these responsibilities each time he has to travel. While some of my friends are back working and engaging in amazing side projects, so am I!

It’s all about perspective and mine needs a reality check. But, I can be try to be present with a balanced perspective with all the positivity in the world and still be left wanting. Perspective alone isn’t enough to keep me going.

One Time, All the Time

One time graciousness is easy, repetitious graciousness is hard. I can make a meal for a friend with a new baby and it is relatively easy. Making three meals a day, every day of the week for my family, that takes a lot more effort. Watching a friends child for a couple hours is relatively easy. Refereeing my own children for six straight days by myself is a much bigger task.

Graciousness transforms into grace when sacrifice is required. I sacrifice very little when I do a singular favor or task. I sacrifice greatly when I go back and do the same task over and over and over.

Grace, we are back here at grace. I start thinking about my own life, the people who love me so deeply, the faith that claims me so clearly. Those people, that Jesus, the repetitive acts of forgiveness and love over the same shortcomings again and again and again.

I mentally see myself face first on my kitchen floor. Shock. Awe. Submission. Thankfulness. Grace.

There are people on this side of heaven that love me like that. My kids who after the end of a long day still hug me at bedtime and remind me I was the favorite part of their day. My husband who still loves me when I’ve been stubborn and self centered, again. My friends who bake cookies with me and laugh with me and cry with me, even if I don’t always do those things perfectly for them.

Jesus. Who died, for me. Who loves, me. Who gifts life, to me.

It’s almost too much to take.

Tonite I’ll do the 3 loads of laundry, sweep the floor yet again and think on these things. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon the magic formula to motivational housework and it all begins with grace…

Someone is always crying. And it’s okay.


With 4 littles running around, a crazy work schedule for my husband and a desire to be involved in so many good things (which I have greatly curbed in these years of littles) I am asked a lot “How do you do it?”

Ha, yeah, that’s me laughing. I’d like to know which part you think I’m doing because most days, I feel like it’s a success if everyone is just making it!

Feeding the family? Yeah, we are on a meal plan and my husband does 90% of the prep.

Keeping the house? Pft! I’m a minimalist by preference but also out of necessity! My house looks kept because there just isn’t a lot there.

Managing the laundry? Ummmmm…maybe there are currently 3 loads of towels piled in the basement…or maybe not…but there most definitely is.

Crying…we survive these years because someone is always crying.

As I try and throw the taco fixings together the baby is crawling at my feet, the toddler is coloring at the table, and the 5 year old is crying because the 7 year old is a better reader than she is.

As I desperately attempt to get the kid toys from the living room back to the bedrooms my 7 year old is helping, the 5 year old is sorting, the toddler is crying because she can’t find the pink monkey and the baby is finally napping after crying for the last hour.

As I look through the last 2 piles of wash the baby chews on a burp cloth, the toddler jumps in the clean piles of clothes, the 5 year old picks out her favorite pink things to hang up and the 7 year old is crying because he needs his favorite black basketball shorts right now even though practice isn’t for another hour.

Someone is always crying. And its okay.

It’s okay for my 5 year old to realize she’s just a beginner. It is okay to be a beginner!

It’s okay for my toddler to be a little attached to a toy her cousin just gave her. Our niece just started babysitting for us and it is endearing that she leaves things for our kids when she comes. I love that this relationship is blossoming.

It’s okay for my son to cry a little as he begins to assume small responsibility for his own activities and feel that small weight. As he makes it through the stress of this small thing and finds that it is not the end of the world, I pray he sees hope and starts to tackle bigger things with bravery.

Someone is always crying. And it’s okay.

The tears in this house are a sign of humanity and growth. They signify emotional, physical and developmental milestones. They remind us of our own shortcomings and the call on each family member to help and encourage each other.

They remind us of our hearts and souls. We need the grace of our tears to remind us we are human and imperfect. We are flawed and frustrated. We are simple and soulful. And we can’t do it alone.

How do I do it?

Someone is always crying. And I’ve decided it’s okay.

It is in the small, daily tears that I find the life and work of motherhood to be about the eternal hearts of these children.

Someone is always crying. And it’s okay.


Linking up today with Unforced Rhythms

Grace In It All


As I sat down to write this I stared at the screen for a moment. What am I even doing?

You see, every Monday my friend Kelli does a link up called Unforced Rhythms. When she started doing it I made it my personal goal to stop and think once a week about my life. The good, the bad, the funny. The ugly, the spiritual, the redeemed.

Two weeks ago I was done. It had been such a busy week. I was tired, my husband was leaving for another week of work away, my kids were at their wits end, we had done too much.

Fast forward to today and I’m wondering how to spend my hours. My husband is home, my kids are rested from a slow weekend, the calendar is wide open.

Lately I’ve been struggling with things that I thought I had worked through. I’m having trouble keeping my commitment to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I went back on my commitment to cut down on my technology use so I can be more present. I’ve been missing big things and dwelling on small things.

None of the struggles are huge. Independently of each other they seem like rather small goals that are “good things to work on.” Collectively, they have me spiraling out of control.

Every Monday Kelli’s heart for Unforced Rhythms of Grace comes to mind, I have it bookmarked…

The phrase comes from the dead center of one of my favorite Bible passages of all time. The words Jesus himself spoke in Matthew 11 (verses 28-30):

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

On more than one occasion, these poetic words have breathed life into my weary, burned out, religious experience. They have been a refuge and a place of peace. A resurrection, even. They have led me to the Rock that is higher than I and reminded me of who he really is, not just who they may say he is. These have been centering words. Words that help me hope again.

Some weeks I have easily seen the rhythm I am in and the grace that both precede it and follow it. In saying it out loud here I hope to encourage and help others see their own grace.

Some weeks are like today. The rhythm is off. I bring nothing to the table, I have no insight or words of strength. Yet, the grace remains.

I’m yielding. I’m giving in. Grace reminds me that in my struggles and failures, in my sadness and discontent, in my pride and frustration, I am still loved.

In acknowledging this gracious love and finally yielding to it, I am able to turn around and love others. My husband, my kids, my friends. This week my extended family, my sons teachers, my neighbors.

What is your rhythm today?

If your rhythm is forced and exhausting can I remind you that you are loved. You have been called. You can never do enough to save the world but you can be always enough to love someone near you.

If your rhythm is sweet and beautiful can I remind you to be an encouragement. You are in a place of joy and peace. Invite someone in.

I think on these things every Monday, yet today I may be seeing this unforced rhythm of grace for the very first time.

Grace in it all. Happy Thanksgiving.


Linking up today with Unforced Rhythms

Ugly Grace


Ugly. Right now I’m in a season of ugly. Not to worry, my self image is completely in tact, it’s the rest of me that’s ugly.

My words are ugly. I’m harsh. Sure I can mask it as “being direct” or “speaking the truth” or “guiding my children” but really, it’s just harsh.

My actions are ugly. They are controlling. Of course I have called them “efficient” and “structured” but really, I’m just trying to be in charge.

My thoughts are ugly. Judgmental would be more precise. Under the label of “my opinion” and “the right way to do things” it almost appears nonchalant or worse yet, helpful.

“Feel the slip and the grip of grace again.”

How did I get here? How did I so quickly lose my grip on grace? Again.

I wish I could say it was all the recent long days with my son or the too busy week home with my husband or that it’s just this season of having little kids constantly at my feet.

It’s not.

Grace, the kind we extend to each other, it’s a choice. Yet, it comes from a place beyond ourselves.

Grace comes from the heart but not just any heart, it comes from the heart that is soft and tender.

How did I get here? I let me heart start to harden. I bought into a selfish view of life where I was the main character. I began to see myself as a victim of circumstance instead of a person created and equipped. It was easier to choose giving up over giving in.

Grace. I have felt it slipping and yet slowly, as I see my heart and life for what it really is, I feel its grip all over again.

To my friends, please forgive me, you are a welcome grace and dearly loved even if my words and actions have seemed otherwise.

To my children, my being the mom is not a license to be harsh, I’m sorry.

To my husband, thank you for being grace, especially when I am not.

Right now I’m in a season of ugly and yet I feel the grip of grace.

Hope amidst the hopelessness, this is grace defined.


Linking up with Unforced Rhythms