Family

A Necessary Pause

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In a word: briliant.

September rarely disappoints in this part of the world! It has some of our best weather, our best colours, our best wildlife… what a gift! In the middle of the whirlwind of things to be done, afternoons are warm, roads are snow-free, and the golden kisses of autumn are everywhere.

It’s a much slower transition this year, though. No frost yet! Most years, we have a mid-month freeze up that sends the green on its way. Thanks to stretch of warmth, many bushes and trees are still holding on to their summer wardrobe. I suspect, though, over the next two or three weeks we’ll really see the autumn glow-up! And it will be glorious.

Just in time for Thanksgiving season at our house. Since the kids were little, we’ve been intentional about how we spend the weeks leading up to our Thanksgiving celebrations. Back then, it was easy. Life was a bit slower, kids jumped on the bandwagon and it didn’t take much to make it fun.

These days, though, with older kids and teenagers, it’s a different ball game. It’s no surprise that construction paper handprint leaves don’t cut it anymore, but our family gratitude journal has become an anticipated part of our routine. When I considered giving it a rest for a while, the loud protests revealed that it really has become a meaningful weekly tradition. It may not look the same as the handprint tree, but the intention remains: pause and take the time to remember the goodness of the Lord in our lives.

Holiday seasons rarely come at a convenient time. Life has a way of moving forward in ways we’re not ready for, and pressing pause on a full schedule with everyone’s different hopes and dreams for their intersecting lives can be a real struggle at times. Add relational tensions, unexpected illness and other dramatic life interruptions, and it can become a tough lesson in managing disappointment rather quickly. The costs can be high, and they’re not only financial.

Can we really afford to pause for Thanksgiving?

Lately I’ve been asking myself, “Can we really afford NOT to?” What an opportunity to rest in the Lord and see Him show up in places that feel impossibly difficult. As I wrestle with what it means for us this year, I keep thinking of a few thoughts from the final chapter of the book of Philippians:

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Phil. 4:12-13)

And especially the promise:

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen. (v.19-20)

Yes Lord! We’re trusting that You know our needs — and You will meet us in those places we need You most.

Image: mine

Actual Sunshine

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Rain, rain, go away… 

It has been uncharacteristically wet this month, with more than twice the amount of rainfall than average and barely a dry day to tackle the jungle taking over the backyard. Summer heat has mostly eluded us, with at least one frost warning and images of snowfall in the higher elevations of nearby mountain parks. Day after day we’ve traded sunshine and slip-n-slides for puddle-jumping and umbrellas.

It has given way to a green countryside we don’t often get to see in July! By this time of the year our landscape is usually taking on a dull, yellow-brown hue and my plants have all but given up trying to survive bouts of heat and hail. While the rainy summer has been lovely for the imagination, local waterfowl and the veggie garden, it has been hard on the hopes we had for long stretches of hot weather full of deck-lounging, lake fun, pool pop-ins, family water fights and late picnics in beautiful places.

Until this week.

An angel chorus burst into song in my heart when the first rays of actual sunshine broke through the violet haze of dawn. And in the forecast for the first time in weeks, no threat of rain! Just summer perfection as the radiant, glorious sun dazzled against a bluebird backdrop. As if on cue, the breeze picked up slightly, just enough to keep the heat in hand and the bugs at bay.  Unexpected towers of angry marshmallow clouds bubbled up in the distance but then — poof! — dissipated into flat, thin, wispy-edged, white nothings floating steadily across the horizon.

We’ve already forgotten the chill we’ve been under and have fully embraced the heatwave. And it’s wonderful! Perhaps the rain will return, and for more days than we’d like, but for now we’re basking in the blessing of the sunshine.

I’ve been reading through the book of Psalms and it seems to me that many of the Psalms are just like the weather pattern we’ve been experiencing recently: cold misery followed by radiant joy. “How long O Lord?”, followed by “Praise the Lord O my soul!” in the very same Psalm! In the middle of the pain and sadness, honestly acknowledging the difficulty, crying out to the Lord for help and salvation and remembering His faithfulness in days past, then finding that He is faithful, bursting into shouts of praise for His goodness to His people.

Psalm 145 (NIV)

I will exalt you, my God the King;
    I will praise your name for ever and ever.

Every day I will praise you
    and extol your name for ever and ever.

Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise;
    his greatness no one can fathom.

One generation commends your works to another;
    they tell of your mighty acts.

They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty—
    and I will meditate on your wonderful works.

They tell of the power of your awesome works—
    and I will proclaim your great deeds.

They celebrate your abundant goodness
    and joyfully sing of your righteousness.

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
    slow to anger and rich in love.

The Lord is good to all;
    he has compassion on all he has made.

All your works praise you, Lord;
    your faithful people extol you.

They tell of the glory of your kingdom
    and speak of your might,

so that all people may know of your mighty acts
    and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.

Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
    and your dominion endures through all generations.

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
    and faithful in all he does.

The Lord upholds all who fall
    and lifts up all who are bowed down.

The eyes of all look to you,
    and you give them their food at the proper time.

You open your hand
    and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

The Lord is righteous in all his ways
    and faithful in all he does.

The Lord is near to all who call on him,
    to all who call on him in truth.

He fulfills the desires of those who fear him;
    he hears their cry and saves them.

The Lord watches over all who love him,
    but all the wicked he will destroy.

My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord.
    Let every creature praise his holy name
    for ever and ever.

I love how the cycles of nature and seasons of the year point us right back to the goodness and faithfulness of the One who made it all! Echoes of His resurrection power ring through all creation with the sunshine after the rain, spring after winter, streams in the desert, fireweed after the wildfire. And don’t we desperately need the reminder to keep us focussed on Him in the face of unforeseen realities! Through it all, our eyes are on the Only One who truly saves, who is near to all who call on Him in truth, who watches over all who love Him.

What an incredible blessing to know that we are never alone!

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14 NIV)

Image: mine

Let it Be Summer

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The year goes by so fast, doesn’t it? June is done, and with it, a sense of finality. We’re still in the stage of measuring our lives in school years and summertimes, and summertime is taking centre stage right now.

My favourite tree across the street is larger than last year and all colours of beautiful blooms fill the beds and hedges around the yard. There’s a heaviness in the air this week – a humidity we don’t usually experience here – thanks to some heavy rain several days ago. Even the nights feel warm and sticky. It smells like wet earth and things growing and all the little bits of summer that we forget so quickly when the wind shifts at the end of the season.

For now though, we relish the heat of the sun and the green of the landscape and the hum of the creatures that fill our summer soundtrack. We’re ready for another kind of learning, the kind that teaches us how to live together and love each other well when there isn’t the same set routine or responsibilities of the school year to occupy our time.

It’s not that I don’t have things that need to get done in the next couple of months. There is no shortage of household projects and preparations and to-do lists, but I know that we need to make room for true rest in all its beautiful forms.

Perhaps that’s why I am a firm believer in the gift of a boring summer. Although we do maintain some expectations of household chores and sibling time throughout these wild and free summer days, I choose a slower pace for these summer vacation days. There is space in the schedule to lay down on the grass and look at the clouds. Play the entirety of a Phase 10 card game (that means all 10 phases!). To plan and execute a three-day campout in the backyard. Spontaneously get together with friends who happen to be in town for the day. Shop for and cook dinner over a fire we took the time to build. Say yes to an impromptu ice cream invite. To read aloud together. To grab the binoculars and check out that cool bird. To drive out of town for the day and explore a new place.

To just be.

I walked into two different stores this week and saw autumn-themed decorations – and immediately closed my eyes and put out my hand with a firm, “No”. Not ready for that, thank you very much. How about popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watermelon all day long! Sprinklers and water fights and pop-ins at the pool. Epic thunderstorms with awe-inducing lightning bolts and bubbling clouds that make your heart beat just a little bit faster.

The reality of the passage of time is always pressing down on me. I see all the changes happening before my very eyes – in my own reflection in the mirror, in my kids, in our family dynamics. I’m thankful for all the moments we have together, even the ones that feel a lot more like storm clouds and thorns than sunshine and roses. Change has never been my forte, and the looming uncertainties of the future are casting their shadows on my current season of life, but I am setting my heart on the One who never changes!

Psalm 91:1-2

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Image: Stocksnap

With Joyful Praise

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“With joyful praise in all things.”

The sign hangs in the living room, a constant reminder of the call to choose joy anyway. I couldn’t have known when I put it up months ago that I would need it so much this year.

And now, Advent is near, inviting us to participate in a season of longing for the deliverance only Christ can bring, reminding us that there can be no true hope, joy, peace or love without our beautiful Saviour.

Can I see Him in all things?

The recycling truck rumbles down the street in the slow light of dawn. Kids work on various projects, inspired after a good night’s sleep. I can hear one’s pencil on her paper, bringing characters to life and crafting wild adventures for them, page after page. The other three bring me piece after piece made of felt and pompoms, carefully fashioned as Christmas surprises.

“Mom, look at this!”

The excitement of this season is still palpable in our home. Although things are different now in many respects, some things remain the same, grounding us in the familiar, reminding us of who God is in the midst of it all.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.

Lamentations 3:22-26 (NIV)

Lord, may these words wash over me in this season. Give me eyes to see Your new mercies every morning. May I remember that You are my portion, that You are good, and that it is good that I wait quietly for Your salvation.

With joyful praise in all things.

(image: Stocksnap)

Stunning

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Stunning.

A young woman sitting on the summer grass in a white strapless party dress with a black stripe, legs hidden under her large skirt. Her dark hair was swept back in a classic early 50s style, dark lips curved into a slight smile.

The first time I ever saw the faded black and white photo I couldn’t believe it was the same sturdy woman who served me the best homemade perogies fried in onions and butter and always had ice cream in her freezer. I peered closer. It was definitely her, just not the way I knew her.

Our grandmothers weren’t always grandmothers, were they?

Decades after the party dress was gone and only the family album remained, a gaggle of grandchildren ate carrots straight out of her garden, dipped fresh rhubarb in a dish of white sugar from her kitchen and clambered up into the dusty hayloft while she mucked out stables in her tall rubber boots, jeans and t-shirt, cropped bleached blonde hair blowing in the prairie wind.

A stark contrast to the figure on the lawn.

Strong childhood memories are tied to pickled beets, beet borscht and finely crafted doilies, and her signature classic fragrance was Estee Lauder Youth Dew. She moved away when I was still young and distance kept her from the day to day of my life, but I still wrap my family in blankets made with the crochet skills I learned from her strong, well-manicured hands.

Hardy and hardworking, sharp as a tack, quiet but feisty, she loved classic country music, Scrabble and her “Story”, a particular soap opera with a 50-year run. She was a bit of a dish fairy with a penchant for abandoned coffee mugs. At least, she thought they were abandoned. Every time you’d put down your coffee mug for more than a few minutes, regardless of how full it was, you’d blink and she had whisked it away to the sink full of warm, soapy water for a scrub. “Where’s my coffee mug?” you’d say and she’d chuckle and shrug in her way.

Despite a remarkably challenging life, her faith formed her and held her. She rarely spoke of the difficulties but the lines in her face revealed more than words ever could. In recent years, she found herself in a more restful season living closer to family, and I’m so thankful my children came to know and love her, sharing Christmases together in our home. Over the past nine years we visited her at the seniors lodge, then in long-term care and finally, her hospice room where we sang her favourite song while and my eldest daughter played violin, like her great-grandfather had so many years before.

Tears would slip down those finely etched cheeks, her words barely intelligible as she sang along.

This weekend, she passed into the loving arms of Jesus, finding the true rest and peace she so longed for. On my final visit, I leaned close, kissed her cheek and told her I loved her and that I would see her again. Although her speech was muffled by her illness, I could still hear her say, “I love you too”.

I come from a long line of determined women.

Some would say stubborn, I would say tenacious. 

Some might say bullheaded, I would say unshakeable. 

Some could say unbending, I would say steadfast.

She was the first of us all.

She was stunning.

Image: mine

The Old Year List

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This morning I made a list.

It wasn’t a list of goals or dreams. It wasn’t a list of things I want to improve in 2023. It wasn’t even my usual practice of a list of items that needed attention this weekend. My tendency is to forget the good and remember the bad, so I put pen to paper and listed the things I loved about our holiday season. Amid the challenges, and there are always challenges, there were some truly beautiful moments that I don’t want to forget.

As the list grew longer, I realized that we are starting off the year from a place of abundance! When my eyes are on my problems, I’m blind to my blessings. If nothing else changes in my life this year, I’ll keep on remembering the goodness of God. I never want to be dismissive of my own difficulties, burying my head in the sand on things that grieve me. My hope is always that I would learn to hold the two in tension: deep sorrow and inexplicable joy. One does not negate the other. In fact, the deepest sorrows of my life remind me that I have a joy that cannot be taken away, a joy that will last forever, a joy that only Jesus can give.

Fast forward a few days. I’ve stashed the Old Year List away now in a bin of ornaments so when the time comes to decorate again, I’ll remember. More and more, I find I need the intentional reminders of the things that matter most so as I carefully packed up our baubles this year, I decided to leave one ornament out: an unfinished slice of a thick branch with the word JOY in black.

A bright and hopeful word burned with a 900 degree pyrography wand into a small disc of cream-coloured wood. It hangs at eye level in a common room, so that every single day I have a reminder that true joy comes with a cost. This little decoration was once a living branch full of buds and leaves and although it has changed shape and been marred by fire, it has a new kind of simple beauty that touches my heart.

Nothing stays the same, does it?

This is my eighteenth year of keeping a blog. I’ve been plodding away at this for nearly two decades, fully aware that social media has now become the preferred method of sharing bite-sized pieces of one’s life, but unwilling to let go of this long-form personal web log of snapshots of my life thus far. When I first put my fingers on a keyboard to write out my feelings, social media was just a baby.

So why, in 2023, am I still doing this? 

Why don’t I move everything over to the interactive spaces that will grow my platform and prove my worth as a writer to any publisher I aspire to impress one day? 

Perhaps it’s because I’m satisfied with a simple journal of sorts, one that that does not require membership and login information to read. Maybe deep down, I know that the process of turning a hobby into a career is a long, arduous, time-consuming venture that my current season of life has no space for. Most likely it’s because I know that one day I will be gone, but my voice will remain in these words for my loved ones to return to from time to time.

May they know the inexplicable joy that comes from trusting in Jesus, even when sorrows like sea billows roll. 

Whatever my lot, You have taught me to say: it is well with my soul.

That’s true joy.

(Horatio Spafford, “It is Well With My Soul”, 1873)

Image: Negative Space/Stocksnap

These Things I Know

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August has a way of reminding me that summer can’t last forever. The heavy scent of harvest is in the air, with its sweet promise of abundance. Most years a north wind blows through in the third week and abruptly ends the warmth of summer but this year the sun is standing its ground. Amid the heat, we’re catching glimpses of shorter days with a post-6am sunrise and a few leaves turning here and there, and we’re making the most of these final schedule-free days.

Amid summer’s dying embers, fall looms in the distance. Routines, requirements, responsibilities — all await a fresh energy and positive attitude built up over the months of rest. We’re preparing for the new school year and the rhythm of life that September brings, with all its challenges and opportunities. I’m steeling myself and praying that the Lord would remind me of a few things as we launch into this fall.

Work is a blessing

Whether I deem the work to be meaningful or not, I am formed in the process of carrying it out. The excitement of work I love reveals God’s goodness to me. When I have the opportunity to do the things I enjoy and do well, I live out His design in my life and reveal His glory. The drudgery of tasks I don’t enjoy reminds me that not everything is about me. The toilet, the laundry pile, the dishes in the sink – each one is an opportunity to live out a love that costs me something by laying down my pride, leading by example and serving others well. Either way, the blessing remains.

Rest is essential

When I push myself past the point of no return, it’s not only I who suffer but those around me who bear the weight of my foolishness. My irritability and inability to manage well becomes a sharp sword in my hands, hurting the ones I love the most. Repairing the damage is a painful and lengthy process. When I rest well, I submit to the limits of my body and mind and enjoy the good gift that God has designed as nourishment for myself and my relationships. It becomes an essential part of what it looks like to live well.

Consistent times of worship and prayer are non-negotiable

It’s one of the easiest things to neglect – but also one of the costliest. How quickly I forget who God is! The only One who made me and knows me inside and out, who can bear the weight of the heavy things I’m carrying, who is sovereign over all and yet walks with me step by step, whose mercies are new every morning – He is the One who holds it all together. When I am rooted in Christ’s love through worship from the Word and time in prayer, I am grounded and ready for the temporary challenges that stand in front of me. My perspective shifts from the struggle of the here-and-now to the promise of the what-will-be and I live with my eyes wide open to God’s work in my life. It must be a daily practice.

Community is a gift

As much as I like to fly solo, I am learning that it is unwise to consistently attempt to go it alone. Accepting help is not my forte, but in His great wisdom the Lord has graciously placed people in my life to gently walk along with me in every area. The insecurities left over from previous rejections and hurts are slowly transforming into confidence and strength. Learning how to be a contributing member of the circles we inhabit is crucial for our growth, offering us much more than we can obtain in isolation. We need this.

Lord, let these truths settle into my heart as we prepare for September. Help me stand my ground against the distractions and temptations to go my own way, and keep me on Your path.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;

 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

The glory of an August sunset on the Prairie (image credit: my dad)

Slowing Down to Savour

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A temporary relief from the stifling heat of summer is so welcome! Dark clouds hang overhead, yet to give us the treasure within. We’re waiting for the rain to fall after a week of bright blue skies, blazing sunshine and hot, sleepless nights.

Summer is sailing along now, heavy with the scent of life in full bloom. All the things we’ve planted are showing their resilience in the face of hail and heat. Some stand tall regardless of what comes, others are crushed beneath the weight of the elements or become food for critters and birds bent on survival.

Saskatoons are slowly ripening, but the sparrow stole my only strawberry of the year. Though the plants are young and the soil likely needs more nutrients, I have hope that in future years we’ll have more berries. Maybe I’ll expand the patch in a few more years if the plants are doing well.

Amid all the flowers and fruit, our kids are engaged in the very serious business of backyard play. With four between the ages of 5 and 11, there is no shortage of ideas on how to spend the day. Morning ’til night, with short breaks for food and responsibilities, they play. And play. And read. And play. I believe in the gift of a rather boring summer, with loads of space in the schedule to literally do nothing, if that’s what they want to do. Of course, the responsibilities are always an expectation, but otherwise, we aim for a rather carefree summer pace.

I glance outside. The much-needed moisture begins with sprinkles at first and then turns to a steady, gentle rain. The thirsty ground is soaking up the blessing of a long, cool drink. Trees bend in the wind and robins impatiently pull the surfacing worms out of the ground.

The kids wander around for a while before becoming thoroughly soaked and chilly. In the back door they tumble, asking for a late snack, although lunch is nearly ready. It’s our daily reset button, a gathering around an abundant table, filling their hungry bellies and setting them on track for the afternoon ahead.

I don’t want to forget what it was like in this season of life. I am learning to slow down and savour the small, ordinary moments of each day. These scenes are mainly for me, snapshots of what life is like in these good old days, moments captured on paper and in photos, and mostly, in my mama’s heart.

All four kids, home together, more of a gift than I can fully appreciate, I’m sure. That old cliche rings true: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.”

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom….
Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.”

Psalm 90:12, 14 (NIV)

The pansies are doing alright this year. Grateful.

Marking Milestones

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And now, summer.

A change in rhythm, a welcome break from the beautiful things that fill our calendar through fall, winter and spring with more space to breathe deep the sweetness of the season, more time to explore new places, more freedom to linger a little longer.

In the coming weeks, we’ll reach another milestone in raising our family: our youngest will join his three older sisters as a school-aged kid with a whole new world to discover. For more than a decade I’ve carried and cared for our babies, toddlers and preschoolers and it has been worth all the blood, sweat and tears so far. Perusing older posts with the stories of life with four kids under the age of six, I’m in awe of how the Lord has provided what I have needed in the moments I needed it most! I found these words I wrote four years ago when the pressure of raising small children was at its peak:

The other day, the older kids were fighting and spilled blueberry applesauce all over the carpet. After cleaning it up, they trotted outside as friends again (nothing like a shared chore to encourage sibling bonding), where one promptly did a trick on the swings and ended up with a possible fracture. I heard the shrieking from inside the house where at the very same time the baby was having a meltdown while I was cleaning up a potty accident from our three year old who was ill. 

While we’re in the thick of a challenging season, we don’t even know that the whole time He is carrying us! It’s only when we find ourselves in between the waves and we have a minute to breathe that we realize we’re still afloat.

In a world that values filters and highlight reels, I’m thankful for authentic reminders of God’s goodness to me in times past. As we mark this family milestone with a celebration of our youngest, I’m praying that I won’t forget these lessons I’ve learned in these early years. We have a long way to go before they’re grown, and I may have no idea what challenges lie ahead, but I know the Lord and I’m confident that He will hold me fast throughout the journey.

Image: Bob Richards/Stocksnap

Brave Enough

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“What we perceive to be holding us back may actually be the catalyst for the deeper, lasting change we desperately need.

Can we make room for it? Are we brave enough to let ourselves be interrupted by what is better?”
–March 28, 2019

My own words written three years ago, a lesson I am still learning to put into practice. 

I set aside a couple of weekend mornings each month to write. This particular morning, my coffee was made, the engine of my mind was in first gear, my fingers were itching to tap out my thoughts on a blank sheet, and the old school cartoons were on for the kids.

I sat down beside our youngest for a minute to give him a little side-squeeze and a kiss and he looked up at me with his bright blue eyes and said, “Can you watch with me, Mom?”

So often, I’ve blown right past such an invitation. In fact, my default position on such things is, “I’m just going to do this one thing, okay?” which stretches into several things and before I know it, the moment is gone.

Let’s be honest. Sometimes you just have to say no for all kinds of good reasons. Every day made up of thousands of little choices that reflect the current reality I’m living, and every time a request comes I have to weigh it before making a decision. This morning, I weighed the decision before me and I knew that it would be a mistake to turn this little guy down. We cuddled up together, and before long, like a magnet, the other three kids found their way onto the couch too. Each one, with their own unique and beautiful design, settled down beside us, close enough for hugs and back scratches.

It won’t always be like this, I know. One day these little birdies will fly and I’ll cheer them on from the nest but for today, I’m taking the opportunity to soak up all the snuggles. What makes it possible to continue on, day after day, with all the different needs and wants of each one?

The beautiful grace of Jesus in one tiny three-letter word.

GET.

I don’t have to do these things; I get to do these things, even the hard things. I get to hear about their day, help them navigate their world, give them the tools to carry into adulthood, pray for them, love them, delight in them, cheer them on.

This one simple mindset change can make all the difference between a child who grows up feeling like a burden to the entire world and a child who knows they are deeply loved no matter what.

Years ago when we first had little babies, my mother-in-law said something that marked my heart: “I love having a front-row seat to my kids’ lives!”. Her exuberant joy of cheering on her kids and grandkids in the different ages and stages has impacted how I view this life I’ve been given.

It does not come without great cost, but it is worth more than gold.

“Mom! This is a scary part! Come sit with me!” My 4 year old calls me back to cuddle on the couch for a few more minutes. I return to my own words, written long before this morning’s cuddles on the couch:

What we perceive to be holding us back may actually be the catalyst for the deeper, lasting change we desperately need. 

Can we make room for it? Are we brave enough to let ourselves be interrupted by what is better?

Lord, may I always learn to embrace what is better!

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” -Galatians 6:9 (NIV)

Photo by one of the kids