Joining Five Minute Fridays with Lisa-Jo today. Thankful for an opportunity to capture a few thoughts in the midst of the crazy beauty of our new life (three biological boys plus two foster children).

Prompt: Worship


There’s a beauty in the gross things. The little things. The things that make you sweat. The things that leak and smell and cry or whine, the things that won’t look you in the eye. The small smiles. The trusting hand that finally grabs hold. The time invested so they finally call you by name.

It’s worship. All of it.

Right here, right now, my worship is in these moments. It’s five little heads–some smaller than others–looking for my hands to come upon them in prayer. Waiting for the sticky kiss on foreheads–the kind that won’t rub off (ever, I promise). My diaper duties sing songs to my King and when I bathe that one child (for the second time that day because of a potty accident) my soapy hands and aching knees are as much of a hymn as I have ever mustered.

My feet are chanting as they walk back and forth down the halls of this house, opening doors and closing them, checking eyelids to make sure they’re closed.

My eyes–they’re leaking tears of praise and fear and adoration and anxiety and love for the Father who brought me to this temple.

And by the time I come to Sunday and the music surges through my veins, I find my mouth cannot even open for the rawness of it all.

The worship I’m doing is always right now. The hardest, most beautiful, messy poured-out love letter I’ve ever written.



Lemonade2Participating in Lisa-Jo’s Five Minute Friday (A day late–oops). Five Minute Saturday just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Here’s the deal: Write only for five minutes. Word prompt: Belong


There’s a pitcher of lemonade on my counter, too tart, sticky all over. But that’s no matter. The middle one has had a rough 2 weeks and I’m not going to lie, he’s made it rough on me too. An ear infection gone wrong. Too many doctors appointments. Pediatricians. Specialists. Medication. Too little swimming, too much pain.

So for days now, long, long days, it’s been hard. He’s been upset and I’ve been frustrated.

It reached a fever pitch yesterday and I closed my eyes and prayed. God, I’m either going to apply him to military school right this instant or please, please help me parent him through your love.

The military application has been left empty. Enter in the lemonade.

It’s as if that sticky pitcher of too tart lemonade was a membership card back into each other. That boy, the unhappy one, smiled and stirred and poured. Tasted and offered. Laughed again which in turn made me laugh as well.

I hummed the Lumineers, a song I love always on my lips at times like this. I belong to you. You belong to me. You’re my sweetheart.

Sweetheart indeed. A little tart. A little sticky. But God is good to help us belong again.



photo credit: carolune via photopin cc

photo credit: carolune via photopin cc

I’m participating in Five Minute Friday (a day late but oh well) sponsored by one of my favorite bloggers, Lisa-Jo Baker. Five minutes, just writing. No more. And . . . go.

The prompt: “Here”

Little one,

I remember sitting in the car, my head turning backward to see what we had accomplished. We had filled our car, full, of the people I loved and a few treasured belongings. We were fleeing from a major fire up on the mountain near our home. Once the ash starting raining in our yard, we looked at one another, your dad and I, and started hunting and gathering. It didn’t take long to grab you, the dog, our wedding photos, a few clothes. We jumped in the car and headed for clearer skies, air that wouldn’t cause your newborn lungs to struggle.

And I remember looking backward, seeing your little head and our furry dog and a few small things that fit in a small car and I didn’t feel scared. I felt content. My heart was in this car. Here. Here we were, all of us. Secure, together, here.

It’s one of my snapshots that linger in my mind. Of a time that was peaceful when it shouldn’t have been. A time that was sweet, when it should’ve been scary. I see our little car, loaded with us–our life– and I realized that God had blessed us with what was in that car. Here was exactly where I wanted to be.

So, baby, as that fire burned, another one burned as well. A beautiful one, that will never go out.