I’m oscillating between strength and weakness. Between functioning and being back to “normal” but then mourning and being angry that instead of packing my hospital bag and putting the finishing touches on our nursery in these last few weeks, I’m not. There is no stocking up on supplies. There is no prepping and planning.

The moments that change us have a way of dividing our lives into a before and an after.

I think that happens multiple times in a life. As sad as that is to think about, knowing that we have experiences that we go through, that as monumental as they seem at the time, that there is no guarantee that something even more altering won’t come somewhere else down the line. That’s the side effect of living – leaving ourselves open to knowing that one day it may take every effort we have, just to breathe in and out.

Brokenhearted for Boston (hurting for my former home)

And a heart shatters.    And the eyes can hardly stay open to the fractured lives and the severed selves and the loss…oh the loss… I ache for the city I once called home. Though suburb-lived and miles south, I still called… Read More

Times of Broken

It was a day already tainted with stress and disappointment. Now, I cannot even remember the whys. But I remember the dejection and apathy I felt.   It’s what brought me to their house – walls filled with four adopted brothers. My friends… Read More

the smallness of ‘i’

“For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!”1 “For I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not… Read More