It was a beautiful, early morning in June and the cheerful sounds of my one year old thump-thumping down the stairs caused me to cease my vain attempts at getting just a little more sleep. I would say I sat up and swung my feet over the edge of the bed, but the process of sitting up was arduous — I was seven months pregnant with twins, and the adjectives “slow” and “painful” applied to nearly every movement.
I hopped on my Instagram one morning a few months ago to reply to some messages and make a post. As I did, I inadvertently noticed a piece of information about my account that was rather surprising and discouraging. Huh. That’s strange, I thought to myself as I closed the app and moved on to getting ready for the day.
When I was seven, my family moved across the world to spend 12 years in Mongolia. I still remember the day our plane touched down and the drive from the airport, drinking in the new sights, sounds, and smells: the Soviet-style apartment buildings, the old women sitting together in their traditional Mongolian coats, the little kids walking home from school with their ice cream cones, the tiny shops along the road that sold everything from Coca-Cola to socks, and the unfamiliar language that grew to be so sweet to my ears.
One day late last summer, Judah came home from having coffee with a friend who was getting ready to move out of state…
I was awakened from slumber by the sound of my alarm. 6:30 AM, already…
Hey friend, would you have time for a call?…
This past summer I gave birth to our precious son, Jack. Early in my pregnancy with him, I was diagnosed with anemia…
If you are a single woman who is seeking to love, obey, and be satisfied in Christ, this letter is for you. I pray it will infuse hope and renewed vision into your current calling, serving as a boost where you are thriving or a comfort where you are struggling…
One evening not long ago we had just settled our family down for dinner, hushing our four kiddos and instructing them to close their eyes and fold their hands for prayer…