Thank you for joining me on my new site! I’m beyond excited about having an official home on the web now!
Since this is a new site, I decided that it was time for a new name: Uncommon Grace. As I’ve been writing for the past few years, my old blog has morphed and transitioned through several formats and titles to the point that I felt like I was just pulling at strings in order to tie everything together. As those who know me understand, I’m an extremely intentional person so this has just driven me crazy! For this new site, I can be intentional again.
This time in May is hard since I always remember the birthday we should be celebrating, but aren’t.
It has been awhile; like most women who’ve miscarried, I can be far more specific about how long ago, but it probably wouldn’t interest anyone to know how many years, months, weeks, days and even hours. The point is it is still with me. I think about the baby I never got to hold, but I will always hold in my heart.
I clearly laugh often as a parent.
No matter how much I try, I can never fully expect what they will come up with next. This photo, while a couple of years old, is evidence of that.
Luke was only three years old and had gotten in the habit of screaming, “NEEEEED COFFEEEEE!” It is always a good point to take pause when kids start doing some very adult behaviors. Apparently, I am far too coffee-dependent.
The past two weeks have been tough. I mean really tough.
It started when our two-year old began coughing on a Tuesday. Jack was doing okay, but by Friday, Ethan was coughing so hard he was crying begging to stay home from school. He is the kind of kid who is so tough that when he sliced open his foot playing barefoot basketball (a not good idea, as he now understands) at the neighbors, he had to be carried home. He left a trail of blood behind and never once cried.
It started this week when I was on the phone with a nurse discussing my foster daughter’s health. As many of my friends know, we’ve spent an incredible amount of time trying to do everything possible to get her healthy… or more realistically, as healthy as possible for the past 6 months. She is absolutely precious and I love her like she is my own so I am honored and humbled to be able to do this for her.
But, with this has come some surprising consequences.
Before I start, I want to confess I am totally guilty of this so I’m including myself in this question:
Why is it easier to read a book, blog, magazine articles, or devotional than to turn to scripture when we are looking for spiritual nourishment?
Year after year, I keep going back to The Problem of Pain C.S. Lewis.
I’m a self-described Lewis junkie so it isn’t really a surprise that I continually am reading his books, but this one I feel particularly drawn too. I’m going through a horrendous flare up of my fibromyalgia so I think I’ve been especially drawn to the concept of pain right now.
Life is sure to never be dull with three boys! Ours are now eight, six, and two and a half respectively and keeping me on my toes. My dad was one of three boys and I feel like I am beginning to better understand his childhood better. When he told me stories about the things he did growing up, I thought they were all crazy. Now, I’m seeing history repeat itself…
I’ve had something on my chest for a long time. A really long time. And I was once guilty of it too:
Judgment for people whose kids are in foster care.
I used to think, “Seriously? How could you let stuff get that bad that someone had to come take your kids for their safety? Don’t you even care?”
I absolutely love Easter! It has been a part of my story since the very beginning. Let me explain:
I was born on Easter. It has always been a joke amongst our family that I was born into the church since my parents were timing contractions as they sat through the Easter morning service listening to Chuck Swindoll. Apparently, his message that morning got me excited about life and I made my official entry a later that evening. Continue reading