I officially post more rough drafts than actual pieces. I could lie and pretend this trend is purposeful – I am letting you into my process, I am being super transparent, I am whatever and stuff, but actually that damn publish button is like a magnet or something and I keep hitting it on accident. 

So sorry to have filled your subject line with basically nonsense TWICE in like a week. I will try to publish an actual thing soon…. Be encouraged I am working on it and now you have proof?? Not that anyone is waiting for me to post anything because you people are aware that I am not a regular poster despite my mostly best efforts…. But I am a regular drafter so there’s that. 

ANYWAY! You all matter to me… I feel so grateful for my tiny space and for the people who visit it and actually read the stuff I make (like, really? ah, you are amazings!). Thanks for your patience and for not un-following me yet. :D 

Why I’m Okay With All the Elsas

My daughter was Doc McStuffins this year for Halloween. She picked it before she ever saw the show because she liked the idea of being a doctor.

Probably because whenever her doctor visits us it’s a happy time. Well, probably more because you have to listen to doctors. ;)

But I saw one other Doc McStuffins on Halloween night. The main costume? Exactly the one you saw most, too.

imageQueen Elsa from Frozen.

Followed by Princess Anna.

And a bunch of little brother Olafs.

And this year I’m a mother of a three year old who has a mind of her own. Who is growing up in a culture full of “sexy” costumes (at Halloween and not) and whose mother tries to filter out the images of tiny women in distress being rescued by men with all the glory.

As much as I love the idea of little girls looking up to the real-life heroes – the Emily Dickinsons, the Gloria Steinems, the Amelia Earharts – I also know that the allure of sparkle and spontaneous dance numbers that Disney has perfected to precision is irresistible.

So I.Love.Frozen. And I was delighted to see every other little girl proudly donning her bright blonde wig and sparkly blue cape. Because when that girl flattened her dress and looked in the mirror before heading out to trick-or-treat she saw herself as a woman with power, humanity, and a killer singing voice. She belted “Let It Go” and flung out her hands flamboyantly to make herself a castle, a bridge, a city. She felt strong and brave – like she would face her fears and a snow storm to help another person.

So yeah, we have all heard that song about 384,294,382 times too many and we all saw enough Elsas to make us dizzy the other night, but isn’t that a beautiful thing? That instead of our little girls spinning and humming to songs about needing a Prince to come to their rescue, they are singing about leaving their insecurities and stepping out with courage in their own right? That instead of tight dresses designed for hourglass figures they may never own, they wore gowns that made them feel sweet and girly without faking a form and instead inheriting the strength of the character they are emulating?

I sure think it’s great. So as long as the Frozen-mania wants to hang around I’m all for it… And if you’re not than just… let it go. ;)

Salvation | Emmaus Writer’s Group

My beautiful friend Jessica (of Happily Ever Housewife) and I have started a “writer’s” group for artists of all kinds to gather and share and be.

We are meeting every other Wednesday (in real life) and if you live in the area and want more information please just ask!

We hope to foster creativity by being a fun, safe, loving place for people to share their hearts. And we also hope to keep this open to ALL kinds of expression. So you can write, draw, paint, dance, sculpt, sing, whatever! Even if you feel inspired by someone else’s work and want to share it, do that!

We’re taking prompts from the sermons at Emmaus (but you don’t have to attend Emmaus to participate!). We’ll take the sermon topics for the following 2 Sundays and either choose one or mix them together. Our first prompt was Salvation/Faith.

It didn’t come in a prayer, singular. It came in many, some said before I was born and long before I knew what to ask.

It didn’t come in a flash of light. Nothing burst to bring me to submission, no cracks in the sky marked my conversion.

It didn’t come at the end of Roman’s Road or inside a bible tract designed to shame me. No one knocked on my door to ask if I had a personal relationship with their lord and savior.

It came… It came. It just… Has been. And whether my feet were set or I stumbled onto this path, I’m here. With my Jesus. My version of Jesus which shifts and reforms constantly, but also Him. With his strong hand gripping mine, scrambling to find me again when I wriggle away like a child seeking independence she doesn’t understand. When did his hand become insufficient?

It’s here. And I’m here. And when I’ve wandered He’s followed. Like I mean, really followed. I led him down some strange alleys and I ignored his protests when I swallowed poison dressed as piety. But he stayed. Can I say that again? He stayed. With me. Out of the throne room and in the gutters, he stayed. When I was too embarrassed to kiss him in public he stayed.

So now I think about what salvation means to me and there are too many words to funnel onto paper, too many memories to recite, too many times my hand was gripped hard by Love that doesn’t just remain, but follows into strange places. And stays.

I couldn’t pray once for that, I couldn’t be convinced by a lightning bolt, I won’t find that at the end of Roman’s Road. I have been courted and embraced by Love itself and that just… comes.

To Start a Busy Day

It will be a busy day.
A day of work.
A full brim day.

And by the end I will be done.
(At the start of it, I’m done).

Today will be a busy day.
And I just had to stop to say.
That through the busy and the stress
Through the sorting and the mess
I am breathing in my Maker
Indulging as a selfish taker
All the love I can’t afford
All the peace I don’t deserve.

So let this busy day commence
Cause He is here in all the stress.
And though I may just lose my wits
I’ll never lose this love that sticks.

An Open Letter to my Daughter | 3rd Birthday

Honey Girl,

Three years ago today you made me Mother, bestowing wider hips and thicker thighs and an eager crying impulse. You culminated all the growing, delight, anticipation and horrific pain into one glorious moment – one moment in which you commanded Heaven to touch the Earth and she obeyed with joyful submission. You came like a lightning bolt. You set my world on fire, sweet one.

sunset playAnd the last three years have been a cursed blessing in which I have before me all the treasure of this life, but find myself so unworthy of it, so ill-prepared to guide you through this world. You deserve so much more than me, darling. You deserve a mother who doesn’t fix her eyes on screens when you are more than captivating. A mother who doesn’t lose her cool while you test boundaries that need discovering. One who doesn’t yell or sigh or gruff in frustration with your pace. Instead you got me.

But if it is any consolation… you also have me. I am not a perfect mother, but I am crazy about you, kid. I will give you baggage to carry into the world, I’m sure, but you will also carry my heart. You will carry a part of me I am coming to like most. You’ll carry into the world all the very best I can muster in a tenderly wrapped package that I will expect you to open when you get to where you’re going. My hope for you to be better than me, my commission to outgrow your example.


And I expect you to keep teaching me, lovely – because you do already, make no mistake. The last three years have been a re-education. You have cracked the walls, little lightning bolt, and caused me to build a new house on this foundation. Now love is breathing. It’s talking to me and dancing to Disney songs. And just like that I understand what I never could. How the God who calls himself Father could do what he does because you don’t cherish anything like you cherish your children.

So happy birthday, Little Love. We thank God for you in ways that can only ever feel insufficient. You have flooded us, you have impressed us with a divine mark, you have been our deepest Joye and an altar to our greatest Hope. We love you so much and more.