Friday, September 25, 2015


Sometimes I long to drive downtown.

Where the big buildings reach to the heavens and the big wigs power play all day.

I've shared here that my family and I long for the lush country quite often.... that open spaces, and wide plots of dirt, and tree covered trails, are something we pine and ponder often.

But there has always been a portion of my soul that thrills at the thought of a big city.

When my parents and I would make a yearly trek across the nation from Ohio to Texas when I was a teen - I would beg and whine and throw fits about stopping and staying right smack in the middle of some large metro.

Nashville was a favorite. Memphis , too.

Occasionally, they would give in to my cajoling - and book a room in one.

I loved the bustle of the big time, then.

And still do, deep down.

Being where the action is, where the trends roll, where deals and destinies are mode - there is an aspect of this that woos me.

So today....we will load the van and ride a short highway - and discover downtown again.

Because Fridays are Saturdays for us now.

And Saturdays are Mondays.

And Sundays don't exist.

When your husband pastors and preaches - your week looks different.

You have one full day off, rather than two.

You dress and drive your kids to the church hour alone on the Sabbath.

And your Sunday lunch is sans Daddy.

I am truly okay with all of this. 

His schedule is flexible in other ways that bless me, but it is different...and it did take a while to adjust.

So, Friday is the golden day these days.

Any time I can have that man within eye shot of me the full length of the lit up hours - that is a good, good day.

He is in the kitchen fixing plates of breakfast for our three blonds right now....

Allowing me to have a moment with you before I scurry off to pack kid bags for our short flight down the freeway.

I'm learning that it is so important for me to punch things out in word form on more of a regular basis - even if I don't feel particularly inspired and faith-filled or up for it.

I work things out through words.

Weaving these few this morning, will make me better company today.

My husband and children rejoice!

As I'm walking between skyscrapers and wondering through city parks here soon - I'll be dreaming and hoping and asking and seeking.

Those high buildings in town - inspire high hopes in me.

Of wild things!

Like penning books.

And publishing poetry.

And writing children's stories.

And advocating though journalism.

And telling testimonies.

And travel.

And touching lives.

And changing trajectories.

And creating words and works of art that move people....

In every genre and mode.

London did this for me. It caused a fire storm of stories and words and shows to swirl.

Houston's not London - but it's here, and I think it will do for today.

May inspiration of some kind be yours this weekend, friends.

Bang-whang-whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife;
Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!
- from Robert Brownings Up at a Villa - Down in the City

Sunday, September 13, 2015


I'm sitting outside and I'm not sweating.

Down here in the coastal south.... this is a welcomed shift.

After months of hot humidity, we welcome the first signs of autumn here with verve and delight. 

Our falls can be flaky, true. 

But when the temps dare to wonder down into the 60's overnight - we bask in the change and relief.

Because of this...

I'm out back. 

Situated in thick St. Augustine, with pines and palms as my background - I'm visiting you from the outdoors today.

My feet are propped up on the opposite lawn chair, a mower's motor is within earshot, the smell of steak is wafting over fences, and there's a breeze tussling leaves and yard weeds.

Cicadas are singing high up in the pines, the kids have gone inside to welcome Daddy after his preach, and football is on the tube screen.


I'm so grateful.

After reading about refugees, and watching those videos, and glancing at headlines, and hearing what's happening to friends and such... my current station in life seems like paradise.

Prospective checks are necessary.

And they usually end up ringing in thankfulness and contentment.

I do have some pressing concerns going on personally, as does everyone else. I do have things happening in my life right now that raise fear and frustration. I do have questions on certain issues, and I do need guidance in many areas, and I do have some hard things I'm handling.

But standing back, looking at the broad scheme, seeing the global picture... I feel full and thankful.

A Texas diesel just roared through the neighborhood, and another mowing machine just now began to tear through green, and my middle child just got sent to timeout. 

I'm getting ready to patch this up and close this out... because it is just about time for me to slide on shoes, and pack a few kid bags, and wrangle everyone to the van for yet another first gathering of community group.

I hope the beginnings of this new season feel sweet to you. And I hope this week surprises you with some kind of relief, refreshment, and joy that abounds.

Back soon, friends. Hugs to you all.

Friday, September 4, 2015


The only thing that should be washing up on beaches is foam.

And smooth pebbles.

And ivory shells.

And century old messages in bottles.

Not boys.

Not toddlers.

Not people.

Not tiny humans completely dressed for a journey.

I laid in bed last night.... face down, hands crowning my face - in shreds over what's happening to real individuals on the other side of the waters.

Not knowing what to do. Shaking my fist at the sky. Shaking my faith. Shaking my head, and scratching it.

Why? Why is this happening? Why am I tucked between freshly laundered sheets when babies and their families are capsizing trying to flee?

What? What is actually taking place? What am I supposed to do about it?


That loved child, face down in the sand, toddler bottom perched up in the air - like he's taking a mid-day nap - my heart can't handle the depravity.

That photo put a small face on a giant problem. 

That picture screamed humanity.

And it screams at me.

And I'm broken.

Two year old boys should be basking in worlds of soccer balls and toy trucks and imagination... not escaping on the Mediterranean.

Two year old boys should be playing in sand boxes... not lying lifeless on sanded beaches.

But no.

Because of the unrest in his country - he has now been laid to rest.

And I lament it.

And so should you.

And we should mourn for this child who's lungs filled with sea.

This makes me punch air. And it makes me pray fervently.

God! Give me my role! Give them relief!

Can you imagine the life of a refugee? Simply seeking safety? Simply wanting life?

No matter brown, white, black, purple, yellow, rainbow, or polkadots...

No matter head scarf around crown, or cross dangling from neck, or jewel on forehead, or null of faith all together - if people are being persecuted, ravaged, hunted, oppressed, forsaken - no matter their faith or lack of one - no matter their status, nationality, or gene pool - they are our neighbor.

And they should be helped as such.

These are humans!

Houston has many displaced people. Help me to forge through fear, and reach out Father!

I don't know the complexities of war that are pounding parts of the world. I don't know solutions. I don't exactly know what prime ministers, and presidents, and governments, and organizations should work out here. I offer no intelligence on that.

But what I lack in mental prowess on these matters, I pray I more than make up for in heart feelings.... that lead to hands, extended.

I am asking for aid to be given, assignments to be handed, salvation to be implanted, and for revelation from Him to come to all.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

An Evening Snapshot

Cheeks have been kissed...

Backs have been scratched...

Heads have been patted....

Prayers have been lifted....

And lamp strings have been pulled.

I have tucked my three charges in for the evening.


After this nightly ritual, I most often feel so exhausted and spent - that the only thing I can do is rinse off in hot water and slide between cool sheets.

But sometimes....

I feel such a longing for a filling, that I stay up and attempt to do something that replenishes the tank.

This usually involves reading or writing.

Tonight, it's the latter.

I've lit the candle once again that sits to the left of my typing fingers here, and Song for Sienna has already come through my computer speakers.

The husband is sitting at the end of our dining table, hot cup of Texas Pecan coffee in hand, staying up late to situate Sunday's sermon.

He loves this.

And I love watching him love something.

Seeing your spouse in a role that rings true to his core - this is a gift.

Thank you, God.

Today was filled with life, and extracurriculars, and history lessons, and more than a few sibling squabbles.

Piano this morning, dance this afternoon, all manner of attempted learning in-between, dinner scarfed down and dinner cleaned up - it was a full, round 24 hours.

My eyes are drooped.

And I'm leaning back far in this uncomfortable desk chair.

And I feel tired, a bit more full, and grateful as I glance at the bed behind me - ready for the plop down.

There is much on my mind. Things, people, places I want to bring up to you. Those posts are in process.... working themselves out, freeing themselves up, and will hopefully be published in a relatively short fashion. :)

Blowing out the wick now, friends.

My cherubs will charge the day in no time.