A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer...

The best part of this Christmas was the day before. On Christmas Eve morning, we gave the kids a bath and dressed them in their fancy clothes much earlier than we normally would of because we had a date with my Grandma. In October, my Grandma underwent emergency brain surgery to remove a blood clot doctors found the day after her 81st birthday. Since then, she has been slowly recovering, moving around to different facilities and undergoing continual physical therapy and speech therapy. We haven't gotten to see her since her surgery because the kids have been sick and timing hasn't worked out, but everything fell into place on Christmas Eve and everyone got to come and visit her. I was a bit nervous. Right after the surgery, Grandma was partially paralyzed, couldn't speak, couldn't recognize anyone, and was in bad shape. I knew she had improved since then, but wasn't sure what to expect. I was also nervous about how the kids would respond. My children are bles

Is there anything more selfish than saying, “I told you so?” Usually, this phrase follows the failure of someone else. And in saying, “I told you so,” instead of lifting that person out of their failure (like Jesus would), I am choosing to wallow in their failure and remind them how much wiser I am. Oftentimes as a mom, I find myself using some form of this phrase under the guise of creating a teachable moment for my children. “I told you not to touch that burner!” “That’s what happens when you pick your nose too much!” “I knew you would trip with your shoes on the wrong feet!” For some reason, in those moments when I’m frustrated (because I DID warn them about these things, and I AM smarter than them), my gut reaction is to scold them and remind them how smart I am. I like to think that the root of my scolding is because I so desperately want them to stay safe without burned hands and bloody noses, but is “I told you so” the best I can do as a mom? No. The f

Yesterday, my girls were playing in the pool with the neighbors in the front yard. When I woke up this morning to rain, I thought, yep...that makes sense. It rained last June 2, as well. It didn't just rain, it poured. And it made sense on a day that didn't make much sense. Last June 2, Bryan and I calmly drove the 8 minutes to the hospital, pressed the 4 on the elevator and were quietly escorted to a room without an incubator where moms come to deliver babies that never give first cries. Down the hall from the rooms where my girls entered this world, I took the pills to induce my labor to deliver our 14-week-old son, whose heart was no longer beating. All day, I stared out the window, looking down on a little garden being drenched by a surprise June rain storm. At 6:06pm, Hunter Hope finally arrived, and life will never be the same. Hunter's story is posted earlier in this blog, but today I want to just be reminded that he was and will always be a precious part o