Blessings and Raindrops

seeking joy in the midst of the ordinary

my deepest prayer.

Dave’s dad has an antique propeller airplane that he’s owned and flown regularly for the past twenty-five years or so. He consistently offers to take the kids for a ride. Due to my own fear of flying, I’ve never agreed until yesterday. {I think my judgement was impaired from staying up all night with a sick baby}.

I watched from the ground as each of my three “big” littles took turns sitting in Papa’s lap as they flew overhead. Full disclosure: I was a nervous wreck.

But, let me tell you, to a couple of four year-olds and a three year-old, this was a great adventure. Sweet, sweet memories were created yesterday morning. I’ll be the first to admit, I held my breath the entire time they were in the air. But it was worth every second of not breathing to watch the utter joy in their eyes as they stepped out of the plane with smiles that lit up their entire face.

This morning, I stayed home from church with Charlotte since she still wasn’t feeling well and I watched the live stream of Christine Caine speaking at Passion 2015. As she spoke, my mind drifted back to that airplane ride.

Although I want to protect my children from this world and keep them tucked safely away from any and all danger, I really want to teach them to have an adventurous spirit. I want them to view life with expectancy. I want them to know that if you choose to stay safely on the ground, you will miss out on the thrill of the ride.

Living a life that is counter to what this world views as safe and seeking first the Kingdom of God is where adventure awaits us. Saying yes to God can be scary and the unknowns may cause your knees to shake and your hands to be unsteady, but, the thrill that awaits makes the ride worth every dip and twist.

What I desire most for my children is not worldly success. My top priority is not where they attend college or even if they attend college. I want them, above all else, to love extravagantly. I want their lives to be marked with generosity and compassion. I want them to have a heart for the nations. I want them to live in a way that proves this world is not our home.

These possessions of ours, as nice as they can be at times, are not lasting. The striving, climbing, self-promoting that is so commonplace in our culture – it doesn’t have to be that way. I want my children to work hard and to know the value of a strong work ethic. I want them to know that what we view as ordinary work, what we feel is obscurity, is what God will use to build His Kingdom.

Christine shared two questions that were on her mind while going into a major surgery this past year:


“Did I do everything you sent me here to do? 
Am I bringing home everyone you sent me to earth to bring home?”


Imagine asking yourself these questions at the end of each and every day. Powerful stuff. I cringe to think of my answers on most days.


Oh, how I desire to live a life on purpose. I want to set an example for my kids that demonstrates God’s work in my life.  I want my children to grow to be mighty men and women on fire for God. I want their passion to change the course of generations.

Some days may seem ordinary and mundane. Yet, every moment, every breath we are given here on this spinning globe is pre-ordained. In order to create a holy passion in my children, I need to live out that passion in my own life. They need to see me washing the dishes and doing the laundry and changing diapers as though I truly believe that whatever I do, I need to work at it with all of my heart, as if I am working for the Lord {Colossians 3:23}.

I long to hear the words, “well done, good and faithful servant,” when I cross over to the other side of eternity. My deepest prayer is that I live a life marked by good works and big love.

To be fair, this is much easier to type behind the safety of my computer’s screen. Living out this love is a constant battle. I’m praying for the Holy Spirit to continually convict me of these lessons, to continually guide me in my actions, and to continually direct my hands to service.

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labour in the Lord is not in vain. {1 Corinthians 15:58}

**There’s still time to join in on our Valentine’s Day campaign to feed orphaned children in Congo. Live generously. Share love and hope through the simple gift of food. Join us HERE. 

send love and hope.

Valentine’s day is coming up! I know, I know. It’s a fabricated, Hallmark holiday. BUT. I have an opportunity for you to take this sweet, silly, consumerism-driven day and make it MEANINGFUL and IMPORTANT and FULL OF HOPE.

Find out more HERE.

Ooh, go ahead and send this to your hubby as a great big hint about what he can get you this year. He’ll breathe a deep sigh of relief and orphans will have full tummies. Win. Win. 🙂

Love y’all!!

worth celebrating.

As a rule, I generally try not to focus on the inevitable passing of time that makes me older as each day passes. It’s sort of depressing.

But, birthdays are different.  Because, besides the fact that they mark the passing of yet another year, they are worth celebrating.

It is worth celebrating the fact that I’ve been blessed to walk on this spinning ball in the galaxy for another 365 days.

And, this past year in particular was full of reasons to celebrate. Thirty-five was most certainly a good year.

It was worth toasting with friends to the year gone by and looking ahead to the one to come. It was worth laughing until my sides hurt {and quite possibly spitting red wine in a fit of laughter across my friend’s coffee table – I’m not saying it happened but I’m also not saying it didn’t} with the ones who have walked alongside us through the hard and the broken days, as well as the days soaked in sweet, happy tears.

It was worth a quiet day at home with my little loves and my man to reflect on just how blessed I am. It was worth soaking up the gorgeous sunshine and laughing at our crazy new pup {everyone loves her except our little Chiquita… bottom left photo is the perfect example of their relationship: Dora wants to play with Chiquita. Chiquita runs far away from Dora. And repeat}.

It was worth a barbecue and multiple cakes and a surprise party at the bowling alley {because, who would have guessed it?!} with our dearest friends, our little community, the ones we do life with.

An entire weekend full of praising the One who gives good and perfect gifts. Grateful for the grace that fills our home each and every day. Thankful for an abundance of reasons for great joy.

Looking forward to what this next year will bring…

our first home.

I was recently inspired by a project Compass is hosting called “starter stories.” {Compass is a new real estate company based in NYC looking to connect people with their best match for a home. NYC friends- you should check them out!}

As I reflect back on our own “starter” home, I can’t help but smile. We had just moved to Arkansas on a whim, Dave knew he wanted to build homes and his parents had recently relocated to this little corner of the world. His dad had built homes back in Colorado so they decided to start a business here. We arrived with all of our earthly belongings in the back of a U-Haul. We had both quit our jobs and had to return our company cars when we resigned, which left us with the U-Haul truck as our only means of transportation. We scoured the want ads trying to find a place to rent and drove up to the little house that we would call home in the U-Haul. The owner met us there to show us around and then we asked if we could move in. Like, right then. We needed to move in. He looked out front, saw the U-haul in the driveway and gave us the keys.

We spent the sweetest year and a half in that little house.

Did I mention that we were broke? Completely and utterly penniless. Dave bought an old used red truck that we SHARED. You guys. I had moved from Tampa then to Nashville and then to Arkansas. And I was driving a pick-up truck. Life had taken some interesting twists and turns. It was just hilarious. We coordinated schedules and Dave would come home from work when I had a job interview so that I could take the truck to my interview. It took about a month for me to get a new job (that I really loved actually) and Dave’s business started taking off that first year, as well. Things were looking up.

Looking back on photos of that time, I have two thoughts: we look about twelve years old and we had a LOT of fun.

Urban Compass had asked me to share stories of remodels and how we made that little house a home. Honestly, at that time, we were just happy to have a roof over our heads. We settled in and made it cozy but there weren’t any major home improvement projects happening, especially since we were just renting. We painted old furniture and walls and filled the home with new and old friends and family at every opportunity.
      
Karaoke was a staple. I miss that karaoke machine now that I think of it. 
We painted the free table and chairs my parents gave us and used all of the furniture from my old apartment — I was clearly in a red phase. Red at every turn – the walls in the kitchen, the dining chairs and the sofa. 
Isn’t it interesting to look back on how our tastes and styles change through the years? 
Per his usual, Dave had visits from the local fire department on several occasions. In fact, we have lived in five houses together and we have had the fire department visit every, single one. Without a doubt, the visit to this little house was worthy of re-telling over and over. We still laugh about the time Dave cooked a turkey on “the fire chief” over an open fire in the backyard (why?!?!) and the neighbor called the fire department. We explained the situation and they called it in with the line that is likely still circulating in their break room over laughter, “sir, everything is fine here. He is just… umm… cooking a turkey.” 
In the meantime, we were building our first home together. It all felt like a big adventure. We were full of excitement and anticipation of this new place. 
We decided on a traditionally southern home and we lived there for three years. This was the home where we held block parties with neighbors and lived the quintessential American suburban life. We borrowed milk and eggs from friends next door, shared dinners together often, and stayed outside until well after dark talking and laughing with our neighbors. It was such a special time. 
This was also the home where we struggled silently with the loss of our first pregnancy and each subsequent month brought sorrow and grief. 
When the market crashed, we decided to move into a home Dave bought and refinished and I was ready to start fresh. Our life felt like it needed a change. I look back now and see that we moved to this new place where we didn’t really talk with our neighbors and were surrounded by trees and quiet, and it was exactly what I needed. I needed to be still and quiet. I needed to seek God and rest in Him. It was the home where we finally walked through the front door with our babies. It was the home of miracles and answered prayers. 
This home had a cozy basement and we added exposed brick everywhere we could manage. There were still darker colors yet it felt right in this place. I was also still clearly obsessed with red. 
When the boys were a year old, we moved downtown to the home where we planned to stay. We were done moving. 
That lasted three years. 
Oh, I loved this house. I went away from all dark colors and wanted bright, clean, fresh rooms. We spent such a joy-filled time in this home. {Home tour photos: kitchen, bedrooms, playroom }.
When we decided to move to the farmhouse, I was ready. We were ready to start a new chapter. I was seven months pregnant and we were still waiting for Sylvie to come home. It felt like our waiting was coming to a close and we needed to get away, quiet our souls, slow down and be refreshed. We found all of that and more out here in this cozy little farmhouse. {Home tour photos HERE}.
Growing up, we lived in the same home my entire life. I loved that house. I can still close my eyes and picture every room, every memory created there in that special place. It’s hard to believe that I have moved this many times in my adult life. I don’t believe I would have planned it this way. But, as is always the case when God leads, I wouldn’t change a thing. Each home brought about a change, a closing of a chapter as well as a fresh start- a blank slate. In decorating and in life. As I reflect back on our journey, I am grateful for these places and how they have imprinted themselves on my heart. 
I’ve also had the privilege of learning that a house is just four walls and a roof until you fill it with love and laughter and joy. That’s the good stuff of this life.
What about you? How has your home reflected your season of life? Have you moved often or have you stayed in one place? Are you in your first home now? I would love to hear about your journey!