A young boy smiled delightedly at the line of children waiting at his front door. He clapped his hands awkwardly and looked to his mother for verification that it was really true—his entire class had showed up for his Christmas party. And his mother smiled back down at her sweet son, her son who must…
Author: Monica
Monica is a Bible teacher, freelance author, and editor who loves Jesus and her family. She is humbled to soak up the love and grace of God each day and seeks to share it with others.
Fixing the House
I’m listening to my husband and my son walk around the house fixing things. They declared to me, “We are fixing the house!” There’s talk of plungers, squeaky hinges, baking soda and vinegar in the sinks, screwdrivers, and safety rules about the garbage disposal. It makes my heart happy. My husband is being intentional to…
The Beauty of Being Still
For my birthday, my mother gave me this beautiful weekly planner. A soft shade of blush, it is adorned with pretty flowers. I imagined writing out my weekly plan in beautiful calligraphy-type handwriting, floating through each week in beautiful, elegant peace. I haven’t written on it yet. I like looking at it, though, all pretty…
On Hiking and Husbands
So let me start by telling you how I feel about hiking. First, my husband loves to hike. He’s hiked in places all over the world. He has a Camelback and one of those fancy overnight hiking camping backpack things that strap around your waist. He’s legit. I am not a natural hiker. I do…
A Gallon of Water and God
Have you ever poured liquid quickly from a gallon jug to another container? At first, because of the jug’s small round opening, there is—for lack of a better word—“glubbing.” The water pours in glops that splash and then there is a smaller stream and then another glop. Eventually, you pour enough water out of the…
How I’m Coping with Kindergarten
So, I sent my baby to full-time big school this week for the first time. For the first time in thirteen years, I am home without a little person. For the first time in thirteen years, I do not have to be at home during nap time. It is weird. I tried to spend some…
My Notes for Talking to My Kids
Watching the Olympics with my family this past weekend, you can’t escape it. Athlete after athlete after athlete has overcome some amazing challenge or hurdle or disability or life-change to train and prepare for being an Olympian. The have a goal, they make a plan, they pursue it with diligence, and then they revel in…
Fireworks and Freedom
I watched the fireworks last night. One child likened them to fairies. A different child called them missiles. As I watched the fire fall from the sky, I realized that in some ways they were both right. For so many of us, fireworks are almost a magical spectacle of dazzling light, a symbol of freedom,…
When Something is “Mostly Dead”
My girls had their annual dance recital this month, and their sweet daddy bought them both a bouquet of tulips. The flowers were in water, but being in the hot car for hours caused them to wilt. By the end of the long day, I had no hope of their recovery. My husband, though—he had…
What I Do When I Don’t Like Change
The last week of school was a dizzying whirlwind as our family had field trips, field days, dance parties, hang out parties, water parties, teacher farewells, school farewells, band concerts, thank you gifts to give, birthday gifts to give, meals to deliver, and I’m sure I’m still forgetting something. The coming of summer is a…
Jesus and His Mama: I laugh, I melt, I kneel
I don’t think too much about what kind of a son Jesus was to Mary. We hear a lot about how Jesus is the Father’s Son, how he came to be about his Father’s business, how he was sure of his identity as God-made-flesh. But I think it’s important to also remember that he was…
Moms, Mentors, and Blueberry Pie
I recently delivered a meal to a dear friend who is currently fostering a two-week-old baby. Holding said baby in my arms made me remember my own baby days, and the women in my church who delivered meals to me when I was a young mama. I’m still not a cook like they are—chicken piccata…
A Picture of What 