“Grace is the face that love wears when it meets imperfection.” -Joseph R. Cooke

I’m cooking dinner and hear an upstairs crashing followed by scrambling scurrying of mancub feet. There’s a collective pause-that space where a mama of wild blessings listens for broken glass and tears. Maybe the pause is from me, or the boys; likely, from both. We wait in suspended time and weigh the impact of our choices.

No glass.

No tears.

I climb the steps, unsure of circumstances I’m climbing toward. Seems there was a heated debate on whether it’s best to brush first or floss. One kiddo had confirmed with the dental hygienist that morning: floss first. The conversation between these mancubs of mine escalated from intention of sharing this floss first truth to the reality grabbing dental floss picks and trying to floss his big brother’s teeth. Escalation continued.

Intention and impact both matter, people matter.

There had been a moment of choice from both: conversation and conviction both available, yet chaos was chosen. Intention barreled and the impact was hurt hearts. So, what next? Apology given; yet, apology without heart change is mere words.

It’s after dinner, close to bedtime. I send them to brush teeth and hold my breath. Will they collide over dental floss again? Will they even speak? Did we learn anything at all-that this world does not revolve around us?

Growing mancubs get out their toothbrushes, the youngest quietly hands his big brother the dental floss first. They floss, then brush, quietly together with peace.

"The Christian shoemaker does his duty not by putting little crosses on the shoes, but by making good shoes."

- Martin Luther

I’m guessing it’s because my mind is in garden mode. My soul reminds me over again to stay sensitive to pruning that needs to surrender quick before spring arrives. Are there weeds that were missed, begging confession? Removing weeds offers energy to roots. Are there dead branches, weighing heavy? Harsh prune, eradicate them-opening space for healing. Even in the hibernation, healing is happening. Winter sun, short days, notice the warmth and offer thanks. Look around the garden, what is around you, what is missing? Not people, not plants-just your soul. What do you surround yourself with? What deep down in your roots is missing? You may need to pluck some weeds, prune some branches. Preparing for spring growth starts now, here.

Walking out of lockdown doesn’t look like you think-it can roar anger or have stronger purpose. It cannot do both.

The part we often mix up? Self-care and self-indulgence aren’t the same, not even close!

Self-care is putting our hands over our hearts and breathing in peace. It’s physical rest and spiritual peace. It’s working mightily from a state of internal joy. It’s knowing that you can’t love your people well when your heart and soul live in a state of brittle cracked.

Self-indulgence cannot offer that to you. It’ll offer cheap dopamine depletion and leave you hungry parched seeking. So, where to start filling your heart and soul?

Self-care, soul care. Physical rest and spiritual peace. These gives clarity for the nuances.

Will my feet ever catch up to my heart? Maybe that’s the way to shrink wishes and build plans.

It’s stunning beautiful when others think you’ve lost bloom—but, you know it’s merely winter and you’re still working. Spring is coming.

Gracious Lord, I’m feeling pressure, and it’s me. I do this to myself and wonder why I feel this way. And then there’s You. Arms open, offering shelter. Show me the way. Over and over, remind me the way to peace is You. Lean me to listen and look, for places and spaces of grace. That’s where I find you, always there. Waiting available always. Amen & amen.

If you’re a person with curiosity of 𝘸𝘩𝘺, dissecting into the a chosen habit into your 𝘞𝘏𝘠 can be greatly helpful. I find it insightful to separate the nuts and bolts of a chosen habit.

If you understand your personal why for the habit, you’ll identify if you’ve chosen that habit from a posture of choice versus obligation.

Choosing a habit from choice offers its own level of internal motivation; a habit from an emotional stance of obligation brings negative emotions surrounding the habit.

Gracious Lord, Is it wrong, the way I question myself over and over daily. Is it a disrespect to You when I doubt daily, overthink, over analyze, over perfect or procrastinate? I need to know, know how to seek more, lean closer to listen, sensitive to Your voice alone, only You always. Slow down to smooth and soothe, clarity its’ own interdependent momentum. Breathe in peace, breathe out fret-let that be the daily prayer, Your peace flowing. Always. Amen & amen.

There’s this place, four hours from here. And there’s this wild nature, phenomena they call it. These spikes of evergreen reaching to heaven, these trees are foraged yearly by invasive insect foragers. And from a distance, one might think these trees are ready to fall, to collapse under the weight, eaten away.

What the trained eye might notice?

These trees aren’t single ringed. They are fighters, fighting off the demons that nibble at them. They still grow. Year after year, one harsh season after another, they still look up battered and bruised, reaching to the sky in it all.

I haven’t gardened hardcore in several years. It’s not that I don’t enjoy gardening-I do. We once did organic gardening in a barren fields with hand tools, the callouses are permanent at this point. It was life changing-mainly because I was determined I’d figure out how to get the absolute healthiest food for our sick toddler, even if I couldn’t afford the food market prices. It worked, the callouses are still there and the toddler is now a teen taller than me.

Here we are on the cusp of returning to gardening and I’m feeling timid-as if veggies should make a mama tremble. I’m nervous because I remember begging a barren field to produce, to nourish, to heal. I remember the lessons clear-you’ll either work for health or you’ll work to heal. Both require work.

The start of another project…words to remember: Quality will last, quantity fades.

The off grid years-I guess that’s a quick summary of those years, five years away from the world to find who we were and who Jesus is-taught depth. Depth of what is truly important. The places we met grace. Food, shelter, clothing-just what was needed physically was more than enough if our hearts and souls felt held safe. When the heart is peaceful calm, the soul joyous? The rest becomes icing on the cake, every morsel appreciated and savored.

If I perseverate on the distance between where I am and where I want to be, but skip looking back to see where I’ve been-what lies ahead will always seem too far away to reach.

Here’s the deal-the blunt tough love most of us don’t want to hear…you aren’t going to wake up everyday feeling like sunshine and rainbows…and that’s okay.

“The most common and the monstrous defect in the education of the day is that children fail to acquire the habit of reading.”  -Charlotte Mason 

I keep seeing new year, new me slogans posted across the internet-I roll my eyes at the message it splinters into the heart and souls of women across the world. Maybe it should be revamped: new year, another opportunity to become more of who God created you to be.

2023 doesn’t need to be my year-it needs to be His.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨. This is how to prep for a new year. We prepare by staying sensitive to the places and spaces God is calling, pointing us to notice-𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨. This is how we individualize our daily lives specifically, individually, 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘮.