(Part 1 of 2 on my postpartum anxiety). It’s been quiet here. For good reason though. At least, I think it is. Remember when I told you I wasn’t okay? When I said, I like to weave for you my stories that have resolution, that have redemption....
I cried at the coffee table during MOPS today. (Mothers Of PreschoolerS, a group I attend because it feels like I have a million toddlers.) I cried because moving is hard. Making new friends is hard. Parenting four kids is hard. I cried because...
My dearest darling baby girl.Welcome to the world. (August 25, 3:58 pm).Your journey through it will resemble your journey into it.Chaotic, messy, beautiful. Lots of tears. You shine bright in our story, your threads, they are stitching you minute by minute into the...
… A slash can show a line break in a poem, a song or a play. This blog? This is my song, my story. And grace shot through the broken lines of it at every turn. At the heart of it, I am a story-teller. And in the telling of my story, perhaps you’ll find healing for yours.
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