Conditioner, papers, toys, a camera, and dishes littler the counter.  Baby boy plays in his Pack N Play- his own little kitchen island. The floors are growing leftovers from the meals of hungry toddlers. The microwave defrosts something for dinner with it’s loud drone.

It’s like my life threw up all over the place.

I whip cream cream cheese and I remember my old dreams.  Dreams to write, to mentor, to create, to photograph.

I woke last night from a dream about bananas costing $0.37 and I nearly jumped right into my car.  My dreams, too, seem to have shrunk.

I make lunches. I change diapers. I make dinners. I read stories. I fumble along at serving the husband.  I trip in anger over a small defiant body.  I rage like a volcano.  I repent.  And, then, start all over again.

I rarely hear thank you.  I rarely hear honest encouragement.  I rarely have someone challenge me to grow.

Then it sears me, hotter than the jalapenos I’m stuffing.  Searing truth in a voice.

When did it all become about me?

Isn’t the mission bigger?

And I turn.

I let the PJ clad toddlers lick the cream cheese of the beaters.

I smile at the boy in the Pack n Play

I pack up outgrown dresses and verses and drive across town to encourage a friend.

A new season begins.  One of experimenting with how to live out the gospel.

How to say thank you with movement.

Moving toward the heart of God.

Moving toward those quiet dreams of heaven.

Counting more Gifts He gives to help me move closer to Him. (3081-3086)

  • Singing “O I love my chubby baby.” to the tune of “Come Thou Font of Every Blessing”
  • Laughing at the MASSIVE baby blowout all over my skirt, couch, and baby
  • Cloud dough play for hours
  • Petal snow on the deck
  • Derek giving me a much needed day off on Saturday afternoon
  • Projects coming together

holy experience