My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

It’s easier said than done. This forgiveness thing. 

Instead of releasing it, we hold it closely to us, “the” offense- the hurt- the pain- and anger. We hold it and cling to it. Because it defines things, makes us who we are…now.

“The” things that we carry around that become pawns in which make or break relationships and walls. 

And it’s not as if we don’t have things that we should carry. Sometimes “the” whatever it is, has changed the course of our families  and of our lives.  And so we use it as a sort catalystic to define how  we relate. How we trust. Who we trust.

And the word “I’m sorry” isn’t used enough. We don’t hear it enough, because our entire world is about rationalizations. Hiding behind big words and convictions, that don’t hold weight when the fact of the matter is…we all make mistakes. We all can hurt others intentionally or unintentionally. And sometimes all of us carry,  levels of our own meanness. 

Passive Aggressiveness. Lack of couth, using pointed words. Judgementalness. 

And when we don’t hear an apology we slowly began to harden. Calcification builds around the ventricles of our heart and we carry all “the” offense closer to us. 

Indignant. 

We become Indignant. 

I harbor unforgiveness in my heart. And I know it. And the worst part is it’s because I hate an insincere apology. I hate rationalizations. Grow a pair, and say you’re sorry, like you mean it. 

And I get it, some of “the” things, are so heavy to carry we may never be over it. We may never be Okay. 

But isn’t it amazing, our entire salvation, is based on the cost of someone who laying down His life, for our transgressions? 

My Jesus. Forgives. 

So today I thought about those three powerful words…the words we can say, even if I am just saying it to myself because I will never really hear it…not in way I should hear it. 

I forgive you. 

I forgive you. 

And as I say it I feel a small part of my heart surge and soften. And slowly break a part. A part that was closed for a long time.

With forgiveness comes freedom. 

Even if they don’t know. You will. 

You will. 

And so will He, the one who forgives you in your brokenness. In your weary. In your shame. 

He. Forgave and Saved. 

We can be free. 

It’s spring break here and nothing has started out as planned.

But after yesterday’s post and in light of weekly themes I am choosing to focus this week on the beautiful. 

Beauty can transform us. And not external beauty but beauty that seeps deep under our skin and leads us to seek blessings in all things. 

It’s been raining a lot but we need it. 

Dyp had to go into work. 

Thing One is on crutches and we are waiting to hear back from the Radiologist. What we know for sure is he’s hurt. How badly…is the next question. But he’s in great spirits- and since he has a week off of baseball he is hoping to be ready in a week. 

Thing Two, Three, and Four helped me clean out my car. We recovered 12 coats, five umbrellas,  four shoes, one lunch box, 19 random socks, 20 pencils and pens, 3,000,000 stale goldfish,  three baseball caps, and an ENTIRE garbage bag full of crap. 

And that’s only the stuff they know about- I threw away a lot of thing four’s stuff before she came out. 

At first I was discouraged, but thinking about the fact that I transport 7 kids five days a week, and the many times I end up giving rides to a few extras through out the week, it wasn’t so bad. It was bad but not so bad. It shows a life well traveled. 

It will stay clean for about 15 minutes I bet. 

I realized afterwards that thing two came out to help me with no shoes…but I guess the fact that thing three chose to put ON clothes was a plus because he spent the last two days wearing nothing but a t shirt tucked into his underwear. 

And thing four is still not dressed.  Because she said it feels like a day to wear Pj’s. 

So I took a picture of their joy. Aren’t they beautiful? 

It’s spring break. And today isn’t anything like we planned but it is so beautiful to home with my kids. 

I miss their Dad, but I am so proud of how hard he works for us. 

I watch them play baseball outside. One observing with his crutches. 

Two and Three playing. 

And the little four cheering them on. Beautifully, and maybe a little too loudly. 

This week…what ever is thrown your way find beautiful in the chaos. 

I dare Ya. Except don’t play a Dunking game, with a trampoline. It’s a bad idea- all the time.  

Ps. My posts will be short and sweet, because I’ll be too busy finding, and watching my beautiful things live. 

“You can do something I can’t do. I can do something you can’t do. Together, let us do something beautiful for God*.” -blessed Mother Teresa

Every week this project of daily blogging has had some sort of a theme. I have never once planned it, but every week some new revolution has come about causing me to twist and turn. Sometimes the learning curve has been hurtful, and I still feel like finally as an adult I can say…I have so much to learn from this life. 

From God.

From other People. 

I have many beautiful things to offer others. And I’ve offered my ugliness more times than I can count. 

Today my friend Amy came over and we made Irish Pastie’s. My Dad sent me his recipe, my Mom sent me her and my Grandma Noralee’s, and I used a little of both. 

My friend Amy. It was so nice, as our lives don’t intersect as much as they did when my kids were little. It was so needed, because she is a vital part of my happiness. 

Back to the Pastie’s…

We made them from scratch but I didn’t put enough flour in the first time. Amy, who is a chef, let me be in charge, as she chopped and cut. As I struggled with the sticky dough she mentioned to me that adding more flour would help, and of course, instantly it did. 

They are a labor intensive food. I started soaking the meat last night, and started chopping this morning. 5 hours later I was able to taste my work…

My hands are dry from washing, my floor was covered in potato peels from my two helpers(age 6, 8), and I’m pretty sure I inhaled flour. 

But…

They taste just like my Mom makes them.

And they were not easy to make. But I did it. 

Even though I didn’t think I could. 

And I needed help. And guidance. 

But they turned out okay. 

It is a big deal. 

Writing daily has also been a big deal. Praying and listening, and waiting, and sometimes feeling so weary because in prayer other things become apparent.  And it’s labor intensive. And sometimes being real…in my own pale, spider veiny, skin is hard.

Because I want to be strong, but I’m sensitive. Because I want to be bold, but I want you to like me. 

I didn’t plan on themes…but each week has unveiled another chapter of growth. This week it was a test of my Faith, and some friendships, and the cost of being bold. 

Of speaking the Truth. My truth. 

And honestly, it sucked. 

I don’t like arguing, not my thing. I don’t like upsetting anyone. Also not my thing. 

I cried when I was on the debate team. I only made it one week on the team. That’s how long my heart lasted. 

I feel things too deeply. And I over think everything. 

So this week was kinda hard. I read my bible. A lot. I prayed. A lot. I loved. A lot. And I went to a lot of baseball games, which has nothing to do with this, but you should know what else occupies my time. 

 And somehow through out the week I had ample time to have a  deep in my heart and soul tug of war…about stuff. 

 I realized something about myself. 

I want love. 

In my friendships. In my home. In my life. 

I have been the peace maker in my family my entire life. 

 Because I love the differences of people I love. I love the unique way we all bring something different to the world. And I want us to like and appreciate each other rather than point out how incredibly different and flawed we are. 

Because…

We are all such unique creatures of a great God. I am so grateful for that. 

I was thinking of that as I went from bedroom to bedroom in my house today. Each room is different and messy, and I could even feel the critical part of me start to think of ways they could look better. But I chose to look closer and really see.  I can see the beauty of each person who sleeps in that bed, who curls up and dreams. Who hopes for things in the dark. So very different. From the shoes that lay on the floor. To the books that sit next to the bed. 

And I prayed and asked God what I should write about today, and as I mulled over a million different angles for my post, I saw this quote* next to my husbands side of the bed on a book he’s reading…and there it was.

Another day. More words. 

My parents created me. 

They love me. 

But they haven’t been married for almost 30 years. 

 Still today, they helped me make something that is a part of a legacy of family tradition. I am also a legacy of them. 

They are so different. 

But both so beautiful. 

And both have such great very different faiths. 

Yesterday Micah was walking out of school with his very good friend Nima. Nima is Muslim, and this week was their big New Year. As I talked to his Mom, my friend Maryjam about it- I saw how her face lit up as she shared with me everything that they do to celebrate. And I saw something familiar…that’s how I look when I talk about Jesus. 

Because her faith is very important to her. Vital to her life. Like it is to mine. 

I hugged her right then and told her how glad I am that I know her, and love her. She is a good Mom. I trust her with my children. She makes me laugh. I told her that. 

She laughed. 

And I saw our boys, who love to play Legos and pretend, and run really really fast. Yes, their faith is vastly different but they appreciate each other and they make each other laugh. 

They are both very good, sweet blessings. 

Like all of us. 

We are beautiful. 

And very different. And none of us have all the answers. But I do know is I’m called to do something beautiful for God. And this week I’ve learned that there’s  worth in Taking the Time and doing things with Great Love…as long as I’m looking to God the whole time. 

Pointing to Him. 

I want to reflect him but I’m still not confident enough…I still have too much laundry to wash and too many facets where I can’t catch up. I don’t think I’m good enough yet. 

But I will show up. I will write.  

Because I’ve learned some pretty valuable lessons so far in this revolution. 

I’m capable of being a putting a recipe together, and making my house smell like my childhood and happy memories. 

It’s worth my time. 

I’m capable of spending time with a friend who I love dearly, who always makes me smile.

Her worth is immeasurable. 

I’m able to find words and beauty in the messy uncomfortable places in my life. 

And I’m willing to love.

Love others. Love Life. 

Love God. 

Beautiful blessings. 

Life from Scratch. 

A friendship something beautiful. 

Your life is vital to this world…

“Together, we can do something beautiful for God.” 

(JoyfulMysteries Note: we met through a friend. She is kind and funny. She is always encouraging. She was one of the first people to read my blog. She is open to the Holy Spirit. She loves her husband. She loves her son. And today, she shares her real. I am

So incredibly touched.  Thank you Nicole, I know, your Mom is so proud of you…so much Love today and always friend)

Thinking about loss, grief, and what happens to the rest of us when someone is gone.  My real is loneliness.  Not all the time, but when it’s there it’s THERE.  The person I pick up the phone to call—in sorrow, in trouble, in joy, in boredom at the grocery store—is gone.  I still find myself in that split second of thought, I almost grab at my phone and I remember the gone, the void.  I had a counselor (who I only saw twice and under the guise of my husbands EAP; another story) said that I could still talk to her.  I remember thinking, “Yeah, duh,” and at the same time, “Yeah, right.”  It is not the same.  I believe in heaven, I believe in the Everlasting Life and that one day I will see my mom again but it is not the same.  Those things are a comfort, those things are a lifeline to me but they don’t make it better.  Not in the way I want, sometimes.

My mom had a happy life in a small town 7 hours away.  She was a champion encourager.  She smiled in the midst of almost daily blood draws, fatigue, oxygen tanks, procedures, appointments, I could go on.  She was—is—an amazing woman of God.  And she was such a safe person to talk to.  Her friends know me but not in the know know way.  She didn’t come across people in my circle, and she did not gossip.  She was there, she stinking always answered the phone.  Such a gift in this day of texting and messaging and screening everything.  She listened, she prayed, and she supported me.  Not blindly taking sides; honest but fiercely loyal.  And I need that.  I need it in a way that just doesn’t exist anymore.  My friends are our friends, my church is family, and it can be too close—sometimes.  This isn’t to say that I have big ugly things to talk about—okay we all have big ugly things to talk about—this is the “let’s get real movement right ?,” but really my marriage isn’t in trouble, I’m not sick, I’m not running from the law, I’m not broke; but sometimes I feel broken. 

 My heart is broken.

I mention the counselor and don’t get me wrong she was very sweet and empathetic, she was likely quite good at her job.  I wasn’t ready to get into all of it, I shared my family’s story and she talked to me about grief and losing a parent and self care, and I get it.  I know a lot of it, heck I’ve taught a lot of it.  But what is there when you’re at the ugly cry, shaking your fist at God, the pretty tears are gone and you’re just wanting to scream or puke stage?  My advice? Maybe we should go for it.  Scream, shake, puke, hide under a comforter.  I watch my three year old son when he doesn’t get his way sometimes and I gotta admit, I could be envious.  Three year old’s let it all hang out; he doesn’t know what “put together” is.

But we do.  I do.  We say we’re fine, or we’re tired, or we complain about something easy, tedious.  That avoids the big stuff, that’s good.  I don’t say that I’m sometimes overtaken by the thought that when my Grandmother died I did not even grasp what my mom was going through.  I think about “Was I even nice to her during that time? Was it all about me because I lost Grandma?  Was I too easy to ‘get over it’ because she lived a long lovely life and you expect Grandmothers to pass away?”  I know now what my mom was feeling and I hate that I can’t say “I’m sorry, I had no idea how this rips you apart.”   It’s too late.  I don’t talk about little seeds of wonder, of worry, about what her last moments were.  Seeds that can germinate and grow and become fearful, terrible maybes.  

That’s just a couple, we don’t say a lot.  Most of the time.  

Maybe that’s changing.  Maybe there’s a measured approach because, let’s be honest, we don’t want to go around acting like 35 year old toddlers.  That would get old real quick.  You know, sometimes I let my son stomp his feet and wail, sometimes I tell him to calm down, “suck it up,” sometimes I bring out the big guns, and sometimes I wrap him up and kiss his face and I make it better.  I think if we can be that to each other and trust that we might, just maybe, know what someone needs.  To just trust that voice inside, be it woman’s intuition, your ‘gut,’ the leaning of the Holy Spirit, or all of the above—we might be able to help someone get what they need, whether it’s to get it out, let it ride, suck it up, or make it better.  It’s worth a try, I’m in, are you?





My name is Nicole. I live in Oregon. I have a son, Elliott who is almost 3.  Married to my husband for 7 years after meeting him on an Amtrak train from Oregon to Washington.  We lost my dear mom Gail in June of 2013, she got to meet and know her first Grandson and she was the proudest Grandmother ever.

Life would be better if this was a Music Video in the 80’s, my favorite decade. Or maybe like a sitcom. 

Where hair was big, and fashion was puffy. 

Where there was a conflict, but families still ate dinner together, and things were resolved by the end. 

Music was better. 

Videos weren’t about shocking you, but about telling a story, with big hair. 

Friends in sitcoms stood up for you, and stood by you. 

After school specials were where it was at. 

Popular books for teenagers were well written by Judy Blume and dealt with girls that were relatable, rather than poorly written pathetic girls who fell in love with stalking vampires. 

There was a studio audience who loved to see you, and there was always one hysterical laugher.

It wasn’t a sin if you made a boxed meal or drank from the hose. 

There was no social media and Internet and when you talked on the phone you had a long cord that you pulled around the corner…for privacy. 

You bought stamps.

When you were home for the weekend from school, you were home…there no constant flashing texts and barrage of people you had to update. 

Ms. Pacman was better.

There were always donuts after church on Sunday and bitter church coffee. 

If people wanted to see you they came over, if they missed you, they called…

Today my kids asked to hear a song…so I asked my phone. Because that’s how advanced we are. 

Sigh. 

Except we’re not nicer really. We don’t love more really. 

This week. This real thing has kicked my tush…

I’ve realized…

Words can be so powerful. And we use them too freely now. We hurt others, deliberately- just to be right. 

And then we hold no accountability for our words, and our actions. We are so desensitized to others because everything is so accessible.

Today I just left all those words out in the air as I talked to my friend Brit when we walked, how hard it is to be so exposed and to feel like my words mean nothing when people already have decided my real isn’t good enough for theirs. 

Why do I open my hands to you my God, when I feel like I’m only heard when it’s convenient? When I’m only valued when there is time? 

And who in the hell has this extra time to be right? I barely have time to pee alone. I’m the person who never knows anything about anything, about people’s personal lives, unless they are a little kid,and quite frankly… I don’t want to know anyone’s dirty laundry. 

I have enough of my own.

And so I drove to and from a million practices and longed for Music Videos and big hair. It’s no wonder my favorite is Bon Jovi and all he sings…because his songs make me feel good. Tommy and Gina never gave up…man, I love those two. 

When I listen to those songs, I am home. 

I feel safe. And so loved. 

So today Siri answered in just the way I needed…she gave me a Wham lyric, and took me home…where I’m wearing my 80’s prom dress and folding laundry, with a huge zit on my chin. 

Listening to my music. And it makes me happy. 

I will always be a Mom who hates technology. I am a faithful friend, and always stand up for the people I love. I am old school, I don’t need fluff- I just need Jesus. And just like in a sitcom I will always try to resolve things before the end of the night…the world may be off with Vampires and Reality TV, But I’m still in the 80’s.  





Kristy and Adele(6) are two of my favorite people and today she sent a text with no filter…her girls send me texts with emoji’s and voice texts and I could see Kristy texting on her couch in Minnesota as she nurses my goddaughter Maisey. I could see Her older girls peeking and picking the pictures to send to me. I miss her so much! I know she stays calm and yet…she also has fears. She has a PHD but years of Life release every instinct of fear of all that can go wrong…

The what if’s don’t go away…So we savor the right now. 



“I’m afraid of my kids growing up so fast. I’m trying to savor every moment.” 



“I hold this precious little one, and  feel fear when I think of my kids futures and their unknown.”





“I’m afraid my worst self is all I ever offer to my family.” 



“I’m afraid I will not be able to keep up with the world today. It’s ok to be two steps behind. It’s ok.” 





A lot is going on. In my head, in my heart. I have felt joy today and deep sadness…and there is a  fear never really goes away. I trust, and say goodbye and “be safe” every single day…and pray he comes home. 

The media won’t cover this danger to us. But this is my family. This is my fear. 

http://humanizingthebadge.com/2015/03/17/to-my-friends-outside-my-police-family-this-is-why-we-cant-stop-talking-about-it/

This is our real.

So I sat in my car today and I prayed, under a blue sky, with no filter. 

No Filter Wednesday. 

Our fears are real. Our lives are precious. 

Worth savoring, even with the what ifs. 

Every life matters. 

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever you will call me.” *

Being a kid was hard.

Being a grown up is hard. 

Lately some realities have come to play in my life, that I can’t get it all done. I can’t be in three places at once. And I have to step back and set some difficult steps in a different direction. 

And it’s really really hard.

Because that means feeling torn and having to step back from what has been comfortable for a really really long time. 

Yesterday I wrote my real out loud and brave. And this morning already wondered why I keep being open…being open makes my heart hurt. But then I came to this weird place of revelation as I read my Bible and prayed…with lots of up close and raw feelings all over the place…

Speak the truth, live the truth, and know that comfort is temporary. I kept hearing these words as I felt my cortisol levels shoot to and fro and felt like I needed to keep intact.  

Keep it together. Even though…

Sometimes it’s not going to be comfortable. 

And man I hate that. 

And sometimes, many times, the right thing is to walk away, even when…I only want to do the right thing. I only want the best. We are not always going in the same directions on our paths.

And that has been really hard for me to even put into words…

I have regrets. Like, last year in the fog I dropped the ball and Grace didn’t have her Star of the Week for preschool…I will never ever be able to go back and fix that. I will never truly be over that. At the time I wasn’t going in the right direction, I was stuck in quick sand and couldn’t see beyond being stuck. I see now. 

Even now when I have some of it together…I don’t know how to balance it all. So I have to choose my steps wisely. 

I’m missing my sisters and my Mom so much. I’m wishing I had family nearby. Because my Dyp works a lot, and my kids take a lot, and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it all.  And I have good friends who help, but there is only one of me. 

I am in a strange transitional life period, because my kids are changing and our lives are changing, and I am being called and stumbling through a tunnel that I don’t really understand. I started selling mascara last year because I love it, but have realized while I always knew selling wasn’t my strong suit, my real is also not changing exterior but about transforming the interior. I can’t do both, because this take so much energy and prayer and looking for the radiant beauty of raw and real can’t be sold. That has to be felt deep under the skin and changed beyond comprehension. 

And being real is not comfortable. 

No amount of sweats and old sweatshirts can cover up my imperfections in life. I often say the wrong thing, and do the wrong thing. I do not like being misunderstood so I will over apologize, and I will always be the first to say sorry- even if I wasn’t really wrong- but I can’t have conflict.  And a lot of times many times I will say something, and regret it because it isn’t comfortable, because it’s hard to put myself out here in such a way. And yet, how can I learn if I don’t see others hearts and be open to their real? I want to know and understand…so I can love better. So I can understand better. 

I listen to Hillsong* “Oceans” song over and over and pray that I can do God’s will. Not mine, but God’s. And depend on him in all the uncomfortable parts, in all the ways I’m so uncertain of my realness. Because the real is seeing the good in others and knowing my heart is only seeking the one name I call. 

“And I will call call upon your name…”

Jesus, please help me…Keep it together. 

Jesus, please lead me to Speak the truth.  Live the truth. 

And as uncomfortable as it is I need to trust…Only Him.

Happy St Patrick’s Day- St. Patrick was a man of great resilience who spent his whole life pointing to the same person whose name I am calling upon now. 

And happy birthday to some of my loves- Erin, Ella! And my dear Uncle Pat, I miss you. 



I hate confrontation. But I also hate when there is something truly unfair happening. 

I hate competion. But I hate when a mean or bad person wins. 

I hate criticism. But I hate when people aren’t real with me. Also I was a theater major…So I know all about criticism. 

Writing this used to just be something I did, and then it became more. 

Writing real has been a tremendous gift but has also left me exposed. And a little scared. Scared of the criticism- scared of all the “realness” that it takes out of my every day life. Writing daily has forced me to look at my life more clearly. 

I’m not sugar coating parenting. It’s beautiful, but it’s also so incredibly hard. And draining. And freakishly scary. Because the truth is…we do the best we can, and we try, and we screw up, and someday they are free…to make choices and decisions and go rogue. And it’s scary to let go. It’s scary to release them, and know there is true evil and I can’t protect them from everything. And someday they may marry someone who won’t like me, and they won’t come around…it would break me.

I’m not sugar coating marriage. It’s amazing, and hard. I choose to love everyday, but sometimes loving is the hardest job I have. When things are hard, and when being a team seems impossible. We have grown up together, and towards each other- but we are  constantly having to recommit where ever we are at. We shift and change over the years, and we choose to love. True Love is incredibly powerful- but it is not always easy. 

I’m not sugar coating the real…I will not give into things that will steal your soul…behaviors, and things like body talk and shaming, abuse, addiction, affairs, and other life stealers. I will say something. There are also really unfair things- loss of a spouse, loss of a parent, loss of a child. And there is no words or hallmark card that can bring peace. Grief has to happen. And it takes a long time, and the ache never goes away.  I’m not going to tell you to bandaid away your sorrow. Mental illness is a real thing you cannot pray away. Doctors know their shit. And real people take medicine. I do…and there is absolutely no organic fruit that can take away my anxiety. So there.

I’m not going to sugar coat my faith. I spent too many years trying to fit into a card board cut out of political correctness. It does matter. I have a friend who is Muslim, and we both love God so much. And I know how different our religions are. I am not divisive, but I will not be told what I believe. I am a Catholic. I do not worship Mary, and I am sick and tired of reading some persons writings about what Catholics believe. Talk to an actual Catholic. We are Christians…stop being divisive. And I’m not trying to make you switch to my church I just want to speak my truth…that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and The Life. And my faith is the most important thing in my life.    And that’s all I want for my kids…to know Him. 

Also I’m a catholic who uses the word shit a lot. Shit! I did it again.

I’m going to tell you the truth. I’m not going to tell you that you are a better parent if you stay at home, or if you work. Or if you breast feed or don’t. That doesn’t make you a good parent. You are a good parent if you love your child and try every day. And that’s it. Our children are a reflection of us…and they watch and see, and react to everything we do. Love. Them. Be consistent in love and discipline. Be present and constant.

A lot of times, when the day is done I will criticize and pick a part all of the things I didn’t get done. All of the ways I’m not good enough. I’m not “being” someone. But…maybe this is the beginning of seeing what I’m actually a part of.  This beginning of seeing what we really are doing, who we are, and what we are capable of. 

We could do nothing.

Or…we could be real. 

Out loud. Out now. Do this life. Right now. 

Do shit. 



Tonight my middle school youth group led Stations of the Cross…it was a small turn out, half the kids were sick and had sports, but I was so incredibly impressed with the prayers they wrote for each station. I told them to use their voices and their words for each reflection. And they did. 

Like yesterday I don’t have all the best words. I don’t feel that great, probably the windfall of weeks of sick kids and huge events and now here we are…I’ve felt for about a week on the edge of sick, and tonight I’m just worn out. 

So my words are not profound, or deep. But I’m going to use them to best explain what I am feeling right now. I’m feeling as my friend Kari says “all the feelings.” 

Tired: like I could sleep for days. The rain doesn’t help it. And I feel like snuggling up and napping for about a week. So tired. This past week, I’ve coordinated and planned big things, and had to get back into the swing of so much while my kids were in and out of sickness. I am sooo tired. 

Worried: worried about one of my godchildren. Worried that some friends house won’t sell. Worried that my boobs really do hang that low. 

Nervous: About the future. Not sure why…and I’m sure I feel guilty too- because that’s my thing. 

Peacefilled: because tonight I watched some amazing kids, who are incredibly resilient, stand in front of our church and lead…they are the church and I’ve gotten to be a very small part of their journey. 

Happy: today we went to the Spanish Mass. Dyp and I feel most at home there.  I feel so blessed to be raising bilingual kids, and I love the family atmosphere and the music. The family behind us had three boys and a baby girl. The mom and I had a moment with each other as my little girl made the baby laugh. We got each other…instantly kindred. Faith has no color, or language barrier. Familia Es Todo. 

Proud: Recently I’ve been able to witness my kids faith…Jonah was asked to be a part of a play pit orchestra and we found out they are performing during Holy Week. We mentioned it to him, and he didn’t hesitate and emailed the teacher to say he could not do it, because it is the most solemn week of our faith.  Last night I came into the room and saw Daniel praying over Micah that he wouldn’t have nightmares. So things aren’t perfect, but I am so proud of these little things…Because they are the really big things. 

Thankful: thankful for my friends… Who are so relevant. Thankful for my family…and love, so thankful for love. Love that offers real and forgiveness, and casts out all the “stuff” that gives me the bad feelings. 

Right now- I am praying for you…you, who are reading this. I’m praying that you find joy and peace. I’m praying that you can let go of worry, nerves, and guilt. I’m praying that you find real rest. And I’m praying that right now- you can choose to stand up for what you believe in and speak truth, and search for the little-big things…it’s never too late to fall in love with God, and to find your life. 

Even if I don’t have the words…use yours. 

It’s never too late. Your Voice. Your words.

Your Real.

You have Right Now. 



I will not blog today. Because my words won’t be kind, and my heart won’t be in the right place. 

Instead I will focus on my family, and be present to them. And will pray that God will give me the right words tomorrow. 

Today I will watch my children perform on stage, and I will snuggle with them afterwards.

And hope it will make up for the fact that I wasn’t enough for them today.  

And I will not be prisoner to my phone or my laundry, or of my thoughts about how I’m failing because today I couldn’t deal with another moment of arguing about why we have to wear clean underwear or why clothes aren’t optional if we are leaving. Today I wasn’t in the mood for all the why’s. 

I wasn’t patient. 

Because sometimes one of me isn’t enough. 

So I’m not going to write about it. 

Instead I’m just going to rest in the moment. 

Be present. 

Not have it together. 

But not fall apart. 

Just be…right here. 

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