Birthday girl…

A couple weeks ago, my family pulled off an epic surprise. To be honest, I didn’t believe they had it in them. We aren’t that good at surprises, and I particularly hate being surprised, so it hasn’t been something we’ve practiced over the years. But, they pulled off a beautiful party and gathered so many of my favorite people. I was totally blown away by the love and attention poured out that night.

It’s been a rough few months for us. It never occurred to me, that through this difficult time, they were working on this. Which makes it all the more precious.  When my mom and sister stepped out to greet me, I thought I might faint. I know what their February looked like because we shared it. The loss and grief, the disorientation, the upheaval as dad’s death required so much sorting and change. I know too, the grueling flight across the country. I couldn’t believe they came. I still can’t believe it.

On the morning after my party, I woke up early. Still reeling from the whirlwind, I poured a cup of tea and began poking through the cards and gifts which the kids left heaped on the kitchen table. As I read the cards with words of encouragement and love, words that reminded me of times we’ve shared and hopes for the future, I wept.

But it was a gift from my Oregon family that pushed me past the screaming edge. In the mist of the most difficult chapter of our lives, they put together a precious scrapbook for me. Each page filled with photographs, many of which I had never seen. Snapshots from another era, with my grandfather, my aunts, and uncles long gone now. Pictures of growing up with cousins and extended family. Pictures of our life across the globe and our summers home in Oregon. As I turned over each page, there was a note from someone I love. So many words of love and memories shared and treasured. It brings tears to my eyes just to think of it.

Mom told me that she and dad had been planning this for a while, but just ran out of time. So, Jayla stepped in and helped pull the pieces together. They reached out to family and friends asking for notes and memories to be included with the photos. The result is a scrapbook filled with the most important pieces of my life. The people, the places, the events that shaped me and made me who I am today. Not a bad way to celebrate the second half of my life.

I was nervous about turning 50. From a distance, this birthday seemed to have an ominous shadow. I certainly don’t feel 50. When I was home for Dad’s funeral, we talked a lot about how we were now the same age our mothers were when our Grandpa died. Then, we were in our twenties, and our mothers seemed, well, old. When we were younger, I never really thought about getting older. I’m not afraid of it, but it doesn’t really seem real to me either.

Surely, by the time you are 50 you will have your life together. Surely, by the time you are 50 you’ll no longer be a hot mess. Surely, by the time you are 50 you will have it all figured out.

Well, I don’t.

Instead, I find myself in a time of reimagining my life. The past few years of change and turmoil have reminded me of the fragile nature of time, of life. I find myself thinking deeply about my values, about goals, and about what kind of life I want to live. I feel as though time is accelerating at breakneck speed. If half of my life is behind me, I want to be real sure that I use the time ahead well.

All of this requires that I slow down. It feels as though life is dragging me forward at a pace that is unsustainable, and I need to find ways to slow it down. I need to think about what matters, make choices, and be intentional about my days. The problem is, I’m not very good at this. I am learning, but it feels a lot like playing the guitar. My fingers aren’t long enough and the strings hurt my fingers. I’m all awkward and uncomfortable trying to learn these new movements.

Maybe someday, when I’m sixty, I’ll have this figured out. Until then, I am fumbling my way through. Spending less time on Facebook and more time in my journal. Spending time with people who know and love me, sharing my dreams and hopes for the future. Spending time and attention on the narrow circle of those to whom my life matters most.

A couple years ago, I heard a teacher describe our lives as concentric circles. She asked us to draw circles inside of circles and then to label each one with the sphere of influence we held. As I labeled the circles family, friends, work, ministry, community. In each circle I added the major areas of responsibility I carry, including my hopes and dreams for the future. Once we had this visual representation of our lives, she began to tell a story.

Imagine that you are in the center of your life. In your hand, you hold a garden hose. From that hose, you water the garden (represented by the circles). If you are like me, you stand in the middle and point the hose toward the outer rings, hoping that you will be able to maintain the public spheres you are responsible for. In the process, the spray drops water on the people in your inner rings. You can imagine your children and husband standing under the spray hoping for a few drops here and there. You move the spray back and forth trying to make sure everything in your life gets at least enough to keep going.

As she spoke, I could envision the scene played out over a thousand days. Working hard to keep everything moving forward, running myself ragged and wearing out those closest to me. The ways my children sometimes got the dregs from my life after I had poured out my best to those other circles. The ways that my husband found me worn and depleted with no energy left for him. The ways that my own life has been neglected because I was too busy taking care of the needs of others.

And then she said the words that I’ve been thinking about ever since…

What if you turned the hose down?

What would happen if instead of trying to water the edges of your life and hoping that the important things in the center got enough, you instead focused your energy on the tending your life, your family and let the water overflow from there. That is my desire. It’s actually the image Cascading Life is built on. My desire to build a life where there is fullness for myself, and the people I am responsible for, and to let that fullness spread out into the wider spheres of my life.

A couple years in, I am still struggling to implement this in my life. I’m still trying to figure out how to point the hose down… but I am working at it. I want to give my family and friends the very best I have to offer. To show up in ways that only I can. My children can’t find another mother down the street, my husband isn’t allowed another wife. I have a role in my sister, my niece, and my mom’s life that no one else gets to have. I want to show up and love them well giving them the very best of myself. So, I’m going to keep learning and practicing this. They are worth it.

What about you? How could your life benefit from pointing the hose down?



Creating calm…

So much of the time, I feel as though I’m being pushed around by my calendar and the myriad of commitments it reminds me of daily. I tend to be a rule follower. I like to check the boxes and line my ducks up neatly in a row, but the crosswinds in my life seem to be trying to keep me off balance. I started many of the past decade’s Jaunarys with a long list of goals I intended to keep. Each year, I begin again with my list of ways I want to shape my life. Usually, they are additions to the already swollen list of commitments I hold. I’m going to write more, I’m going to make special time with family a priority, I’m going to ensure I don’t lose track of treasured friends. Continue reading “Creating calm…”

Winter’s rest…

Most years I begin January with a neat set of goals. I like to have a clear vision and a plan for how to get there. I divide my year into nice quarters and check in on my goals near my birthday (March), at the beginning of summer (June), and at the beginning of the school year (September) to make sure I’m on track. I adapt and change goals as my life unfolds but having a sense of where I’m trying to go gives me a sense of clarity about what matters and what I want to move towards. Continue reading “Winter’s rest…”

Beautiful mess…

Not long ago, life took some unexpected turns that have had us hustling and running to catch up. We’ve spent time in hospital waiting rooms and stale cafeterias. We’ve shown up for a variety of tests, both invasive and benign. At the end of the testing we faced the verdict, which brought relief and a wait for a fix. We’ve prayed together and alone, we’ve updated everyone who cares, and we’ve had impossible conversations about what happens if the worst happens. I watched them wheel this man I adore past the swinging doors. That hour lasted a lifetime. When the procedure was done, they released us back into our lives. Continue reading “Beautiful mess…”

Cleaning days…

I’ve been cleaning drawers, closets, clutter, my floors. I’m preparing for a new season, for the tree, decorations, family, and lots of little white lights, but before I do the next big thing, I need to clear some space. I love the smell of freshly washed floors, the way the windows seem wider when they are newly clean. I love touching and fluffing and putting things in their places. I adore throwing away bags of trash.

Continue reading “Cleaning days…”

Baby shower…

I didn’t have a baby shower before my first child was born. My family helped me pull together the pieces I would need for a nursery, and I brought my girl home to my mother’s house. I made it through those first days of motherhood surrounded by my mom, dad, and sister. Soon Grandmas were there to help as well. When that baby cried, a whole team responded. Continue reading “Baby shower…”

Friday nights…

We’ve never really been party people. Keith and I live far too near the end of the introvert scale to ever be able to handle the bar scene (far too noisy) or dance places (too much everything), or really any crowds. Besides, we had kids too early to have either the money or the time for such shenanigans. Over the years, Keith’s schedule has challenged even the notion of Friday nights. When other folks were ending their 40 hour week, Keith often began his on Friday and ended it on Sunday. Continue reading “Friday nights…”


Our small group has committed to practicing Sabbath Rest. We’ve decided to practice the discipline of rest in an effort to honor the God who made us and try to find the unforced rhythms of grace the Bible promises. On a weekly basis, we try to pause. To unclutter our lives and just rest. Continue reading “Rest…”


After years of using the heat of the fire as the major means of prioritizing my work, my life feels a little strange these days. For the past decade, I’ve made decisions about where to put my time and energy by looking at the never ending list of ought to dos and prioritizing those whose deadline was looming, or whose absence would create more work. Continue reading “Prioritizing…”


I’m a full-blooded introvert. People often misunderstand this characteristic because I am a strong leader, gatherer, and I like speaking in public. People are often shocked to learn, that means I would gladly stand in front of thousands and speak for an hour than spend an afternoon tending to garden variety small talk. It makes me itchy to have to be interesting and funny, to talk about the weather or sports, or whatever people talk about when they aren’t really saying anything. Continue reading “People-ing…”