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The faith of our youth…
When my kids were little, I had visions of our shared future. I imagined myself surrounded each Sunday morning with a throng of kids and grandkids filling a couple of pews in my local church. My hope was not without precedent. I had seen extended families gathered, maybe not every week, but often for holidays like Easter and Christmas. I looked longingly when I saw families of multiple generations gathering to worship together in the pews of our little church, and hoped someday we might fill our pew with a gang of worshippers in their Sunday best. Share this...FacebookPinterestTwitterLinkedin
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This is the good stuff…
Maybe the most important thing I took from that season was a new awareness that my purpose doesn’t lie out there somewhere, but right here in the ordinary cadence of my days. Who am I to love and serve? Let me see, who I can see from here?
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Parenting adults… a parallel journey
Our experiences were on a parallel track, and while I could appreciate the beauty of her journey, I also found that I needed to feel the grief and loss of change in mine.
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Baby Boucher 2019…
Soon we will be able to hold this new little one in our arms, until then, I am imagining a brown-haired boy with a familiar grin. I close my eyes and can envision the curve of his cheek, the smell of his hair, and his chunky thighs. My heart overflows with the sweetness and blessing of my new grandson.
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How many for dinner…
Over the past few years, the number has grown and is growing. First came the “others,” the girlfriend and boyfriend that have been grafted into the family. Then, came the grandson and the second is on the way. Our family is growing exponentially.
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Observations about parenting teens…
One day I was raising a delightful child, the next I was face to face with my own bad self as an adolescent.
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Motherhood, here…
It’s a rough time to be a mom. Our babies have long since learned to walk, talk, and run. The days of diapers and bleary eyed hands-on-care lie behind us. We’ve walked through the terrible two’s and learned that “NO” isn’t the harshest word a child can say. We loved footy pajamas, dandelion bouquets, and juice boxes. We washed spring days out of their hair and their clothes, and their necks. We struggled to figure out motherhood as the days rushed past. We were sure the never-ending needs would wring us dry… and they often did. We clung, controlled, pushed and pleaded on this white knuckle ride. Share this...FacebookPinterestTwitterLinkedin
