Kitchen Battles

I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.

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“My Fourth Child”

I have three young children, but more often than not, I feel like the mother of four. There are many times I’ve wondered what God was thinking, orchestrating circumstances so that the most intensive period of my recovery overlapped with having two small children under the age of four, then adding pregnancy and a third…

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Socks and Hymns

It’s Wednesday morning and I’m screeching at my children. “Where are your socks? Why are they not on your feet!? Did you get your backpack like I told you to? We’re going to be late! Ahh!” My irritation with my children is compounded by the lingering censure of an e-mail I received earlier in the…

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