I get a phone call almost every morning from my daughter Summer as she makes her ten-minute commute to work, including her stop for coffee. I hear the gal taking her order. It’s become our ritual. I know what she will get and say it in my mind, wishing to have that drink face to face.

 Summer was filled with emotions this morning. She asked me. Mom do you ever miss the years when we were younger? And to my surprise, I burst into tears and could hardly answer her.

Yes, my voice quivered, my face wet with tears. I miss those years.

I reminisced as the flood of memories spilled over, as though they were waiting for me to stop and take notice.

How I miss my babies. The little girl I couldn’t wait to name Summer. She filled my life with goodness while stretching me in every direction to be the best mother for her. I miss my little boy Jacob who would pick flowers and hand them to me with bent peddles, filling my heart with love. And tiny Autumn so full of life. Lifting her small feet off the ground as her little tike car barreled down the slope, almost giving me a heart attack. Mom, don’t worry, I’m not gonna crash. She would say that every single time my expression told her to slow down.

 I miss my sweet Hannah touching my face in the early morning and kissing my cheek softly. 

Seriously, how did it go by so quickly? I was warned but always forgot when I’d see the laundry piled on the floor, dreading the all-day task.

I want to encourage my daughter. My daughter-in-law. And mothers who are in this season of life. 

Don’t give up!

I know the endless tasks of dirty dishes and laundry. Diapers that need changing, school drop-offs, and pick-ups. Check homework before it gets missed, and you get the red checkmark reminding you to remember. Potty training and storytelling. Kissing skinned knees and, at times, having a full-time job stretching you so thin you almost don’t recognize yourself. 

Don’t give up!

Don’t ever stop trying to be the best mom God created you to be. Let Him fill you. 

It’s challenging, and on most days, there will be no “Me-time.” 

The view from this season of my life feels like 10,000 feet above, and my mind remembers well all the places I needed grace and the times I lost my footing falling flat on my face.

I can see all reasons you might want to quit. All the moments you feel like a nervous breakdown is just a breath away. You can’t wash one more dish or put out one more fire. I get it. I see you. I’m praying for you.

 The tug of this world tells you to think about yourself and your unmet needs. Grab it. Take it, they say.

The pull is gradual, and the focus can sometimes blur, causing you to forget why you are their mother. 

You are the keeper of your cottage. You are the lover of your husband your friend. You are the voice of reason to all who will lend an ear. Sometimes you’re even the nurse that pulls a twelve-hour shift, and no one seems to care.

I’m nearing that place people refer to as empty nesters. I’ve learned to sleep until my body is ready to get out of bed. It’s been nice getting older with less of the have-to and more of the get-to.

I’m in the middle of planning our second daughter’s wedding and wishing for one more day.

Can we go down the hill one more day as your face lights up with laughter? 

Can you pick me one more flower because I didn’t have time to press the others in a book? My sweet baby can you touch my face one more time with your soft voice whispering mommy, I love you. Can we have one more day? Can we?

My prayer for all the young moms out there. You are precious, loved, and priceless. Don’t put your focus in the wrong direction. Don’t allow your view to get so clouded you forget. The teenage years can get wild, and the young adults really don’t know everything, and at times they still might need you, one more day.

So take it slow, reel it in. Don’t be in such a rush for the day to end. Stay off your phone when their eyes are there, hoping you’d want to play or make cookies along the way. 

Wake up before dawn, put the coffee on. Open God’s word and fill up on His truth, teaching your babies how much God’s love is true.

Because I can promise you this. 

You will wish for one more day. You will hurt when they live far away. You will be less busy, and the memories will be what you have.

Remember, they are facing life in a forward motion, and you are now mostly watching. 

Time is a thief, and we must stand guard. 

Don’t let your heart grow weary. The Bible promises in due season, we will reap if we do not faint. (Galatians 6:9)

Praying that your season of motherhood will be the best time of your life. 

Praying for you.


@October 2022

After A While

Summer is swiftly coming to an end.
I have enjoyed all the warmth the weather brings, and I’m always sad to see it go.
But I welcome the more relaxed days as we drift into the fall.
Seasons are good for me. I grew up on an island where the weather was always consistent. Most days felt the same, and fall and winter changed slightly with rain and temperatures somewhat cooler than before.
Colorado has some defining moments, and Autumn is one of them. Nearing September, the leaves will begin to change. It feels like an all-of-a-sudden moment when you look up, and the hues are more beautiful than yesterday.
Winter works the same. It seems gradual. The days end close to 4:30 P.M, temperatures fall in the mid-’30s at night, and eventually, you wake up to several inches of snow, and voila, it’s winter.
Seasons help me accept change. It has taught me to prepare and plan.
I know it might be silly to analyze life and the changing seasons. But for me, it’s a real thing.
I took a sabbatical from blogging for many reasons, and it was for a season.
I’ve missed it and especially connecting with you. Thank you for being a good friend.
I hope to encourage you in the storying telling of life, love, and what I’ve gleaned from God’s word.
I love praying, and I will be praying for you. Enjoy the photos and share your heart with me any time you like.

A Heart Of Worship


On the twelfth day of Christmas, I woke with a heart of wonder.

The reality of the Christmas story that took place so long ago, Has changed somewhat as man tried to create a sweeter picture of Jesus’ birth.

In a small town just a few miles from Jerusalem, God came from Heaven to be born. Can you see it? The wooden stable and the manger filled with hay?

The truth, Jesus was born in a cold dark cave and that manger was a hard stone.

Can you imagine placing your newborn baby wrapped in cloth on a cold hard stone?

That makes my heart ache thinking about it. Continue reading “A Heart Of Worship”

A Prayerful Heart



On the sixth day of Christmas Jesus gave to me the desire to pray as He did in the garden of  Gethsemane.

It’s hard to walk through uncertainty.

If you’re anything like me, you want to know how things are going to work out.

When under pressure my anxieties rise like hot lava spilling over to those around me.

My prayers are often laced with worries and fears as I offer up my situation, begging God to let it all work out. Continue reading “A Prayerful Heart”