Posts Tagged ‘Children’

I must ask your indulgence.  Today’s blog is less of a commentary on faith, and more an announcement of sorts.

If you read this post about catching pearls, you know what I mean when I say that I caught one.  For a while now, I have wanted to expand my blog, and now I have.  (Don’t worry.  I’m not going to quit writing about faith.  It’s too much a part of my life to ignore.)

I have added three pages to my blog site: Food, Family and Simplicity.  This will give me a chance to share with you some of the pearls I have caught relative to home/family/faith life.  Pearls are meant to be shared!  🙂

On the Food page today, you will find my husband’s recipe for Sweet Potato Buttermilk Pancakes – yet another sneaky way to get veggies into your kids (and maybe yourself?).

On the Family page today, I am sharing a neat trick to help get your kids dressed and out the door on time in the morning.

On the Simplicity page today, I have two book suggestions for those trying to simplify their lives – and who doesn’t long for a simpler life these days?

I hope you enjoy these additions.  Thank you for indulging me today with my announcement.  I’ll be back to writing about my messes and victories on my faith journey next time.

Many thanks,


“But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” (Joshua 24:15, NIV)

P.S.  If you have received this blog via e-mail, please click on any of the highlighted pages above.  They will take you to my actual blog site.  I’d love for you to drop by and have a look around.  Come on over! – wwh



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I had difficulty becoming a mother – physically, I mean.  There was nothing I wanted on this earth more than to be an opera singer AND a mother at the same time.  While my nascent singing career was slowly taking wing, our best efforts to become parents crashed.

I was getting a bit miffed at God for not blessing us with a pregnancy while dozens of other women – some who weren’t even trying – were getting pregnant from nothing more than a cross-eyed look from their husbands.  We were doing our part, employing every trick in the book short of using a turkey baster, but it was for naught. 

Then, several humiliating fertility tests later, a miracle happened…

I couldn’t even look at the pregnancy test.  “You look at it,” I said, “I can’t take another disappointment.”

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

“Two lines.  If there are two lines, it’s positive.”

“Two lines in each window, or just two lines?”

“Just two lines,” I sighed.


“There are two lines,” he said.

And then the tears began.  All the years of hope, disappointment, anger at my body, anger at God… all of it came out in great, gaping sobs.  I was becoming a mother.

On the night she finally arrived, I hadn’t even known I was in labor.  But as naïve as I was about my labor pains, I was more naïve about what being a mother is all about.

I thought that by becoming a mother, I would gracefully ferry some soul or souls through the storms of life, and one day, my children would “rise up and call me blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)


Motherhood, like marriage, is holy-making.  It is a great mirror held up to show your worst character traits, your deepest scars, and your biggest fears.  It challenges you on every front and beats the selfishness out of you every day. 

Motherhood is not for sissies.  It is a pounding, molding, refining process designed to bring you one step closer to Christlikeness.

The flip side of the motherhood mirror reflects strength you didn’t know you had, love you didn’t know you were capable of, and occasionally, it can even fill you with a downright unholy pride.

I had this whole motherhood thing all backward.

Being a mother is not just for me to grow up another human being.

It is meant to grow me up into the woman God created me to be.



“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30, NIV)

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Muddy Shoes

I recently had a discussion with one of the great theological thinkers of our time – my nine-year-old.  Whether I was teaching her, or she was teaching me, I do not know.  I’ll let you decide for yourself.

She wanted to know about God and about Jesus and why doesn’t God just come out and talk to us and why did Jesus have to come and who is He and how long did He hang around after His resurrection before He went to be with God, and, and, and…! 

Deep breath.  How can I explain to my daughter what I don’t yet understand myself?  I mean, seriously.  Virgin birth?  Walking on water?  Father/Son/Spirit?  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it all.  But something about this man Jesus resonates with me.  There’s just something about Him…

“Well,” I begin, “God wanted so much for us to be with Him, but we couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because God is so pure, so perfect, so holy, and we… aren’t.  We’re …” My voice trails as I search for words.  She supplies them for me.

“Oh.  So it’s like I can’t come in with muddy shoes.”


This is all it takes for her to understand.  She accepts this information as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  There are no questions about other world religions.  There are no requests for scientific proof or DNA.  There is no debate.

My daughter has faith that could command a mountain to get up and move into the sea.  I, older and supposedly wiser, have a faith which is apparently smaller than a mustard seed.  She is content.  I struggle.

I am only beginning to grasp what she so easily accepts.  It took me a while to even realize how muddy my shoes are.  (And you know how I feel about dirt.)  But now, I am processing that there is One…

who makes me clean before God,

who loves me more than I can understand,

and who accepts me completely.  

Doubts and all.  

muddy  boots

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