On October 26th, 1997 the Florida Marlins won the World Series. Are you impressed that I know that? Don’t be, I’m not a baseball fan. I know that because that was the night my dad died. I was at my dad’s home in Michigan, my husband was in Florida where we were living. I called him to say that my dad had died and I heard the cheering of the World Series win in the background. Someday I’ll be on a game show and the million-dollar question will be, “What date did the Florida Marlins win their first World Series?” I’ll know it! One can dream.

It may be Summer, but the bright and happy season outside is no guarantee of a bright and happy season for your soul! Even as I write this, a dear friend is grieving the sudden loss of her husband. The view out her window says new life and summer but it is winter for her soul. Another friend is facing a frightening diagnosis. While others are planning summer getaways, she is planning doctor appointments and procedures.

Seven years ago, our family entered a two-year season marked by pain, struggle, and grieving. The struggle had been within the walls of both our home and our church. At times it felt like there was no place to go to get a reprieve from the difficulty. Have you ever felt like that?

The first funeral I ever attended was for my grandpa.  It was in a small town in Michigan.  I was 6.  For nearly 57 years now I have attended or participated in countless others — aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, my mom, my dad.  

Perhaps you have attended a few yourself.  If so, you may have noticed the 6 people, usually dear friends, assigned as pallbearers.  Their role is to carry the casket from the service to the hearse and again to the graveside.  In doing so, they are symbolically carrying the weight of the pain of the loss for the family.  

In just a few days, the world (well, our part of it) will celebrate mothers. Happy Mother’s Day!

Few days on the calendar hold such a mixed bag of emotions like Mother’s Day. Few days on the calendar can trigger the heart of a hurting woman like Mother’s Day. There are also fewer days on the calendar that can bring such joy and delight to a woman’s heart. 

The hospital, for many, is a place of help and healing. However, for others quite the opposite is true. Within the medical community, there is something known as Nosocomial Infections - “nosis” - one who is ill and “comial” - one who tends to the sick. This occurs when a patient becomes ill, sometimes fatally, from instruments of healing such as catheters, ventilators, and surgical lines. What makes them difficult to treat is that they are multi-drug resistant, require quarantine, and can easily spread into the community. It is shocking because it is unexpected and it prompts the question, “Is the hospital a safe place for me to go?”.

Similarly, for many, the church is a sanctuary—a place of solace, community, and spiritual growth. However, for others, it can be a source of profound pain and disillusionment. Quite often this is described as “church hurt”. I would like to reframe or redefine that term to “complicated hurt”.

This month, my baby girl turns 22!

Six months before the birth of our second daughter, my first daughter was born to me. Wait, what? Six months? You’re doing the math and it doesn’t add up. That’s because both of my daughters were born to me through the miracle of adoption. At the age of 39, I became a mom for the first time dispelling the myth that you have to be young (or pregnant!) to be a “new mom”. 

What are the circumstances surrounding you being a “new mom”? Are you young, newly married, and expecting your first baby? Perhaps you are like me, older (I mean, seasoned) and adopting for the first time. Could it be you are fostering or unexpectedly raising your grandkids or others and it all feels new? Whatever the case may be, one thing you all have in common — one thing you all - we all - need today is a word of encouragement.

How we were parented has a direct impact on how we choose to parent. You may commit to never do what your parents did, to emulate everything they did or you find yourself somewhere in between. Wherever you land, what you experienced being parented colors how your children experience you as a parent.

This blog is less about the transmission of helpful information and tips and more of an invitation to stir your thoughts and memories in a way that will hopefully shed light on your present parenting patterns.

So, grab your journal and something to write with.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines contentment as, “the quality or state of being contented”. Okay, what is it to be contented? Again, Miriam-Webster defines contented as, “Feeling or showing satisfaction with one’s possessions, status, or situation”.

Our current culture has a curious way of pursuing and defining contentment. We are being taught by our culture that contentment in life is the result of satisfying your every desire. If you have the right home, the right job, good relationships, abundant finances, good health, or the perfect body, then you are content. Conversely, we learn that if we are in a hard, difficult season or a season of pain and suffering then we cannot be content. 

I believe it is possible to be content regardless of our marital status, the number of our likes or followers, regardless of our financial status, our GPA, our weight, or whether we are in a cubicle or the C-Suite.

I love uncluttered spaces. Peter Walsh is a professional organizer, yes he is a professional. He comes into your home and de-clutters your life, creating space in short order. It’s quite amazing what he can accomplish really. I’ve never met him but I wish he would visit my home. One thing I’ve learned after 37 years of marriage and two children – it doesn’t matter the size of your home or how many trips you make to Goodwill, there never seems to be enough space.

The same seems to be true with our personal, spiritual space, doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter how old our kids are or how many we have – there never seems to be enough space.