• quick little makeover with some of my favorite new prints! thinking I need a few more gallery walls around here.
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    quick little makeover with some of my favorite new prints! thinking I need a few more gallery walls around here.
  • he’s always up for piling all the kids in the van and keeping them busy - whether it’s a road trip or a hike or a quick trip to the hardware store. he plays football, whiffle ball, basketball, volleyball with them most nights. he reads to them, prays with them, prays over them. he apologizes when he messes up or loses his cool. my kids don’t know how good they have it with a dad that’s ultimate goal is to be a reflection of the Father, but they do a pretty great job of showing him how much they love him. and I’m so lucky to be witness to it all. happy Father’s Day to my favorite guy.
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    he’s always up for piling all the kids in the van and keeping them busy - whether it’s a road trip or a hike or a quick trip to the hardware store. he plays football, whiffle ball, basketball, volleyball with them most nights. he reads to them, prays with them, prays over them. he apologizes when he messes up or loses his cool. my kids don’t know how good they have it with a dad that’s ultimate goal is to be a reflection of the Father, but they do a pretty great job of showing him how much they love him. and I’m so lucky to be witness to it all. happy Father’s Day to my favorite guy.
  • my heart and mind have felt heavy lately. I’m usually the one that looks for the silver lining and tries to point out all the good and deflect with something funny, but the weight of 2020 has caught up to me over the last couple of weeks. processing, listening, learning, slowing down to take it in. but also trying to remember to look for those little moments to be grateful: school is out, poppies are in full bloom in the back corner of the yard, no bake cookies in my fridge, long walks in the sunshine, my kids laughing and throwing shade over a game of volleyball. those everyday moments that are easy to miss are what keep me grounded... and I’m thankful for them 💛
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    my heart and mind have felt heavy lately. I’m usually the one that looks for the silver lining and tries to point out all the good and deflect with something funny, but the weight of 2020 has caught up to me over the last couple of weeks. processing, listening, learning, slowing down to take it in. but also trying to remember to look for those little moments to be grateful: school is out, poppies are in full bloom in the back corner of the yard, no bake cookies in my fridge, long walks in the sunshine, my kids laughing and throwing shade over a game of volleyball. those everyday moments that are easy to miss are what keep me grounded... and I’m thankful for them 💛
  • our airbnb has a huge jacuzzi tub and every kid has made the most of it. swipe to see what happens when you forget what it’s like to use soap with bubbles because you’ve been living that hippie life and don’t have anything with sls in your house 😳😬🛁
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    our airbnb has a huge jacuzzi tub and every kid has made the most of it. swipe to see what happens when you forget what it’s like to use soap with bubbles because you’ve been living that hippie life and don’t have anything with sls in your house 😳😬🛁
  • four of my kids took charge of my birthday cake yesterday. my oldest boy mixed and baked, my oldest girl frosted. the youngest two did the sprinkles. the prettiest, sprinkliest, most delicious chocolate cake I’ve ever seen or tasted, full of love 😍 and the chocolatiest cake plate around.
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    four of my kids took charge of my birthday cake yesterday. my oldest boy mixed and baked, my oldest girl frosted. the youngest two did the sprinkles. the prettiest, sprinkliest, most delicious chocolate cake I’ve ever seen or tasted, full of love 😍 and the chocolatiest cake plate around.
  • People have been asking where to start, what they can do. I’m grateful for the links and lists circulating, the tangible action steps toward change. Do those things. Call the politicians, sign the petitions, contribute to people doing the work. But also, listen to the stories. This is where your worldview shifts, where your heart softens, where empathy and understanding become part of who you are. When I was 21, I packed up my stuff into my little Corolla, and drove from Seattle to DC. I was supposed to spend six months there, living in a house in Anacostia, in community with others working toward racial reconciliation. But all that really meant was living life together, and serving the folks in the neighborhood. What that looked like was eating together. Washing dishes, mopping floors, eating lunch and inviting others in, doing homework with kids from the neighborhood, bible studies together over coffee. It was running errands and playing card games and going out to eat. It was relationship, it was listening. It was absorbing stories of lives different than mine and letting those stories become a part of me. And it changed me. Six months turned into two years as those people became family. We had all different faith backgrounds, economic backgrounds, ethnic backgrounds, and life experiences. But we came together under the umbrella of Jesus and wanting things to be different. When we live in each other’s stories, when we really listen, change will come. Understanding will give us a new perspective. That’s where it begins - so find people. Follow them online, read their books, go listen to people speak, drink coffee together… sink into their stories and let them change you.
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    People have been asking where to start, what they can do. I’m grateful for the links and lists circulating, the tangible action steps toward change. Do those things. Call the politicians, sign the petitions, contribute to people doing the work. But also, listen to the stories. This is where your worldview shifts, where your heart softens, where empathy and understanding become part of who you are. When I was 21, I packed up my stuff into my little Corolla, and drove from Seattle to DC. I was supposed to spend six months there, living in a house in Anacostia, in community with others working toward racial reconciliation. But all that really meant was living life together, and serving the folks in the neighborhood. What that looked like was eating together. Washing dishes, mopping floors, eating lunch and inviting others in, doing homework with kids from the neighborhood, bible studies together over coffee. It was running errands and playing card games and going out to eat. It was relationship, it was listening. It was absorbing stories of lives different than mine and letting those stories become a part of me. And it changed me. Six months turned into two years as those people became family. We had all different faith backgrounds, economic backgrounds, ethnic backgrounds, and life experiences. But we came together under the umbrella of Jesus and wanting things to be different. When we live in each other’s stories, when we really listen, change will come. Understanding will give us a new perspective. That’s where it begins - so find people. Follow them online, read their books, go listen to people speak, drink coffee together… sink into their stories and let them change you.
  • All lives matter vs. Black lives matter. I want to make this personal, and give you a visual. I have six kids. Four are white, two are black. All of their lives matter to me. This is an obvious statement coming from their mother, I'm guessing. But, four of them will never need us to fight for their equality with them. Four of them don't need me to have a conversation about what to do if they encounter a police officer. Like, where to put their hands or to say their names out loud and assure the officer that they aren't carrying any kind of weapon. Or that the pack of skittles in their pocket isn't actually a gun. Four of them don't need constant reassurance that they are valued just as much as their siblings even though their skin is darker than mine and they've heard people talking about how that's a bad thing. Four of them will probably never come home upset because someone used a racial slur or told a stupid white joke about them. Four of them will probably never have to defend innocent behavior like pumping gas at night or driving or walking or running in a white neighborhood. Four of them likely won't be followed around a store to make sure they're staying out of trouble. Four of them won't worry that if they forget their keys and have to climb through a bedroom window in their own home the police could come and arrest them, or worse - shoot them. They won't have to worry that they will fit a description of a criminal just because their skin is the same color as someone who committed a crime. They will probably never worry that they will be told that they are in the wrong neck of the woods when they're in less diverse areas. So yes, all of my kids lives matter to me. I would die for each of them. But two of them need to hear it over and over and over and over from me because most of society and all of history is telling them something different. (cont’d in comments)
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    All lives matter vs. Black lives matter. I want to make this personal, and give you a visual. I have six kids. Four are white, two are black. All of their lives matter to me. This is an obvious statement coming from their mother, I'm guessing. But, four of them will never need us to fight for their equality with them. Four of them don't need me to have a conversation about what to do if they encounter a police officer. Like, where to put their hands or to say their names out loud and assure the officer that they aren't carrying any kind of weapon. Or that the pack of skittles in their pocket isn't actually a gun. Four of them don't need constant reassurance that they are valued just as much as their siblings even though their skin is darker than mine and they've heard people talking about how that's a bad thing. Four of them will probably never come home upset because someone used a racial slur or told a stupid white joke about them. Four of them will probably never have to defend innocent behavior like pumping gas at night or driving or walking or running in a white neighborhood. Four of them likely won't be followed around a store to make sure they're staying out of trouble. Four of them won't worry that if they forget their keys and have to climb through a bedroom window in their own home the police could come and arrest them, or worse - shoot them. They won't have to worry that they will fit a description of a criminal just because their skin is the same color as someone who committed a crime. They will probably never worry that they will be told that they are in the wrong neck of the woods when they're in less diverse areas. So yes, all of my kids lives matter to me. I would die for each of them. But two of them need to hear it over and over and over and over from me because most of society and all of history is telling them something different. (cont’d in comments)
  • anyone else ready for thrift stores to open? I am ready to purge in a major way! in the meantime, I’m adding furniture? but this table has been the best thing ever because I’m not staring at 7,253 school papers and each kid loves having their own little cubby. that’s winning x7.
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    anyone else ready for thrift stores to open? I am ready to purge in a major way! in the meantime, I’m adding furniture? but this table has been the best thing ever because I’m not staring at 7,253 school papers and each kid loves having their own little cubby. that’s winning x7.
  • yesterday I took my youngest on a coffee date - hot cocoa and snacks in the van, chatting about all the things a four year old chats about. as soon as we got home, my other girls asked when they’d get to go, too. so, today I woke up and made plans to take each of them on their own little excursion. nothing has ever been more offensive to Eloise - that I would dare to spend time with her sisters, too. being little is hard. but as I tried to coax her out of her slump, with absolutely no luck, my oldest quietly snuck up beside her and whispered, “wanna go play some candyland?” she looked up at him and nodded, big brother mending her little heart, and making mine melt into a puddle all at once. . . . #luteandeloise #oldestandyoungest #motherhoodunplugged #motherhoodvibes #bigfamilylove #bigbrothers #littlesisters #lutethomas #eloiseglenda #mylittleloves
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    yesterday I took my youngest on a coffee date - hot cocoa and snacks in the van, chatting about all the things a four year old chats about. as soon as we got home, my other girls asked when they’d get to go, too. so, today I woke up and made plans to take each of them on their own little excursion. nothing has ever been more offensive to Eloise - that I would dare to spend time with her sisters, too. being little is hard. but as I tried to coax her out of her slump, with absolutely no luck, my oldest quietly snuck up beside her and whispered, “wanna go play some candyland?” she looked up at him and nodded, big brother mending her little heart, and making mine melt into a puddle all at once. . . . #luteandeloise #oldestandyoungest #motherhoodunplugged #motherhoodvibes #bigfamilylove #bigbrothers #littlesisters #lutethomas #eloiseglenda #mylittleloves