This is a bit of my street. On the right you’ll see a house with a “Trump 2020: Keep America Great” banner at the top (Side note: You can’t access that Mary Poppins-like roof from inside, people. I have no idea how he got that up there.).

As I ironed shirts at my usual spot by the kitchen window today, Matt came out of our guest-room-turned-office and stopped to chat about our day so far on his way to get something from another room. A quick kiss, and he was off to find whatever it was, and I hit play on my podcast and got back to ironing.

I’ll tell you one thing I’ve noticed lately—that share button is a little too easy to press. I can zing-by-proxy, mic-drop without much consideration. I get all the instant satisfaction, with none of the hassle of discernment.

It’s our 5th House-iversary!

We’ve spent a whole lot of time in this old house over the past six months, but if possible I think we’re more grateful than ever for our home, our caring neighbors on the best little block on all of Cucharras St., and our weird and wonderful neighborhood.

Our experiences growing our family have not been simple and straightforward.

A few days ago, I heard a mom of older kids refer to her children as “fellow heirs in Christ,” and it was just the lightbulb moment this exhausted, defeated mama needed.

An excerpt from “Land’s End” by August Kleinzahler

Noah had his yearly visit to the pediatrician last week. Our pediatrician's office requires masks for everyone two years and older, so we put ours on and had fun taking pictures and making secret silly faces under them while we waited.

This morning brought to you by the unexpected joy of discovering a rainbow shining on our floor—and a poem about the same.

What verses have most helped you understand what the love of God looks like?

On the day after Mother’s Day, when the fun and flowers and watermelon champagne sugar cookies and breakfasts in bed are now an afterglow, and life returns to a more regular, unheralded rhythm of laundry and cutting crust off PB&Js and scheduling doctors appointments and listening to little kids with big feelings, I need to know that ours is a God who sees what is unnoticed.

Today marks one year since I was hospitalized with a pregnancy complication that was life-threatening for both me and Henry.

If there’s anyone on this earth who knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not God, it’s my sister.