Around the new year last year, I was on a video call with two lifelong friends, sharing that it felt depressing to look at 2022.

We sat with our tears, knowing that outside of a miracle for my dad, who was battling acute blood cancer, a funeral was inevitable in the next year.

Death became a brutal reality by Easter weekend.

Still, 2022 was a full year of living for the rest of us. It's what my dad would have wanted.

And now it is time again, for reflection and anticipation—in this space between celebrating the birth of Jesus and the beginning of a new year!

If the faith my dad preached, while laying in a hospital bed, is not based on a fairy tale, then maybe with each new year, each new birthday, and each new Christmas, we can experience “a thrill of hope” as our weary souls rejoice in what is to come!

The sun was climbing out of bed on the continent of South America as my earbuds delivered these words:

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” Mark 1:35 NIV

My reflex was an audible "yes" with a fist grab right there in the hotel bathroom, followed by a bashful giggle as I told my husband.

Long ministry days, which excluded even the opportunity for a full night of sleep, were wearing on my introverted nature.

Even though I grew up at church, there were seasons in my life when I read a lot about Christian themes but didn’t open my Bible consistently!

Devotionals and Christian-living books too easily took the place of Bible reading and study.

Sure, I’d open it for a feel-good verse or a specific passage for a card but I was not experiencing the richness of Scripture in context or seeing how the Bigger Story reveals God's character!

I wish I could call my dad, like I did every day when he was in the hospital, and talk our way through all of this—cancer, suffering, death.
But this is the mystery Bill Johnson spoke about just days after his wife’s passing. My dad’s childlike faith and trust right up until his final breath revealed how he understood his identity in Christ. He didn’t need answers, even though it hurt him deeply to leave so soon, he knew there was a bigger story at play.

When you got a covid-dog, I got a covid-blog. For two years you fed, walked, and groomed as I observed, edited, and published.

Your dog pulled you on walks; my blog pushed me to look through the lens of hope—even in the darkest hour.

Summer probably has you on a wild ride, packing in more in a week than in one covid season.

In the midst of social requests and family adventures my soul's requests are getting louder: to go slower, with less; to be still, in quiet; to pause, in peace. And when I listen, I welcome joy.

I've never left a funeral without more gratitude for my life and a desire to suck the marrow out of every day—to embrace all of humanity with affection and hope.

The veil between life and death is even thinner when you lose someone you never imagined your life without.

You become vigilant to accept the things you can't change, to change the things you can, and to pray for the wisdom to know the difference (from the Serenity Prayer).

There was chai tea, turkey buns, pies, games, and a campfire on that perfect fall day.

At this covid-friendly, outdoor, family Thanksgiving we'd never guess that six weeks later our dad/grandpa/husband would be fighting leukemia.

Through my dad’s cancer journey this winter I held on to the hope of visiting with him around campfires this summer.

Now, grief has me longing for those first seconds after waking, when it is all just a bad dream.

But instead, I wake to a stinging reality, This Too Shall Last—a book I read this month about finding grace when suffering lingers.

In this post, I reflect on K.J. Ramsey's perspectives as I share my wrestling with suffering, goodness, community, and hope.

This is the blog post I’d rather not be sharing but after almost five months journeying through AML cancer with my dad, on Good Friday evening, we said goodbye to an incredible husband, father, grandpa, pastor, friend and mentor. I shared this tribute at his Celebration of Life.

This idea of clinging to Jesus is not a theological platitude, it is a deeply personal journey of faith, that brings the intimacy, vulnerability and connection we long for.

Do you need a way through?

“…there isn’t a light just at the end of the tunnel, but there is Light Himself with us now who leads the whole way through.”

Voskamp opens WayMaker in a surprisingly vulnerable way, sharing an awkward and painful dance towards intimacy as a newlywed, paralleling the vulnerability required for the wedded connection our souls desire with our Creator.

Hidden away in our storage room is a massive bin of time capsules. These are my journals consisting of messy writing, desperate prayers, and useless details, along with my dated day planners holding menial tasks, including which days I washed my hair—thank you dry shampoo!

But they also chart a path through the terrain of a heart growing from a child to a woman and a wife to a mother.

These bound pages tucked away as keepsakes are intricate maps revealing struggles and successes.

January has been full of video calls, rapid tests, lifting my mom’s walker in and out of my van for her hospital visits with my dad, and racing out of the hospital parkade to get home too late after visiting my dad.

Even if your year is beginning in bliss, with the wind at your back, at some point we all experience a season of struggle or crisis—let’s not mention two years of a pandemic!

I’m so grateful there were many helpful things already established in my life to guide me forward in this season.

As I reflect on these 4 next right things in crisis, consider how you can be prepared when trouble comes!

Our Charlie Brown Christmas tree stood in our bay window this month crooked with weeping, gaping branches.

It was the year of tree shortages.

But there in the sparseness of our sad Christmas tree was a message that didn’t need sprucing up.

It was happening again.

She was shut down like a clam, no budging, no words, no engagement. This was the perfect opportunity to practice what I was learning and I could hear author Jennifer Kolari’s wise words:

Connect before you correct!

Mirroring the emotions of my children is not my first instinct.

Drilling down on the outward behavior, the unintentional disrespect, and the time being lost is more natural. I want to make everything right as fast as possible.

But this time I didn’t rush the process.

This time I made space for her to breathe as we slowed down together.

I asked questions, reflected on her emotions, and mirrored her feelings. I created a safe place.

Do you desire peace in your home far deeper than clean surfaces and ordered closets?

I know I do.

While those things do bring me a level of peace, I love what Kendra Adachi in The Lazy Genius Way says:

“Efficient systems fail to deliver if they’re implemented without kindness.”

I am grateful to say that after years of struggle and restarts our family usually reflects realistic daily rhythms of work and rest in a loving and functional home.

We don't get this perfect every day, and I still obsess about straightening my throw cushions instead of connecting with a child’s heart—but we are all growing!

When the beginning is marked with plus signs, flutters, and first breaths, the end is oh so quiet.

Like the final time I held my toddler to breastfeed, or when I unknowingly stuffed a dirty diaper down the diaper genie for the last time, or when the crib slid out the door in pieces on Mother’s Day weekend.

My sixth baby is turning three this month and over the last year, I have said goodbye to a decade of birthing babies.

Do you sometimes feel unclear on what you are doing, or do you struggle with decision-making?

I do.

And then I return to my roots and reevaluate everything.

Creating a clear vision will help us dance into this next season, so we can set boundaries and make commitments with discernment and even joy.

One of the first times we hung out she whipped up stacks of pancakes, so the kids and I could stay for supper since my husband was away on a backcountry trip.

Lindsay’s casual hospitality was refreshing and I learned a lot about her big heart, as I asked questions about their family’s fostering and adopting story.

Today you get to eavesdrop on some of the questions I asked at our playdates and glean some great tips if you are on the journey of fostering and adopting, or desire to support a family on this journey.

With our curbside garages and cavernous homes, high fenced backyards, and tiny bare front lawns, it is easy to understand why we struggle with the simple command of Jesus:

“Love your neighbour.”

Our culture is simply not well set up for it.

We subconsciously embrace an isolationist castle mentality, not only mentally, but in the physical design of our neighborhoods and homes.

Camping is one of our family's favorite ways to bond. But puke, poop, pee, sick-babies, sand, smoke, mud, cold weather, and bug bites means bonding isn’t always bliss.

Camping with young children is not easy but it is worth it!

As grubby fingers reach out to you at the campfire, as eyes widen with the discovery of a new creature, as your once babies cheer for you at the bottom of a steep bike trail and as children of every age cuddle up for another chapter, you are assured these messy adventures are the magic they need—we need!