Everyday Christmas

I had a great time today speaking to the ladies at the MOPS group at Lawrence Free Methodist church about how to incorporate Jesus into our existing Christmas traditions.

If you’re looking for a Christmas devotional, check out my e-book Everyday Christmas, which offers food for your soul and some great ideas about how to incorporate Jesus quickly and simply into your Christmas traditions.

New cover

Categories: Christmas, Holidays | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Something Precious


I have a mommy confession.


Scratch that.

It’s more like I have a mommy obsession.

Every fall, I find myself in valiant pursuit of that one precious all-the-children picture.

And every year, there is one backdrop that has never let me down…

The Weston Red Barn Farm.

It’s rustic and charming and surrounded by all things precious.

But this year, as I pulled out my camera, I sensed failure when my husband said, “Honey, do you think we should just go to the grocery store fall thing?  I mean Weston is a hike and…”

To which I interrupted with, “But it’s tradition and lovely and the kids can ride the pony and remember the apple donuts?  DO NOT forget about the apple donuts.  Heaven in a bag, babe.”

(Truth be told, I had him at the word “donut.”)

So we went to the charming farm.

I knew we were toast the second we got out of the van and Drew said, “Mom, I am SOOOOOOO hot.  I think I might die.” But I still shot him my “Suck it up, kid.  It may be 80 + degrees and your long-sleeved black Halloween shirt may be an oven but this is for posterity.”


Not two minutes later, I was with him, dying and all.

My sweatshirt was now a sauna. My hormones, a hellish monster. And had another minute passed, I would have wholeheartedly launched into the pig trough for sweet relief but mercifully, I was distracted when I heard the word “pony.”

(Sweet heavens, if I hadn’t promised them all a pony ride.)

The pony was up the hill…the heinous hill of no return.

Combine the not-so-sturdy Snap and Go with pebbled terrain and my not-so-graceful gait and we might as well have been climbing Everest.

Not to mention that I had already said “excuse me” more times in that one hour than I have my entire life.  Every time I tripped and stumbled, I bumped someone. Because to the point, THERE WERE SO MANY BLESSED PEOPLE THERE.

(I swear someone told them about the donuts.)

But for tradition’s sake, we still oomphed and umphed and excused ourselves up the hill. It was only after reaching the top of the precious thing that we came to the tragic realization that THERE WERE NO PONY RIDES.

Bless. My. Sweatshirt.

So we turned around, trod back down the pebbled path and just about the time I convinced myself that the disappointment would build character, my dear eldest pipes in with, “This is boring,” which prompts me to say, “I’ve got nothing, sister…just go jump in the straw.”


(Try not to be intimidated by such mom awesomeness.)

It was at this point my hubs felt the need to reiterate, “I think the fall festival two miles away would have been a way better tradition.” I didn’t even protest. “Ugh…you are probably right…why did I think this would be magical?!?!?

The hubs wisely stayed silent.

But as we made our way back to the pumpkins, I barfed the most unholy words,

“Let’s just try for one more picture.”

So we did.

And then it happened…


Children screamed.  Babies were almost dropped.  Sophie bolted through the barbed wire.

And I kept promising donuts to anyone who would listen to me.

Then the picture-taking devolved into pumpkin-picking and to the entire public that visited the farm, I wholeheartedly apologize.

We were yelling.

Not “I’m so mad” yelling.  But the “Lord-please-don’t-let-us-lose-a-child-now” kind. We were just so close, so focused, so intent on getting the hoot out of there that we just had to keep it together.

It was ugly. Full-on. U-G-L-Y.

But remember the donuts? Across the street? The ones I referred to as heaven in a bag?

Well, I ate FIVE…and it helped.

Seriously, y’all.


But even as the cinnamon and sugar dripped most gloriously from my mouth, I came to a conclusion.

Precious pictures are needed.  They remind this memory-challenged mama of how I really feel at the end of day when all the chaos has quieted.  When I can run my hands through their sweaty bedheads and touch their perfect little noses and see the messy beautiful so clearly in each of them.

But I’m finally to a place where I need the 29 ridiculously accurate pictures too.

If only to shout, “WE ARE A REAL FAMILY!!!!”

One that messes up and falters and falls.  One that skins their knees and has to apologize.  One that can plan to have a magical experience and end up with the pumpkin patch on steroids.

One that needs Jesus, people.

Oh, how we need Him.

So as you plan the Thanksgiving dinners and take Christmas card pictures and deck the halls and all that jazz, remember my family and the yelling and the donut therapy and rejoice in this:

Real people have real families that really need Jesus.

And even though we may have more pictures that end up awkward and bizarre and more crazy than cute, in the end, when we’ve tripped and stumbled and fallen all over ourselves, when we’ve tried and failed through all those 29 moments in-between, He surprises us with what we have been looking for all along…

Something precious.


Sara Cormany guest posts on the first Friday of each month. Sara is mommy to six-year-old Grace, four-year-old Drew, one-year-old Sophie, and her new little miracle Maddie.  When she is not wiping noses, changing diapers or chasing her kids, she is a sometimes writer and a sometimes teacher to teenagers.  But her most cherished role is that of one who is perfectly held by Jesus. She loves watching Him take the broken, the messy and the seemingly mundane of her everyday and turn it into something beautiful. She recently began her own blog called Where Feet May Fail. Be sure to check it out.

Categories: Christmas, First Friday, Guest post, Holidays | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Dealing with Suicide


It’s been a tough week around here. Two junior girls on the soccer team at our local high school committed suicide over the weekend. Neither of my daughters knew them, but my older daughter knows people who did. And the fact that they were girls who are very much like my older daughter has really hit home for her. Yesterday morning, she looked at me and said, “Mom, they were me in two years.”

I don’t know the circumstances surrounding these girls. I don’t know what their home life was like. I don’t know what things they were struggling with, but I do know this: Those girls felt like there was no solution to whatever issue they were facing. They literally felt there was no hope.

The death of any child or teenager is difficult, but when a suicide happens, there’s so much more involved for the kids who are trying to process it. On top of the sadness, there’s anger that their friend would choose to do something that would hurt others so much and there’s guilt that they either didn’t know their friend was struggling or that they didn’t do the “right” things to stop it.

As parents, suicide is equally difficult to deal with. We’re often torn between wanting to let our kids talk about it and wanting to not put too much attention on it so as not to encourage others to see it as a viable option for solving their problems. It’s hard to know what to do.

But, here’s the thing. Any time tragedy strikes, our kids have to be allowed to process through what has happened. They need to know that their parents are safe to talk to. They need to be allowed to cry, to rage, to howl in grief. They need to be able to talk to their friends, their ministers, and counselors if they need to. They need to know that their feelings are valid. They need to know that however they feel about things is OK.

In situations like this, though, they also need to know that the choice their friends made wasn’t the right one. They need to know that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always help available. They need to know that their parents are there to offer help and to listen. They need to know that no topic is off limits for discussion. And they need to know that life is always, always the right choice.

So, today, I’m asking that you hug the kids in your circle of influence tight. Talk with them about what to do when they’re sad and frustrated and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Be available when your kids want to talk. Take their concerns seriously. And, please, pray for my community as an entire high school full of kids deals with a tragedy that baffles both them and the adults around them and that breaks everyone’s hearts.

Categories: Death, Parenting situations | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Is Your Love Dependent on Your Child’s Performance?


I made a parenting mistake this weekend. And my daughter called me on it.

We were at my daughter’s very early morning, very cold soccer game. She was struggling with it being her first game back after several weeks off for an injury. The field was wet, and the ball was skipping. She went to kick the ball right in front of where I was sitting on the sidelines. She missed. And I yelled her name in a harsh tone of voice.

My daughter was already frustrated because she wasn’t playing as well as she wanted to. Her ankle hurt. And her mom expressed frustration with her play.

I try really hard not to be an overbearing sports parent. I try to tell my girls I love watching them play no matter how they play. I try not to overanalyze their games. We try to let sports be just something else that they do — not the thing that defines their worth.

But on Saturday morning, I got caught up in the game. I got caught up in my daughter’s concern about her playing and her frustration with her ankle. I yelled, and she heard me.

When she came off the field, she was in tears. She was upset that her ankle still hurt. She was upset that she hadn’t played well. But the thing that made it all worse was that I had yelled at her. “You sounded more mad than my coach was,” she said.

That’s when I knew I’d blown it. That’s when I knew that I’d taken one step back on this parenting journey that is so often a constant dance of two steps forward and one step back.

You see, my job as a parent is to be there. It’s to pick my kids up when they fall. It’s to let them know that they are loved no matter what. It’s to have their backs all the time.

Because when my kids come off the field after a bad game or home from school after a frustrating day, they need to know that I love them not because of how they played or what grade they got on their test but because of who they are. They need to know that there’s one place in this world that’s safe, at least one person in this world who loves them no matter how they perform.

It’s easy to get caught up in our kids’ sports or artistic endeavors. It’s easy to focus on performance over character. It’s easy to crush our kids’ spirits because we forget that what they do on the sports field, the dance floor or at school isn’t a reflection of their worth.

When we parents become so caught up in our kids’ performances that we forget the performance has nothing to do with our child’s worth, we diminish who our kids are. When we focus only on performance, we reduce our kids to numbers and deeds. We lose sight of their personality and the plans that God has for them.

Simple words that we utter without thinking can make our kids think that we care more about their performance than we do about them as people, so we have to be careful. We have to think about what we say. We have to let our kids know we care more about them than we care about their performance. Because when we give the impression that we only love them when they perform well, we give our kids the impression that love is conditional. We turn love into something that has to be earned.

And when we do that, we can make our kids questions God’s love, too. If our love is conditional when our kids have every right to expect it to be unconditional, then how can they trust that God’s love is unconditional?

Our kids should never have to question whether we love them. They should never have to question if God loves them.

Our words have power, and we need to use them well. We need to use them to let our kids know they are loved no matter what. We need to use them to make sure our kids never think their worth is based on their performance. We need to simply be careful and choose our words wisely. Because when we do, we teach our kids the true meaning of unconditional love.

Categories: Character, Parenting situations, Sports | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Lessons from a Blue October

Blue October

My kids went to bed late last night. And they went to bed sad. Our team lost the World Series by one run.

I don’t know how many of you readers are local, but this town that we live in has been on a wild, crazy ride with our hometown Royals for the past month. A city that had forgotten how much it loves baseball finally remembered. A city that for 29 years had suffered through 100-loss seasons and years where the team was so bad they didn’t even take a team picture came alive in October with love for their boys in blue.

I could spend this space talking about how our society places too much emphasis on professional sports or how we pay our athletes too much money, but I’d rather not. Instead, I want to talk about the great lesson my girls have learned about finding common ground with other people.

In the midst of a contentious election season when the talk is usually divisive and abrupt, we’ve experienced a month where everyone in this town has found something in common, a reason to smile, a reason to talk. It didn’t matter if you were Republican, Democrat or anything in between. No one cared if you were black, white or purple. If you had a Royals shirt, cap or jacket on, you were gifted with a smile or conversation with perfect strangers.

When the sadness fades and the frustration at leaving the tying run 90-feet from home passes, we’ll look back on the past month and realize that for those 30 days, we’ve all been standing on common ground. We’ve all simply been neighbors.

And that’s what I want my girls to take away from this experience. I want them to remember the October where everyone in this metropolitan city of more than 1 million people was our neighbor. I want them to remember that there’s always common ground to be found with other people.

Because I think that’s what Jesus meant when He told us to love our neighbors. He meant for us to look around and ignore the trivial things like political party affliation, skin color, what neighborhood you live in, or whether you like Pepsi or Coke. He wants us to love those around us no matter our differences. If we treated each other every day like Kansas Citians have treated each other in the past month, we’d be a whole lot closer to what I think God wants us to look like because we’d look a whole lot more like Him.

So as the sadness of loss fades away and we remember how much fun this blue October has been, I hope my girls will also remember that it’s not that hard to love your neighbor. It’s not that hard to find common ground. We just have to look for it.

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5 Things Your Middle-Schooler Needs

middle school

I have two daughters in middle school, and I have to tell you, this middle school thing is tough. From the social to the academic to swimming in PE, there’s more drama in one day than I need in a lifetime.

As my daughters work their way through middle school, I’m reminded that while so many things in this world have changed, middle school has not. In fact, I think the addition of social media and constant text interaction have made it even more difficult.

Middle school is a tough time for kids. Bodies are changing. Hormones are raging. Teachers expect more. Parents expect more. Friendships are harder. It can be tough to fit in.

So, what is it our kids need as they traverse the trails of middle school? It can be tempting to try to step in and right all the wrongs for them. It can be even more tempting to constantly nag them into doing their chores and homework. It can be tough not to constantly argue with them. But what our kids need most in these years of change is to know that some things are constant.

So, here are five things your middle-schooler needs from you.

1. They need to know that they are loved unconditionally. They need to be reminded often that you love them no matter what their grades are, who their friends are or how well they clean their room. They need to know that your love is constant and unchanging. They need to be reminded frequently that God made them and loves them just as they are. They need a living, breathing reminder of Jeremiah 31:3 “I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

So much of middle school social life is based on doing the right thing with the right people. Your place in the social hierarchy is determined by the clothes you wear, the people you hang out with, the grades you get and the activities you participate in. Our kids need to know that our love and God’s love don’t depend on those things. We love them simply for who they are.

2. They need a safe place. Our kids spend so much of their time at school trying to be who they think other people want them to be that they need a safe place where they can just be themselves. Middle school is an in-between age. These kids are caught in the neverland between childhood and being a teenager. They often aren’t sure if they want to be a kid who plays with toys or a teenager interested in clothes and movies. They need us to create an environment at home where it’s OK for them to be either one. They need one place in their lives where it’s safe to just be who they are in that moment.

3. They need wisdom. The problems of a middle-schooler can seem trivial in the light of our adult world, but we have to remember that 40 years of perspective is a lot more than 11 or 13. It’s important for us to remember that our kids’ problems are big to them. Whether it’s struggling with homework or a difficult relationship with a friend, those problems loom large in their lives. We need to be there to offer wisdom and encouragement. We need to help them find solutions to what may seem like trivial problems. We need to teach them to seek out God’s wisdom to help them solve their problems. The problem-solving skills they learn today on what may seem like small problems are the same skills they’ll use to solve the big ones later in life.

4. They need fun. Kids today are often living lives that are so scheduled and regimented that there’s little time for fun. Our kids need us to make time to have fun. Whether it’s a spontaneous trip to the movies, an impromptu sleepover with a friend, or a Saturday hike through the woods, we need to remember what it’s like to laugh and have fun together. As our kids learn about themselves and start looking for more independence, we often find ourselves at loggerheads with them. To counteract those moments, we have to be deliberate in creating some fun moments with our kids as well.

5. They need to be pushed. Often our preteens don’t like to step outside their own comfort zone. However, sometimes, they need a little push to try something new or to make a new friend. It’s not easy to try something new or to do something on your own. Our kids need to know that we want them to have new experiences and that it’s OK to try something and fail. Sometimes the experience is worth it even if you’re not very good at it. When we give our kids a push, though, they also need to know that we’re going to be there to catch them if they fall.

Parenting tweens and teens, especially middle-schoolers is hard. It’s tough to find a balance that works for everyone. It can often seem like we spend more time at odds with our kids than we do enjoying them. But that’s OK. As long as we remember that our kids are simply trying to figure out who they want to be and are trying desperately to navigate the murky waters of these years, we can provide the things they need.

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The Small Moments Matter

small moments

I’m going to the World Series tomorrow night. I’m a little excited. Not because I’m a lifelong Royals fan. (I’m not. My first love is the Red Sox, but after living in Kansas City for 20 years, I’ve become a Royals fan as long as they’re not playing the Sox.) Not because it’s the World Series (although that is exciting). Not because it’s the biggest event to hit this town in nearly 30 years. Not even because it’s baseball (although I do love a baseball game).

No, the reason I’m counting down the hours to tomorrow night’s game (there’s 34 1/2 as a write this) is because I’m going with my dad. You see, my dad and I have always done baseball together. He was a catcher in high school, and baseball has always been the sport he loves more than the others.

I remember sitting on his lap as a little girl watching whatever game was on TV as he explained the rules. Then there were the trips to the ballpark (and we lived in a couple of cities with some great parks) where I learned how to keep score, how to watch the outfield and the infield to see how they lined up against a particular batter, and how to simply enjoy a summer or spring evening at this game that allows you to watch the action but still have meaningful conversation with the person you came with.

Every year in high school, my school had a partnership with the Chicago White Sox. They gave every kid who got straight As two tickets to three White Sox games. I always got straight As in the third quarter, and my dad and I spent four years going to Comiskey Park, just the two of us for three games.

Some of my most treasured memories from childhood revolve around baseball. My dad traveled a lot. I would scour the sports page every morning, read the box scores and the game summaries, and when my dad called in the evenings, we would often talk about baseball. We’d follow the season together even when we weren’t in the same city.

So, for me, baseball means love. Baseball reminds me of moments spent with my dad where we shared something that is uniquely ours. Baseball means small conversations and small moments shared with my dad.

Even now, there’s no better way to spend an evening than to head to the ballpark with my dad. And we’re passing that love on to my daughters (although one of my daughters is more enamored with the food at the ballpark than the game).

So, here’s what I want to tell you today. All those little things you do with your kids, whether it’s family game night or bike rides every Saturday or shared baseball games, it’s those things your kids are going to remember. It’s those moments that are going to be remembered and treasured. It’s those moments that will bring smiles to their lips when they’re grown. It’s those moments that they’ll replicate with their own kids. It’s those moments that tell them that they are loved.

Tomorrow night as I sit in Row XX (yes, that’s almost the last row in the stadium) for the first game of the World Series, I’ll look at the seat next to me, see my dad and remember all those small moments of shared baseball that led us to this day. Because the small moments matter. Don’t let anyone tell you that they don’t.

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A Mom’s Prayer

moms prayer

Here I am again, God. Here, on my knees. Asking for help.

You see, I’ve got these two precious daughters that you somehow thought I was equipped to raise. The thing is, though, I’m kind of lost.

One of them is struggling to see you, hear you and know you. She asks me questions like why didn’t you send Satan to Jupiter instead of sending him to earth and why hurting hurts so much more than feeling good feels good. I have to tell you, I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I don’t even know where to find them.

The other one is growing up so fast. She’s getting interested in boys and all the teenage girly stuff, and I’m really not ready for that. I’m not sure I’m equipped to guide her through those waters in this day of texting and social media.

With two girls in middle school, I have to say middle school is tough. The expectations are high. The world is pulling them in all sorts of directions — none of them pointed at you.

What’s a mom to do? How do I raise them and guide them and lead them to you when I don’t have the answers they need. How do I protect them and yet let them spread their wings to gain some independence? How do I know we’ll navigate these waters together and come out in one piece on the other side?

This age of teens and pre-teens is kind of frightening as a parent. There’s only so much I can do. I miss the days when they were little and I could control so much more. This life of a pre-teen and teen mom is so much more than I thought it would be — both good and bad.

And I can’t do this on my own. I’m not smart enough or strong enough. So, here I am on my knees again asking for the strength and wisdom to get through this day. Let me show my kids grace. Let me show them love. Let me fill them with your wisdom and your strength. Let me trust you to get through to them and touch their hearts when I can’t. Help me be the mom they need. Because I certainly can’t do it on my own.

Categories: Motherhood, Prayer | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

They Don’t Need Supermom


I want to be supermom.

I want to be able to do it all.

I want to have cookies after school and homework without tears.

I want to have a successful blog and write a book.

I want to be a great writing teacher who inspires kids.

I want to make nutritious dinners and have fun family nights.

I want to be a great wife who makes her husband feel valued and loved.

The reality is, though, that I don’t succeed at these things even half the time.

Many days, my kids are lucky if there’s food in the house to have for a snack and homework time often degenerates into frustration and tears.

My poor blog can go days, sometimes a week, without my attention, and that book is currently sitting in my head.

On the days that I teach, I’m sometimes lucky to have a lesson plan, and I’m often less than inspiring.

Nutritious dinners are, at times, found in the apples included in a McDonald’s happy meal. Fun family nights consist of telling jokes in the car on the way to soccer or hockey practice.

My husband and I can go days without having a decent chance to have a conversation of more than two sentences without being interrupted. We can be ships passing in the night as we go separate ways to take children where they need to be.

This is my life. This is the life where I often fail as much as I succeed. This is the life where I don’t get to be supermom. This is the life where many days I simply put one foot in front of the other to make it through the day.

And, yet, I find I don’t need to be supermom. I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to be any more than what my kids and husband need. Because they don’t need perfection. They don’t always need a mom or wife that has all the answers, makes the perfect dinner, writes books and conquers homework without issue.

What they need is a mom and wife who loves them. What they need is a mom and wife who is doing her best to follow Jesus. What they need is not perfection but a mom and wife whose weaknesses are used by a gracious, loving God to guide and love them. What they need is for me to fall at the feet of Jesus and let Him build me up to be the mom and wife that meets their needs.


Categories: Motherhood | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

First Friday: The Mess Upstairs

mess upstairs

Life. Is. Messy.

And nothing in its wake escapes this truth.

Relationships. Faith. Circumstance.

All that and more call out for us to wade into that which cannot be packaged into a pretty box or bound together with a neat and tidy bow.

For years, I fought against it. I thought to be a mess meant to be less than in the eyes of Jesus. But just the other day I was reminded how He has grown me from someone who used to see the clutter of life with “There is nothing about this that is good!” glasses into someone who now is increasingly discovering comfort in it.

It happened the day she brought dinner. I opened the door to a sweet little mama, a darling two-year old and another little tiny (a fact that humbles me still.)  As she looked around my first floor, she graciously said, “Your house looks amazing!!!”

Now in years past, I would have said, “Thank you!” and quickly prayed that no one ventured to the nuclear fallout that was currently occupying what once used to be the upstairs. But this time, I laughed hysterically and said, “Please go upstairs or downstairs and be greatly encouraged!”

Somehow, the first floor had made it to the top of the list the day before most likely because we were in grave danger of losing one of the children or creating the next biological weapon in the half-bath (aka the only communal toilet.)

It was survival. Plain and simple. But in no way did I want this incredible lady to think that it was our reality.

And even though she graciously avoided the mess upstairs, I sent her a picture of said mess shortly after she left if only to confirm I’m a truthful gal.

Whoa. Nelly.

What. A. Mess.

But inside our little interchange, I began to see how my upstairs/downstairs contrast so mirrors life and more specifically, a mama’s life.

We constantly feel the weight of showing the world the cleaned-up version of ourselves. And inside we’re praying all the while that they don’t see the mess upstairs.

The broken hearts.  The broken relationships.  The broken bodies.

It’s all just too unlovely.

Or is it?

In my mess upstairs, you will find quiet corners of a broken heart, scattered with memories of my daddy and permanently stained with tears.

In my mess upstairs, you will find a floor littered in mom-fails, covered with impatience, forgotten permission slips and mountains of laundry.

In my mess upstairs, you will find walls that tell stories of a broken body, with some that end in angry tears and others, in hysterical laughter.

But in each corner, on each floor and from each fingerprint marking the wall, my mess upstairs is filled with mercy and grace and such abounding love.

With every tear, comes the quiet and steady hand of a Savior. With every failure, comes mercy in the moment and reconciliation after. And with every trip to the ER and every pill bottle and every diagnosis, comes abundant and steady grace to greet what comes with the knowledge that this mess is purposeful.

Let me say that again, there is such purpose in the mess.

It builds more than it tears. It bends more than it breaks. It salves more than it wounds.

For in the mess, in that place where we are unencumbered by the need to show the cleaned-up version of ourselves, there is room for Jesus. There is room for all He is and is meant to be in our often tattered little lives. And it is not ugly or shameful or burdensome.

It is a breathtaking vessel.

One in which we fade into the loveliness of Jesus. One where our dings and scratches breathe life into others, dinged and scratched. One that is not us but rather Him, through us.

So that when life comes and storms rage, Jesus can fill every corner, touch every floor and cover every wall.  Freeing us from picked-up and perfect. And instead, growing us steadily into that which heaven needs us to be…

Battle-scarred, broken and breathtakingly remade by the mess upstairs.

Sara Cormany guest posts on the first Friday of each month. Sara is mommy to six-year-old Grace, four-year-old Drew, one-year-old Sophie, and her new little miracle Maddie.  When she is not wiping noses, changing diapers or chasing her kids, she is a sometimes writer and a sometimes teacher to teenagers.  But her most cherished role is that of one who is perfectly held by Jesus. She loves watching Him take the broken, the messy and the seemingly mundane of her everyday and turn it into something beautiful. She recently began her own blog called Where Feet May Fail. Be sure to check it out.

Categories: Motherhood | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment