A few years ago I met lovely, hilarious Annie in a sand pit. She was brave enough to meet me sight unseen in a Kansas City playground after I'd been quasi-stalking their blog detailing their life in Germany. Annie and husband Walt worked for our organisation at the time, and as often happens...
Read moreThere is power in the name of Jesus... to break every [limited-edition, hand-stamped key] chain
When IF:Gathering - a multi-denominational women’s conference - debuted last year, they made an unheard of decision: they didn’t charge a ticket price. With a stellar line-up of must-read Christian female...
Read moreGood Intentions & Thank Yous
We were going through old boxes, that necessary yet emotionally-exhausting rite of passage before moving overseas. Before our first term in Ireland we carefully labeled and stowed away mementos and heirlooms, birthday cards and documents. These were all the things we wanted to keep, but didn’t really feel like lugging across the ocean.
So just a few weeks shy of returning for our second term, it was time to cull, save or throw out what remained of our first 10 years of marriage, the things held together with faded tape and cardboard. Our bed was a disaster zone of papers and trinkets and, much to my dismay, a half dozen never sent thank you cards… from our wedding.
Oh the shame of finding these outdated remains of my good intentions. With clarity I remembered a distant relative’s queries to my grandmother when a thank you card for hand towels never appeared in her mailbox. Oh, I sent it, I told Granny. No, Karen. You didn’t send it. You didn’t even put a stamp on it.
I'm writing today at Velvet Ashes about saying (or forgetting, or putting off, or actually just being really terrible at) thank you.
On being Interrupted (again!) and getting messed up for the Kingdom
It's one of those cold, rainy Irish "summer" days where there's nothing quite like cuddling up in bed with a candle, one's favourite cableknit throw and a deep book. So it's a good thing I put off reading Interrupted* till the last minute.
(before you get too envious, it should be noted we came home from church to a doggy-upset-stomach stink you would not believe, so the candle is not just for show)
To recap: I love Jen Hatmaker mainly because, in her own words, she will "tell my little stories" or "have public rants" or "tell very borderline inappropriate anecdotes with no heed to the repercussions." This is right up my alley. If I don't make a new friend cringe in the first 60 seconds of our meeting...
Read moreThese are a few (from 2013) :: Take courage
We're doing the midnight bed dance again because the truth is: no one really knows where we are. Living out of suitcases for over a month, in our 4th round of beds in as many weeks, children bump on the floor in the night and cry out.
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