Just Compose Yourself

My WordPress Blog

Blog

One Number Away

by Leave a Comment

One Number Away

Song by Luke Combs ‧ 2017

Lyrics

Are you sitting at home all alone
Trying to fall asleep?
Are you staring a hole through your phone
Praying that it rings?
Are you watching a movie that you’ve seen
A thousand times?
Or maybe playing some Mayer
Getting lost in your favorite lines?

Well, if you’re anything like me
You just might be doing whatever it takes to drown out the noise
But I just wanna hear your voice

I’m one number away from calling you…

**********

Ponder those lyrics, and I’ll be back to those.

Setting: eons ago, way before 5 babies, long before a dream destination wedding, even before one of us had a 9-5 job, Adam was stuck at a gas station, midnight, penniless and out of gas.

Now, before you start to think that this was something that could have been avoided… well, it could’ve. But you still need to know more.

Rewind three days, when 72 hours of fancy dinners out, fun movie tickets, grocery runs for snacks, even cute boutiques for knick knacks that made me smile, each dollar he arrived with was being spent. ( unbeknown to a blissfully in love and unaware me.) When it came time Sunday night for him to leave Northern Virginia and drive back the 150 miles to his college dorm, he made it halfway before realizing he was completely empty. In fuel and in funds. Every last thing he had, he had given it up for me. For my happiness, our hours together. And without so much as a single hesitation in his gestures.

As I type, I am tearing up. What love. What sacrifice.

This story came back to me as I sat in church on Sunday listening to the sermon based on Matthew 10:37-42.

As the priest read and reflected, discussing all it takes to be a disciple and follower of Jesus Christ, he referred many times to our constant inability to understand that God’s power, love, compassion, etc are all limitless. This isn’t about us. And what WE can do.

It occured to me that the way my brain and heart seem to function over the years is under a gauge system. Like a gas tank. A little here for the quick errand, a little more for the daily school commutes, and then a big 150 mile trip- certainly draining the supply. And when its out its out. Empty is empty.

After a long, hard day- battles behind closed doors, fights thrashing at our faith- many times, we’ve got nothing left.

And we might have given up on God in those moments, but He’s never given up on us.

There’s no ceiling, no walls, no geographical line, no heart, no hurt, no soul He cannot reach.

It is often in these “hitting rock bottom” feelings, that God meets us.

He knows we don’t have enough to keep going, so he offers us the only true source of life: Himself.

You can go to Him. Every minute of every day. He’ll never turn you away, be too far, or run out of love for us.

Take a moment to really try to grasp that. It’s a doozey for our tiny minds and hardened hearts.

We disobey, make mistakes, ignore Him, and yet He is there. Waiting. Arms open. Giving us His all.

Not a little, because it’s all we deserve after a fall, or that He’s saving it for when we finally deserve it because we’ve been good enough.

But everything. Right now.

And He’ll offer it again tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the next.

Are you in a season where you are uttering any of these?

“I can’t anymore.”

“I’m done.”

“I have nothing left.”

“It’s too much.”

I have. A lot recently.

I’ve been reading books, googling tips, reciting mantras, and then stringing words together resembling desperate prayers. Sometimes, only barely whispering, “Come, Jesus, come.”

But this morning, Riley found me on the couch, half awake, fumbling through my phone.

She climbed right up on my lap, put her little black LED lights remote up against her own ear, and said “Brrring, briiiing, Hewoo?”

I smiled, put my phone up against my ear, and then cried happy tears.

She was right. I was doing everything else first. But what I really needed to do… was make the call.

To the One who knows me the most. And loves me without limitations.

There is a bare beauty to being utterly empty: you finally have to stop. (Whether you want to or not.) You have a chance to put aside your pride and desire to fix things all by yourself. And ask for help.

( Which is what my sweet, selfless, stuck husband eventually did all those years ago.)

So back to the Luke Combs song…

Are you sitting at home all alone
Trying to fall asleep?
Are you staring a hole through your phone
Praying that it rings?
Are you watching a movie that you’ve seen
A thousand times?
Or maybe playing some Mayer
Getting lost in your favorite lines?

Well, if you’re anything like me
You just might be doing whatever it takes to drown out the noise
But I just wanna hear your voice

I’m one number away from calling you…

*********

It sounds like Luke Combs is getting lost trying to fix himself, hide the hurt, move past the pain. And he almost reaches out. But what about us?

What do we do to drown out the thundering noise of the world and its chaos? Who and what will we turn to when times are tough? And is it working?

Why not go straight to the One who’s power is made perfect in our emptiest moments?

I leave you with what comforted many of us as children, so let it bring you healing now…

Dear Heavenly Father,

You know me and love me. Not the conditional kind that is linked to what I do or have done. But the raw and real, sacrificial love that breaks barriers and boundaries. Help me to look to You for the strength and grace to go through these days. And not just survive them, but thrive in them- drawing from You as the never-ending source of life and love when I am hurting and hollow. Thank you for giving me your all. It’s everything I’ll ever need.

In Your beautiful name I pray,

Amen.

Moments of Motherhood

by 1 Comment

A couple weeks ago, I took June to school. Without shoes. Oh, I had shoes on…fancy ones. To match my fancy outfit and fancy ( not up in a pony tail under a hat) hair that I was flaunting for Career Day. So, just to clarify- I was all good. But my preschooler had no shoes on her feet.

You see, this is Motherhood in a nutshell. At least for me. One victory ( in this case, securing up babysitting and pulling together a school-wide presentation while not looking homeless for once) led right into a flop. And as amazing as the day was – truly, one of my best in a long time- I kept hearing that voice reminding me about the shoes.

Can anyone relate?

The other day, Quinny tried to quit volleyball, after a pretty horrible set of games. She crawled into the car and said, “I’m done. I don’t want to play anymore. I’m the worst player on the face of the earth.”

I let that simmer for a minute, popped in her favorite song on Amazon music, waited for her smile to return and then proudly told her she was crazy to want to give up after a few bad moments; that tonight did not define her as a player.

While it took her a few more songs and a few more words of wisdom to turn her attitude around, I had to laugh when I realized that is exactly how I sound after I’ve stumbled through the days and weeks. Defined by when I miss the mark.

I wish I could say that I hear those voices a lot less in my 40’s than I did in my teens or 20’s, but the reality is- there’s more a stake now. And I feel like with each mountain scaled, there’s usually an epic trench waiting for me to fall into. Which I usually do…

But I am done feeling this way.

So, without further ado, I am embarking on my first ever Mother’s Day weekend without regret.

I am going to try to embrace this weekend (and my vocation) with a new outlook- one that hinges on God’s approval, not the world’s. I am exchanging exhausted for gratitude.

When I feel like no one is noticing how hard I am working behind the scenes, I will sing anyway. I will shout for joy that I have a family to work hard for. That I have children that grumble and argue and could quite possibly deep down under the teen attitudes really love their mom and tell me that years down the road.

I will clean rooms not to keep them clean but because I get to be in my home and enjoy making it cozy.

I will make the dinners with invention in mind, not seeking approval or applause, but because there is food in my kitchen and I am grateful for the opportunity to create something.

I won’t do these things because anyone actually sees them being done and awards me, but because I can and want to.

I will continue to blow kisses, give hugs, make beds, fold clothes, tidy bathrooms, and set an example of love.

And right now, love looks different for each child.

For the baby, its cuddling and making silly faces.

For the toddler, it’s exploration and colorful popsicles.

For the 11-year old, it’s trips to grab french fries and singing in the car.

For the 13-year old, it’s talking about friends late at night and decorating rooms.

And for my oldest, it’s just showing up. For it all. Especially when she thinks she’s too old to still need me there.

( It is in my expert observations that this stage remains well into the 40’s…I love you, Mom!)

Holding their hand looks different for each one. But loving them is a privilege. And one I do daily with more wrong than right.

But today, and for as long as I can battle those voices, the Mom Math is the one I’m sticking to:

A million little things done right in the quietness, out weigh all the big things done out in the world ending in failure.

God sees it all. Therefore…

1 mother’s heart multiplied by 1 loving God equals 100 % happiness.

Suddenly Savior

by 2 Comments

One beautiful, perfectly sunny day at the New Jersey seaside, my siblings and I were playing around in the walloping waves as we had done many times in the days and weeks before.

            Knowing what strong swimmers we were, champions of the Great Valley summer team relay squad – ages 11, 13, and 16 to be oddly specific – we always stretched the limits of what was water “safe.” If ever a current decided to sweep us off our steady feet, or a sneaky slap from the colossal surf happened to catch us by surprise, we always managed to get back up and start the fun all over again- a little wiser and wet for the wear. We researched like all the teen swimmers our age, by watching hours and hours of Baywatch and the summer Olympics. We felt nothing could stop us.

            However, one time, none of that mattered. No matter how we prepared or how strong our wills were– we were reminded of how powerful the elements can be and were swallowed by something much bigger than we ever imagined.

In a matter of moments, our frolicking quickly turned to panic, as we were suspended within the incessant pulls of an invisible rip current.  My older sister, younger brother and I were plucked from each other’s grips and sent sailing away from the safety of the shoreline at warp speed. No amount of wrestling the waves could free us, in fact as all the research truly tells you- it only made things worse.

My sister made a quick decision, with a sorrowful look thrown in my direction, to fight with all her strength toward our little brother, who was quickly drifting further from us.  And as I watched her swim away, she screamed she would come back for me.

And this my friends, is the last thing I actually remember.

But that was not the end of the story.

Help came.

Not from my sister, parent, or even a lifeguard.

Rather, from a complete stranger.

A man who was nowhere around us earlier in the fun or in the frightening moments, but who had suddenly appeared.

Grabbing my hand, he challenged the sea and it’s swells, then swooped me up in the safety of his arms, and carried me to the shore.

My family raced to rejoin me, embracing me, and searching the whole horizon for the stranger to thank him.

But he was nowhere to be found.

My sister can recall every moment of the day. She tells me this story all the time. But, the part she says will stay ingrained in her mind is what the stranger looked like.

She says he was older, but so incredibly strong, with a presence and power moving through the water like no one she had ever seen before.

And his hair was silver and white, almost to the point of glowing.

She remembers so well how he cradled me closely as he carried me safely to the sand.

She tells me time and time again that the stranger was no stranger at all. He was an angel.

Truth is…we all need rescuing.

Sometimes it’s from the wickedness of the world. Sometimes it’s from the voices swimming inside our heads. Sometimes it’s from a silent swell that tries to pull us far away from what is safe and sound.

But there will always be things that try to take us under, no matter who we are and how strong we think we can be.

What will we do?

Will we fight the storm with our own might, conjuring up the courage to stand firm against the constant knocking of waves?

Will we cower to the chaos, eventually giving in to the temptations and tricks spinning around us?

Or will we reach for the hand that saves?

The best news for us: there’s not usually just one huge, hurry-up scenario like my seaside scare in which we need rescuing. We need it all the time, which gives us millions of moments to surrender and admit that we need heavenly help from a hero. And it’s never too late.

This weekend, walk with the One who loves you so much, that He gave up everything so you could have everything.

Repeat the words, “Jesus loves me, this I know…” as if you are a small child, with each breath bringing more belief than the first.

And if you still don’t know it or believe it deep in your heart- pick up that storybook filled with saving grace, mountains climbed through mercy, epic failures and freedom found, all from a steadfast love that knew no limits.

You are worth saving.

In all our weaknesses, in all our wrongs, when we’ve sailed away in search of something better, or been knocked down and swept out lost in the sea, no hope in sight.

Reach for the hands that are strong enough to bring you back and carry you through it all.

Jesus loves you.

Say it, sing it, shout it, or whisper it. But believe it.

Now friends, close your eyes and remember what He did for you and the very holes that proved it so.

Valentine’s: a light, a painter, some salt, and whole lot of chocolate

by 1 Comment

What is LOVE?

Now- if you’re getting Saturday Night Live vibes with head-bobbing, you’re totally on point.

What is Love gif origin (A night at the Roxbury)
byu/Fickle-Housing155 inTheMatpatEffect

More than likely, there are many things that pop into your head when hearing the word “love.”

They may be songs or scents, people or places, foods or feelings, movies or memories- just to name a few.

I feel there is a lot of pressure in our world to CREATE love.

So, I’m going to challenge this-

What if our job wasn’t to create it, but rather- cultivate it, uncover it, and release it into the world?

I came across this on Instagram the other day…

That really struck me.

It caused me to tilt my head and ponder a little more about what LOVE means to me. And ultimately how I can be “of love” more in my life.

We are told in Matthew 5:13-16 to be “salt of the earth” and a “city on the hill.”

Salt of the earth? Like a super good person? Uhmmm, check?!

Just kidding. Don’t ask my kids about yesterday.

But seriously, what does Jesus mean when he is saying that?

Historical context: it was not just a table condiment or a snowcrete melter.

Salt was everything! But yet, it’s nothing.

I’m having fun with these little brain teasers today…

How is it everything? It preserved ( protected, saved) things in a world without refrigeration.

But by itself, it’s just salt.

Not convinced?

A plate of salt is nothing.

However, sprinkled on a steak, if you’re a meat person- it deepens the flavor by a thousand percent! ( I’ll take people’s word for it.)

Now, to speak my language- tossed to the tippy top of an unpretentious piece of dark chocolate? ( I’d like to personally thank the brilliant mind who thought to do such a thing) It’s EVERYTHING! It literally “enhances the chocolate’s natural sweetness…”- Google ( … and is known to offset bitterness! I’m still talking chocolate, or am I?)

Salt is meant to bring out the very best in whatever it’s added to.

If LOVE is willing the best in another, so- could we be the salt to those in our lives? Not fix them, but elevate them? Think: make things better!

( I’ve been prone to making things 100 times worse in my own house, so this is quite the challenge!)

Now, onto “a city on a hill.”

Whenever I had heard that term in church, or read it by myself- I thought: Be a light, Monica. Just shine! Boom. Another box checked! Just kidding.

There’s more…

In listening to an eye-opening sermon by Bishop Barron, I learned that this verse also must be understood in the historical context.

Ready?

Darkness.

Everywhere.

You are traveling far from home.

You are tired, weary, cold, hopeless, and lost.

But you keep going.

You are almost ready to give up when out over the horizon, you see a faint hue breaking through the blackness.

It calls to you, so you take another heavy step closer, then another, until you realize what you are following.

It is a light.

Beaming from a far away place, but yet feels so near- it almost warms your soul.

So you keep your gaze on the glow and you direct yourself.

You are no longer cold, weary, and wandering.

You feel pulled and purposeful.

Like someone has pulled back the curtain.

You know where you are meant to be.

You see my friends, a “city on a hill” wasn’t just a place on a map.

It was a beacon of hope.

It was a source of illumination to guide the weary travelers.

Whatever direction you went, it was in reference to this city.

It was the only thing you saw, the only thing you needed to know.

So, my friends- can we be a city on a hill to those in our lives? Can we lead those around us into light from the shadows?

Lastly, I want to talk Michaelangelo.

Who?

The ninja turtle guy?

No. The famous painter and sculpter!

In a brilliant presentation given at my weekly bible study, I learned that this talented artist was a devout and faithful man.

He is said to have believed himself not the ultimate creator of his own works, but rather, only a tool- a means by which the art itself was simply being uncovered.

What an amazing way to approach your vocation!

Can you imagine this utterly amazing artist, on the cusp of his next great thing, looking at a thousand pounds of marble- not in angst or worry- but in anticipation of what was on the inside? Something that already existed but needed to be found and seen?

Would your outlook change if you saw your life this way? As chances to bring things to life and light that were otherwise unseen to your world?

And opportunities not full of pressure or pride- but full of potential.

If God is love, and we are created in His image… folks, there’s already an arsenal of love within us. More than we ever knew was possible. It’s just buried deep inside. On some days, in some people, in all of us.

You don’t have to originate this huge gesture, this monumental feeling, this crazy mixed-up emotion.

God is love.

And you can be, too.

You can boost (salt!), you can brighten (light!), and you can unveil. (yay!)

Let this Valentine’s be the start of something.

A spark of something.

Because maybe it’s been there- like a piece of chocolate, a city on the hill, a work of art, or some deep new level of love- it’s just finally time to find out what we’re all really made of.

Bonus-

A few creations on CANVA to pass on, print, or post!

AND….. drumroll please….

Speaking of illumination….

I am beyond excited to announce that my newest family devotional, Growing with God, won GOLD in the 2026 Illumination Book Awards! These are Christian book awards in many categories that achieve gold, silver, or bronze medals for their innovation, creativity, and ability to light up the world through a “heartfelt commitment to faith-based storytelling.”

I want to thank God for the gift and passion of writing and creating.

I want to thank my amazing publisher, Paige Tate & Co. for asking me to work on this beautiful piece inspired by God.

And to thank YOU- my readers, my family, my friends and neighbors- who have brought this book into your homes and hearts.

I Love to Watch You GLOW ( plus a bonus craft: pressed flower lanterns)

by 1 Comment

Why do we love the glow of Christmas lights so much? Is it that they bring warmth, joy, inner feelings of serenity and peace?

What is it about the glow of a tree, a fireplace, a candle? The coziness is contagious.

As I sit here and ponder this- I am still surrounded by each and everything Christmas I put up last month. Yes, you read that right. Come on in and cozy up on the couch in one of my 84 Christmas blankets by the fire- which is still framed in 6 feet of flocked illuminated garland, a bevy of vintage bronze bells, and a half dozen sophisticated, sleek, silver deer who are proudly holding tight to the boho winter white stockings hanging softly and sweetly below.

Who on earth wouldn’t want to be surrounded in that? And friends, that’s only the living room….

Every corner, bookshelf, and bathroom is lit up with something. Keeping the glow and coziness in my home a little longer into the New Year has been good for my senses and is doing wonders for my soul.

It’s as if my home is beckoning to me, “Monica- no matter what is going on outside- it’s alright in here. Come, rest, bury yourself: there is joy to be found.”

Okay, before you accuse me of watching entirely too many Hallmark movies combined with Bluey episodes- bear with me.

I made a connection over Christmas between keeping the glow going and where it ultimately comes from.

Interested?
Read on…

First, it’s important to note that going into the Christmas season, my husband, my dear sweet husband, requested that I not over purchase this year just because we had a new house to decorate.

Now, I obviously remember that he said that.  I just didn’t listen to it all the time.

Like when I bought 9 new garlands, 3 more trees, and the cutest little candy village house for the kitchen bay window. Now, the most appealing part of this new decor was that it was all battery operated- no more will my creativity be a slave to the proximity of an outlet! Be gone extra extension cords! Hello, happiness!

At this junction, I will go back in time to another quick conversation between my husband and I where he looked at the heaping pile of Amazon boxes at our doorstep, frowned, and reminded me of his original request, to which I quickly responded- “I will save money in other ways! I promise!”

Now, if you’re still with me in this timeline-
I’m now in over my head with new Christmas decor and deep in a promise to my husband to stop spending.

Where can I cut corners, I thought?!!!

Ah, I’ve got it.
( and this is where you should please keep reading but promptly stop listening to me for advice.)

Toilet paper and batteries!

What, you ask?

That was my solution.  To save money on the two things I KNEW we’d need a ton of this time of year.

I’m a genius, I thought.

So, onto Amazon to order – I scroll past the recommended and top tier brands- ah- not this year! You’re not getting my money, you overpriced purchases!

I select the cheapest choices for both TP and batteries with newfound wisdom and happily hit the big, blue button.
Wow.
It is always this easy to help save the world, one family at a time? – I thought to myself smugly.

If the writing gig doesn’t pan out for me, I can certainly become the world’s best and most frugal personal shopper!

Well, folks- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to predict how the next few weeks went.

Every morning, I would wake up to something unlit.

I spent so many hours running around my house, going room to room, replacing the new things and ALL the other older decorations that needed to be lit up- it was like I was training for a new Olympic sport.

Little snowy houses, twinkly snowy globes, table top trees, flickering window tapers- between fixing them all- I sailed through my once-packed box of 100 batteries.

And the cheap TP, well, I’m still hearing about that one. And I have a feeling I always will.

So, my friends- what is my take away?

A few questions for us all.

What is the actual source of that warm, illuminating glow?

Do we hinge that warmth and happiness on temporary fixes? Or because of something surrounding us? Only to be taken down a month later?

Or is it from something more? Something deeper? Maybe even not connected to the outside world at all… with lasting effects?

Now, this is not an ad for Energizer. Or a hand slap on bobo brands. I’m still the queen of frugal finds! Although, I’m not even a bit fibbing when I tell you the minute I exchanged my triple A’s for my husbands not-so-secret stash of Energizer ones, that adorable candy Christmas village house in the kitchen window lit up like a tiny, miniature version of the Chevy Chase movie.

Magical!

( See what I did there? Cheap batteries = less light, aka: non-lasting joy… this is some deep stuff, right?)

Let’s ponder how to keep that “glow” past Christmas, past the New Year, even into the dreary months of winter when the constant chill outside and crabbiness inside seem to haunt each day.

We can. If we create it around us because of what is cultivated deep inside of us.

We were created for more. Not just to feel warm and cozy when everything around us is. But to find true contentment and happiness and joy that radiates light even when things are dark.

Your Heavenly Father wants to be your source- of light, love, joy, peace, and so much more.

If the glow of Christmas is truly what brings your soul to life ( meeeeeeee) then think of this as if someone just gave you the keys to that feeling all year round. It’s true.

For your home: I’m giving us all permission to buy a few more candles, keep up any winter garlands, curl up in that cozy couch blanket, and light up that ficus tree in the corner of your room. ( I realize I might get some “un-fan mail” from a few husband on that one…)

And on the inside: remember the truth- the light that comes from God cannot be taken down or put out. No matter what day, or month, or how many clouds are in the sky, or how many mad faces our teens give us.

If I listen closely, I can hear Him beckoning, too.

“Monica- no matter what is going on outside- it’s alright in here. Come, rest, bury yourself: there is joy to be found.”

There it is- I found the glow…

And with no batteries needed.

Bonus craft: DIY pressed flower lanterns

Materials: mason jars of any size, Mod Podge, sponge brush or paint brush, paper flowers/pressed flowers, votive candle ( or battery candle), mat to work on

Step 1) After washing your jar and drying it, apply a heavy coat of Mod Podge all over the outside.

Step 2) Pick your flowers and gently press them into the layer of glue.

Step 3) Finish with another layer of Mod Podge to secure the flowers into place.

Step 4) Allow jar to dry completely.

Step 5) Add your candle inside and enjoy the beautiful glow!

Like this craft? Hungry for more?

Check out my newest CRAFTING book- including 30 crafts and heart warming devotionals!

2026: I won’t be good at anyTHING (with flashback to my DIY Valentine’s wreath)

by 1 Comment

Now, assuming you haven’t left me because of the cryptic title of this post, I’d like to welcome you to the New Year!

I’m so looking forward to a fresh start, a new beginning, and a chance to get things right.

The past year was full of flubs, flops, fails, fixer-uppers, and fun. I pray the fun is what the family remembers…

The potential highlight for our end of year adventures was a long overdue trip to the Festival of Lights at Bull Run. I haven’t had the chance to take the family there since we only had the “O.G.’s” – the original 3, as they call themselves.

Hubby said, ” YOU take June- she’s at the sweetest age- you won’t want to miss this. Well, that sounded like a good enough season to keep her with me ( we had to take two cars down the farm) so we packed everyone up, and we headed off.

All was well, even sailing down 66 West on a Monday night, which doesn’t ever happen. And then, magically, no traffic getting onto the property for the lights. “This is going to be great,” I muttered to myself with emphatic positivity.

Urch. If only….

I will spare you all the details but highlight the ones worth repeating.

  1. Immediately as we hit the park ticket booths, June yelled at an octave most high sopranos have to train years to hit because we took away her IPAD and told her we are at a light show and to actually look up at said lights.
  2. She continued to yell at this level for the entire 20 minute ride for audacious and unlawful things such as a) looking at the lights b) discussing the lights, c) pointing at the lights- yes, she even screamed at baby Riley for this) then finally, d) being quiet.
  3. Also, there was the angry backseat driving and pointing out that I was either driving too close to the car ahead of me, or by contrast- not keeping up with them.

It is at this point, I must mention that I did not keep my cool as this scenario unwound. I yelled back ( such a face-slapping thing to do with a tired toddler) and got quite mad that she was putting me through this. I was wallowing in self-pity and even pictured the scene from “Just Friends”, where Ana Farris drives over the lit-up lawn display and drags ALLL the lights with her- trailing a burning up reindeer – as she dramatically destroys this small town Christmas scene.

Folks, that was almost me. On route 66. On the 29th of December.

I have a vivid imagination, so I pictured the whole thing.

But that is not how the story ended. Thank Heavens.

I did eventually calm down, but I not before lamenting on how poorly I handled the whole scene.

At no point, did I ask for strength and patience from above. So there was my New Year’s nugget- maybe it could be good to ask for more help from Heaven?

Fun (albeit slightly depressing) fact? Over 90% of resolutions made on New Year’s Eve fail by January 12th. The 12th!! Not even two weeks later. Why is that?

By definition- a “resolution” is:

  1. a firm decision to do or not to do something. With synonyms such as: intention, aspiration, and promise.

Folks, I have incredible intentions. I have astronomical aspirations. I have plenty of promise.

But I fail. Over and over again at things. Probably because I don’t have the support, but most definitely because I don’t ask for help.

So this year, I’m going to try something new.

I’m not going to try to knock it out of the park at just one, BIG thing.

I’m going to try to do better with a whole bunch of little things– by inviting God into those moments.

This idea was pressed more firmly in my heart while jamming out to the song, “Steal my Show” by Toby Mac.

From the chorus…

“If you wanna steal my show
I’ll sit back and watch you go
If you got something to say
Go on and take it away
Need you to steal my show
Can’t wait to watch you go oh oh oh
So take it away“

What amazing things could be accomplished each and every day if I lived this way? And not by the way the world measures… my waistline won’t shrink, my laundry pile will probably grow, and the dishes may stay in the sink a little longer- but there would be some serious heart-work going on!

So, this January- I am embarking on a quest. To not be good at just ANY thing. But to be better at the things that really count. Each and every encounter and adventure, each question and conversation- they could all be different. Dare I say, great?

*and they really could be… with God.

Who is ready to rock 2026?

A Christmas to Remember, not Formember

by 1 Comment

As I have started typing this, I’ve stopped 12 times. Not because a baby was crying, or the doorbell rang, or a pot of water was bubbling over… rather, because I am one hundred percent distracted at this time of year.

I have gotten up to straighten the garland on my stairs, which brings me so much joy, but needed a few tweaks with the berries and eucalyptus intermingling. Then I sit down and notice it needs more. I have microwaved my coffee no less than 7 times. I have changed the YouTube Christmas station twice. I have daydreamed about what exact pop-of-red should go on my new flocked tree. And that is only the tip of the iceberg.

Why am I so distracted?

Is it possible that the things that I have poured myself into and dawned my senses and stairways with, are bringing me joy but along with an element of surface static that interferes with true peace?

Now, I am absolutely not suggested we rip down the decorations, turn off the music, and drink cold coffee. ( That sounds like pure torture to me!) However, we might need to train our brains and hearts to filter through the world’s noise- be it with our ears, eyes, or feelings-and grab a hold of the true sense of the season- the Truth.

Something that I struggle with, a real false platform for joy- (a foolproof set up for disappointment) is trying to recreate things year after year. Not classic traditions, but moments and memories that are hinged on EVERY single detail being strategically acted out like a scene from a play. Year after year.

Do you know why this is impossible to do? Because life changes. Children grow up, you move, your favorite stores move, Santas village moves, your jeans might not fit the same, and you can’t find the box of inflatables for the front lawn. ( These are insanely accurate…)

If all my joy comes in the form of a box- from the basement, from Amazon, or from memories in my head- what happens when things are lost? Or delayed? Changed or forgotten?

This year, I am embarking on a journey to open my arms to embrace change in the unknown and new, while anchoring my heart in the traditions and unshakable true meaning.

We need to remember.

It can be lost in the garlands, the shopping, the parties, the rushing, in the busy.

My sweet four-year-old, June, has coined the phrase ,”Formember.” Bless her heart, she is trying to correctly say “remember,” but it comes out as an adorable merge of the two opposites: forget and remember.

She had me thinking over microwaving my coffee not long ago, that we do this a lot.

We formember. We forget all the good within a moment, we forget all the ways in which we have been blessed, we forget the true meaning in it all. But we sure remember what didn’t happen, how we were disappointed, how things didn’t measure up, and how we’ve let people down. We keep track of these things like Santa’s magic list, yet the important things have escaped our minds.

This, my friends, could be why this time of year feels so hard, so heavy, so overwhelming.

It isn’t meant to be this way.

Is there a place where we could lean into change, imperfect plans, fallen garlands, and grown-up lists: and let Him in?

The word Emmanuel means God with us. He is here, He is coming again. But are we ready? Have we made room in our busy lives to welcome the baby- the One who saves?

For all the Christmas Carol fans, a little trivia…

Do you know what the word Ebenezer means? Where it comes from?

“The prophet Samuel set up a stone, calling it “Ebenezer” (Stone of Help) to commemorate God’s deliverance of Israel from the Philistines, signifying “Thus far the Lord has helped us”. It’s a spiritual practice of building tangible or mental monuments (like collecting tokens or memories) to remember God’s faithfulness, fostering gratitude and faith for future challenges, and preventing forgetfulness…”

-Google

Charles Dickens chose his main character’s name, not randomly, but in honor of the true meaning of Christmas.

To remember all that God has done, not just be grateful one day a year.

The world wants us to forget.

To quickly gobble up the turkey, then set up our trees, buy presents so early we’ll forget about them in the top part of our closets, get sidetracked with details and dates steadily pushing the lines of our calendars, only to ultimately forget something or someone, and to trek tirelessly through the next weeks- only to finally flop on the couch, exclaiming, “I’m done.”

Sound familiar?

I heard a song on my Country Christmas playlist the other morning entitled, “Make it to Christmas.” The lyrics were heavy laden with pains and tears, frustrations and heartaches, willing and wishing the season to hurry up and be over with a quick countdown.

Oh, how that song made me feel! I don’t want to just make it to Christmas. I want to wait and wonder, pray and ponder, take notice of the naughty, but focus on the nice that we are all capable of, and then fall on my knees at the fragile manger holding my precious Savior.

I want to remember.

Every detail of that breathtaking night.

The prophesies come true, the very first cry breaking the silence, the (hundreds of) angels overtaking the sky, the awe-struck shepherds, the star steadily shining and guiding, and the foundation of faith overshadowing any fear still in Mary’s heart…

Mary pondered. She remembered God’s promises, His Word, His faithfullness and love, and she clung to that with all the unknowns the future held.

Because when you remember, you are changed.

The lyrics from “Do You Hear What I Hear?” spell it out.

[Intro]
Do you hear what I hear?

[Verse 1]
Said the night wind to the little lamb
Do you see what I see?
Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb
Do you see what I see?
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite
With a tail as big as a kite

[Verse 2]
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear?
Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear?
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song, high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea

[Verse 3]
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king
Do you know what I know?
Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king
Do you know what I know?
Do you know what I know?
A child, a child shivers in the cold
Let us bring Him silver and gold
Let us bring Him silver and gold

[Verse 4]
Said the king to the people everywhere:
Listen to what I say
Pray for peace, people everywhere
Listen to what I say
The child, the child, sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light

First we see, then we hear, we begin to know, then we can tell.

Spread the Good News of great tidings!

If you are weary, REMEMBER He came to restore, strengthen, and heal.

If change scares you, REMEMBER He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

If you don’t feel full of joy, REMEMBER the heavens and angels rejoicing with His long-awaited arrival.

If you are overwhelmed, REMEMBER that He brings overwhelming peace and hope.

It is in Jesus that we find it all.

And there is no better time to remember that then now.

Merry Christmas, everyone! God bless!

BONUS : Christmas Craft- Galaxy Ornaments

Materials: clear plastic ornaments, baking soda, your favorite colors in craft paints, ribbon for stringing ( & paper plates and mats to help reduce messes)

Step 1) Open the ornament by taking off the top. Pour in about a tablespoon of baking soda.

Step 2) Move the ornament around to evenly distribute the baking soda throughout the inside. You will see a slight white film.

Step 3) Pour in your favorite color paints- in no particular order! I just squeeze for a few seconds and then switch colors. *my recommendation is to add white, a pearl color, black, or shimmery gold- they add such depth!

Step 4) Put the top of the ornament back on and turn sideways to gently start the swirling process. This is important: DO NOT RAPIDLY MIX! Or TURN UPSIDE DOWN. You want the colors to gradually touch and blend- this is the cool process by which the baking soda keeps the colors true and not muddy. And the excess paint will leak out of the hole in the top if you hold it upside-down :o(

*keep gently tilting until you like the finished product ( it will somewhat keep moving around for an hour or do, once hung on the tree)

Step 5) Tie a ribbon and hang!

God is in the Details: From Silverware to Silver-linings

by 6 Comments

I really do not like to empty the silverware section of the dishwasher. It is a chaotic compiling of shiny baby pitchforks, tiny sharp spears, and petite shovels. It confuses me, takes too long, and well… I just don’t like it. Am I alone?

But something did occur to me as I was unloading it the other day. It is all of those things above, but it’s also something more: it’s a bunch of little things.

By comparison, the other two sections of the dishwasher are full of larger, more substantial things. Things that take up a lot of room, so it doesn’t take long to unload and stack away. Cups, mugs, casserole dishes, kid plates, crockpot lids, Tupperware, etc. Those sections just seem to go smoothly and quickly.

And did I mention that in our new home, in this new dishwasher, the silverware is in a hidden top compartment, above all the rest, and you have to take the time to separate each piece of silverware- you can’t just throw them willy-nilly in the basket. It is a terribly tedious process.

What on earth does this have to do with anything?

Oh, now if I told you that right away- you wouldn’t keep on reading, would you? So, hold tight. I’ll get back to that I promise. It’s in the title, I have to…

On to a few weekends ago:

I’ll paint the picture- it’s the end of a rainy weekend up in Philly, where the much anticipated yearly West Chester Chili Cook-off was postponed, (but we had a ton of fun anyway!), we are packing up the car very late. Hubby had a work call for 3 hours that evening and we had decided earlier in the weekend that it would be better for him to have the virtual meeting at my parent’s- rather then try to race back home to DC, fighting Columbus day traffic, and try to take the call at our house.

You know those good ideas you have- that turn out not to be one of those good ideas in the end?

This was one of them.

I repeat: it is late. We have been keeping the babies up so they would sleep in the car. They are hot messes. Hubby has been on calls on day and his biggest one for hours through dinnertime. Just setting the tone.

Now, normally- he is in charge of packing the vehicle. He hates it, but does it very well. Like a Jenga game married Tetris. And had a dozen baby bags. He fits things in nooks and crannies like a professional mover. Everything has it’s place. But he has kindly requested that we keep our travel luggage to a minimum- allowing the ever so practical one large, even extra-large! bag per female. He and Knox share, of course. How do boys do it?

Well, it is at this junction that I mention that all the fun we had while NOT being outside at a chili festival was had inside stores shopping for the upcoming festivities of Halloween and Christmas. Enter new bags. Small bags. The ones my husband loathes.

My sweet father tried to start talking bags out to the car while Adam was on the long call, to help out- because He is the best helper on the planet. But my mom and I stopped him in his tracks. We reminded dad that Adam has a system, and you don’t want to mess with it.

In normal circumstances, while hubby packs the car, I go floor to floor, seeking lost items and tiny treasures. My children often think that leaving one shoe, open hair products, phone chargers, uniform socks, and favorite stuffies are just what needs to stay behind. So mine is always a busy job, no matter where we go.

But my girls exploded this time. Things were everywhere. I was instantly overwhelmed with all I had to do. I had a baby in my arms, a toddler tripping my feet, teens being told what to do but not doing it- and all while trying to stay quiet for the important phone call.

Enter helper Dad. He took it upon himself to check in corners and under couches for lost Stoltzfus stuff. Bless his heart.

We manage to get into my SUV, approximately one hour later than hoped, packed to the brim with large bags, and a few too many tiny ones. Oh, and it’s raining. Again.

We say our goodbyes and begin the journey home- tired, wet, frustrated with each other, and with life in general. And just plain mad with Knox, who was panting at a record pace in my face, and stepping all over the crunchy shopping bags. All are weary with the work week knocking at the door- now only a few hours away.

38 minutes into the ride, a call comes in from my father. My mind fears an emergency or we’ve left something. It was the later. ( Thank heavens in the big scheme of things. )

“Oh, hunny- I’ve just found a computer bag and a computer inside. Is it one of the girls’? Do you need this?”

Blood begins boiling.

“Yes, Dad- we do need that. And we’ll turn around and be back in about 45 minutes to grab it.”

After convincing my sweet helper father to stay put in this nasty weather and not drive out to meet us halfway, we are now going the opposite direction of home and have added approximately 1.5 hours to our trip. We are teetering on arriving past midnight…

I fought the immediate instinct to lecture. I fought it for a hard 3 minutes. Then, I burst.

I expressed my disappointment and what incredible inconvenience, inconsideration, and irresponsibility was displayed. Yet I kept feeling like it was not resonating. At all.

So I stewed in the front seat. I stewed hard.

I boiled, and bubbled, and bit my lip about lecturing again.

I was not in a good place.

Finally, ( and sadly- it took this long) I prayed.

I prayed for this feeling to go away- to somehow be free of this resentment towards the situation.

To let go of things I cannot control: like traffic, bad weather, forgotten laptops, rowdy toddlers, pet panting, and my husband’s insanely busy schedule.

With each breath, I released it all.

I’m not proud to say it was almost a full hour before I had come to a place of calm.

When I knocked down the walls of negativity and released the anxious and angry thoughts, I opened myself up to actually realizing what was happening around me.

Quiet.

4 sleeping girls, a snoozing pup, a teenager looking out the window, and my husband’s 90’s country playlist sneaking through the front of the car. Adam was softly singing along and smiling.

The moment and music instantly took me back to when we first met.

And there it was. A present. Right in front of me.

I always want time. Quiet time, more time, or time rewinded. Which you can never, ever really have.

But that night, I had it. I was given the gift of time- all kinds of time.

At first what was unwanted ultimately unraveled into cute conversations, quizzing questions, and long overdue connections. A true silver-lining.

A deep part of me was healed that night.

We may have gotten in way past midnight, but I awoke the next morning with an extra layer of patience, peace, understanding, and love.

Okay. Back to the silverware and my title.

The silverware is annoying. It takes time, you have to pay attention while sorting. But what if I learned to think of the task differently? If I’ve been given an opportunity to slow down, count, sort, pay attention- than let it not be in vain. What if with each piece of silverware, I named a blessing? A person, place, or thing I am grateful to have in my life… how would I feel after the dish drawer was empty? Could I possibly feel full? With no room to complain?

As it is with God.

After hearing so many songs and phrases uttering that “the devil is in the details,” I have come here to argue that it is God who is in the details.

He orchestrates it all. The big AND little.

He is in it all. The big AND little.

God didn’t have to take the time to make things so amazing, but He did. Is there a better time to acknowledge that idea than in the midst of this Fall foliage season? Why didn’t He create a world with seasons that turn from one to another like a light switch- “on” and “off”? He could have, but instead, He carefully crafted a world chalk full of details, like the bursting of radiant color on a tiny leaf, that encourage us to stop for a moment and celebrate. He didn’t have to, but He did.

Because He is good.

It does not mean that everything feels good all the time, we certainly can’t listen to the world on that one.

But, once you adjust your vision to see Him threaded in the small moments and you notice His goodness, it just may be easier to see His hand holding yours in the troubles and hardships.

God is reaching out.

Seek Him. First.

In the mundane, the annoying, the overlooked, the unwanted.

In the detours and the details.

And maybe then, we’ll see Him in the silverware and the silver-linings.

Jesus Take the Wheel…But Please Turn Here

by 2 Comments

I had a dream I was a truck driver. Not like my husband’s truck- a snazzy, souped-up Silverado. No, this was a true tracker trailer, with 18 wheels, and lots of heavy stuff being carried. The incredible irony to this sleepy situation is my deathly fear of trucks on the highway. I actually have severe hand sweat and clench my teeth when passing them on any road.

But in my dream- I was crazy confident, cautious, and even calm while carrying all that heavy stuff through high hills and deep valleys.

I think I am supposed to learn something here…

Back to the “Back to School” grind- and I’m far from calm. Rather, a full on mess of supply lists, hunting down the allusive knee-high 100% cotton, but not-too scratchy, ( and “No, Mom- I did not throw out the other one in the trash over the summer”, or “I have NO idea how those got huge holes in the toes, must have been while I wore them to play in the street every night at the beach”) uniform socks in an impossible shade of blue , Ubering to pre-season tryouts, answering emails and signing up for things, trolling the internet for deals on lunchboxes that are cute, but not too cute for teens, but somehow still have a mature, high-school version of Hello Kitty on them…I’m seriously exhausted just typing this.

Am I alone?

There’s a deafening silence here, so Im going to use my imagination and pretend theres a huge auditorium of tired moms with coffee stains on their shirts and hands being raised!

I feel you, ladies. I really do.

Do I have any answers?

Oh, how I wish.

But, in true form of why I started this blog over 10 years ago- I will share a little of what I have learned in hopes of helping others. <3

In Church the other day while in the “quiet room,” which is more like a panic room with not-so-soundproof police glass, I managed to hear a few words from the sermon.

The priest said, “Obedience is like Faith with legs.” Oooo. I like that, I thought. I began pondering that statement and really wanted to hear what he said next, but was quickly brought back to the reality of my situation when Riley slung a full bottle of milk across the not-so-quiet room at MLB-pitcher speed. I retrieved the weapon, apologized profusely, and began pondering the age old question of “Why did God make babies so freakishly strong?”

Alas- back to the priest.

I really do love that idea: Faith with Legs…

We talked more about it on the way home in the car and the older girls were incredibly enlightened by the comment also. We spoke of how “biblical obedience” was all done quickly. No one, after being called by God, summoned by Jesus, or asked by an angel, took a quick shower and skirted into Starbucks before getting on the road. They just DID IT. They dropped everything, without reason or thought, and followed. Well, not everyone. I do love the cautionary tale of good ol’ Jonah…

There is so much to learn from this and I think we underestimate the power of “obey, right away.” That’s where the HUGE piece of faith comes in. Not after we’ve examined all the possibilities, mapped out the potential courses, printed things out, cross checked, and have a real game plan. It’s doing all of it blindly.

Now, what on earth does this have to do with Back to School?

Everything.

If having a foundation in faith is brought alive by obedience, there is true peace in it. God isn’t going to ask something of you that He hasn’t already cross checked, mapped out, and really thought through. And He’s God. His ways are not our ways, His thoughts are not our thoughts. They are better. Always. But they don’t always make sense to us, and it’s not always crystal clear.

So, I am going to use my imagination again and pretend I heard what came next in the sermon. Obedience IS faith with legs. But in a world where we think more is better, ( more sign ups, more sports teams, more school supplies, more suppers on the go, )it’s also sometimes just staying still.

So, obedience is going AND staying?

Yes. And we need God’s wisdom to know the difference.

There will be times when following God’s voice will look like picking up your running shoes and joining a race. ( sometimes, even running the opposite way!) And there will be times when following His voice looks like putting things down down for a minute, or even a whole season.

Just ask Him what He wants of you.

We’re not meant to always know the difference, and we’re certainly not meant to do it alone.

So, dear friends- this school year: with a high-schooler, two middle schoolers, a toddler in Pre-K, and a mobile little one-year-old, I am choosing to let Jesus Take the Wheel. And not to be a bickering backseat driver, telling him my perfect plans and hopes and desired snack stops. But to try to fully trust in His love for me, my girls, and our lives. His roads, His detours, His destinations.

And you know what? The more I think back to that tracker trailer dream…I guess it wasn’t me driving after all. <3

A Housefull of Love

by 2 Comments

As June and I were sitting on the porch today playing withe Magnatiles, I learned a valuable lesson. Well, two…

First, an almost-walking baby Riley plus anything carefully constructed ( Barbie houses, magnets, blocks) is the equivalent of Godzilla attacking an unarmed city…

So we waited to play until baby girl was napping. #smarternotharder

But the second lesson learned, is a real humdinger.

Good things take time.

I know, you probably already know that- but I think I forget this very simple thing. I tend to weigh my worth on wether things happen quickly, efficiently, perfectly, precisely, and in big ways. If they don’t, well- I get a big, fat, red X in the box for the day. And a certificate is in the mail stating I am a terrible person.

However, my Heavenly Father is using my darling children to tell me otherwise.

When we started off, June and I dumped out the basket and just started building. I was building my next dream house, of multiple rooms with floor to ceiling windows, a perfect view of the backyard, while functionally located close to the kitchen, and June was building a house for her princesses.

She and I happily went on our way building and we each thought our houses were perfect, until we tried to place things inside the homes. Every time we reached and opened windows and doors, things fell. We kept tying to set things back up, high up and perfectly, but they just kept flapping down. And we looked around to secure up the structures, we quickly realized we had run out of magnets all together. It only took one quick swoosh of the puppy’s tail as he went flying by to knock both buildings down.

Instead of giving up, ( I did eventually give up my dream of having a home completely made from windows and fancy doors) we regrouped and I looked at her sweet face and apologized for hogging all the magnets. I told her to just start building, and I’d be here to watch and help when she needed.

I sat there watching her, and instead of mimicking my superior strategy of tall and high, she started building little rooms.

After building a room, she gently placed a princess, frog, or Peppa Pig inside- no collapsing.

In her world, she focused on building only what was needed- one magnet at a time, room by room, person by person. Her architectural achievements included such things as a tower with walls for Rapunzel and her art palate, a landing pad for Jasmine and her magic carpet, a room full of dirt and water for Peppa, and a spectacular space for Snow White to look out for dwarfs or a prince who happened to be riding by.

With each of these, Junie took the time to play with each character, making sure they were comfortable in their new environment and ready to be all alone while more constructing occurred. She left them with love.

The best part? When all when said and done, she even had magnets left over. I seriously was having a loaves and fishes moment….

What did June teach me this morning? Good things take time. And to take a step back from trying to do all things in all ways and build skyscrapers.

Just build the things around you. Slowly.

Linger a little, love a whole lot.

#summerthoughts