I'm into sunlight and happy vintage clutter and too many library books checked out at once. Imagine me as the kind who's ok with mess in the name of fun. Somehow I manage to nap squuuiiished between my babies every afternoon under a breezy ceiling fan. Add in a touch of hippie health conscious wannabee homesteading - we love simmering bone broths and brewing kombucha and mixing our own cleaning sprays (so the children can eat freely off the floors of course!) Home birthing, one day likely homeschoolin' and generally flush with lots of earnest but unfinished hands on projects. Flowers everywhere please.
I'm always researching - fascinated by how our bodies and souls were designed to beautifully bear children and at the same time have been asking over and over, 'Is this supposed to be so hard? What is it about aspects of our culture that clash so strongly with my innate instincts?' I've been curious what anthropology and neuroscience and attachment theory and sacred scripture have to say about this art called mothering. While I'm barefoot on the deck with my toddler swooning over ladybugs in the rosemary bushes I tumble over these questions, many propelled by longing and frustration.
What does individual career and calling look like in the midst of raising a family?
How can I be inspired by the Holy Spirit in the daily trenches of caring for little ones?
How can husband and wife fan into flame the gifts of God deposited in one another?
What does 'adorning the gospel' look like if our front yard is full of dried weeds?
How can I age beautifully and leave a generational legacy of fierce love?
Where do I go to gather wisdom from women who have already danced this path?
What is worth documenting with our little polaroid and iphone in pockets?
How can I gather community around us so we're refreshed and strengthened and can be generous amongst friends?
What do I do with the teasing, tantalizing tornado of creative ideas I've received since giving birth that at the moment I feel like most days there's not an inch of breathing room to actually execute?
Lord, is there time or an outlet for it all the ideas I'm swimming in?
Yes! That's what God told me the other day as I was leaning on hands and knees reaching into a humid washing machine. Yes, there is time for it all. All of the things that will last. In right order. In stillness without striving.
I'm rambling. But this is all to say that I know I'm on a journey. And I want friends. Inspiration from other sweet families doing their distinct thing in the Kingdom of God. To hear stories from other parents who miraculously navigate meltdowns dripping in grace and long-suffering. To hear from other young mothers who see breastfeeding as milk and honey, an intentional investment - not needless martyrdom. Homes that are imperfect but palpably hospitable. Women who are quick to ask their husbands for forgiveness, not because they're sooo saintly but because they know they need their teammate and lover to be close in these long trying days.