Life with my sister

We are inching up to the first heaveniversary of daddy's death. I decided I didn't want to forget the details of that day from my perspective . He was such a loud light in all of our lives and that is missed more than any of us can truly express. I know heaven is a louder and lighter place because of his presence. I still picture him arriving in heaven and it makes me grin ear to ear with a tear.  “Abby, It’s your dad. He’s gone.”   Those words came from a tear stained face and through a broken voice shattered with shock. My husband delivered the news. He knew how those words would devastate me in a way like no other bad news ever had. I had lost jobs, friends, a goldfish, car radiators and engines even, but never had anyone had to tell me I had just lost something as precious as a daddy.  "He's gone." Never something you prepare to hear and the word "gone" still rings oddly in my ear, almost a year later. I sat in Randall's truck screaming ugly word

One word to describe this year: Overwhelming. In every sense of the word. Recovering from all the ways 2019 overwhelmed me will take a minute. Overwhelmed in both the good and bad ways. Overwhelmed with disappointment, loss and frustration but also overwhelmed with goodness, love, grace and much hope. Joy always comes in the mourning and morning. This year was proof of it. Best thing I did for someone this year: I fought for my child through what felt like a minefield at times. I fought for his best interest in school, in his faith, on the field, at the table, in the gym and in the loss of a grandparent. He is 10 and unaware of how much we do to feed his success, help him thrive and protect his heart. Randall and I get to enjoy the joy in the journey. That's parenting, right?! Favorite movie of the year: Toy Story 4 on opening night with my people. Favorite show of the year: Dallas - all 14 seasons watched again. Most embarassing moment of the year: That's hard

Yesterday I read a blog a friend of mine wrote about being a foster parent. She has been so real in her telling of her time as a foster mom. It’s been refreshing to read her highs AND her lows. So many times people make it seem like rainbows and fairy dust. As her blog post went on she admonished the church,  the people in the pews, to be foster parents. And that got me thinking. The Southern Baptist Convention is going through a challenging time right now. The climate in the convention is harsh. People are mad, wounded, looking to lash out. While others are defending the actions of men that have been so wrong and for so long. I thought about my friends blog, her call to be a foster parent and began to put thoughts together of why more people can’t/won’t be foster parents. I’ve been in the church my whole life, I know Christians, I know church people. And this is what I know. The men and women that are filling our churches are sinners. And sadly many of them are just fine living

Oh, for the love of the game. Can we not just let kids play ball when they are little and not try to shape them into who we wanted to be and never were? I'm just sayin....I could easily fall into that trap with my child because I was never the best at anything physical, but thankfully I don't engage in such behavior because what I lack in athletic talent, I'm off the chart in good sense. Being a parent is one of the hardest jobs on earth. I mean, if you want to do it it right and with all your might. Watching your kid struggle and succeed all in the same breath is an experience like none other and cannot be expressed with words really. Moms just know and have this look they give each other that basically says "yep, I see your baby. shine on, mama." Henry and his best buddy (2017) My son has the character that many grown men could only wish to have. He has done well accepting the fruit basket the Holy Spirit has given him (aka- fruits of the spirit) ...except

This photo popped up on Instagram last week and it has consumed me ever since. Shocker, huh? Jesus laughs. Who knew? If you think this is irreverent than you need to click off here right now because your holy toes are about to get stepped on. We always see the stoic Jesus or the wounded Jesus.  I don't think He wants to be seen that way and I am pretty certain he does not want His children to be seen that way. Serious and wounded is how we are taught to see Him in pictures. I like to think this is the true picture of who Jesus is. Love is all over this face. I can't help but smile while looking at it. None of us know what He really looks like and we all see Him differently. The Bible tells us to count it all joy through trials of many kinds. I am no Bible scholar. I have a degree in communications and a minor in home economics. I took an old testament course in college and made a C. But, I have been washed in the blood, raised in the Bible belt as a Southern Baptist who

 This boy. Oh, this boy. He has a purpose far greater than we realize and I cannot wait to see what God has mapped out for him. It will be anything but boring. Henry is all boy yet more perceptive than anyone I know and with that comes intense awareness of others feelings. He carries others burdens in a way I wish I could bottle up and pour into my own heart some days. He isn't worried like we worry, he is just concerned and hopeful with sweet innocence. It is a beautiful gift he has. Bath time is a big time of reflection for him. I hear a lot about friends at school and their days during his baths. I am pretty certain these friends have no idea how Henry has grasped onto their day and that he is thinking of them and praying through anything that he picked up as a concern during the day. It makes me laugh sometimes and sometimes it brings me to tears. I wish I could be the type of friend Henry is. He had a foster kid at his school leave and come back and the sadness a