Every day, I allow my heart to live, beat, play, and work outside my chest. I send my children into the world to learn, grow, explore, and become the bright, shining humans they are meant to be. They are woven into the fabric of my being, and parenting means learning to love them fiercely while loosening my grip enough to let them go. Every weekday, my children head to two different schools, and Marshall heads to work in an entirely different school district, driving a bus fu

Civility, Community, and the Church I belong to several local parenting groups online. Most days, they're exactly what you'd hope for — a place to ask which pediatric dentist takes walk-ins, to swap hand-me-downs, to find out if anyone else's kid also refuses to wear socks. There's real kindness in these spaces. Someone posts that they're overwhelmed, and three strangers show up with casserole offers and encouragement. But I've noticed something else, too, and it happens more

It's that time of year again. Backpacks have been purchased. New shoes are being broken in. School supplies are disappearing in stores leaving shelves empty. Teachers are preparing classrooms, lesson plans, bulletin boards, and approximately 700 other things that nobody outside education fully understands. School starts today for our district! Wahoo! With all of this, a first for me: after years of serving churches that rented space to preschools — where every one of those sm

There are moments when I miss children's books. Not because I want to go back to diapers or midnight feedings or stepping on LEGOs in the dark. Absolutely not. I miss them because children's books have a remarkable confidence that love, patience, and a well-timed hug can solve almost anything. The other day, while unpacking boxes from our move, I found myself flipping through a stack of old favorites: Llama Llama Red Pajama; I Took the Moon for a Walk; Martin's Big Words. Eac

In this week’s adventures in moving: approximately 100 emails trying to determine my kid’s placement at their next schools —because nobody seems to be speaking the same language. There are moments in parenting a child with disabilities when the hardest part is not the diagnosis itself, but the language, systems, and institutions surrounding it. Lately, I have found myself deeply frustrated trying to navigate Special Education systems across school districts and states. Every

I have a teenager who makes lists. Not the practical kind—grocery, chores, pack for the trip—but the aspirational kind. Lists about her future. About who she will be. Where she will live. What will finally make her happy. Lists that assume a neat sequence of steps, each one leading to the next, until—ta da!—life clicks into place. She talks a lot about a perfect and wonderful life will be when she achieves those goals. And sometimes, watching her write yet another list, I cat

Our kids are watching us in this moment. Today is Epiphany—January 6—the day the church proclaims that God pulls back the curtain. Epiphany is about revelation: light breaking through, truth made visible, God showing up in places that are shadowed, dreary, and hate-filled. It is the season when we dare to say that light still shines, even when the world feels dangerous and unclear. But Epiphany has always carried tension. Entangled in that story of starlight and revelation is