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

When I turned 49, I made a list. 50 things to do before I turned 50. It was ambitious. It was hopeful. It was color-coded. (Okay, maybe not color-coded, but it felt color-coded.) I imagined crossing things off one by one like some sort of spiritually enlightened productivity guru. Then God looked at my list, smiled, and said, "That's adorable." Because, as usual... Life got in the way. Now, before you assume this is one of those blog posts where I dramatically announce I acco

I was listening last week to Kim and Penn Holderness’ podcast, Laugh Lines (it drops on Tuesdays), and I found myself nodding along more than I expected. They were naming the very real struggle of trying to keep people’s spirits up in tumultuous times—how exhausting it can be to show up with humor or lightness when the world feels like it’s unraveling. They also spoke honestly about the tension of wanting to speak up for their neighbors while worrying about the safety of the