I heard it from my grandmother—the question of her day:
I ran into a friend today, and I started to cry.
No, I didn’t actually run into her—just the figurative collision. But the crying was real. Continue reading
originally written for my “Family Time” Column in Fountain of Life Magazine, Jan/Feb 2016
It seems we are a people who love new beginnings.
Turning over a new leaf. Wiping the slate clean. Starting over. Waking up to the dawn of a new day. Continue reading
It was a moment to cherish.
There I sat in her living room watching this precious woman, my grandmother-in-law, play her special version of patty-cake with my fifteen-month-old daughter. I couldn’t understand the words (they were in another language), but the affection was clear.
And I knew I was blessed to be there. Continue reading
Kids: they’re kind of my thing.
Babies, toddlers,… middle school, high school, college… you get the picture. As a mom, as a teacher, it’s been a natural thing for me to write about. All in my comfort zone.
But since when does God let us get comfortable? Continue reading
In honor of Mother’s Day,
here’s a post for the other 364 days…
[Originally written and published in my Kenosha News “My Turn” column]
I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so ugly.
At least as far as “dustables” go: Those trinkets you put on your shelf that just sit, collect dust, and look pretty?
Well, this one does the first two, but NOT that last.
No, this was something only a REALLY good friend would give you, knowing you’d laugh every time you saw it. Continue reading
They looked at me like I’d killed their grandma. Or at least stolen their candy.
In truth, I’d tried to save them from the machine that ate it.
I was on an overnight field trip with several hundred middle schoolers.
And where there are middle schoolers, Continue reading
I write to Josh Groban.
No, not like sending him letters in the mail.
Like playing his songs while I type.
His music demands something. Creativity. Thought. A story. But not its own—Honestly, I can’t understand any of the Italian—instead, it lets me make up mine. His English words? They swirl around and around, blocking out the world. Blissful white noise that invites inspiration.
It’s funny, though. I can’t read to him. Continue reading
I’ll never forget the look on her face.
I was five, and we were on a school field trip, an Easter party at a park.
So far it had been a fantastic morning. Continue reading
For my kids, Easter baskets always came a week early.
On Palm Sunday.
My mother-in-law sewed adorable outfits, matched them with sweet fancy hats, and brought baskets full of goodies. A Palm Sunday tradition I believe started by my husband’s grandma.
Because Continue reading