Homeschooling Through Loss

Our family homeschooled for seven years before Rob died, and we joyfully watched our children grow into intellectually curious students and voracious readers. More than that, our family became its own little tribe, deeply committed to each other. Homeschooling became even more precious the last three years of Rob’s life when he transitioned to workingContinue reading “Homeschooling Through Loss”

May You Find a Light

“Lost and weary traveler searching for the way to go … May you find a light to guide you home.” The Brilliance Of the many times I have felt lost in my life, none has ever been so all-encompassing, deep, and dark as grief. Sometimes I miss Rob so much that I don’t think I’llContinue reading “May You Find a Light”

Our Morning Commute

Two of my kids attend a small school housed in an old New England church building. Beside the church sprawls this cemetery. This fall, we discovered that we could cut a couple minutes off our morning commute if we drove through it. Every weekday morning, you’ll see our car cutting through the cemetery en routeContinue reading “Our Morning Commute”

The Song Creation Sings

I don’t have to sit still for long before concerns creep into my mind. How will my kids thrive growing up without their dad? Can l be adequate for the task of raising them alone? How will I answer all of their questions? What should I do with the years that now spread out emptyContinue reading “The Song Creation Sings”

A Deep Well of Comfort

Within minutes of receiving the news of Rob’s death, my brain went into survival mode. I’ve heard it described as “numb” or “brain fog” or “overload.” All good descriptions for how I felt in those first hours, and the days and early weeks that followed. If you’ve ever come out of anesthesia after surgery, youContinue reading “A Deep Well of Comfort”

The Winter of Grief

The work of grieving is much like waiting out the winter. I can’t rush it. I can’t make it go away. Try as I might, I can’t reinvent it into something more palatable. Escape it? Grief, like winter, will be waiting at my doorstep when I return. In this season of darkness and sadness, whenContinue reading “The Winter of Grief”

Bent But Not Crushed

Along the edges of alpine meadows stand these sorts of trees. At elevations of 6000+ feet, they are weighed down with snow for many months of the year, and they grow very slowly. A tree this size might be close to 30 years old but barely shoulder high. But God designed them for resilience. DespiteContinue reading “Bent But Not Crushed”