Authentic

I've had a hard time writing.

There are so many things I wanted to write about.

I knew that this time in my life was special.

So much change. 

Instead, I've spent most of my time like someone who's been spun around--twirled 'til they're sick. I want to write down my interpretations of this or that. But, I'm still waiting for the room to stop moving so I can see. Family life. Home schooling. Adoption. Military life. My understanding of God. 
They're all Changing.

I find myself writing posts and never posting them.

Sometimes I don't like what I see in myself.


I don't like that there is not one easy truth in life. 
Except for Jesus. 
Everything changes.
 Everyone changes.

Blogging can be troubling in more than one way.

Seeing how poor my writing is?  Definitely.

 Seeing the error in my thoughts, my beliefs, things that are close to my heart? 
Even worse.

That's the thrill and the drawback to writing anything that is even remotely from a guarded place in your heart. It's scary.

We grow, we change, we make mistakes, we're horrid, we're kind, we grow...we change...we make mistakes.


I have a new level of respect for the people who choose to document that process.

Play the guitar Reagan

Some days you just don't want to play air guitar.

I can't stop watching this. 

Grant is okay. 

He has a bruise under his armpit but it won't hinder his dreams of being band leader.

Here's to...

Flowers from strangers. 

I ended up having surgery just before Jason came home. Another soldier's parents sent me flowers.           

Who does that?

First day home. 

Fighting over his lap.

First day back at work. 

I woke up in the middle of the night to help a crying kid. I couldn't stop laughing that he'd written a reminder to himself to put toast on the plate for breakfast.

To really be able to say, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth..."

Kids not fighting, and saying, "Take a picture of me, too!"

Not needing pants to be cool.