Love Brightly

For the past 13 years of marriage, Karl and I have but one area of life that we are aware of and yet fully embrace pretentiousness: Mexican food. We're Texans, which geographically means we are better judges than most of our fellow Americans, and we have high standards. We never voluntarily eat at a national chain Mexican Food restaurant. Not even _____? You may ask. No. [In compliance with my own personal boundary of not bad-mouthing anyone on the internet, I will refrain from names. But you can fill in the blank with your favorite chain Mexican restaurant, and our answer will remain the same. ;)]  And so because of our mutual affinity and pretenses, one of our favorite marital hobbies is to visit small, locally owned restaurantes de Mexico and rate them on a scale of 1-5 in 6 different categories. We always order the same thing, as to truly compare experiences. Hubs tries the beef taco dinner, with rice & beans, while I sample the enchiladas, also with rice & beans. We ha...

My middle child, my Sweet Pea, the one whose boisterous laughter delights everyone in her company, the one whose pensive introversion makes this momma scratch my head in prayer for help to minister to her heart. While my firstborn wears her heart on her face before verbally expressing every thought and feeling she possesses (making my role as nurturer, disciplinarian, and shepherd fairly easy to navigate) my Sweet Pea flees the scene at the first engagement of her emotional muscles. Tucking herself in a tiny ball within her bottom bunk, she grips "snuggly blanket," the obvious name for her favorite item of security. I stroke her hair and whisper reassurances to her. Rarely does she respond with words; occasionally a purr. Inwardly I pray for God to reveal to me what her heart needs in order to experience love and security. I pray that He would give me words to build her up, but mostly that she would eventually run to Him instead of "snuggly." We talk about Jesus a...