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. . . for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his. . . – Gerard Manly Hopkins Long and leggy, doe-eyed, she walks with confidence, a gentle fawn, a young colt. He is all angles, sharp...
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(How does an introverted mother make it through the long, cabin-fevered months of winter with four wild and wiley children underfoot? Why, she reads to them, of course.) This is the scene every morning and night at my house: me in sinking into a well-worn hollow...
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(This morning I escorted four children over sheets of snow, sleet and ice so that two of them could attend school since it just happened to NOT BE CANCELED for once. When I got back home, I felt like I deserved a medal and . . . thus was born the concept of The...
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In the morning, after the twins chug their milk and the heavy wet diapers of the night before are deposited in the already overflowing trash, I sit in the corner of the couch with Isaiah to look at a book. We flip through the pages of a National Geographic...
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Kneeling on the dirty living room rug, the twins swarm and climb on my back, my legs, my shoulders. With focused determination I slowly piece together a ridiculously complicated floor puzzle. Over time a large smiling farmer perches happily atop a John Deere...
