I’m 34 today! I’ve arrived at another birthday and oh my GOLLY, am I grateful for more life. I’d had a feeling that 33 was going to be a big year. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s because I’ve gone to church my entire life and so the age of 33 sticks out to me as the age Jesus was when He left this earth. 33 was a memorable age for him so why couldn’t it be the same for me? And it was. I spent half of my year pregnant, growing the baby girl who I will finally get to meet within the first couple . . .
My unborn child has most certainly “popped.” There is no hiding this belly any longer and it won’t be going away anytime soon. Looking back, I am tempted to wonder when it happened. When did I become noticeably pregnant? For weeks, I waited to “show,” wanting my external body to model my internal reality. As my husband took weekly photos of my “bump,” I grew increasingly convinced that my pregnancy was obvious to the random onlooker. Now, however, when I look back on those early photos, I . . .
Last year, my husband and I had grand plans for New Year's Eve. Don't get me wrong, we had no intention of leaving the house, but maybe that's why we thought it was all so grand. We bought a couple of quality steaks and planned to pop open a bottle of red wine we had picked up in Napa Valley the year before. We would have a warm, quiet, delicious ending to 2016. When the day came, however, my husband wasn't feeling very well. His head cold grew worse as the day went on and we ended up . . .
As you know, my husband and I moved across town just before Christmas. The apartment we left was the first one we shared together as husband and wife. We moved into it freshly married—6 weeks, in fact—and 2,000 miles away from what we considered “home.” Two years later, we’ve left that apartment with a dog in tow and a baby on the way. Our lives expanded in that little home. We began the lifelong adventure of figuring out how to love each other well and how to respect one another’s quirks. We . . .
I’m no Grinch, but I have exactly zero Christmas decorations up in my home. In fact, as Christmas draws near I’ve actually been taking down my home’s decor, leaving the walls blank aside from a few vacant nails. We’re in the process of moving. It’s a terrible process. Don’t get me wrong, we’re thrilled about the move, but moving is awful. It’s hard work and I always find I have so much more stuff than I originally thought. We’ll be getting into our new place this weekend, a week before we . . .
Last week I turned on the Today Show, as I typically do, and immediately noticed Matt Lauer’s absence. “He must be sick,” I thought, and went on with my morning. Several minutes later, I saw the headlines begin to populate my Facebook newsfeed. He was sick alright. Lauer had been fired for inappropriate sexual behavior in the workplace. My stomach sunk. Was I shocked? Immediately, yes, because there is a shock factor when someone is at work one day, in their twentieth year on the job, and . . .