Growing up, I couldn’t bear to hear the word “confession” without getting a knot in my stomach. Nothing sounded more miserable than willingly sharing my wrongdoings with other people—let alone with God. This is probably why I wouldn’t do it unless, of course, I was caught in my sin. I don’t need to volunteer my screw-ups to anyone, thank you very much. I’ll keep that information safe with me and we’ll all be better for it. That, however, is not the case. Refusing to engage in confession is . . .
Last weekend, my husband and I had the supreme honor of attending our 4-year-old nephew’s soccer game. It was as hilarious and adorable as you would expect from a gaggle of 4-year-old soccer players—they were running into one another, tripping over their own feet, or standing totally still while staring at the sky for the entire game. I loved it. I love 4-year-old soccer players. (As a proud aunt, I must include that my nephew is legitimately talented at soccer and played a really impressive . . .
Friends, I'm so excited to introduce you to Leanna today. She is a force—one of strength and kindness and creativity. I admire her authenticity and perspective; I've tried to explain to Leanna how I see her but I feel at a loss for words. She's got that something, you know what I mean? Her authenticity, perspective, force, and that something are why I'm so glad she has begun this work as a photographer. I believe she is doing with her camera what I try to do with my words: Tell stories that are . . .
Fourth-grade Mallory cracks me up, you guys. I love her and I think she’s precious but, also, just so nerdy. I can still see the layout of Mrs. Hermann’s fourth grade classroom. During this school year, I did a book report on Nevada, was sent to the principal’s office (for the first and last time, mind you), and began discovering that thing about the grass looking greener on the other side. I had straight blonde hair, my face was peppered with freckles, and, oh my goodness, I [apparently] . . .
Today's the day!!! Everbloom is officially for sale in stores and online! It has been six months since I first submitted my piece to be considered for this book. As I shared last week, it was an emotional process to write and edit the chapter that has now found its home beginning on page 86 of Everbloom. As my words, along with the incredible work of the book's other authors, are released into the world today, I feel it all—fear, hope, pride, gratefulness, humility, more gratefulness. To . . .
I remember sitting at the kitchen table, my husband to my right, as we finished dinner and casually talked about our day. I was fidgety and nervous, ready for the meal to be over so we could cut the distraction of food and focus on what I needed to share with him. “Honey?” I said in a small voice. This is often my husband’s first indication that I have something “serious” to talk about—my voice is rarely small. I told him I wrote something that I’d like to submit for consideration in an . . .