together is better

two boys. one ball. total chaos

my guys are outside playing basketball.

thing 1 is trying to teach thing 2 how to shoot.

it’s complete chaos.  there is a clear breakdown of communication, and the entire lesson lasts less than 2 minutes.

the basketball lesson morphs into a sing along of,  “toot tooty tooty, that’s what my baby says, toot tooty tooty” —  a nonsensical song full of toot sounds, silly dance moves, and genuine boy giggles.

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-- these feet mean b-ball business

the song and dance break lasts another 2 minutes.  this stops long enough for the boys to grab their monster feet slippers — clearly, basketball is better in monster feet.

thing 1 tries to get back to business with a lesson on pivots and dribbling.

i hear thing 1 saying things like, “dribble, dribble, dribble, pivot, jump, and score.”  while thing 2 dances around and asks big brother to try to hit the frisbee he’s holding as a shield in front of his face.  obviously, thing 2 is a pro in the making.

but, then, something sweet happens… they start playing TOGETHER.

i get to watch thing 1 let baby brother “steal” the ball, drive to the basket, and shoot as many times as it takes for him to make 2 points.  then the hubs and i hear thing 2‘s little voice cry out, “I’M THE WINNER!  I GET THE TROPHY!” he’s got huge grin on his face waving his trophy in the air–  which is just the frisbee used a few minutes ago as a shield.  big brother is singing, “go, bear, go!!!”

i’m writing this brief, insignificant moment down, so i remember.  when this moment passes, and the boys begin to bicker over who’s fastest, who’s smarter, who can jump farther– i’ll remember on a random, sunday afternoon, the stars aligned, and the boys dropped being competitive and just played TOGETHER.

i hope remembering this moment will get me through the silly fights they’re sure to have, the snippy remarks they’re sure to say, and will keep me focused on the prize i pray for night and day.

i pray for two boys living, sharing, celebrating life TOGETHER.

because at the end of all the boyhood battles- being TOGETHER really is better.


freedom, boobah, and another lesson from haiti

bittersweet holiday

well.  another 4th of july without the boobah has come and gone.  this one was bittersweet. bitter because it was the 2nd july 4th celebration without my sister, but sweet because i know next year at this time she’ll be home!!

erin is on her 2nd year of a 2 year sentence for aggravated vehicular assault.  she caused an accident while driving drunk that seriously injured herself and 2 other people.  since she’s been in prison i’ve wondered how much boobah has allowed God to change her, i’ve wondered how much she’s allowed the reality that life is DIFFERENT now, sink into her heart, and i’ve wondered how often she’s sought God’s will for her life, after her sentence is complete.

this is how i’ve  thought about prison, God, and my sister before the Lord sent me to haiti.

now i know how limited and narrow these thoughts have been.

see.  while i was in Haiti i thought about boobah a lot.  she helped fund my trip by sending me a $25 money order from prison.  before i left for the trip, she sent me letters encouraging me to not be afraid.  she also called me the week before haiti, and the first thing she asked was,  “are you so excited about your trip??!”

how do i show enough gratitude for being loved like that?  how do i thank erin, who has no freedom,  for helping and encouraging me to take a chance–  to spread my wings?  i don’t know.

i just know she blows me away with her awesome heart.  so i thank God for giving it to her—  her heart, her unbreakable spirit, her amazing love. 


i’ll let you in on an obvious truth–  she’s the cooler sister.  i’ve known it for a long time.   and, that’s why i miss her sooooooooo much.

so. there i was in haiti thinking about my sister and how amazing she is to give me this chance to serve.  i mean, He used my boobah– in prison—  to get me where i needed to be.

God is amazing, homeskillets.  He truly is.

He used haiti  to help me see my sister, freedom, and His love in a new way.

FREEDOM. bound by Christ.

i now realize freedom is a very subjective thing.  i mean, is a person behind bars trapped or free?  is a person dropped into a new country, a new culture, with no skills  trapped or free?  God taught me in six days it all depends on Him.

see.  in haiti, i was led by the rules of the trip.  i woke up when i was told to wake up.  i ate breakfast when i was told breakfast was served.   i got on the bus and rode to the work site, walked the path to the site, and worked when i was told it was time to work.  i stopped for lunch and ate what was provided.  i packed up and went to the orphanage, when i was told it was time to go.  dinner came like clockwork every day, along with worship time, and time to reflect on the day’s events.  i didn’t get a shower until all of this was done.   i got to live 6 days putting myself last– after God had been fully served with all i could give.

and i’ve never felt freer.  i truly had no regrets for 6 days.  this is HUGE for me.  i have a tendency to over think ERRRTHING— and, i always think there’s room to be better.  so, to not want to change anything about how i spent my time for 6 straight days was a gift from God.

i thought about erin.  i thought how God was so kind to help me understand in some very small way what boobah must be experiencing in prison.  her days are not her own.  she can do nothing without permission.  her life is planned down to the millisecond everyday.  yet,  she has not let that break her sweet heart or her amazing spirit–  because God is at the center of it.  God is making beauty out of her mistake and showing her a freedom she never experienced before.   in prison, she’s finding freedom because she has finally submitted herself to Him.

i got to talk to erin on the 4th of july.  i apologized for my obnoxious worry that has been filled with her “choosing” change.  i told her i wasn’t worried about her future anymore or how she was processing everything that had happened–  because God taught me in haiti that He does all the work.  while on the trip, He used every moment and filled my days with service, obedience, humility, brokenness, and love.  i truly did nothing for myself until His work was finished for the day.

i thank God for using haiti and prison to teach me that in serving time with Him, whether just 6 days or 2 years,  there is freedom.

so limited

sweet haiti

it’s been two weeks since i went to haiti and it might as well be two years.

i miss it.

i miss the closeness i felt with God.  i miss waking up everyday knowing i would have no regrets when my head hit the pillow, because every fiber of my being was focused on seeking God’s will.  i miss the people of haiti and feeling a part of God’s bigger picture.

boy, do i miss it.

i can’t remember any other experience in my life that has stripped me so completely in such a short amount of time.  every day i was there God showed up in amazing ways.  He taught me a lot about myself and how He has made me–  uniquely flawed.  i feel like a kaleidoscope–  clear and able to take in God’s light, but my faults somehow shatter it.  the great thing is, God still makes rainbows out of my messiness.

before going to haiti i was lost.

motherhood had become an overwhelming task i couldn’t seem to get my hands around.  i was operating out of fear, instead of celebrating the opportunity to love these two great boys.  there was a day when i cried out to the Lord.  it was raw and desperate.

i couldn’t stand my own voice and behavior– so critical, so condescending.  i was so afraid i was “breaking” them.  i even started going to therapy again.  i was hoping this would help me understand the boys’ personalities–  if i could just understand them, i would be better.  ha!

i was quickly told i needed to search my heart and re-evaluate myself, before putting any of the pressure on my boys.  ouch.  that’s sounds about right.

i had to admit i was uncomfortable showing love to my guys.  i was totally able to fill their basic needs, but i was really limited when it came to filling their hearts.  i was so focused on correction, i was losing the joy in being a mom– their mom.

then, God sent me to haiti.

the first full day we were there we went to church, and then we went to the school area we’d be serving all week.  there were children around, and we had a chance to start building relationships.

i was uncomfortable.

so.  i prayed.

Lord, where should i start?  what do i have to offer?  what is my purpose here?

i’m usually very outgoing and feel comfortable around new people.  but this was different.

i couldn’t use my natural ability to make connection–  talking.  

surprise.  i like to talk.

but, the language barrier took me out of my comfort zone.

i felt limited.

so, i looked for ways to fit in.

negative to soccer, 'skillets

the first thing i spotted was a pick up game of soccer– uhmmmmmmmm yeah.  that would have just been wrong.  (me + any type of sporting equipment =  tears)

then one of the guys pulled out marbles and jacks for the kids to play with–  the kids grabbed the marbles, as fast as they could, and stuffed them in their pockets, as fast as they could.

they have nothing, and they’re not willing to share.  the need they live in every day has taught them to grab first and fast.   so, playing a game of jacks or marbles wasn’t going to happen.

too much to share

i felt limited.

how can i help or make a difference when all they know is survival?

i felt God saying–  love like ME.  seek MY will.  respond like ME.

but, i didn’t know how to love like Christ.

i’m the one struggling to show love, remember Lord!!??  what can i do?

hands and hearts-- connecting

then the girls started playing patty-cake games– wow.  there was contact!  to watch a simple thing like patty-cake break down barriers is amazing.  simple acts make a big impact.   watching our girls playing with the children showed me the heart is seen very clearly when you let your guard down, look into someone’s eyes, and purposefully spend time with them.

again, i felt uncomfortable.

i felt my physical limitations—  because of my cerebral palsy, i have limited use of my right hand.

i can’t play patty-cake.

i felt limited.

so limited.

could God use me at all?  was i even needed on this trip?

i didn’t know, so i pulled back and watched.

and i felt God saying,

“you don’t have to be in the action to be changed by me.  it’s okay to be on the sidelines and be taught how to love.  that’s your purpose here–  learn how to love better.  watch.  really see how a simple touch can make a huge difference.  look at the joy in the eyes of a child when you really spend time looking at them.  learn from those with you, that love easily and well.  you are mine and i want you to see.”

simply. love.

and, just like that, homeskillets–  God’s light poured into me, and i knew His love COULD be reflected through my flaws.  i just had to be willing to be teachable.  to be changed. 

the ahhhhh-mazing teenagers on this trip opened my eyes.  they were my teachers.  they lived out love.  and, i thank them for that.

i also thank the LORD.

“thank you for knowing me, creating me, orchestrating this trip for me to see love.  thank you for showing me every detail of my life has a purpose.  i am meant to walk in this good work — for my family, for the hearts of my boys.  and, to see how much YOU love me.”

i am grateful God allowed me to see love lived out.   i am grateful i am limited.

how can i not?

bon jour, haiti!

the first glimpse of haiti was beautiful–  beach, mountains, gorgeous clouds.  the land looked untouched–  full of promise and potential.

port au prince

then the city was underneath us–  tents smushed together, scattered among very small plots of grassy area.  the poverty and NEED jumped right off the ground into my heart as i looked out my plane window.

how would i feel when i was living in it?

how do they feel living in it?

is God here?

these questions rolled in my head as the wheels of the plane hit the ground.  no turning back.  for better or for worse i was in haiti.

i said a short, silent prayer–  “Lord, help me see you.”

the airport was overwhelmingly hot, simple, dirty, unwelcoming.  my senses were on alert trying to take everything in. we walked through a narrow glass hallway that separates the outgoing flights from the incoming ones, down a broken escalator, past a few men with stony faces playing music for tips.  in that short walk i felt a million things–  fear of the unknown, sadness for the conditions, uneasiness because of the unwelcome looks i felt, embarrassment for the amount of STUFF i had with me.   my arm was actually aching from the carry-on i had with me and i still needed to pick up my luggage.

i said a short, silent (and a little more desperate) prayer–  “Lord, please let me see you.”

we made it through customs, gathered our things, and moved in groups of two or three outdoor to find our ride.  the heat and humidity hit me first, then the calling started–

“this way!! i’ll take your bags!!   it’s okay, it’s okay, come this way!!”

i can’t even lie– i was in sensory overload in about 2.1 seconds.

i didn’t know where to go, who to trust, or how to say “slow your roll” in creole.


and, just like that.  with one short walk.

God began answering my prayers by stripping me down–  goodbye sense of security,  goodbye control, goodbye ability to communicate with just words!!!

by the time we made it to the bus, i realized God wasn’t gonna let me hide, homeskillets.

He wanted, and got, my FULL attention the entire trip.  i had nothing normal to cling to– i had ONLY  Him to rely on.

and He totally had my heart.


life goes on

i cannot put into words the heartbreak i experienced as we drove through port au prince.  no smiles, no laughter on the faces we passed–  just the mark of hard-fought life.  the people are beautiful, but their faces are as hard as stone.  they live surrounded by rotted food, crumbled buildings, human waste and extreme filth–  yet, there are babies and children there naked, playing, living.  God showed me LIFE continues and it has nothing to do with convenience or comfort and everything to do with love, perseverance, and hope.

i started in on the ugly cry flat out from the get go, and in that moment when God had my full attention and my heart was completely ripped to shreds ,  i knew my Lord HAD to be real because if He isn’t i couldn’t see this level of depravity and be able to bear it.  without a faith in His redeeming love…

… some may ask, “how can you go to Haiti and believe there is a God?”

to that– my heart’s only full response can be,


perseverance and hope


where do i start?

how do i put into words how MUCH six days changed my heart?

how do i share:

the group—  feeling displaced.  what is my purpose? what do i have to contribute?

the place—  how can one believe in God in this level of desolation?  my response– how can i NOT?

the people—  choosing to live instead of just exist, hearts for God and a faith i long for, kindness and hope to share.

the kids—  God heard my prayers, knew what i needed, and arranged each moment.

the quiet moments— the mountainside, the breeze, holding hands, smiles, constant prayers, new friendships.

the tears— the first glimpse, the shoe shine, how great thou art, the market place, feeling misunderstood, the orphanages.

the laughter—  dancing on bug spray, toe jam, dancing in a box, card games-nnnnnnnUKE, the desperate rooster, giving the Lord praise (oooOOOO), newsflash– i’m competitive!

the relationships —  they’re messy, must be intentional, take time, moments, opportunities.

my heart—  God sees it even if no one else does.  willing to grow.  no mission except to see God, hear God, do the work of God.

i'm gonna be bold, yo.

i think i want to start to share my haitian journey by being bold.  i am gonna say i believe there is a God.  i believe He did send his son, Jesus,  to die for our sins, and i believe Jesus did conquer the grave.  now, these entries will have my normal take on life — the silly, the sad, the serious– but, i cannot truly honor the experience i had if i don’t first and foremost say  i believe the gospel is REAL and worth living for.

maybe me writing this down doesn’t seem “bold” to some, but to a recovering “people-pleaser” like me  this is huge.

my short time in haiti taught me that i can either be lulled to sleep by the conveniences and comforts i have here at home, or i can choose to see life stripped of the bare basics and ask tough questions of God.

it may take me a while to sort through all my thoughts, emotions, and God lessons.  i know that’s okay.   in time, i’ll be able to get it all down.

i hope i NEVER stop getting God moments from this amazing experience, but there is one thing i HAVE to say before i get into all my “stuff”–  God is in haiti, and the faith of the haitians taught me i don’t have to be afraid of the sadness and strife of life because God is in it.  their unwavering love for God  leaves me longing for a closer relationship with my savior.

and here’s  the kicker, homeskillets– all i have to do is ask.

nerd it up

“rock the dork.”

“nerd it up.”

“geek it out.”

how ever i say it.. the sentiment stays the same.

i’m gonna BE me.

i’m gonna DO me.

i will not worry what others say (or don’t say), do (or don’t do), or think.

rock them with pride

i say, “whatever you do, homeskillets– stay true to the nerd in you.”


a failed lesson in sharing

super cool experience

when i was in 7th grade i went on an over-night field trip to the u.s. space and rocket center in huntsville, alabama.

this trip was a big deal,  and on this trip i bought a souvenir.

it was a unicorn (because unicorns have SOOOOO much to do with space travel–  holla).

the super-duper space unicorn was porcelain, had a rainbow mane, and cost $2.50.

space shuttle=unicorn figurine

this unicorn became the epicenter for many, many fights between me and boo bah.

she loved this unicorn and she would swipe it and hide it under her pillow.

i would call her a thief and take it back.

this went on for a looooong time.

boo bah was 5-years-old–  i was 11.

boo bah LOVES her some horses,  and nothing was better to a horse-lovin’ 5-year-old than a magical horse called a unicorn.   i think for her–  my unicorn represented fairytale and dreams– plus it was mine so that made it waaaaay cooler.

but, for me the unicorn represented a special event.  a solo trip with friends.  memories of staying in a hotel and talking about boys.  it was special– not a child’s plaything.

so.  i guarded it.

and she swiped it.

neither of us took the time to understand why the unicorn meant so much to the other person.

but again, boo bah was 5.

why didn’t i just give her the stinkin’ unicorn??!!

if i could go back in time–  i would.

the grown-up me understands making her happy would have lasted a lot longer than the relationships and experiences i fought so hard to keep safe.

not as cool as boo bah

she’s worth more than the memory of sharing a room with girls i never see.

she’s worth more than the memory of sharing my astronaut ice cream with shane harrison (the cutest boy in 7th grade).

she’s worth a WHOLE LOT MORE than some silly $2.50 unicorn i picked up in a generic gift shop in huntsville, alabama when i was 11.

but, i can’t go back.

that precious moment between me and boo bah is done.  and it will always be known as “the battle of the unicorn”.

the crown goes to the one who holds the batman

now, i have two boys.  thing 1 is 7-years-old .  thing 2 is only 3.  and i watch them struggle.  i watch thing 1 use his age and his smarts to his advantage.  i watch him protect his special toys because the little guy can’t be trusted–  his toys could get broken.

and i watch thing 2 beg to play with “brover’s batman”–   because his brother is a king and to hold the king’s toy would be magical.

i feel for my baby boy.   i struggle with knowing when to step in.  when to speak up.  when to let it go.  i root for the underdog.  but, i love the big dog, too–  because i understand.

i understand my big guy’s need to feel independent and the need to have things that are special and private.  i understand when he comes to me with tears in his eyes and he chokes on his words– confessing he sometimes wishes he didn’t have a little brother.

i used to say the same thing about my boo bah.

but, i now have tears in my eyes and choke on the words when i get to share how much i love her and can’t imagine my life without her.

so, when he comes to me frustrated with his brother and asking for help — all i can do is ask him to bow his head.

and i give him over to Christ.

i pray that God will ease his pain and help him understand how he is fully loved.  i pray that God will help him find joy in his brother and not see him as a burden.  i pray that his heart will soften towards the little guy that loves him so much and thinks he hung the moon.

i tell him– i get it.  sharing stinks.

i try to explain, right now, sharing is easy–  making baby brother happy is as simple as giving him a batman toy.

i remind him,  boo bah and i aren’t in a simple place.   for us– sharing is hard. i want to give her everything and ease her burden, but i can’t.

kids + sharing= huge magical failure

{now.   let me just say–  my prayer and my story did not weave a “magical spell of brotherly love” throughout the land.}

i still hear, “HEY!  THAT’S MINE!”, waaaaay too often.

but, God used the memory of a tiny unicorn to show me–   love grows slowly.

thing 1 and thing 2 are building memories through their struggles, and after “the battle for batman” is done– they’ll have each other.

as a sister–  i pray they’ll appreciate their special bond and share what’s most important–  their lives.