It feels too big…

The head lights flash on our little “happy home” as we pull into our lane. The first night of tent meetings is over, and Tirzah is already out, her head slumped against the side of her carseat. But Weston’s voice breaks the silence. “But Mommy, I don’t want you to go to Guatemala!” I hear…

In quietness and trust…

The big batch of italian artisan bread settles into its bowl to rise. I dust the flour off my hands and look around. I see work done. The newly organized laundry room, a breath of fresh air and clean space each time I look at it. The small load of clean laundry on the freezer,…