This is it! This is the time I have been waiting for since I was able to carry a baby doll in my toddler arms. I am a mom!

Now I have someone to read stories to all day if I choose.

Now I have someone to converse with all day.

Now I have someone to go with on treasure hunts and nature walks.

Now I can establish fun family traditions or plan spontaneous events – like camping in the living room or eating ice cream for breakfast.

Now I can use all of the unique baby items, old-fashioned toys, and classic books that I have been saving through the years.

Now I am able to set a routine for someone that provides security and teaches positive life habits.

Now I will teach the same child, year after year, everything that is on my heart instead of having to say good-bye at the end of the school year.

Now I will finally be able to experience what it is like to write truth on a clean slate, shower love into a brand new heart, and introduce Jesus to an untainted mind.

Now is finally here and I am going to make the most of it!

It is logical that I ask myself if I’ve lived up to the expectations I set for myself as a brand new mother. Have I made the most of it?

You know what? I really think I have with a few exceptions that come from unexpected life happenings (such as ten babies in twelve years), the sin nature in all of us (I’ve set bad examples as well as good ones and no one is completely untainted), and as it turns out, my boy is more of a talker than I am!

When I step back and study this handsome, inquisitive, vibrant young man, and reflect on all the memories we have made together, I can confidently say its been a dozen years worth living.

Bible

Bible Study Curriculum (That is literally the name! Haha!)

Assorted liturgical and catechism resources

The Ology

Science devotionals

Morning Basket

This includes a hymn we are learning for the month and a variety of history, art, and ASL flashcards we review. We also have a memorization piece each week. I conclude with a family reading.

History

Peaceful Press for preschool through second grade

The Good and The Beautiful for third grade on up

Every 5 weeks I alternate with a Biography Curriculum Template that I created.

Foreign Language

We are studying 3 languages on a 5-week rotation cycle. I use a variety of resources for German and French. For Latin we are using the Classical Academy Press.

Language Arts

For preschool I created my own curriculum using a variety of resources and manipulatives.

First and second grade are using Learning Without Tears for handwriting and Hooked on Phonics for reading.

Third and fourth grade are using Fix-It! Grammar, Writing with Ease, and Spelling and Handwriting from The Good and the Beautiful

Sixth and seventh are using Fix-It! Grammar, Writing with Skill, Spencerian Penmanship (sixth), and Memoria Press Handwriting (seventh).

Third through seventh are doing my Whole Person language arts curriculum which is adapted to each grade. I spotlight the details of this program in my upcoming quarterly newsletter. It has a broad-spectrum that recognizes how multifaceted language truly is in every form.

Math

For preschool I created my own curriculum using a variety of resources and manipulatives.

First through third and sixth and seventh are using The Good and The Beautiful.

Fourth is using Rod and Staff.

Science

Preschool through second are using Peaceful Press and The Good and The Beautiful.

Third through seventh are using The Good and The Beautiful.

Every 5 weeks I alternate with a Geography Curriculum Template that I created.

Specials

We are also have a 5 week rotation of music studies and art. When there is extra time in the day, children are encouraged to explore various handicrafts and other skills they want to perfect.

Overwhelmed by the smells,

Suffocated by laundry in all of its stages from unwashed to being put away,

Avoiding the kitchen since I cringe at the dirty dishes and gag when I open the fridge.

The fatigue has me operating at 75-80% of my normal pace

Which means that

House projects are not moving forward and I have house guests coming in a few weeks,

My creativity has plummeted so we are doing the bare minimum in school,

We are staying close to home because an outing will deplete my daily energy supply and we do need to eat each day.

I feel like a stranger to myself.

I live and breathe planning but I have barely looked at my planner in a couple of weeks. It feels like a finger wagging in my face if I write things down and then don’t complete them. So I don’t write things down anymore.

I haven’t been communicating with many people since that takes energy and I’m conserving energy for the people under my roof.

I remind myself that I’ve been here before. The night is darkest before dawn. I won’t be in first trimester forever.

And then I saw the reason for the suffering and the struggle.

The little miracle waved at me and squirmed and danced for me.

There were two arms and two legs and a beating heart.

I remembered that the most worthwhile things come from the greatest suffering.

And I cried.

Tears of pain and tears of joy and tears because none of this lasts forever.

I think we share our joys and sorrows with others to gain fresh perspective: perhaps our joys are greater and our sorrows less than we perceive them to be.

I think children encourage us to be creative and to take time to play.

I think we all crave an uncomplicated life but the pursuit of simplicity can get pretty complicated sometimes.

I think love keeps no record of wrongs because if it did there would no longer be space in our hearts for love.

I think there is always enough time; how we spend it needs to change.

I think spending time outside allows us to regain our equilibrium.

I think that it requires strength to be authentic and courage to speak with candor.

I think books can take us more places than movies can.

I think the world is grander than our screens depict.

I think that if we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, we need to do a better job at loving ourselves (1 Corinthians 13).

I think that a day that begins with the Bible is a day that will end well.

What do you think?

It’s the start of a brand new day. I’m sipping coffee, listening to the clock ticking away, and wondering what this day is going to hold for me. Yesterday was a whirlwind day of Monday mayhem from beginning to end. It wasn’t a bad day-just a Monday kind of day. I did many things but few of them were on my to-do list; my goal for this summer is to put fewer things on my list and just see what happens. It’s a new type of goal for my type-A, get-things-done, always-have-a-list, perfectionist personality, and I’m kind of excited about it! In the process of settling into summer, I am discovering a new sense of freedom.

Read more

I think it is because we assume that these people, these popular or wealthy (or both) people, have figured out how to avoid the human struggle and are now living the good life. Based on the pictures we see, the descriptions we read and the details we hear, we think that they achieved self-actualization, that place where they are perfectly content with life as it is. We are intrigued by their smiles, their apparel, their accessories, and how they spend their free time. Perhaps if we study them enough, follow them long enough and model our lives after theirs our lives will be a bit more satisfying; perhaps our struggle to be content, joyful, peaceful and more secure in our own identities will subside just a little. These assumptions are probably subconsciously thought, but they are thought just the same and in the process we forget that rich and famous people are people too. Their humanity just happens to be missing from their posts and pictures.

But the good life isn’t found in a life free of hardship but within it. It’s found in accepting the human struggle as a necessity in shaping our identity. It’s found in embracing the roller coaster of human emotion and experience as an opportunity to encounter the grace and mercy of God and testify of His reality to those with us on the ride. I believe that the more difficulties we face, the more hardships we endure, the more struggles we encounter, the more well-rounded and mature we become as individuals. We can better empathize, support, listen, and rejoice. As the Apostle James reminds us, “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

This year (are we already close to autumn?!) has not been without hardship, sorrow, or difficulty for me and mine. My first instinct is to complain and despair; but over and over and over again, Jesus guides and provides. Looking back, I am thankful for each trial and how it shaped me as an individual. I will never stop being thrilled when people follow me on Substack or catching up on Royal family news when I have the chance, but ultimately I want more of Jesus in my life. I need to love His voice more than ever so that He can help me lead a balanced life; one that is filled with hard work, sincere service, a readiness to rejoice, and adequate time of resting at His feet, basking in His love. That is the best part of a good life.

My first memory of him was when I was about six-years old. He and his wife travelled with my Oma to visit us in Hawaii. I was very intrigued by his short stature, large eyebrows that dominated his expressions, and his concert-worthy whistling ability. He could not speak a word of English, yet his humor came through and I enjoyed observing him from a distance. His eyebrows were a little intimidating. I remember that he was genuine Swiss when it came to penny-pinching. He forgot to bring his sunglasses on the trip and refused to buy a new pair since he already had one at home!

Even though that was my earliest memory of him, his impact upon my family began decades before that. My father was an apprentice of his in his electrician business and from what my father said, he ran a tight ship. All of his apprentices knew that “early was on time and on time was late.” He scrutinized their work for the slightest error and required meticulous attention to detail. While it was a rigorous apprenticeship, my father grew to respect his “master” like a father and their relationship continued even after he moved on to the next level of education. The values that were instilled during those four years stayed with him and were brought into our family.

The second memory I have of him was when I was a few years older. Our family went to Switzerland for Christmas, and we were invited to his chalet for a traditional winter raclette dinner. He and his wife glowed with warmth and welcome, bringing us cozy house shoes and giving us a tour of their traditional wooden Appenzeller chalet: complete with a little loft and the tile-covered oven that had one side in the kitchen and the other warming the living room. We sat down to a simple, but delicious, fare that didn’t stop coming until we couldn’t eat another bite. There were perfectly grilled potatoes, local raclette cheese that bubbled as it melted and was poured over the potatoes and then seasoned with pepper. Opa showed us how to garnish our potatoes and cheese with pickles and cocktail onions and then to drink black tea to settle our full tummies. This was followed by a beautiful stroll in the countryside.

Over the next few years there were more visits to Switzerland and each time I found Opa a little less intimidating. Something unique about him was that he seemed ageless. Perhaps it was because he had a leap year birthday. The visit that had the most profound impact on me was the time when his home became a refuge.

Our family was living in West Africa at the time. I was a young teenager and the isolation mixed with danger was taking a toll on my mental health. My parents decided that my mom and I needed to take a break from the intensity of it all so my father reached out to Opa. He and his precious wife immediately said we could come and stay with them for as long as we needed to so my mom and I flew to Switzerland for the summer. The first ten days were spent in the welcoming chalet. Our room was in the loft with windows that opened up to a view of rolling green hills, cherry trees, and cows leisurely grazing. We ate breakfasts of thick bread, cheese, and fresh cherries; we sat in the backyard and read our books; we were taken on train tours while Opa regaled us with stories of Swiss history and facts about the geography of the country. We were treated to tasty lunches on these tours and then came home to simple, but comforting suppers before bed. In spite of the language barrier and the years between visits, I never doubted that I was special to this dear couple, and healing came to my mind and heart.

Fast forward about a decade from that healing visit, and I went back to Switzerland for a summer of language immersion. I made a point of spending time with this family once more. Opa and his wife, children and grandchildren were all there. We laughed and talked in three different languages. Once more I was embraced as family. About two years later I went back one last time, little knowing it would be the last time I would see them both. A few years after that Opa’s wife passed away. It was hard to imagine him without her.

I began to write to him after that. I would write in English since I knew his family could translate it into Swiss German. He wrote back with their help, and it was in these letters that he began to sign his name as ‘Opa.’ He congratulated us on every baby that joined our family and sent us Swiss gingerbread every Christmas. Each gift and every card was a reminder of love reaching me from Switzerland.

Opa passed away yesterday at the age of ninety-eight years old. It is not lost on me that he departed from this earth in the month of August - the month of Switzerland’s independence. He was passionate about his country with every fiber of his being. He embodied the values that made his land great. He was the stoic Swiss man, meticulous to detail, conscientious of quality, and loyal to those he loved. It is impossible for me to imagine Switzerland without him there; but maybe I don’t have to. His legacy is imprinted on my heart and his words still echo in my mind. And I will pass them on to my children.

Our family took a trip and despite the challenges that arise when taking our family anywhere and away from their routines, I was peaceful. Just 24 hours later I was bombarded with all the details of managing our household and found it incredibly daunting. Why the change in my peace?

During a devotional time I believe that God revealed the missing link: rest and peace come when I tune into the quiet voice of Jesus more than the clamor of my responsibilities. To keep Jesus the focus of my gaze is much easier said than done; however, that needs to be the goal of each day rather than my to-do list or parenting or my marriage. When I am striving with life on my own strength even the littlest task can appear insurmountable but when I make Him the center of each moment even a mountain is moveable.

Once again I have encountered the truth that quiet can be found in the loud, rest in the midst of busy and peace in the eye of the storm. What does this look like in a practical sense, you might ask? Here are a few restful habits that I am cultivating:

1. Anchor times: I have some that are always in place at home and some that are travel-friendly. I always try to wake up before anyone else so my mind can gear up for the busy and the loud. We always have quiet, alone time in the middle of the day. Bedtime routine begins at a certain time and ends at a certain time so that I have time to reconnect with my own thoughts.

2. Go outside: When life is too large in the house, I go outside to gain perspective

3. Share what’s on the inside: When my head and heart feel like the moment is just too much to handle, I put it into my words. This may look like prayer or journaling or telling my family how I’m feeling. It usually helps me readjust.

4. Come back to Jesus: Always, always, always come back to Him. A stormy life is never too much for the Master of the Seas. Coming back to Jesus can be seen in praying together during a squabble, turning on favorite worship music, writing out thank-you lists, or reading a favorite Bible passage.

These things are being cultivated in our family. What are you cultivating in yours?

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The Spiritual Gauntlet

1. Select a Bible reading plan

a. What: there are many different reading plans for the Bible. You can read through it in a year or two; you can focus on themes; you can focus on divisions of the Bible books. Research what is out there and pick one that works best for you.

b. Why: the Bible is your sword. Just as a swordsman must practice wielding his sword on a daily basis, so must you with immersing yourself in God’s Word. It cannot guide you or protect you if you do not have it hidden in your heart.

c. How: Once you have selected your plan, show it to your parents and commit to it. Find a way to work it into your daily routine so that you are in His Word every.single.day.

Read more

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I have given birth to five babies in less than five years, and yet each one is a unique, life-changing experience for me.

The first baby was chapter one of an unread book. Every day of pregnancy was a mystery; the birth was traumatic and when we arrived home from the hospital my goal was to resume life as normal as soon as possible.

Jump ahead to chapter five: the plot is now familiar with unexpected twists and turns here and there but I’ve since learned that the objective is to linger, not rush ahead. I study the tiny newborn features longingly, hoping that staring will slow down the change.

Each baby is a rebirth for me and our family. We can relive all of the firsts, all of the wonder, and the acquaintance of an undiscovered personality. And with the newness is a familiarity that allows us to savor a bit more.

I’m not agonizing over sleep schedules or frantic about crying spells. Those will resolve in time. I’m snuggling more and savoring the these early days of rest and recovery. And when my strength had returned am I going to rush life back to normal?

It’s going to be a new normal of longer conversations, more reading, slower walks, spontaneous play times and intentional family time. My recovery period has allowed me to step back, observe and internalize my purpose; watching my children with their grandparents and discovering how much I miss the daily care of home and family has opened my heart to the purpose I crave.

I didn’t realize how much I have still been seeking my way in life but these newborn days have helped me find it.

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What are some motherhood truths you have learned since your first became a mom (or grandma)?

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Life is a series of journeys. There are the ones that cross the paths of two individuals that result in the journey of fertilized egg reaching the uterus. And the pregnancy journey that mother and child embark upon- each step, each day, each mile marker that is laboriously achieved as they grow and change together. It culminates in that pivotal new life journey of birth.

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I am writing this letter at the risk of sounding a bit cliche, but I am recently returned from a brief family getaway and was confronted once again with how quickly time passes. I came home saddened by that fact and wondering where time so steadily goes? Sometimes I feel like time marches ahead so rapidly that I cannot keep up. (Dear Past Self, it hasn’t slowed down yet but you have gotten a little better at settling into the wild ride) I see everyone around me changing and I feel left behind, especially when my shortcomings, mistakes, and inexcusable failures seem to be on repeat mode. (Encouragement: as you practice extending grace to your family, you are getting better at extending it to yourself. Sometimes your “shortcomings, mistakes, and inexcusable failures” are what make you more approachable and also what drive you to approach the Throne of Grace.)

Where does time go? It is in the newborn who is suddenly holding up his head, sleeping through the night and ready to exchange the bassinet for the crib. It is in the baby girl who doesn’t need me to hold her hand anymore as she toddles around on her own; it is in the toddler who initiates “I love you’s”, puts on her own shoes and sleeps in a big girl bed. It can be found in the handsome little boy preparing for preschool in the fall who can do oh so many things, “all by myself, Mom.” And it can be spotted in our own ageless siblings and parents who are transitioning from one season of life to the next when you subconsciously thought they would be the same forever. (This hasn’t changed. With each milestone that my children reach, I have the sweet sorrow of saying goodbye to seasons I treasured so much and hello to seasons I know will be equally wonderful.)

So dear Mom Like Me, snuggle that newborn for one extra long moment longer before laying her down because she won’t nestle on your chest with all her limbs tucked under her forever. Time passes. Breathe in his smell, embrace the exhaustion, study those curled up toes and tiny fists. (Yep)

And while you’re at it, hug that toddler tighter, even if you have to fight her for that moment of slowing down. Savor her indomitable spirit and laugh in the midst of those tantrums because no one else will love her through them quite like you will. Time passes. (Absolutely) There will come a time (I’m still waiting on this, haha!) when you will no longer have to remind yourself to go to the bathroom, brush your teeth and get dressed before noon but in the meantime, study his chubby toddler feet and look at the world from his perspective.

And Friend, pull that preschooler close to your side for an extra chat about life. He has such a unique outlook on life, fueled by a fantastic imagination. Soak in the life advice that he is unwittingly offering you. Time passes. Enter into the constant presence of another human next to you, especially in the bathroom, because there will never be a time quite like this when she will be so willingly influenced by what you have to say. Your attention, your presence, your time will never be quite this satisfying to her again. (This continues to be true! I am thankful for this reminder from you, Past Self, since I have even more company in the bathroom these days. And the cheerful preschoolers and kindergartners have so many adorable words to share!)

And to you, Mom with older kids and teenagers, I respect you. You have said farewell to these little years. (This is where I choked up when reading through this for the first time in eight years. I now have “older kids.” My oldest is two months away from being twelve and I’m figuring out how to process that fact. With him, I am always a first-time mom. Every stage he passes through is a first time for me. It’s simultaneously terribly frightening and excitingly wonderful. The funny thing is that when I held him in my arms for the very first time I assumed he would stay in my arms forever.) You understand that while it’s a relief to not have to do everything for your kids now that they’re self-sufficient, you also miss it because now time has really picked up speed. You can have rich discussions with their critically thinking minds, but they are also making decisions that can make you cringe. You don’t have to tuck them in at night, but you probably still have sleepless nights knowing that soon they’ll be driving, going out on dates, heading to college, getting married, and becoming parents themselves. Your children are so close to being adults and you wonder if you were a good mom and if they are ready for adulthood and if you’re ready for them to be adults. All I can say is, yes. Yes, you were a good mom, especially if you are telling them no sometimes. Yes, they are ready for adulthood, especially if they think they aren’t ready for it. Yes, you are ready because moms are always ready for the next challenge God is calling us to face. (I have been blessed with a handful of mentor moms who have navigated these older years and now have adult children. Talking with them makes the path ahead a little less daunting.)

In closing, I am challenging myself to do a few things to help me keep up with time. I may not be able to change its pace, but I can at least walk with it and not feel so sad when I look back. One thing I have decided to do is limit my screen time to three times a day when my kids are not around. I don’t want to miss out on the life that’s happening while I’m looking at the screen. The second resolution I have made is to take no more than 5 photos a day, as a general rule. I am often trying to capture that perfect shot and end up being a bystander to the fun of living rather than a participant. Finally, and most importantly, I’m rising an hour earlier than everyone else in my family so that I have time to collect my thoughts in the quiet of the day to determine how God and I want the day spent. It might mean that the dishes are only done once that day or the laundry doesn’t get folded, but if the results are a peace-filled house with lots of laughter than it’s absolutely worth it. (While the specifics of these resolutions have changed through the years, the heart of them has not. I have learned that boundaries on my phone usage and rising before my family do lend to a more peaceful heart, mind, and home.)

I hope you are encouraged by these thoughts and resolves from,

A Mom Like You

(I WAS encouraged by them - and even more so by the fact that there was nothing in the letter that I would change after eight more years of motherhood. It was just what I needed to read since I still have Littles in their adorable phase, Middles who have so many entertaining things to share, and now I have Bigs with whom I want to treasure every moment. My challenge is how to live slowly when the demands of caring for so many people has only increased through the years. Perhaps I’ll need to write an Open Letter about that!)

Join me for a cup of London Fog

Nathan Coulter was the only title of his that I had on my bookshelf so I grabbed it and began reading. Only a few pages in and I was deeply disturbed. Within the first page there was rough language and animal abuse. I didn’t really want to continue reading, but the rave reviews from respected authors and trusted friends kept me going. The theme of harsh, at times crass, language, some coming of age sexual exposure, and more animal abuse continued. I found myself feeling troubled and a little depressed.

Since it is a shorter book, I sat down to finish the remaining third of the book in one sitting. It was then that I read some redemptive passages that lifted my opinion of the story a few points. Needless to say, I felt relief when the story ended rather than my usual sorrowful farewells to beloved characters. I have pondered this book, my struggle to praise it, and my evaluation of it. These are my conclusions:

• I did not dislike Nathan Coulter, the character. This book is his coming of age narrative and is messy, like the passage from childhood into young adulthood often is. The moral environment of his upbringing was less than ideal; the natural environment was his safe place. Aside from strong work ethic and sense of duty the male role models in his life were not worthy of the title. Nathan was forced to figure things out with little guidance and was drawn to those who valued his presence and companionship. Perhaps this is why the dark veil in the story never fully lifted.

• When survival is a wrestling match between nature and one’s own strength and instinct, there is little room for sentimentality. Any emotion other than anger, could be viewed as a weakness. Compassion requires time that can’t be spared. And yet some people cannot entirely remove all vestiges of humanity from their heart. Nathan was one of these people: “…the wind whistled through the grass, and the sky was hot and blue, too quiet and lonely to let him die. I called his name, but he didn’t stir. I picked him up in my arms and I carried him home (117).” I could understand the struggle but it was difficult to read a story that revealed such a harsh existence.

• “…they’ll grieve in this old land until you’d think they were going to live on it forever, then grieve some more because they know…they’re not going to live on it forever. And nothing’ll stop them but a six-foot hole (105).” It is a quote like this one that allows connection between a well-written story and the soul of a reader seeking the meaning in it. In this book, Berry presents the tie of the farmer with his land, and perhaps our tie to the land through the farmer. Whether we live in a 21st century city or in rural Kentucky in the early 1900’s, we all depend on the survival of the farmer and the survival of the land for our survival.

  Grandpa had owned his land and worked on it and taken his pride from it for so long that we knew him, and he knew himself, in the same way we knew the spring. His life couldn’t be divided from the days he’d spent at work in his fields. Daddy had told us we didn’t know what the country would look without him at work in the middle of it; and that was as true of Grandpa as it was of Daddy. We wouldn’t recognize the country when he was dead. (117)

  Readers may take for granted the farmer’s daily struggle to exist, but he never does. And we will most certainly not recognize the country when he is gone.

As hard as it was to read this book to completion, I do not regret doing so. It was a reminder of the harshness that exists in places where I do not go, the respect that hard work and a sense of duty always deserve, and every human being’s umbilical connection with the earth.

Will I continue to read Wendell Berry? Most likely.

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My due date has come and gone. We are at the point where all we can think about is trying not to think about Baby’s arrival. I’ve been experiencing prodromal labor which means our emotions have been adjusting from excitement to skepticism; we are trying to take it all in stride and with a sense of humor but there will be such relief when our baby is finally here. This time of waiting has taught me a few things in the 3 weeks that I’ve been within the delivery window.

1. Like birth, there is no formula for life. It’s nice to know exactly what’s going to happen next and when it’s going to occur. But birth, and life in general, doesn’t work that way. There’s a process, for sure, but only God knows the details, the purpose and the timing of that process. Peace comes in letting go of having to do it my way and accepting that I don’t have to know the why behind everything. I can simply accept that this is how things are for the present and it’s good (albeit not very comfortable).

2. Perspective matters. We live in a microwave age. Everything is instant- from food to information to shopping. It’s gotta happen right now and if it doesn’t, something is wrong. There is nothing like waiting on a baby to shake up that trend. Sure, there are ways to kickstart labor or speed things up but doing so takes away some of the beauty of not being in control. It feels like Baby will never come, but I know that’s not true; likewise, there are days when the temporal seems more real than the eternal. I must remember that even though my emotions are very real, they are not always reality.

3. Embrace life as it comes. Life is usually predictable. I usually accomplish my agenda for the day. Routine is usually established and kept. But sometimes there’s a bend in the road, the unexpected happens and life as we know it has suddenly been altered. At first I recoil from the change; I reach for remnants of the familiar in order to piece it back together. But this week my eyes were opened to see that this is the divine mystery of life; our revolution around the sun propels our growth. To resist leads only to despair. The caterpillar may not wish to enter the cocoon but to resist would mean a destiny without wings.

As I wait for what I know will come, I am reminding myself of these lessons and others that God has been showing me and am eager to learn more.

I write daily notes about life and living, but these only show up on the Substack page. They do not get sent out through email.

To read them, you can get the Substack app and receive notifications, or you can follow my Substack page and read them there.

I look forward to chatting with you as you engage with our story and become a part of it.

I spent time in West Africa as a teenager. It was understood that the first fifteen to twenty minutes of any business transaction included conversation. It was an indicator of proper etiquette, a sign of respect for the people involved, and showed the wisdom of prioritizing people over profit. Local people would take long lunch breaks and would gather in small groups under shade trees to eat, lounge, and chat. I often wondered what they were saying.

In my early-twenties, I spent a summer in Switzerland working on a farm. A lengthy portion of that time was spent picking cherries. I was far from fluent in the language but I still savored hearing the conversation bouncing from tree to tree as the farm family and their friends picked and talked. The speakers weren’t always visible - sometimes I just saw a foot on a wooden ladder or a head just above the leaves - but their was no halt in the flow of words. They commented on the cars going by (it was a tiny village so everyone recognized the cars) and that would start a string of comments about the people in them. They talked about the weather (of course), about children and school, about politics, about food, about America (since I was there), about languages, and about many other things I didn’t understand.

My children naturally make small talk with each other. One person will say something about a past occurrence and all of a sudden everyone is chatting about it as if it happened that morning. Someone will comment on a movie and then everyone is talking about every aspect of that movie and any other movie they’ve seen. Someone will mention a family member and then chats bounce back and forth about other family members. It’s beautiful! And it’s a life skill.

I believe small talk shows clear thinking, quick articulation, and engagement with life. To engage in small talk one must notice the details of routine, recall them, and verbalize them. The ability to engage in small talk is a life skill because it builds rapport within a community- something that is necessary for relational growth.

I am concerned that our western society may be losing the art of small talk; the younger generation may be at the highest risk of this loss. I think that the influence of social media and a high rate of online community might be diminishing the presence of face-to-face conversation. Communication is being reduced to emojis, one-word replies, and abbreviated words. I wonder if thought processes and internal dialogue are also being reduced and abbreviated?

I am concerned that sunshine, thunderstorms, mosquitos, flower-fragrance filled air, summer campfires, and birds singing in the trees living is being replaced by virtual worlds being lived behind a keyboard and a screen. Small talk celebrates living and is a reminder that we all need community. Small talk teaches us about life through the perspectives of others and shows us that we are connected in some way. It teaches us to recognize the details that matter to other people so we can initiate those topics with them. Small talk is an art that should not be lost.

How does small talk enrich your life?

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The age of twelve has the tradition of being significant. During t…

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Love fiercely; speak boldly.

In a world that has shrunk to the space of a screen-

Love fiercely; put away screens, open books and go outside.

In a world that who coaxes children from home when they are far too young-

Love fiercely; make home a delightful place to be.

In a world that says there is no eternity,

Love fiercely; declare the Gospel.

In a world that says to never say no and to call all things right-

Love fiercely; defend Truth.

In a world that says to follow your heart-

Love fiercely; instill a moral compass.

In a world where confusion rules,

Love fiercely; be a constant.

In a world that’s crumbling in despair,

Love fiercely; build with hope.

In a world that hates,

Love fiercely.

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I hesitate to publish my birth story, not because it was traumatic but because it was wonderful. I don’t want anyone to think less of their own birth story after reading mine. I believe every birth story is a testimony to the miracle of life. We need to share our stories of giving and sustaining life, of intertwining heartbeats, of gazing into brand new eyes, of saying “hello, it’s so nice to finally meet you” for the very first time.

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It was in a pile of secondhand books, and the title intrigued me. I opened the first page and was immediately pulled into the story. The language was rough at times and there were themes that did not align with my personal worldview, but I continued reading for the following reasons.

1. It was a perspective outside of my comfort zone. I don’t generally interact with the outside world on a regular basis. With the world as it is, I can curate my exposure to thoughts, beliefs, and people that align with my own convictions and lifestyle. While this isn’t wrong, it is a luxury in many ways. When we remain within our cozy bubbles of agreement, we are not challenged to consider the experiences of other human beings. Encountering the occasional abrasive story can polish our beliefs with compassion and introspection.

2. The setting was not in my country. I have to remember that America is not the world. I appreciate written works that are set in other countries with governments that are different from the American one. I was intrigued with the familiar and unfamiliar challenges that come with life in Sweden.

3. There were characters that I admired. Ove and his wife, Sonja, were people who embodied values that I respect. By living what they believed and not being swayed by the world around them, their character influenced their community. I found myself nodding my head and thinking, “That’s a quote I can live by.” I appreciated that they remained true to their own individuality even though it came at a price.

4. I became a part of the story. I know quality writing when I forget that I am holding a book and reading about people because I am now within the story and the people are real. I was laughing and crying and angry. I started to participate in conversations and think about what I would have done had I been Ove…or Parvaneh…or Sonja…or… Never did I condone the rough language or change my convictions on certain social issues, but I understood the people and why they talked or thought the way they did. I considered how I would have approached them in their situations while maintaining my own beliefs.

Towards the end of the book, I desperately wanted to find out how the story ended but I didn’t want it to end. After the last page and wiping the last tears from my face, I felt like I had said goodbye to some precious people. In my opinion, that’s a sign of a book worth reading.