I love rain more than any other weather.

I love the sound of it, and how it encloses you under an umbrella. I love the drumming and the pure noise and I love the aftermath, how everything smells different and humidity is wiped away and how now you can pick out the smell of pavement and dirt and grass and things seem sharper. I like that the world looks different when the clouds grow dark and low and how everything seems new when it passes by.

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I’m trying to refresh my life and my attitude, especially with my kids that I love from the bottom of my heart but who also drain every bit of life from me with their tears and tattling and their expectation of greatness from me. Sometimes I feel like being less than great. I don’t want to feel that way, or be in the habit of that, so I need to strive for newness.

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The letters today are from students. These lines refresh me. They make my world seem new and clean and glowing and good. These words help give me stability and they settle my soul.

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So thank you, kiddos. I needed that.



I am thankful.

I am thankful for coffee in the morning and time to read at a wobbly table in a coffee shop. I’m thankful for the way my church fills to the brim and the way it sounds when people sing in the morning. It’s powerful and beautiful and my favorite part of church.

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I am thankful for IKEA, even when I get claustrophobic and overwhelmed, and for time to drive around with friends with nowhere in particular to go, and for that song Thrift Shop and how catchy it is.

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I’m thankful for the way New Girl makes me laugh until my stomach hurts and for planning parties that grow big and out of control in the very best way, teeming with people who are excited to be together. I’m thankful for good food and potlucks and the smell of wet dogs and for the way carpet looks after it’s been vacuumed in stripes.

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Here’s some letters to people I’m thankful for.

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It’s been a while since I’ve written, here or anywhere really, and I feel the lack of it in my life. Writing isn’t something that I inherently love or crave or want but it satisfies something in me and helps me organize the thoughts I have humming in my head constantly.

So tonight I’m working on a margarita and a couple of letters and some serious soul-searching.

I was thinking today and recently about faults. I read a blog entry from Donald Miller (check it out here) that made me think about what my faults are, what I need to grow in, the things that are ugly about me.

We all have these things, we all want to hide behind our goodness and hide our mistakes. I am blessed to have people in my life who gently show me where I need to grow and show me my strengths.

So today a letter to Caleigh, who is willing to tell me my faults while celebrating the rest of me. That kind of friendship is both rare and magnificent. Love you to the moon and back.

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To one of my all-time favorite people, someone who gets me always and even through long distance and time still wants to be my friend. Someone who pushes me and supports me and helps me be better.

I miss my friend. But we’ve been doing this Thursday email check in which makes things more bearable. It’s on the calendar and we don’t miss it and it makes me feel connected. These things make me love the internet a little bit more, but letters are still the most wonderful.

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It’s hard to finish things.

I should have finished this blog a month ago, but my job geared up and I’ve been swept away in a whirl of kids and parent phone calls and paperwork and sheer awesomeness and terror.

I would be easy to let it go, and say I’ve gotten close enough, but thankfully Caleigh hasn’t let it go. I don’t want to give up at the end, or in the middle, or at the beginning. I don’t want that to be the way I live life.

So to Caleigh, thank you for not giving up on holding me accountable and for speaking truth into my life.

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Growing up is so overwhelming that sometimes I avoid it.

I think about my favorite moments from years ago, and from days ago, and after driving through Holland this weekend I remembered college, and carving pumpkins for eighth street, and throwing flour at people in the middle of the night, and stealing tulips in the rain.

Sometimes I really miss those things. I felt old then, and grown up, and it turns out that I had a moment of old and young all at once, and I’m glad I took advantage of it.

Now I need to embrace responsibility and planning for the future and paying for car insurance and saving money for rainy days, but I also get to work somewhere I love and live my life the way I want to and make adult decisions. Being grown up is pretty cool too.

A letter to Amy, my tulip-stealing cohort.

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