Just in case you ever want to ruin the morning of a perfectly good snow day, all you have to do is this:1. Wake your seven year old daughter (who went to bed later than she should have the previous night) and inform her that she has a dentist appointment.2. Attempt to dress said seven year old daughter as she thrashes about and wails, "But I just wanna go back to sleeeeeppp!"3. Then wake your eight year old son and tell him he has to tag along to the dentist - repeating what you said one more time, louder, so he can hear you over the dramatic protests from the room across the hall.4. Drive to the dentist, through the snow, wishing you were back home in your warm bed.5. Pretend to be happy at the dentist's office when the receptionist asks you to update paperwork. Think, "It's not personal. Insurance requirements. Grin and bear it."6. Enthusiastically usher your increasingly-nervous daughter to the back where the poor hygienist is waiting and has no idea what she is about to face.7. Hold your precious second-born as tears well up in her eyes at the announcement that all six-year molars are in...

This is not a feminist post. Yes, I believe that women should be paid the same as men for performing the same jobs. I believe women should become more interested in the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math) fields (and I just spent nearly an entire class period talking with my 9th graders about this issue). I would love to see a female become President, and I would readily admit that many women I know are much more intellectual than many men I know. But a feminist? I wouldn't lump myself in that category.I believe that if a woman wants to forego a career and remain home with her children, then not only can she, but she should. I would without hesitation say that the greatest part of my own life takes place after the hours I am paid, when I am home with my children. I am forever grateful for the women in previous generations who have made it possible for me to participate as a first-rate citizen in society doing things like, oh - I don't know, voting and getting a job. A feminist, though? Probably not.That being said, I'd like to take a minute to share my thoughts...

If someone tells you something over 900 times, it stands to reason that failing to believe it means you are remarkably in denial, you are being lied to, or you are ridiculously stubborn. I'm putting myself in the first and third categories because I know my husband is not a liar.For at least the past 20 years, I have struggled every single day with a thorn in my flesh that I desperately wish I could pluck out. I'm bringing it up here today not to glorify the struggle or to give Satan satisfaction in the battles he has won, but simply to encourage those of you who are facing similar lifelong battles. I want you to know that you are not alone. Your deepest insecurities have likely become a deeply ingrained part of yourself, but I want - need - to remind you that they are not your identity. It can be shameful as a follower of Christ to war so with the flesh, so today I'm issuing a call to other women to fight the battle, verbalize the struggle, and give Christ the credit rather than Satan the shame.My thorn? I have not once in the past 20 years...

When it's cold outside, school has been cancelled, and you've banished the kids to their respective rooms for some much needed alone time, there's only one thing to do. (After you've eaten everything not nailed down, of course.) Look through old pictures. I did that today, and the saying about days going by slowly but years flying by came to mind. It's so true, especially when you have kids.I could not believe that the chubby cheeked babies on my screen are the same big kids I can now trust enough to send to their rooms alone. It's also amazing that I have forgotten so quickly the things that used to fill our days and the chaos that those two could cause!How was I able to forget so quickly the drudgery that was strollers? Having kids 15 months apart meant that for several years, my trunk space was filled with strollers - double strollers, umbrella strollers, jogging strollers. Thank you, Jesus, that my children are now self-propelled.This picture cracks me up because Will is hugging her, but has the warning hand on her cheek in the event she starts something. His face looks sweet, but his hand is saying, "I mean...

What must He be thinking, from there? As He looks down on his beloved creation stuck in traffic, wrapping furiously, charging beyond their means, what does He think? Is He disappointed? Is He sad? Does anger burn within?Does He look within us more than He looks at us, and does He see that the chaos our behavior shows only mirrors the chaos that our hearts cry?More than $2 billion worldwide will be spent on wrapping paper this year. Wrapping paper. Millions of people are starving, going to bed without food, yet we celebrate the birth of the Bread of Life by spending billions on wrapping paper. It makes no sense.He came to earth, the cause of our celebration, and said things like, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth...

Some days, I think my greatest talent is believing Satan's lies. It comes so naturally to me, happening with no conscious thought and requiring no effort. I have never had to work at it, never needed to force myself to hear his whispers.His quiet, condemning statements are directed at me constantly, from the moment my eyes open in the dawn to the last moments of consciousness in the dark. Often they come out of nowhere, and I am blindsided by their presence."You're not good at that, you know.""You'll never have the time or money to really pursue your passion.""You're not pretty enough.""You're not enough.""You'll always be left out.""You obviously have nothing to contribute.""They don't include you on purpose."He whispers in my ear that my efforts will fall short, my feelings deserve to be hurt, my life is insignificant.He whispers, and I listen. Not every time, of course, but enough to matter. I listen to him the most when I'm with Jesus the least.And the truth of the matter is he's right. Without Jesus. Without Jesus, I am not enough. My life will be insignificant. My passion will be unfulfilled.Satan's lies, without Jesus, are truth.But with Him, they are just lies....

My sweet little first grader just had her Christmas program at school, and it was Precious. The capital letter is on purpose there, because those crazy little kids were so cute with their missing teeth and gangly legs that I could have fainted from the sheer amount of adorable-ness in that cafeteria.(BTW - [see how hip I am there with the abbreviation? Mom, it means "by the way."] - this is NOT how she normally goes to school. Eyeliner and lip gloss are for special occasions only, like when your class is supposed to look like rock stars.)I'm telling you. Six year olds dressed as penguins and Christmas trees and rock stars will make you grin like a Cheshire cat and simultaneously thank your lucky stars you don't teach six year olds who have to dress as penguins and Christmas trees and rock stars.  They were adorable.But y'all.The parents.I have never.As the program began, the noise level in the cafeteria lessened slightly from its pre-performance roar, but allow me to exaggerate the word SLIGHTLY. There were some loud folks up in there. People behind me were carrying on a full-fledged conversation in normal conversational tones with ZERO attempt to hush...

For several months I have wanted to tell you about a miraculous event in my family's life, but I haven't been able to. Now that I can, I'm not sure I can do it justice.On October 11, we legally and forever gained a new niece, Ivey Elise. My husband's sister, Mandy, and her husband, Chad, adopted the most beautiful baby girl, a child whose story grabbed our hearts and whose presence has changed our lives.Mandy and Chad had gone through all of the paperwork and preparation for adoption, having their home inspected, fingerprints run, and lives dissected. Their names were placed on the list, and just four months later, they received the call. Both teachers, Mandy and Chad were at work when the call came saying, "There is a baby girl - if you want her, come to the hospital."You have to hear Chad's story of running through the halls and parking lot - I picture it like the scenes of expectant dads in movies. Of course they wanted her. They were going to have a daughter.Sweet Ivey had been dropped off at an upstate South Carolina hospital under what is known as Daniel's law. Under this special provision, parents may...

My earring fell out of my ear today while I was in the restroom and nearly landed in the toilet. What is one supposed to do in such a situation? Flush it? Reach in and grab it? Thank goodness I didn't have to decide. I wouldn't mind flushing it - it is a cheapo earring, but I would mind ruining the only adult female toilet in my wing of the building. I might never be forgiven.I hate hand painted signs by the side of the road. What makes you think I want to vote for your candidate because you spray painted with yellow paint on a blue tarp? Professionalism you do not require, apparently.The day before a teacher workday is tantamount to the day before spring break or Christmas vacation or the day of a full moon. They're nuts. And I need a nerve pill.While we're on the subject of teacher workdays, is it too much to ask that teachers be allowed to really work on said workdays? I could get so much teacher stuff done - say, planning and grading! - if I were not required to be in meetings all day. Guess that's what the weekends are for,...

When my dear husband asked me to marry him and I moved into his house after our wedding, a tragedy befell me from which I might never recover.I had to switch grocery stores. And not just from one store to another of its kind farther away...