Photo courtesy of Robeck Design. I just spent some time this evening answering interview questions for ChristianBookNotes.com.  Our publisher sent them a copy of our book for review and after reading it, Drake and I were honored to have them request a written interview.  The last question really affected me: 7) Can you describe other

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1.  The highlight of my week was a hand-written note in the mail from Susan, whom I have come to know since she engaged Judson’s story, lovingly reaching out to our family on many occasions.  She and her husband, Chris, who is a friend from my Biola days, are missionaries in Germany.  I am confident

For both Drake and I, prayer has changed.  Since crying out to our Heavenly Father to heal Jud, yet instead enduring his death, each of us have experienced a  reshaping of our approach to God through prayer.  But interestingly, our responses have been diametrically opposite. In truth, this has been a challenge in our relationship

I had to call poison control this week. I was cooking, mixing ingredients for a dinner casserole, when the smell of nail polish suddenly came wafting into the kitchen. I rushed into the nearby bathroom, realizing things had been a little too quiet for too long, and discovered Jessie with an empty bottle of clear

I have been going to bed frequently discouraged the last several weeks, carrying a heavy burden over some very real needs, full of questions as to what God is currently doing with our family.  Tonight is no exception.  I am lying on the couch confused, disappointed, and frustrated, finding it hard to trust right now. 

1.  Today I am typing this Thankful Thursday on my computer using a new lap-desk.  Several weeks ago our friends, the Robecks, had been in our home and noted that I was using the particle board backing from a picture frame under my laptop as a desk.  Yesterday we unexpectedly discovered a new lap-desk on

My eyes are stinging tonight from freshly engaging my ever-present sorrow.  It is strange how the sadness over losing Judson can feel so different from the day-to-day and yet so much the same; I am constantly cycling through the same emotions and yet there are no constants.  C.S. Lewis, in A Grief Observed, insightfully explains