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Random Thoughts

Rachel, Hannah, and Me: Our “Great Anxiety and Frustration”

Leaving Home

A Very Few Thoughts on Suffering Beauty and Rest

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It’s been the busiest of weeks in the busiest of It’s been the busiest of weeks in the busiest of years, but I couldn’t let today pass without marveling at the fact that this little boy turned three today. Three! For the few of you who were around back then, can you believe it? Where did the time and my baby go? (Swipe for some throwback Baby Toby.)
A year ago today, while I was organizing my baseme A year ago today, while I was organizing my basement, this guy came racing into the world, six weeks ahead of schedule. I had no idea, as I broke down boxes and filled bins, that a little man who would change our world was lying alone in a Dallas nursery, waiting for his first mom to choose a family for him.⁣ I wouldn’t find that out until the next evening, when we got the call from @cradledingrace, telling us we had a son.⁣ We began the long drive to meet him, just two hours later. ⁣ Despite the smiles in so many of the early pictures, Becket was my hard baby, my intense baby, my “push me to the edge of my sanity” baby. For 4 months, he refused to sleep anywhere but in our arms. For 6 months, he threw up 4 to 6 times, every single feed, every single day. For 7 months, the floor was lava, and being put down the occasion for total despair.⁣ ⁣ Then, around 8 months, all that intense despair turned to intense joy. Or, about 90 percent of it did. The world still occasionally becomes lava when Daddy leaves the room. But the rest of the time, Becket doesn’t stop smiling. At Toby, whom he follows around like a puppy dog. At actual puppy dogs, who are universally greeted with delighted shrieks of “Do Do!” At Ellie, who lives in constant danger of losing an eye from Becket’s attentions. At any and all food, which he eats with abandon in shockingingly large quantities. At worms and bugs, which he gleefully snatches up from the ground. At Alexa, whenever she plays music on command. At stained glass windows, as the light shines through them. At the rainbows, which dance around our floors and walls every sunny afternoon. At “Goodnight Moon,” which he sits patiently through every night. At the wind, when it blows on his face. At all the little moments of life, which I take for granted, but he sees with astonishment and wonder.⁣ ⁣ Chris and I are so blessed that we get to be Mama and Dada to this beautiful, passionate, strong-willed, curious, joyful, holy little man. He is pure gift, total grace, a wonder himself. And we are so grateful to his first mom, for choosing life for him, when almost the whole world would have had her do otherwise.
A year ago today, I was worried about so many thin A year ago today, I was worried about so many things.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I was worried I’d heard God wrong, that He wasn’t calling us to adopt again.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I was worried Toby would grow up alone, with no sibling to play with, fight with, and live life with.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I was worried I’d never hold a baby of my own again, that I’d never feel the weight and warmth of a little body against mine in the night and never celebrate another first smile, first coo, first word, first step.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I carried those worries with me every moment of every day. I lost sleep over those worries. I shed tears over those worries. And I was blinded by those worries. I spent so much time and energy fretting over my fears, that I couldn’t see the precious gifts God was giving me in what turned out to be our last days with just Toby.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Looking back, it all seems so ridiculous. Such an insane, worthless, useless waste of my days. Because not one thing I worried about came to pass. Not one.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ This has been a long, hard, crazy, beautiful year for us. Like everyone, we’ve carried our fair share of crosses. But none of those crosses were even in my imagination on July 15, 2020. And even if I had somehow anticipated what was to come, worrying about it wouldn’t have changed a thing. It only would have caused me to miss out on more beauty, more joy, more life.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I’ve learned a lot this past year. But this is one of the most important things I’ve learned. When Jesus said, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow,” He meant it. There’s no point. We can’t see what’s coming. We can’t see the crosses of tomorrow. We can’t see the gifts of tomorrow. We can’t see the graces of tomorrow. It’s all fantasy, fear, and conjecture, which distracts us from what can be seen: today’s crosses, today’s gifts, today’s graces.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Tomorrow will come soon enough, with crosses and graces of its own. But it’s not here yet. God is—blessing us, loving us, speaking to us. Being with Him in the day—refocusing on Him and the present work and present blessings when worry strikes— is where the peace is. It’s where the grace is. So that’s where I’m working on staying: with Him (and these babies) in the day. Tomorrow can be anxious for itself.⁣⁣
Being single is not the worst thing. And being mar Being single is not the worst thing. And being married is not the best thing. ⁣ ⁣ That seems like an odd thing for a woman who is besotted with her spouse to say on her 5th anniversary. But so many of you have asked me for advice about singleness or finding a spouse, and this is the best I’ve got. ⁣ ⁣ You see, when you know singleness is not the worst thing, when you know it’s a state in life with its own blessings and opportunities, you’re less inclined to settle. You’re less inclined to give yourself to the wrong person or in the wrong ways. You’re less inclined to say yes to a man who doesn’t draw you closer to God or love you as you need to be loved.⁣ ⁣ Knowing singleness is not the worst thing also makes you more inclined to receive its blessings and seize its opportunities—to study, travel, pray, work, serve, and be Christ to those in need. Or to simply sleep in on a Saturday.⁣ ⁣ Likewise, knowing marriage is not the best thing makes you more capable of saying yes when a good man does come along. It helps you not hold him to impossible standards or measure him against some unrealistic checklist.⁣ ⁣ It also helps you know that marriage can be an occasion for growth, but it will not make all your wounds disappear overnight. The words “I do” are not a magic spell. Married or not, you will still be you, beautiful, broken, in need of a Savior. And that Savior is not your spouse. It’s Jesus.⁣ ⁣ Even the best of spouses will annoy you, frustrate you, and hurt you. Happy marriages require patient love and ready forgiveness. Both come more easily when you’re not looking to another broken person to bring you your happily ever after.⁣ ⁣ I adore my husband. I love my life with him. But I loved my single life too. God was in that life then, just as He’s in this life now. I was following Him then, loving Him then, and seeking His will then, just as I am now. And that is the best thing. He is the best thing. He is the goal. Not a diamond. Not a baby.⁣ ⁣ Knowing that makes hard single years and hard marriages easier, and happy single years and good marriages better. More important, knowing that will lead all of us to the joy of which a wedding day offers only a foretaste.
Feeling better. Chasing rainbows. Feeling better. Chasing rainbows.
I’ve lost track of how many times this man has b I’ve lost track of how many times this man has been vomited on over the past 24 hours. And how many times he’s kept his cool as I’ve freaked out. I don’t handle kids throwing up well. Like, not at all well. But he is laughing about it, comforting babies, and being patient with me, all at the same time. I think being patient with me is the hardest part. But he does it so well. He does it all so well, loving me and them as I wish every mother and child could be loved. I know it’s totally taboo in adoption circles to say that adopted kids are lucky or fortunate or blessed to end up with their adoptive families. But I’m saying it anyhow. Toby, Becket, and Ellie are blessed beyond measure to have Christopher Jude Chapman as their father. He is a good man, a wise man, a prayerful man, an affectionate man, an affirming man, a patient man, a generous man, a playful man, a loving man, a strong man, a humble man. And getting to live life with him is a grace, for the kids and for me. It would be for anyone. Happy Fathers Day, @christopherchapman1968 . Here’s hoping no one else throws up on you, today. 📷 @caitlinrennphotography
It’s here! My second baby of 2021, “Letters to It’s here! My second baby of 2021, “Letters to Myself from the End of the World,” comes out today. ⁣ ⁣ No matter how many times I do this, holding my first copy of a book I wrote always mystifies me. It looks so neat and tidy, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for it to be there. But the process of getting those words on paper is never easy for me. It’s messy, maddening, and exhausting. At some point in the process, I always want to give up. I always wonder why I’m bothering. I always think I have nothing to say, and want to burn the whole darn thing.⁣ ⁣ Then, somehow, it all comes together and before I know it, I’m holding a piece of myself in my hands. And I’m so, so glad I didn’t throw all those words in the fire.⁣ ⁣ This book was especially hard to write. Not just because I was tackling such tough topics and sharing so much of myself, but also because I was halfway done with it when Becket came along and upended everything. Then, just a few weeks later, we found out Ellie would be joining us and upending everything again.⁣ ⁣ Babies complicate the writing of books like nothing else. But they also give me new words to say—better words from a better me, the me they helped make. This is a book I never could have written without my babies, which is why it’s dedicated to two of them: my boys, Toby and Becket. I’ll just have to write another someday for Miss Ellie. ⁣ ⁣ Until then, you can order this one through the link in my stories and join me tonight when I celebrate the book’s launch, live on Instagram, with friends and cocktails. The fun starts at 8:30 EST. I hope to see you then! ⁣ ⁣ ⁣
GIVEAWAY! How do you pray when life doesn’t give GIVEAWAY! How do you pray when life doesn’t give you time to pray? How do you stay close to God when babies or deadlines or the needs of loved ones threaten to crowd Him out?⁣ ⁣ I share how I answer that question in one of the letters from my new book, “Letters to Myself from the End of the World.” I’ll go Live later today and read that letter to you.⁣ ⁣ In the meantime, I’ve got one last pre-launch giveaway for you. This one is all about food. It’s also going to be a quick one (since I have to announce the winner tomorrow night during our Live book launch party).⁣ ⁣ This week’s prizes include a copy of “Letters to Myself from the End of the World” and… ⁣ ⁣ - My book “The Catholic Table: Finding Joy Where Food and Faith Meet”;⁣ ⁣ -“Better Together,” a beautiful Bible Study on hospitality from @elizabethfoss and the wonderful writers of @takeupandread ;⁣ ⁣ - My cookbook “Around the Catholic Table: 77 Recipes for Easy Hospitality and Everyday Dinners” (printed and bound courtesy of the wonderful @familynestprinting )⁣; ⁣ - “Cooking with the Saints,” a gorgeous cookbook from @sophiainstitute filled with meal ideas for feasts and solemnities;⁣ ⁣ - My favorite tea towel with my favorite Teresa of Avila quote “God moves among the pots and the pans,” from @beaheartdesign . ⁣ ⁣ Here’s how to enter: ⁣ ⁣ 1. Like this post;⁣ 2. Tag a friend AND share your favorite prayer or novena in the comments below;⁣ 3. For TWO extra chances to win, share this post in your Stories (and tag me);⁣ 4. For FIVE extra chances to win, write a letter to yourself about prayer and share it in your Feed. Make sure to tag me and use the hashtag #letterstomyselfthebook, so I can find your entry. (Private accounts can send me your posted letter in dms.)⁣ ⁣ Winners will be announced in an Instagram Live on June 17, at 8:30 pm. Winner must live in the continental U.S.; Giveaway closes Thursday, June 17 at 9 am EST; This giveaway is not affiliated with Instagram.⁣ ⁣
Guess what showed up at my house on Friday? A copy Guess what showed up at my house on Friday? A copy of that pretty (not so) little 266 page book right there!⁣ ⁣ For those of you who have already pre-ordered, books should start showing up in your mail box over the next few days. If you haven’t pre-ordered yet, you still have through midnight Wednesday to place your order with Emmaus Road and snag the free discussion guide (with a bonus letter) and stationary. ⁣ ⁣ This Thursday, June 17, is the actual launch day. We’re having a small dinner party here, with some of our favorite people to celebrate, and I would love it if can join us for part of it. At 8:30 pm EST, I’ll go Live from my living room with Kate Stapleton of @thestapletonsmusic , Janet Easter of @everthrift , and Christina Pankus of @lavenderthymehandmade . With cocktails in hand, we’ll talk about the book and announce the giveaway winners. I’ll read one last letter, answer any questions about “Letters” that you have, and let you in on a couple of surprises. ⁣ ⁣ Keep an eye on Stories later today, as I’ll be posting cocktail and appetizer recipes for those who want to eat and drink along with us. I wish you all could join us here on Thursday, but this will hopefully be the next best thing.⁣
If I live to be 102, this is how I want to be reme If I live to be 102, this is how I want to be remembered: dressed in pink, covered in babies, and smiling at the unexpected beauty of it all.⁣ ⁣ God knows what He is about. Even if it takes us a while to recognize that.⁣ ⁣ 📷 @caitlinrennphotography⁣ ⁣
GIVEAWAY!: I didn’t plan to write about motherho GIVEAWAY!: I didn’t plan to write about motherhood in “Letters to Myself from the End of the World.” I knew I would include a section on spiritual motherhood and the feminine genius, but I had no intention of saying anything about mothering actual children. After all, when I started writing the book, a year ago this month, I was only two years into this new life, and had exactly one toddler. What could I possible have to say on the subject that would be of value?⁣⁣ ⁣ Then, Becket was born. And I couldn’t think or write about anything but motherhood. So, I penned five letters, all focused on these first crazy years with children.⁣⁣ ⁣ Later this morning, I’ll go Live and read one of those letters. I have a huge stye in my left eye and my whole eyelid is swollen, so this is a major act of humility for me. But I really want to share this particular letter with you.⁣⁣ ⁣ And of course, I want to hear from you, too. What is one piece of advice about motherhood (biological, adoptive, foster, or spiritual) that you would give your younger self?⁣⁣ ⁣ Tell me in the comments below and/or in a post of your own for the chance to win a copy of “Letters to Myself from the End of the World,” AND all of the items pictured above (swipe left!):⁣⁣ ⁣ To enter:⁣⁣ ⁣ 1. Like this post;⁣⁣ ⁣ 2. In the comments below, tag a friend and share one piece of advice about motherhood (biological, adoptive, foster, or spiritual);⁣⁣ ⁣ 3. For TWO extra chances to win, share this post in your Stories (and tag me);⁣ ⁣ 4. For FIVE extra chances to win, share your advice on motherhood in your own post. Make sure to tag me and use the hashtag #letterstomyselfthebook, so I can find your entry. (Private accounts can send me your posted advice in dms)⁣⁣ ⁣ Winners will be announced in an Instagram Live on June 17. Winner must live in the continental U.S.; Giveaway closes Monday, June 14 at 9 am EST; This giveaway is not affiliated with Instagram.
I’ve got nothing for ya’ today. Except for a I’ve got nothing for ya’ today. Except for a tangle of baby feet. Everyone needs more of those in their feed, right? 📷 @caitlinrennphotography #twins #wellalmost #thecutenessoverwhelms #adoption #Catholicmom
Announcing...Free Stuff! 🎁⁣ ⁣ For those of Announcing...Free Stuff! 🎁⁣ ⁣ For those of you wondering what sort of pre-order goodies we had cooking, this post is for you. “Letters to Myself from the End of the World” releases 10 days from today. That leaves you exactly 9 days to pre-order and snag a free download of the discussion guide booklet I wrote to accompany the book.⁣ ⁣ The booklet features questions for reflection and conversation for each of the book’s eight sections and is the perfect companion for private prayer after reading or for your next book club gathering.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ The booklet also contains a bonus letter available nowhere else. We’re calling it a Post-Script, but really it’s a Post-Ellie. ⁣ ⁣ When I finished “Letters to Myself” in February, it was still an open question whether Ellie would ever make it home. I mention the possibility of her adoption towards the end of the book, but had no idea if we’d ever actually hold her in our arms. The booklet gave me a chance to go back, wrap up that part of our story, and add a short Ellie-inspired reflection.⁣⁣ ⁣ Pre-order goodies also include a limited amount of lovely stationary, on which you can write your own letters (or grocery lists), but that is going fast, so if you want it, you should place your pre-order ASAP.⁣⁣ ⁣ I’ll share the link to order again in Stories. And thank you to all of you who have already placed your order! Your encouragement means the world to me, and I am getting more excited by the day to get this book in your hands.
GIVEAWAY Closed! Not long ago, someone I respect l GIVEAWAY Closed! Not long ago, someone I respect left the Church. They had all sorts of reasons for their decision, but it boiled down to disappointment with God. They expected more from His grace. They thought grace would do more in the world and do it faster. When it didn’t, they jumped ship⁣ ⁣ This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen. I doubt it will be the last. When you have a Church filled with broken people, disappointment is inevitable, and for some, the disappointment becomes too much.⁣ ⁣ It hasn’t been too much for me. Not yet. But it’s possible. Faith is a gift we can lose. We can’t presume we’re beyond temptation or won’t someday join all those disciples who walked away.⁣ ⁣ So, why am I still here?⁣ ⁣ I answer that question as best as I can in 6 letters in my new book, “Letters to Myself from the End of the World.” I read the first of those letters earlier today in a Live linked now in Stories.⁣ ⁣ But, as always, I want to hear from you. What do you love about the Church? What has kept you here? Where do you most clearly see her beauty?⁣ ⁣ Tell me for the chance to win one of two prizes:⁣ ⁣ To win a copy of my new book:⁣ ⁣ 1. Tell me something you love about the Church in the comments below⁣ 2. Like this post⁣ 3. Tag a friend in the comments⁣ 4. Bonus entry for sharing this post in Stories and tagging me.⁣ ⁣ To win this week’s giveaway package (swipe for pictures), which includes a copy of The American Catholic Almanac, an 11 x 22” print featuring portraits of the 6 African-American Catholics on the road to sainthood, a St. Junipero Serra bracelet from @humblemissionbeads, and a copy of @mhunterkilmer ‘s new book, “Saints Around the World”:⁣ ⁣ 1. Write a few sentences to your younger self about the Church;⁣ 2. Share it in your Feed and Stories;⁣ 3. Tag me (@emilystimpsonchapman);⁣ 4. Use the hashtag #letterstomyselfthebook in your post.⁣ ⁣ (Private accounts dm me a screenshot of your POSTED letter).⁣ ⁣ Winners will be announced in an Instagram Live on June 17. Winner must live in the continental U.S.; Giveaways close Monday, June 7 at 9 am EST; This giveaway is not affiliated with Instagram.
Our life is crazy. Crazy beautiful. And just plain Our life is crazy. Crazy beautiful. And just plain crazy. That’s not changing anytime soon. There is no plan or course or coach who can fix our crazy. If it needs fixing at all. Mostly, it needs accepting. Embracing. Praising. Because in the crazy, in the chaos, in the exhausting days, sleepless nights, endless crying, and glorious laughter, Christ is here.⁣ ⁣ Once upon a time, the God who is Order became man and dwelt in the chaos, redeeming it, sanctifying it, using it to draw us to Himself. And He uses it still. He meets us here, speaking through these wild days to remind us of our need for Him.⁣ ⁣ Weakness can be good. Failure can be good. If not for them, we might think ourselves gods, capable of redeeming the times and ourselves on our own.⁣ ⁣ We’re not making that mistake in our neck of the woods. Our littleness is plain for all to see. We know our need for Him. We’re eating our veggies and opening our windows and going for our walks (and drinking our martinis), but it’s not enough. We need Him. We can’t do it without Him. And that is the gift of this crazy, broken, exhausting season. Our limits have been reached.⁣ We can do no more. We are stretched as thin as mortals can be stretched. ⁣ So, we cry to Him. And lean on Him. And pray, when the crazy ends, that we remember to keep crying, keep depending, keep turning to Him. Because that’s the only way through the crazy, out of the crazy, past the crazy. That’s the only way to Him.⁣ ⁣ #thesitterissickandoutfortheweekandwehavenobackup
I used to wear pretty dresses—long ones, short o I used to wear pretty dresses—long ones, short ones, twirly ones, flowery ones. I wore them all the time. Then, I moved into a construction zone. Pretty dresses don’t work so well in construction zones, so I hung them in a closet and left them for another day.⁣ ⁣ But another day never came. Instead babies came. Exercise got harder. My hormones and metabolism went crazy. My knees just went⁣ ⁣ Before I knew it, over 4 years had passed. I sometimes thought about taking those dresses out, but that didn’t seem practical. Not with all the babies. The dresses also had grown tighter, flattering me less, grieving me more.⁣ ⁣ When I would say how much I missed my dresses, Chris would tell me to buy new ones. But I didn’t want to spend money on dresses that were a size I didn’t want to be.⁣ ⁣ Then, a couple weeks back, I was thinking about the title of @nmcaruso’s new book “Worthy of Wearing,” and realized it was me, two sizes bigger, that I didn’t want to spend the money on.⁣ ⁣ Deep down, I didn’t believe this extra curvy me deserved beautiful clothes. Without even realizing it, I’d bought into the lie that only the slim me merited those. I’ve been telling myself that my new motherly body is beautiful and an expression of who I am now, but treating it like a second class citizen, worthy of only cheap, poorly made, ill fitting things that could be discarded without guilt at season’s end.⁣ ⁣ So, for Mother’s Day, I bought a dress—a beautiful dress, a dress like single me would have bought (just not dry clean only). I wore it for no reason at all on a Thursday morning. And I felt lovely. Not despite the extra weight. With the extra weight.⁣ ⁣ It was good. The experience. The decision. The dress. All of it. It felt like calling Satan’s bluff, telling him I’m not worth less because I don’t look like I once did. Change is natural. It’s how God designed us. And His design is perfect.⁣ ⁣ All of which is to say, give yourself permission to buy the dress...or the skirt...or the pants. Today. Post-baby. Post-2020. Post-whatever. You don’t need to lose weight to become worthy of your clothes. They’re material objects. You’re the adopted daughter of God. You’re worthy already.
WEDNESDAY GIVEAWAY: I planned to go Live this morn WEDNESDAY GIVEAWAY: I planned to go Live this morning and read the whole 6th letter from my forthcoming book, Letters to Myself from the End of the World (the one excerpted above). But all the babies decided to have their own party at different times last night. So...plans changed. The new plan is for me to go Live this afternoon, when my friend can come over to watch the littlest baby while the bigger babies nap. Cross your fingers! ⁣ In the meantime, while I fly solo this morning (and pray for a chance to shower), I want to hear what you would say to your younger self about holiness. What do you wish you knew about being conformed to Christ then, that you know now?⁣ ⁣ Tell me and you could win a prize. 😁There are 2 ways to win. (And yes, you can try both.)⁣ ⁣ For a chance to win a copy of “Letters to Myself from the End of the World”:⁣ ⁣ 1. Like this post;⁣ 2. Tag a friend below;⁣ 3. Share a few words on holiness in the comments here.⁣ ⁣ For a chance to win today’s giveaway package, which includes a French Market Basket from @Everthrift, Countersun Face Sunscreen from @BeautyCounter, a gorgeous watercolor print from @WhenBeautyMetTruth, and everything else in the photos above (swipe left):⁣ ⁣ 1. Write a short (just a few sentences) letter about holiness to your younger self;⁣ ⁣ 2. Share it in your Instagram feed and Stories;⁣ ⁣ 3. Tag me (@emilystimpsonchapman);⁣ ⁣ 4. Use the hashtag #letterstomyselfthebook in your post and story.⁣ ⁣ Private accounts can dm a screenshot of your POSTED (from your feed) letter 😉. ⁣ Winners will be announced in an Instagram Live on June 17, 2021. Winner must live in the continental U.S.; Giveaways close May 27 at 4 pm EST; This giveaway is not affiliated with Instagram.
3 weeks. 4 Wednesdays. 9 giveaways. 1 sorta fancy 3 weeks. 4 Wednesdays. 9 giveaways. 1 sorta fancy party.⁣ ⁣ Let’s break that down.⁣ ⁣ My new book, “Letters to Myself from the End of the World,” launches 3 weeks from this Thursday, on June 17.⁣ ⁣ Between now and then are 4 Wednesdays. On each of those Wednesdays, I’ll pop into stories or go Live (babies permitting) to read you one of the letters from the book. One letter on holiness. Another on the Church. A third on motherhood. A fourth on prayer. ⁣ ⁣ But the world doesn’t need to hear what only I have to say on those topics. It needs to hear what you have to say, too.⁣ ⁣ If you just have a little bit of wisdom to offer on each Wednesday’s prompt, you can drop a few words in the comments when I share a snippet of each letter in my feed. One commenter each week will be chosen to win a copy of “Letters to Myself.”⁣ ⁣ If you have more to say on the topic du jour, though, I want to invite you to write your own letter to your younger yourself. My hope is that we can flood Instagram with womanly wisdom on Wednesdays.⁣ ⁣ As an added incentive, I’ve put together 5 super fun giveaway packages (with some help from my publisher and Instagram friends). Each package has a theme, based on one of my past books. Coming up with book-themed giveaway packages has brought me more joy than is probably decent, and I am crazy excited to share them with you.⁣ ⁣ I’ll do that each Wednesday, when I post my letter. Everyone who posts a letter to themselves on the topic of the week will be entered to win that week’s giveaway package. And yes, you can enter every single giveaway every single week.⁣ ⁣ I’ll share as many letters as I can in my Stories each Wednesday and Thursday, then announce all the randomly chosen winners on the night of June 17, when I host an Instagram Live Book Launch Party at my house, with cocktails, fancy apps, and a few close friends. I’ll also pick my favorite letter from the whole bunch and award the 5th and final giveaway package to its author. ⁣ ⁣ More details to come. For now, thanks for being the kindest, most encouraging Instagram community a woman could ask for. Giveaways start tomorrow.
I’m so tired I don’t know what day it is. My h I’m so tired I don’t know what day it is. My house looks like a pint-sized tornado ripped through it (hint: because one has). And I’ve changed so many diapers this morning that the smell of poop is permanently lodged in my nostrils. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Because this is worth it.⁣ ⁣ These days, these babies—they’re worth it all. They’re worth the decades of waiting—not for “a” man, but for “the” man. They’re worth the years trying and failing to conceive. And they’re worth the long, arduous, fear-drenched, sorrow-soaked emotional labor all our adoptions required.⁣ ⁣ They’re also worth every deadline missed and opportunity sacrificed, every hour of sleep lost and pound gained, every purchase not made, every dollar not saved, and every plan changed or upended.⁣ ⁣ Yes, this is hard. But it’s the best kind of hard. The kind of hard that forms you, shapes you, and recreates you. The kind of hard that doesn’t make you less yourself, but more yourself. The kind of hard where every death leads to new life, a life beyond your imagining and control.⁣ ⁣ Which is maybe why our culture finds motherhood so terrifying. It rips the script of your existence out of your hands. It blows up your carefully curated life, making something ragged and wild of days once smooth and predictable. It calls you to a habit of selflessness for which few in our culture of instant gratification are prepared. And it launches your heart straight out of your body, into the world, stripping it of every protection you’ve erected around it. ⁣ ⁣ ⁣Motherhood is not safe. That is its hardest reality. Enjoying it requires a kind of holy madness, a willingness to die a thousand deaths and endure unimaginable sorrow all for the sake of the child entrusted to you, a child who, for a time, is more likely to hit you over the head with a sippy cup than thank you for all you do.⁣ ⁣ In the end, though, that’s not madness. It’s sanity itself. For every child is the image of God. And every death we die for them is a step along the road to life. You must lose your life to find it. He said it. He meant it. And a culture that denies it, that values neither children nor motherhood, is a culture destined to die.
Early morning Rosary with my little lady. Also, do Early morning Rosary with my little lady. Also, don’t let the picture fool you. The house may finally be clean again, but it still smells like poo. And yes, I’m open to suggestions for managing the aroma of three under three, all in diapers #wealreadyhaveadiapergenie #probablyneedanother #wholehousebathroom #thecandlebudgetisgoingup
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I like to keep things simple around here...and happy. So, don't say anything in the comment box that you wouldn't say at someone's table. Comments that are uncharitable, obnoxious, or rude will be sent straight to the trash. That includes comments lecturing me or anyone else about the ingredients used in recipes. My house. My rules.

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