25: remembering snapshots (31 days of the Power of Story)

I wrote “He (God) gives us all gifts to cherish. moments that are ours alone. memories. snapshots of time well spent.in a post honoring my Dad in December of 2015. I was reminded of it today as i sat down to the prompt:capture.

Read the rest here: AND WE SPEAK.

I miss him every day.

When I see a hunched, old man walking in a store.

When I smell cigarette smoke.

When I drive by his church.

When I rub oil into my forearm that bares his memorial.

When his HEAVEN BIRTHday comes and goes.

My man and I laughed about Dad’s antics today. About my memories of him…

And I miss him.

“Snapshots of time well spent” keep him so very real in my mind. And in my heart.

joining in with the lovely Kate Motaung over at fiveminutefriday.com as she graciously supplies prompts. 🙂 and i’m linking to the beautiful tribe over at write31days.com.

23: VLOG Happy Heaven Birthday, Dad (31 days of the Power of Story)

Tomorrow marks 3 years since my dad when to Glory. Here is my Vlog thoughts.

The posts under the “My Daddy’s Journey Home” contain more of our story.
Thank you for visiting this space today.

joining in with the lovely Kate Motaung over at fiveminutefriday.com as she graciously supplies prompts. 🙂 and i’m linking to the beautiful tribe over at write31days.com.

Hold on Tightly

Have you ever met someone, and instantly after you realize that you really want to get to know them? That they are the kind of people that you want to be around and to learn from? You want them in your life, to be a consistent part of it?  I have two such friends that are on my heart today.

I want to learn from them. I want to be better because of them.

Continue reading

and we speak

walking in his boots. up to my hips in daddy’s shoes.
sitting in his lap watching tv.
changes. in me. in him. in time.
then enough time changes.
and i’m a grown woman and he an older version of my daddy.
he calls.
we talk.
of life. of memories shared from his childhood.
revealing a  bit more of his life that i never thought to ask about.
we speak now.
of life; of mine. of his.
and i miss him

Laura Boggess

i’m still a southern girl

he held the door for my daughter and me, then tipped his hat.

“Thank you,” i said with a smile.

his returned smile caused me to remembered…

being raised in the wide open spaces of West Texas.  where sunsets filled the horizon and tumble weeds were more prevalent than trees. where oil equaled money. and “hot” meant a temperature of 100+  in the shade.

where men held open doors for EVERY lady. and “Ma’am” and “Sir” were part of everyday conversation.

that Southern Charm was something you did, not something you were taught.

i always thought i’d marry a cowboy and grow old on a porch swing watching sunsets in the desert.

but i’m so THANKFUL that God wanted MORE for me than i wanted for myself.

that He hand-picked a “Yankee” to sweep me off my feet.

he may not be a Southern boy, but he’s mine!

he may not wear a Stetson, but he looks quite cute in the occasional baseball cap.

he may prefer flip flops to spurs…

he may drive “the man van” instead of a big truck…

he may be a “Yankee” but he’s still my charming man!

he may not resemble John Wayne, but he resembles JESUS CHRIST which is A MUCH BETTER MAN!


and WE CHOOSE to do life together…till one of us goes home to wait for the other.


i do not live in the desert anymore. trees are sometimes less prevalent than corn. but i do still enjoy the occasional fabulous sunset.

Courteous Southern Charm is present and TAUGHT in our home.

we are slowly teaching our girls never to accept less. especially from  boys that will one day haunt visit our home.

I want my sweet girls to have doors opened for them. i want that boy to be enamored with her heart.

and so, these are the rules:

  • he will shake their father’s hand before asking to court our daughter.
  • he will call me “ma’am”.
  • he will open my baby’s door and be a man of honor or he will not get a shot at her hand!
  • he will be genuine and faithful to Christ.
  • and he will be worthy of her.

and when the day comes when we give her away, he will pledge himself to her and choose to do life with her till death.

cause every lady deserves that.

the occasional tipping of a hat is a plus too! 🙂


Sometimes it takes a good cry


in my teens and early twenties i hated to cry. i did my best not to, specially when people could see.

now…i cry and i’m better.

my husband would tell you that i wear my heart on my sleeve. and he would be right.

do you ever wonder why we cry? it’s silly really when you think about it, water makes it where you can’t see and you get snot everywhere. but it’s so cleansing sometimes, isn’t it?

washing away the worry, the fear, the anger, the hard. making you better afterward.

i think tears are a good thing, a needed thing, and sometimes the only  thing…

my oldest babe is emotional like her mother, and i don’t want life to harden her! i don’t want her to ever feel like she cannot cry or to live in a world where tears are not allowed!

 i don’t want her to live a life dictated by how she feels either!

this week as she wept because she was confused.  i closed my eyes (i do that to focus when i’m agitated…try it it’s a good trick!) and held her little hands in mine.

“you are in control of your emotions. you need to tell your eyes to stop…we can fix this after you are in control again.”

no it didn’t help. she went to lay down for a bit, and came back later, better.

we are in control of our emotions, they do not control us.

i think we get that wrong so often. letting “our feelings” dictate our actions , leaving the conscious choice by the wayside along with the repercussions  that said emotions caused.

we do have control over them if we so choose.

and that’s what i try to teach my girls. not that their tears are bad, but that they don’t have to cry if they don’t want to.

i’m sure we’ll have to learn that lesson in reverse the first time their little hearts get broken and when puberty makes life confusing. but for now, i hope we are learning how to trust the Father to dictate  life and not our feelings.

as for me…i’m learning to “use my words” instead of my tears.

i’m learning to save them for when there are no words. when cleansing is what the Father needs to do.

and i’m finding it’s better this way…

i didn’t choose to be a nun

“what do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked as we floated in our flip-side pool pretending to be in a big one.

“a nun or a mom.” was always my answer.

“but what else?”

“nothing else.”

every time i give my testimony, it begins something like this:

“i always wanted to be a nun or a mom. and since i’m not Catholic, i’m a mom.”

giggles and head nods usually follow.

“mom” is defined as: a female parent. but “mom” is so much more than that. 

she’s a  late night snuggler, a definer of words, an answer-er of questions, feeder of mouths, changer of diapers, tickle monster, doer of laundry, player of repetitive games, reader of repetitive books, color-er of pages, lover of husband, and is honored to love her children.

whether she works outside of the home or not, she is so much more than “a female parent.”

i miss my girls when they’re not with me. i don’t know what to do w/ myself when they’re absent.

i’m sure to some it would seem that i have no life. that i’m stuck at home all day. or that i have actually ever had a bonbon or watched a soap opera.


i am living my calling.

not always with a sincere smile on my face, not always w/ a quiet and gentle tone, but LIVING it nonetheless.

yesterday #2 asked me, “what does a soul look like?”

“it looks like who you really are. we are a soul with a body on.” i replied.

her sister went on to explain it in kid terms.

i looked at #2 as her little mind switched topics and smiled.

it’s an honor to be their “female parent.” to watch them grow. to start to understand the world around them. and in all of that, i pray that i’m living my calling to the fullest.

not only putting their needs before my own, not only struggling to learn patience, but LIVING this MOM Calling.

and not only because i’m not catholic, but because THE FATHER chose me for this calling. CHOSE ME!   me with all my faults, with my temper, and with my “what about me?”s.

i was hand picked to be their mother. and i’m humbled by the thought.

do i fear messing them up? YES!

do i fear they’re missing something because this moron is their mother?  YES!

but as in all things i hear HIM say, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

and i know that when i am weak, then i am strong!

and ya know what, i don’t think i would have chosen to be a nun anyway.


P.S. you. yes you, dear mother. you are precious. you are doing the most difficult, most fulfilling JOB there is. you are shaping lives. being used by THE CREATOR to help grow a person. you are ENOUGH! Jesus offers strength in your weakness. Rest in your exhaustion, and joy in the sad and difficult. how do i know? BECAUSE HE IS GIVING ME THE SAME THING! and I know i couldn’t live another day if He didn’t. so hold your chin up, and embrace this mom-calling. i’m rooting for you from here.