Growing roses when you have a brown thumb

I have rifled through albums and boxes of pictures from my growing up years and made an impressive discovery. Photography in the 1970’s and 80’s was not a thing like it is now. I was searching for a picture of the lovely roses my mom grew in our backyard when I was a child. But there was not one picture of just those roses. No one snapped photos of a backyard back then. Those roses served only as a backdrop for all of our special events; including my own christening in 1975 (so you get a little 70’s style with the image this week!). In my early childhood memories, however, those rose bushes were a much bigger deal.

A view of the year from above

This summer we took a trip to Colorado to see our dear friends. And as we look back over 2017, this is by far the Sain family’s favorite memory. It was our first trip out west, the boys first plane ride and so good for our hearts to be with our friends. It was also the first time we ever attempted to drive a rental car filled with five boys up a snowy mountain road in hopes of getting a view from the top of Pike’s Peak. This little adventure topped our list as one of the most terrifying and most amazing things we did this year.

A letter to all of us about Joy– the kind we can’t find at the mall

Dear all of you “Christmas joy makers”, this letter is for you and for me. I know you’re out there. You probably don’t even think you have time to read this little letter. You have Christmas joy to make. It’s a big job, I know. I see you racing about, eyes on the clock, lists in hand. I hear you on the phone in the never-ending check-out lines making all the plans. Christmas won’t come if you don’t make it. I know.

When peace comes like a snowstorm

We will be talking about it for years to come. The snowstorm that blew into the South on only the second week of Advent. The storm that no one saw coming. It fell from the sky in huge downy flakes and coated our Christmas lights and holly wreaths like postcard pictures. And it screeched the hustle and bustle of our holidays to a complete halt. Because this is the South. And we don’t do snow.

The music of Hope – First in our Advent Series

A missing tuxedo shirt, black pants that suddenly seem to have shrunk,  and a cello banging around in the back of my van with the basketballs can only mean one thing. It is concert season! Holidays here we come …

Advent in a coffee shop

She wants to see him. That’s it. That’s all she wants. He tries to get her to say more. An actual present, please? He persists. She wipes the corners of her eyes and leans in close to the computer. Just you, she whispers. No presents.

On being thankful for our people

adventure-1807524__340I was eleven when I first met her; right at the beginning of that braces, bad hair and awkward shyness phase. I was a student and she was the principal. My goal was to never have to talk to her.  Ever. Her heels and clothes and super cool car were legendary and no one wanted to cross her. No one. 

Thankful for things you can’t fix?

I am thankful for things that I cannot fix. My kid raises his eyebrows at me. He’s trying to finish his “thankful for” homework list and  I am not cooperating. “That makes no sense, Mom!” He starts to write down the words and then erases them. “Why would you be thankful for something that you can’t do?” I know. I used to think that way too. And then I met Cedric.

For the love of the church and all of the people

“What if it had happened at your church? What if it were you?” a friend and I are discussing all of the recent events in Sutherland Springs, TX. Church just isn’t her thing; so she is earnest in her questioning. “What would you want everyone to be talking about?” We are lamenting the horrible evil and the broken hearts of so many people. But she looks me straight in the eye when she asks that question. “What would you want the nation’s conversation to be about if you died while standing in your church?”

How to use a compass

Orienteering. I just had to Google that word to make sure I was using it correctly. It involves reading a map and using numbers, in the woods on unknown paths. Yeah. My brain is missing the neurons it needs to do these things.  But when I was a 12 year old Girl Scout, I did not yet know this about myself. I thought I was pretty good at everything. And so did all my friends. We learned the hard way that staying on course isn’t always as easy as it looks.