Today, while I folded laundry…

When we moved into this lake house, I made a decision to set aside my multitasking ways. Instead, I would focus on being intentional — being present — in whatever task I was doing at that moment.

Oh, bless me.

I should probably sit down before I reminisce next time.

You can probably ascertain that my worthy goal didn’t stick. Nope, not even for a week.

Some people (namely Jeff) think that multitasking is impossible.

It’s not. For some of us, it’s more like second nature.

Sure, I can cook sausage and eggs while simultaneously scheduling all the kids’ appointments for next week.

Yes, I can catch-up on emails while Jeff drives us to and from town for Wednesday night activities or Sunday morning church. That’s a 30-minute round trip after all!

And with that fancy dancy voice texting feature on my iPhone, I can fix my hair and put on makeup while catching up on any social media or texts.

Before you educate me on all the statistics that say otherwise, I know from personal experience (and from watching Jeff) that there is no way to get everything I get done in a day unless I multitask.

I’m not bragging.
I’ve lived this.

And if you’re the lady of the house, you may understand when I say no time is sacred or spared. I made a grocery list on the toilet yesterday for crying out loud.

Also, I typically read and edit Meredith and Kenny’s weekly paragraphs and essays during my one-hour lunch breaks from work (yes, while eating).

Multitasking DOES save time.
There’s no doubt about it.

But if we’re all honest, I think we’d also recognize that we multitaskers only save time so we can fill it with more tasks, which isn’t saving time so much as it’s consuming time.


When God answers your prayers while you intercede for others.

I must start by thanking each of you who commented or emailed following last week’s post, “What do you need to leave behind?”

Not only was I encouraged by your loving words and often, hard-earned wisdom but then, several of you chose to trust me with deep heartfelt, personal prayers.

Thank you for your vulnerability.

I was humbled and honored to pray for you.


What do you need to leave behind?

When I sat down to write this post, I thought I knew what I was writing.

I was wrong.

Which is fine, of course, except it is Sunday evening, and what I realize I need to write about is uncomfortable, if not slightly embarrassing.

So, here it is: I’m struggling to find my purpose for writing. And I think, (I’m still working this out with the Lord) at my very core, I fear that I’ve lost my voice, and that I’ll be forgotten.

For SEVEN years, I wrote about Homeschooling on The Pioneer Woman’s blog, a blog with millions of readers — readers who watched, read, commented and supported our family’s homeschooling choice.

It was a great adventure.

I knew my mission.

I knew my voice.

My writing purpose was clear.

And then, it wasn’t.



One of the things I most cherish about writing this weekly post is watching how it unfolds throughout the week. As soon as a post publishes, I begin asking the Lord for the next post.

I trust Him wholeheartedly, and so I know when He gives me a word to write it isn’t just for me, but also for you; it’s just how He works.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28 (NIV)

And each time our Sovereign God allows me to be a writing vessel for His love — be it encouragement or discipline (or as is often the case with me — both), I stand amazed.

In my prayer journal on Thursday, I wrote:

“Lord, please give me a post for Monday. Something that glorifies You and touches readers. I’m waiting. I’m listening.”

And yet even yesterday, Sunday morning, I still did not know what I would write for today.

I stayed home from church because I felt under the weather. Or more specifically, Kenny generously passed me his cold.

So, while Jeff loaded up the kids and set off for our church, I loaded up my mug, Bible and prayer journal and met with Jesus on the back deck.


Is it time for your scheduled maintenance?

Jeff and I had a short, semi-loud fight Tuesday night. Over ink. For the printer. But of course, it wasn’t about that.

It was about pride.
Fights are usually about pride, aren’t they?

I won’t go into details about the fight because as I said, it was short-lived and ridiculous. But at the end of it, Jeff curtly told me to stop being dramatic, which (of course) hurt my feelings.

In our family, calling someone dramatic is one of the biggest insults you can give. It gets all our attention, quickly.

And just in case you think I didn’t deserve it — that Jeff was being a jerk — I did, and he wasn’t.
But regardless, his words shut me down.
My feelings were hurt.

Working to avoid saying something (who am I kidding — saying several things) I’d regret later, I walked to the back of the lake house to sort laundry. Alone with my thoughts, and making sure not to knock the proverbial chip off my shoulder, I gave in to my swelling heart and misdirected passion, and silently, the tears fell.