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Visit the shop to browse new arrivals!

Memories

I Wanted to Remember Us—What I Would Tell Her

Brain Cancer Journey | Caregiving | Healing | Hope | Memories

I Wanted to Remember Us—What I Would Tell Her

Memorial Day Memory—Remember Me and the Tarnished Silver Box

Grief and Loss | Life | Memories

Memorial Day Memory—Remember Me and the Tarnished Silver Box

To the Moon and Back

Faith | Home | Hope | Memories | Widowhood

To the Moon and Back

Here’s to 56—May We Honor the Gift of Life

Healing | Life | Memories | Widowhood

Here’s to 56—May We Honor the Gift of Life

Coming Home to the Heart of Homecoming

Faith | Family | Memories | Widowhood

Coming Home to the Heart of Homecoming

Blooming Roses and Whispers of the Holy Spirit

Garden | Healing | Memories

Blooming Roses and Whispers of the Holy Spirit

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houseofloveandlaughterblog

Catholic Writer | Shop Creator
Navigating Grief and Joy, Finding to Hope, Seeking Truth, Trusting God and Creating Beauty and a Soft Place to Land

Maybe this is part of what all those years were fo

Maybe this is part of what all those years were for.

We spend so much time building a home, creating traditions and doing a thousand ordinary things we aren’t sure anyone will remember.

And then one day, without being asked, to my surprise, the kids make the cake. Just what this tender-hearted momma needed.

We spend so much of motherhood learning how to hold on and let go at the very same time.

Today, I’m launching my baby girl into the world, and I’m thinking about those 900 or so Sundays we get before our children turn 18—and what I know about them now that my youngest is 18 and leaving the nest.

Maybe those 900 or more Sundays were never a countdown to an ending at all.

They were the foundation of a love and a home they would carry with them wherever they went, into the lives God was calling them to live.

There is a season for holding them close.

And there is a season for letting them fly.

A new reflection on long summers, motherhood, letting go, the traditions we carry forward—and cake.

And there was always cake.

If you’re in a season of letting go, maybe these words will resonate with you, too.

If you are in the trenches maybe this will give you hope that the work of those ordinary days does matter.

New reflection on the blog today: Summer Endings, More Sundays and a Sweet Cake

🌊☀️Holding on a little bit longer before I have to

🌊☀️Holding on a little bit longer before I have to let go...of them and summer.

This summer was one for the books (or a book), all of its lessons, heartache, beauty, sorrow, stumbling, imperfection, mercy, grace, healing, gifts and sacred time by the sea, on our deck as the sun rose or set, or around the kitchen island with my most treasured people who are each growing and becoming the beautiful people God is calling them to be.

It hasn’t been without heartache, suffering, grief, mistakes, forgiveness, starting over and rebuilding—maybe even being made new. But it has also been late nights and early mornings, sunrises on the deck, dance recitals, celebrations, visitors, fireworks on the roof and at the park, coffee, lattes and bike rides, lingering on the sand, in the sun and on our deck with a view of our lush, colorful backyard and gardens where the hydrangeas and roses bloom abundantly…maybe we all have bloomed in the midst of it all, too.

And through it all, God continues to amaze me when He shows His face and gentle presence at the exact moment we needed, even if we only recognize it when we look back.

I thought it was going to be a different summer. It didn’t turn out quite as we planned. But God knew it was the summer I/we needed and it was filled with mercy, grace and lots of love.

What a summer it has been, and I am so grateful for every hard, heartbreaking, unexpected, beautiful, fun, healing and sacred moment.

Holding on for them, for me, for us,

…for just a little bit longer.

Until we launch...

The ordinary moments are often the holiest ground

The ordinary moments are often the holiest ground we will ever walk upon. Or the holiest road we’ll drive on.

When we pay attention, we can more fully see the threads God has been weaving throughout our lives in our joy and pain, in beauty and sorrow, in the details, In the timing, in every encounter, in our discernment and our big decisions, in the moments that ask more of us than we thought we could give, in our small acts of courage, and in the hidden acts of love.

At times and in time, we begin to notice how He is growing us, too—often in ways we never expected, through moments and experiences we never would have chosen, and through trials and circumstances we are still learning to carry.

Maybe that is part of the gift of noticing: realizing that every as life changes around us, as we rebuild or find our way through a life we didn’t plan, God is still creating beauty, writing our stories, still meeting us in the ordinary, still gently growing (and rebuilding) us into who He created us to be.

If you are walking a road you never expected to travel, making decisions you never imagined you would have to make, or quietly finding your way through a life that looks different than the one you planned, I hope you remember to look for Him in the details. The road may not be on you would have chosen, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be beauty or growth along the way.

May we have the eyes to notice, hearts open to receive and the grace to trust God is woven through it all.

God is in the details. #428😉 He is the one writing our story.
May we never forget and may our hearts always be grateful.

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