Best Posts of 2018!

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Blogging can be a little too much like having an imaginary friend.

Picture sitting at the smallest table at your coffee shop. (I’m having a seasonal special with half of the pumps, decaf. …Because as someone told me, with natural enthusiasm like mine, I should remain uncaffeinated. You?)

You imagine a person sitting across from you. You know a few things about them, but their specific life details are a little hazy. Somehow, you want to help, maybe extend a hand across the table, maybe look someone in the eye. And you have a feeling it will happen by just baring a little soul, and its own gaping, sloppy flaws, the muddy path you’re slogging every day.

Sometimes the conversation flops. Your imaginary friend gives you a look that says, Thanks for trying.

But sometimes, we connect. And God exhales more life into both of us.

Great thing is: You’re not imaginary.

This year, I’m grateful for you as a reader. I’m thankful for the minutes you snag here and there to chew on your relationships and the things that make us throbbingly, pulsatingly alive–even as we bleed. I’m thankful for the moments you face your soul upward, waiting for rain.

Below, find some of the best conversations this year.

As we peek over to 2019, may this next year find both of us loving him more, and loving more like him, burrowing a little deeper into a generous grace.

When Help Makes Them Helpless: Why Not to Pick Up Your Kids’ Socks

Parenthood is an exercise in setting aside my selfishness. But could I actually be creating needs for me to meet…to make myself feel better?

Caught Up in the Wonder: When You’re One Lucky Dog

Someday I will look at the peach-fuzzed young man come to take out my daughter, and I will think, “You may come back when you realize what a lucky dog you are.” But I guess I can resonate.

Guest Post: There She Is: Miss America, Swimsuits, and #UsToo

I’m thinking, Brava, Miss America, for eliminating a bit of the external from the ideal. But what if we didn’t stop there? What does it look like for each of us to disregard the bigger “swimsuit competition” far deeper within our culture, our daughters, our sons? What about the one…within me?