Category Archives: A Mama’s Heart

Boy Mom

A tap on the shoulder. An older woman with tears settling in as she considered what she saw. “I always imagine it’s a special bond– a mother and her son.” She had seen the way one of you leaned behind daddy to rub my arm for a moment during church. “Do any of them ever come up and. . .” I knew what she was asking, though I don’t know how she would have worded it or even how I can put it into words now.

“Yes.” I answered her. Before I could tell her that all four of you love and take care of me well, we were interrupted. She has two girls. Grown. I wondered if she missed never having a boy to love on her, stand beside her, be protective of her.

I don’t think I’d ever stopped to consider the uniqueness of that boy/mom relationship. It’s all I’ve known. But when I consider a mother with her daughter, I realize that this certainly is different. And it makes me grateful again. You four boys are so precious to me. You all have moments where you snuggle in next to me and let me know that I’m your girl 🙂 I love it.

I needed that reminder because I often get bogged down by the burping at dinner, obnoxious noises, rowdy inattention. All those things that make you boys. But I truly love you and I love everything about you (even if sometimes I need to step away from it for awhile;).

I was thankful for that tap on the shoulder. I am thankful for that little hand that reached behind daddy to let me know he loved me. I am thankful for each of you. I  love being your mom.




Starting Again. . . A New Year

Dear Boys,

I sat at a friend’s table last time December turned into January. The new year crawled in with all the discouragement and uncertainty that the old year had dragged along. Homeless. Jobless. Completely incapable of making any decisions while we waited for Him to tell us what He’d already decided.

Clinging to His sovereignty.

He did tell us. February moved us into our own home as we prepared to enter a new ministry. . . again. Beginnings and ends are so hard. Six of us starting over again.

Trusting His faithfulness.

March was a balm. Such loving kindness was showered on us. And what I dreaded about this new beginning, never came to pass. Our new family welcomed us in the warmest way.

Resting in His mercy.

Sweet routine swept us through months 4-6. Settling into our new normal. Getting to know new friends. Walking hard roads with old friends.

Reveling in His grace.

July brought the biggest surprise of the year. On our 10th anniversary, I told your daddy that the 7th Blondo was on the way.

Rejoicing in His kindness.

I spent August and September with a bucket attached to me, but dreaming of how this baby would be loved so well. I listened to excited brothers pick out names and plan for this baby.

Enjoying His gifts.

October. . . a sweet doctor in a cold room tried so hard to find that heartbeat. The screen refused to acknowledge life. I met death. Everything broke. For the rest of my life, I know that someone is missing. The sadness is deep.

Clinging to Truth.

Every moment for the rest of the year I grieve. But I also sing and laugh and dance with you boys. Because there was a Baby who became a Man who is our Savior. And I trust Him to take all these broken days and make them right.

Trusting His presence and His promises.

2016- He gave us so much. He took so much. But no matter what, always know that He is good.

Love you all like crazy,


Sweet Seven

Dear Gabe,

It’s ridiculous how you’ve grown without me even really noticing. Then one day you turn 7 and I look back and can’t remember nearly enough of all the in between moments. But I remember some. I remember how you would monkey crawl all over the place. I remember how you’d fall asleep during dinner if you went without a nap. You got so excited when you would see Buzz Bightyear!

Seven years with you have been the sweetest. I just wish . . .

I never wanted to say those words as a mom. I remember when you were first born, and your brother wasn’t even two years old yet, I consciously decided that I would live in such a way that I wouldn’t regret or long for anything different. I haven’t done such a good job at that. But I encourage myself that you are not even halfway through with your time at home and there is still time for me to be the best mama to you. So what do I wish right now that I would do differently from now until you’re grown?

I wish that I would take time with the Lord every morning. Fervently. Whole-heartedly. I want to be full of Him—not just for you and your brothers, but for me. I am His daughter and I long for quiet, intimate time with Him. And I am confident that that would result in a sweeter, more patient, more gospel-powered mama for you.

I wish that you heard me praying for you more often. I wish I pulled you aside more often to take you before the Lord with me. I wish you were undoubtedly aware of the importance of knowing Him and having a relationship with Him.

I wish that I wasn’t so harsh with you. You are the more sensitive of all my boys, yet I speak to you the same way I do the others and I fear it breaks your spirit at times. Where I can be firm with the others, I must be gentler with you.

I wish I’d taught you to make cookies already. You’ve been requesting to learn for over four months and for whatever lame reason, I haven’t taught you yet. Let’s do it. This week. Because I love you.

Yes, your mama fails you often, but you still squeeze my hand three times whenever you hold it. (You still hold my hand!) You still give me cute winks, kisses when you get out of the van for school, and sudden outbursts of “I love you more than you think!”

Thank you for loving me so well, Gabe. You have been a blessing to me from the first day I felt you kick inside of me. You are so precious to me. You are so precious to your Maker. I pray that as you work toward year eight, you will know Him better. I pray that the gospel will come alive in your heart as you continue to learn it with your head. I pray you know Him. I pray that I will be a faithful picture of Jesus to you.

I love you more than you think,


See Jesus. Not me.

Dear Boys,

The work God has given me as your mama is the most important work I could be doing. Anything the Lord calls us to do is the best and most important work for us.

But it’s hard.

The monotony is hard.

The lack of immediate results is hard. And hard can lead to discontent.

Discontent is an uneasy road to live on but far too easy to get on.

Sometimes I wonder who you see when you look at me. When you hear my voice, what does it sound like to you?

There are days that are so grace-filled, gospel-spoken, joy-driven—but they seem to be fewer these days than they used to be.

Then there are days that are just sin-soaked. From every direction we all feel so beaten down that we start beating each other with impatience, selfishness, hurry.

I will only fail you. I am more aware of that after this past year than I have ever been before. This isn’t modesty. It is the muddy truth. Every single day that I get out of bed without a thought of the Life-Giver, I walk down those stairs a dead woman incapable of giving grace to any of my precious boys.

He will not fail you. And I hold onto that Truth with white knuckles and a thankful heart.

And so I fall on Him. I cleave with my entire being onto His character. I trust Him to complete the work He has begun in our home.

And it will keep being messy and hard. But I can be content in that mess knowing that it is He who has put me here and it is He who will work through me here.

I whisper to myself in those early hours, “Let your four boys see Jesus today. Not you.”

I pray you see Jesus. Only Jesus.

I love you like crazy,


Dear Boys,

When I was your age, my only dream was to be a wife and mom. I can still remember my first baby– the one that came about 18 years before any of you grew inside of me. Emily was given to me as a birthday gift and she didn’t leave my side for months. I still remember how her rubbery head smelled– weird as that is. My next baby was actually my brother. When your Grandma brought him home from the hospital, I snatched him up and took care of him as well as I knew how– all the while adorning the “doctor’s clothes” we’d received at a sibling class the hospital hosted. I loathed the moments when I’d have to hand him over so he could be fed or go down for naps.


You know, in all of my playing house, I never imagined that God would give me four boys. At 2, 4, 6, and 8, you guys are my little loves. I see dreams seep through those hearts and mouths and I pray that all your desires would come from Him. My deepest yearning is for each of your hearts to be connected to Christ’s. For all the teaching, training, playing, crying, and overall madness that goes on in this home, I know that it is God who has to work in each of you. Can I tell you what a relief that is–especially in the midst of these hard seasons when words are said that can’t be unspoken, tones used that can’t be undone, when priorities are sometimes crooked, schedules unpredictable, brothers seemingly favored above you, when mama runs out of her chocolate stash and can’t even find a quiet closet for a few moments of stillness. Our life is loud and it is hard. But I pray you can taste and see how good it is because of our God. Even on the hard days.

More than anything today, I want you to know that my heart is always crying out and interceedingfor you– for grace, salvation, fruit, and a deep heart-knowing of God. You–Drew, Gabe, Wes, and Noah– are my little pilgrims. And I pray for the grace to lead you well to the Celestial City (we are obviously in the middle of reading Little Pilgrim’s Progress).

I love you like crazy,