More so than any of my other children, Peter and I enjoy each other. We laugh and cook and clean and I even teach him some of my potions, though to truly work they need a bit of my magic. He helps me through grieving when Lionel, Abigail, and Theodosia leave. He becomes close with Abram, who is only a few months older than him, and helps me with the two girls I save a few months apart a year after he came home with me. Peter and I explore The Wood and meet all the creatures that loan me their gifts and strengths. He listens to my teachings and even comes with me once when I go to save a child. That one ended up refusing me, though. That doesn’t happen often, but enough to make me question everything I do. Continue reading →
I can’t take it anymore. I need it to end. Please.
I sit up in bed, the cry from two towns over echoing in my dreams. It’s a young boy, about nine years old, sitting on the floor of his tiny bedroom. He’s crying and bleeding, listening to screaming in the next room. Usually, I would wait a week and assess the situation and get my current children prepared before leaving, but today is different. If I don’t save this child, he will take matters into his own hands. I can feel it. Continue reading →
My house has already tripled in size since Nissa saved me that day ten years ago. She returned to her own woods the following day, after teaching me how to build my new home, but I saw her a few more times before she passed. Her home now houses hundreds of Woodland creatures and floral life. The magic that still resides there keeps them safe, happy, and healthy. It also acts as a home for roaming witches. For those who have not found their place, their Wood or their clearing, Nissa’s gives them safety for as long as they need it. Continue reading →
I tried all I could to get rid of it when I was a child. But even human devices did not work. They use their own forms of potions, such as pastes and oils, to cure their injuries. However, all they create must be applied immediately, which I was not able to do.
So I tried all the potions and spells I knew. I even sent a message to a fellow witch a few towns over. Her reply was kind and caused me to hide in my bathtub, shaking with sobs, but did not help with getting rid of the scar.
It has not been the easiest or calmest summer. But I’m not going to lie and say it’s been a bad summer. In fact, it’s been wild, scary, busy, and exhausting, but it’s also been my favorite summer.
The past few weeks have been great. I’m still tired and busy and doing new things, but everything has been going really well. I’ve had awesome moments with Jesus, have met some amazing people, and have learned awesome new crafts.
The conversations I’ve had with the people I love are nothing short of glorifying to God and His name. Everything is pointing back to Him and I’m so humbled to be where I am. Continue reading →
Ever heard the saying “A watched pot never boils”?
Okay, where on EARTH have you been for your entire life?
The meaning of the phrase is this: When you watch something, desperately waiting for it to happen, it seems to take so much longer than if you’re not paying attention. If you make tea and then lean against the counter, staring at the kettle, it will never sing. But if you leave, go downstairs, start a new project, and go to the bathroom, then it will start screaming immediately.
You’re following my family’s story right? You’ve been reading our Facebook posts, liking them and sometimes commenting. Maybe you’ve shared one or two. You’ve prayed and reached out and I can’t say thank you enough.
If you haven’t been, that’s okay. Welcome to… well, I’d say hell but I’ve seen too much of heaven to be that blind. Welcome to one chapter of a bigger story. It’s a wild ride, step on and share it with us.
Here is the quick rundown: My dad is a traveling missionary. He was in Africa. Some d*mn mosquito bit him. (Eff that bug) My parents go to Siberia in the middle of no where. My dad is really sick and unresponsive. It’s 2 am. My mom is alone. Queue a week in a crappy Russian hospital where the paint is pealing off the walls and my mom isn’t allowed to see my dad and the doctors don’t speak English and they’re telling my mom to remember him as he was. Span over to Greenville, Texas in a full house on an acre of land where five people, mere kids in this moment, are desperately doing all they can to keep their dad alive from 10,000 miles away. Take in the whole picture and see thousands of people, believers, holding this family up. Fast forward to the success of my parents making it to Paris. The doctors doing all they can. The kids crying at his bedside while a machine breathes for their dad and their mom fights to stay strong. Continue reading →
You know that feeling when you know God has something to tell you and all day you feel it in the back of your head? Like a whisper blowing through your mind, tickling all your senses till you give into the words? The promises?
All day God had been telling me to read Matthew 8.
I’m trying to find words. I feel this urgency to find them because it’s what I do, it’s my thing. I find the words that become hard to find and I write them down. That’s my gift and how I manage.
But it’s getting harder to find words that merit being shared about this situation. If I’m being honest, even though we keep getting good news and we are being so encouraged and supported, I’m finding it difficult to sit down and write something that’s worthy of being read.
I can’t seem to explain.
Then I Face-Timed with Zoe for a while and realized I didn’t have to fully explain because it could never fully be understood, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t try. Continue reading →
One of the worst parts of all this is watching my Mom. I’ve never seen two people more in love, more passionate about pursuing God together, than my parents. I’ve never seen a team that works so hard to share the love of God with every corner of the earth. I dream of a future where maybe, just maybe, I’ve found a love like this one. Of finding a love that endures a nightmare you couldn’t even imagine. I dream of finding a man like my Daddy, albeit maybe with one or two more tattoos. Continue reading →