When Your Faith Doesn't Move Mountains

The gypsy had a layer of skin where eyes normally should go. He also had stringy hair with yellow flakes falling out, and a dirty unbuttoned white shirt. His home was made of cardboard, and his kitchen was a fire pit. The least we could do was heal his eyes. This was my second Teen…
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Making a home

A mother’s desire to create a home for her children is a very real thing. Before my feminist friends lash out at me for that statement, hear me out. I am not talking about this:   I’m talking more about an innate, natural desire to give our children a home environment that is safe, nurturing…
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Being a mother is giving your heart away forever

When I first told my mom two years ago that Joe and I were thinking of having children soon, she didn’t whip out piles of baby blankets she’d been secretly purchasing for “when the time came” or start talking about little baby feet. Instead, she got serious on me. “I just have to tell you,”…
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