The Norman Rockwell Holiday That Never Happens (and other great posts this week)

I’ve played the waiting game. Looking for a job, waiting out a rough one. Trying to connect, to put down roots that take. Some days parenting is an exercise in being fully present, in not just waiting for second shift when Dad tags in, bedtime, or tomorrow’s new mercies, sweet Jesus, please.

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More real than rankings or refund numbers. More real than sales or royalty reports.  The people – the ones in the pages, the ones who walked this earth before me, the ones who read – they are my focus.  Always.

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It’s enough to make you scream and shout and weep and fall apart, and if you do, I want you to know, it’s okay. Everyone wants to act like the holidays are the time to have our ish together, all charming and cheerful like a freaking Norman Rockwell, but we all know it’s never really like that, even on our best days, right?

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I wasn’t really alone during that time in my life—I had my daughters, at least most of the time. And most of the time I didn’t feel lonely, even when I was actually alone. But at dusk, in December, there was a weight of melancholy that pressed on my chest, spreading through me in a thick, slow ache.

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God is a midwife to His laboring world. He holds us, reminding us to breathe, He props us up and leans in to keep us from sinking. We bare down, push too hard and He whispers quiet, but firm, “s l o w–breathe“.

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What’s the best blog post you read recently?