Thank you.

Thank you for saying “I do”.
Thank you for smiling at me in a way that shows me how much you love me. I live life knowing I’m loved deeply, and it’s a wonderful way to live.

Thank you for being patient with my ramblings and my (lack of) organizational skills. And my procrastination. And my impulsive entrepreneurial ideas. And my annoying habit of leaving cupboard doors open. And my lawn mowing skills. And my forgetting to put your work clothes into the dryer. And my never scooping the dog poop. And my locking the keys in my car, and killing the battery and backing in to stuff. And….maybe I’ll stop there.

Thank you for calmly saying “I got it” when we are an hour from home and I freak out because I remember what I forgot to pack and I knew I was forgetting something. (Seriously he saves the trip. Every time).

Thank you for holding me and praying for us when I cried on your shoulder and told you we weren’t going to be able to meet our baby.

Thank you for taking me to Church when I was angry and didn’t want to go. God did His deepest healing in me on those mornings. 

Thank you for always reaching for my hand.

Thank you for telling me you are proud of me. 

Thank you for your kind eyes, that looked with awe and wonder at our new baby son. He has your eyes.

Thank you for starting each morning reading your bible and praying for wisdom, and praying for me. I spy on you sometimes.

Thank you for always eating what I cook, and telling me thank you for the meal. And for helping clean the kitchen afterward. COOKING IS HARD!

Thank you for telling me that you love me in moments when I’m not expecting it, like when we’re checking cows or irrigating. 

Thank you for working so HARD. You are a pretty badass farmer. Sorry for saying badass.

Thank you for rocking fussy babies so I can sleep.

Thank you for asking me how I am. 

Thank you for helping me do something I didn’t believe I could. (I’m referring to bringing a giant baby named Rex into this world without an epidural). That was all you. 

Thank you for telling me I look beautiful, fancy face or not.

Thank you for the kind of father you are to our little boys. I pray they are like you. 

Thank you for the last six years. They have been the happiest of my life.

I love you. 

Happy Birthday Lucy Garland

I tried to write earlier but couldn’t find words. I am emotionally exhausted, today I have felt deep sorrow, aching sadness, hope, anger, joy, abounding love, and shock. Pictures of her keep popping up and each one sends my heart crashing to my stomach. I get afraid because I think “how can we live without her?!” “How can this be real?!”. I feel rage that she isn’t here celebrating her birthday. Awhile ago, as I laid in bed, warm tears sliding down my cheeks onto my pillow, I heard a voice in my head saying “know that I love you”. I’ve said it to myself again and again. I know that He loves us. I know from everything I read that I love Him too. I cling to my hope because I’ve realized that’s all there is. I will love you and miss you until the day that I die Lucy.



I scroll through these pictures and I smile. My sweet son, and my handsome, hardworking husband. They fill my heart so full. The Farmer and his son. There is something kind of sacred about it, so much history. I am growing up. I look at myself in these pictures and see that I am a mother and a wife, and it shocks me a little bit. Life can hurt us, make us afraid to love, make us afraid to feel the agony of losing love. I struggle with this almost every day, but I see in these pictures that there can’t really be life without love. There is great risk yes, but there is life in love. I am trying to savor these moments, and all the moments to come. Living and loving in my right now.

Photos by the lovely and talented Whitney Twogood

Stop it.

Moms are under attack, and I’m tired of it. There are people exploiting a mothers fear and concern for the health and wellbeing of her family, making millions because of it, and that is not OK. Facebook has been annoying to me for awhile, but now I can barely stand to open it. My newsfeed is filled with link after link of “DON’T FEED YOUR KID THIS” or “SWITCH TO DRINKING THIS” or “ARE YOU POISONING YOUR KID WITH THIS”. Friends, can we all just take a second and STOP! Can we remember for a moment that not everything we read online is true and that not every link shared on Facebook is true. Let’s use our common sense. People are using words that you don’t totally understand to scare you. They talk about the way your food is grown/produced, frightening you with words like GMO, pesticide and fertilizer, they show you the worst pictures they can find of animals in crates and confinement. They may be well intentioned, but i don’t think they are, otherwise they would be telling you the truth. They would show you pictures of people like us, small family farms, which 88% of farms in the United States are. I am not afraid of the food we grow, the food we eat. I am proud of modern agriculture, the advancements they’ve made and the way they care for their animals. My husband and I grow corn, soybeans and popcorn. My father-in-law raises pigs, one of my best friends has a dairy farm, and I personally know at least 20 cattle ranchers. I have the advantage of knowing where my food comes from, and the people who grow it. I know what we put on the crops, I know why, and I know what the regulations are that ensure the food we grow is safe. I hope, as Moms, maybe we can stop the rapid spread of fear and misinformation, take a deep breath, not be so easily frightened, and start asking good questions about our food of the people who GROW it. My food philosophy is this: try to eat fresh food, and not processed. Eat a good balance of fruits, vegetables, meats, dairy, eggs, nuts and whole grains, but don’t be afraid to relax and eat a donut with your son every once in awhile, or treat yourself to an ice cold Pepsi, or open up a bag of chips when you’re grilling burgers at the lake! It’s responsible of you to read the ingredient labels, and to make an educated choice about what to feed your family. We are so fortunate to live in a country where we have easy access to healthy, affordable food. Let’s not ruin that for our children, and their children. You are entitled to your own food philosophy and to eat accordingly, but for the love of food, can we stop sharing links on Facebook?!


My Little Boy


These are a few of his favorite things…

He is happiest outside, in a tractor, on a four wheeler or playing in the dirt. He loves to watch “melmo” and tries to sing along. He loves dogs, Case especially. He throws the biggest fits when he gets dropped off in the nursey or when it’s time to go inside. He still only has four teeth, and he feels like a big boy when I set him on the counter to brush his teeth with me. We took him to the lake for the first time this year and he couldn’t decide if he liked the sand or the water better…until he saw the boat. Can’t really remember life without him, and I don’t really care to!

Because it’s Easter

Oh friends, if there is anything I want you to know, it’s this: that there is only one real truth, and it remains truth, regardless of what we do with it. Because Jesus is who He says He is, and did what He says He did, our broken hearts will be healed, our sorrow won’t devour us, our beloved Lucy isn’t lost to us. There is so much hope and joy in this day.

“Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace.” – Luke 1:78-79


Words and Walking

I love the way Carl tries to say “belly button” and “all done”. I love his stiff legged, wobbly walking. I love the dangly, wet little curls when he’s in the bath. I love his four teeth and the double chin that show up when he laughs. I love the way he squeals and throws his head into the couch pillows when he sees Andrew pull in to the driveway. I love the way he says “Hi. Hi. Hi.” when I get him out of his crib in the morning. And his smell, it’s uniquely his, and so familiar to me. I love that we can play together. I love that he still snuggles with me before naps and bed. I love this stage.