Sometimes life runs right past you leaving little time to reflect. And that might actually be the point - less thinking, more living!

I make the spontaneous decision to go back to South Africa to see my dad after his heart surgery. When in doubt, go home. There’s never a wrong time to wrap your arms around the people you love.

When the departure of family opens up space to be creative, we decide to embrace it as our word of the year for 2024.

It’s Christmas, a season that always brings up mixed emotions. Whilst managing them can be tiring, I’m reminded that life is a mixture of grief and gratitude - it’s our choice to get the balance right.

Remembering the people and places I have lost or left behind reminds me how to LIVE. I wouldn’t be who I am, nor would I see the world the way I do, without having wrestled with grief.

Caring for parents in another country is challenging. When my father has to have heart surgery, I’m left navigating new emotions and reflecting on my choices.

A trip to the Galápagos Islands and Ecuador reminds me how travel and adventure have always ranked high on our list of family values. Could it be related to our lifestyle of high mobility?

My daughter’s high school graduation prompts me to put my transition skills into practice. Embracing the lasts so we can look forward to the future.

When a passing ship shares a message that helps me make sense of this intense season we’ve been in, it warrants my full attention.

How does my family’s word for the year connect with what many of us are experiencing as we enter 2023? Read the story here or join me as a guest on Jackie Roese’s podcast where we get curious about cultivating friendships in life transitions.

When a lonely fig tree reminds me that I am seen and known and that being rooted in Christ is the source of my identity and a resting place for my need to belong.

As a new year gets underway, we press in to choosing to celebrate everything from the smallest achievement to life itself.

When a sudden case of déjà vu stirs the grief of not being able to return home, I’m left to face the fog of despair. Yet, even here I am reminded that I am both seen and known.

A summer of rowing teaches me valuable lessons that help establish a new rhythm as we transition into fall.

When a halfway-through-summer transition feels like an opportunity to reflect on the hard lessons learned, the adventure that awaits, and the moments within our reach to recapture joy.

We have hugged, reassured, championed, and consoled, but we are tired. With May being national Mental Health Awareness month, I want to acknowledge this difficult season and encourage families to seek support.

As we remember and celebrate mothers this Mother’s Day, there is one mother I don’t want to neglect. The land of our birth, the country that charmed our childhoods, and for some the place we’re watching helplessly from a world away.

After writing the last blog post, I accepted that I have been languishing, set aside some uninterrupted time to find my flow, and took my own advice to set a small goal: just one poem.

Here it is, title inspired by my youngest daughter.

Many of us are feeling an internal sense of joylessness, even as outward signs of returning to pre-pandemic normalcy abound. Could the dominant emotion of 2021 be languishing? And what can we do about it?

When a tornado follows hot on the heels of a devastating winter storm, it takes working in the garden to find the signs of resurrection life I need to persevere.