Is Joy the same as Happiness?

So, I've started journaling again. I say again because I have this habit of starting a journal and writing religiously in it for 2-ish weeks. Then, I miss a day. Then, I miss another. Then, the whole journal thing gets forgotten for months on end. Until I remember, oh hey! I have a journal! Aaaand, the cycle continues. For this round of writing, I've taken to relying on journal prompts as a way to break out of the "today I ate eggs for breakfast, went to work, the kids said something funny" daily monologue routine that I tend to fall into. It's been questions such as " what do I need more of in my life?" and "how do I feel at the moment?" And most of those have been easy to answer.

Big Box Parenting

This week many of us reflect on our mother, grandmother, or perhaps our own role in being a mother. While visiting with my friend Norma earlier this week, I reflected on my mom’s Big Box parenting style. With fondness I wonder, was this wisdom imparted by her own mother or a survival mechanism as a widow raising two teenagers?! My brother and I had a very Big Box, with defined boundaries, in which to navigate our daily lives. Definitely no micro managing! We learn from each other, are encouraged, and need each other as we navigate life. We have the Word of God to guide us and the Holy Spirit to empower us. There were expectations that each of us complete our daily chores, do well in school

Fadeless Memories?

In the early years of our marriage, Teresa and I moved around quite a bit. When I recall the places we lived by name, many associations flash through my mind. In Atlanta: the high-speed traffic, the great boss, the tennis and swim accommodations inside most every neighborhood and the tornado that went over our house. In New Orleans: the great food, the deep culture, the McDonald’s menu in French, the drive-through daiquiri shops, the crawfish boils and the warm muggy evenings sitting in the driveway with neighbors. Maryland, Minnesota, Texas…each place we lived has its own inventory in my memory banks. Interestingly, one place we lived takes up very little space in my memory banks. Wac

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