In the light of the kitchen in moments of mothering.

“And despite knowing the journey ahead, we choose to embrace every beautiful moment along the way.”


Just as precious gems can be found tucked into rocky crevices, shimmering gold refined only in fire and thick and sloppy clay is molded so perfectly only by the potter’s hand.


Just like sweet dough before it rises, a delicate craft of mixtures and elements strategically chosen by the grand chef intricately selecting every ingredient which must be measured and sifted and kneaded and pulled.


Sincere thanks to my dear friend, Jeannette Howard, for snapping the photos above so I could step into the frame with my littles. 

They all together would remain hidden, dull, meaningless, incomplete without omniscient intentionality,
the intimate acquaintance found in the hand of the Maker.


End products in in their preciousness and irreplaceable value simply could not exist without the process.

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And so in marriage and mothering, passions and pursuits, here we are in the crevices, the fire, the molding, the process.


C.S. Lewis once wrote “Stop viewing the unpleasant things of your life as interruptions to your life. They are, in fact, your life.”


And thus, with eyes fixed with hope on glory, hearts anchored to the destination of all consuming perfection,
the light is most brilliant when stepped into from shadows, satisfaction most fulfilling when following hunger and all is made beautiful in the end.

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