There isn’t a manual for parenting, so there certainly isn’t one for taking your adopted child back to his homeland to visit biological family. It is a mix of exciting and terrifying.

A few nights ago I went to a concert at 8:30pm. I suddenly felt like I was in my 20's again. Normally I am winding down from a long day of clients, ubering my kids, getting groceries, or tending to some need somewhere.

I had an unexpected break from work today. People were sick and cancelled their appointments, so I looked at my afternoon and wondered what to do with myself.

My father is a pilot, and he has told me stories of landing a plane in an emergency – “If you feel, you die. You just have to stay calm and do the next right thing.”

I take the same route on my walk just about every day. I know it’s the safer street with less traffic, it’s nice flat land, and I have it timed out so I know exactly what gap in my day I can fit it in. It is predictable.

On a recent trip to Maine, I went on a whale watch tour. I jokingly, but with some honesty, said to my husband, “If we don’t see any whales today I want my money back.”

Most days I wake up with my mind rolling through my schedule like a news ticker at the bottom of my brain. It’s always there – scrolling and drawing me back to it – like a flashing “don’t forget!”

I could feel the fire deep in my chest after reading the many posts after the Orlando shootings. I always get overwhelmed by conflicts of opinions, finger pointing, scolding, shaming, and statements of “this could have been avoided by…” It didn’t get avoided. It happened. It hurts.

One of the common things I hear from clients, family, or friends is that everyone feels "less than" when they look on Facebook or Instragram and see photos of other people who seem to have their lives together.

I drive by this church's interesting quotes daily. Most of the time I don't notice. Today I noticed. And I got angry.