As Christmas looms large and Advent is upon us, are you feeling full of the fa-la-la’s or has the holly lost its jolly for you already? Amidst the crazy and colour and chaos and carols do you long for a little white space, breathing room, soul rest? Me too. I’m dreaming of a white (space) Christmas. Sorry Bing…

Do you have someone on your Christmas list who is IMPOSSIBLE to buy for? Or do you love to buy gifts that give back— especially to women and children in need? Or do you ever wear socks? If the answer to any of these questions is “YES!” then read on, friend, for I want to tell you all the things about some socks with soul: Fazl Socks…

Y’all better believe it is, and I’m fixin’ to tell ya’ll about it! That sounded weird with a British accent. I just spent a few days in beautiful Charlotte, North Carolina, where I experienced a taste of southern hospitality in all its glory, and I’m still basking in the afterglow of its warmth. I’d heard of these generous, welcoming people with their sweet tea and biscuits on the front porch, and now I know it really IS a thing….

Perfectionist tendencies, anyone? I have always liked to have everything “just so”—organized and as perfect as possible. I appreciate the pretty things in life, the beauty in words and creation and song—I’m really not a fan of mess and blood and haphazard! I remember giving birth to my sweet daughter and asking the nurses to “please clean her up and pop a bow in her hair” — it might have been the gas and air talking, but you get the gist. So imagine my anguish when one day our lives catapulted into a cacophony of mess and blood and haphazard…

Are you beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed with the upcoming holidays and gatherings and shindigs that need hosting? Especially for the perfectionists among us, it can be a cornucopia of stress, work, worry, and sleeplessness that threatens to suck us dry before we even begin. Oh, and HAPPY THANKSGIVING! 🙂 Here in Canada, our Thanksgiving is THIS WEEKEND, which is crazy as I’m fairly certain it was summer like an hour ago. Anyway, ‘tis the season for all things food and party and hosting and toasting, and there is a real danger that some of us may become unhinged if we don’t take a deep breath right now…

Is it lost, do you think, this art of lingering around the table? Do we gobble and go rather than linger and listen? In our hustle and haste to feed the family and chauffeur kids to assorted activities and hurry to the next thing, it’s all too easy for us to miss the opportunity to connect at dinnertime. So, is the table even worth fighting for?

Please hold my hand— this is the first September in TWENTY-ONE years that I haven’t been getting kids prepped for “back to school” and it’s definitely wonky. No Staples stationery run, no cool clothes and new shoes, no haircuts, and no photos on their way out the door on that first day. It’s the New September for me and it’s a new season. Thoroughly bizarre-o. What season are you in right now? A new, exciting era filled with possibilities— or a tough, trying time with no end in sight? I don’t know about you, but I need an anchor and a whole lot of grace to get me through each and every season…

Have you jumped on the Bullet Journal bandwagon yet? Does the thought all things organizational give you a rush or a rash? Maybe you’ve been using a bullet journal for the past 4 years or maybe you’ve been living under a rock and are clueless. I was under that very rock until last summer, when I finally gave in to my curiosity and Googled “Bullet Journal”. Wow. For a list queen like myself it was like opening one giant Pandora’s journal…

When my sister asked how I felt about meeting her in Barbados (did she ask or did I drop gargantuan hints?) it sounded like a very practical idea to me. It was pretty much meeting “in the middle” with her living in the UK and me living in Canada and all. Her husband planned to do a church internship there, and it was the least I could do to ease her possible boredom stuck on a tropical island. Yes, I’m selfless like that. So, I just got home from 2 weeks with her family in paradise, and now I’m experiencing a bit of the Barbados blues— and randomly dreaming of turquoise tables…

How did that just happen? How did my youngest just turn eighteen years of age and now suddenly all my babies are adults? Some of you are probably raising your wise eyebrows and nodding slowly because you’ve been there, and some of you are changing diapers and feel a million years away from being in my stilettos. No one warns you it’s a thing, but you guys—it is!…