The Puzzle.

We bit off a little more than we could chew.

And by we, I definitely mean me, because I brought this evil into our home.

For the last three weeks, our kitchen table has been taken over by 1,000 tiny puzzle pieces, eagerly waiting to be reconnected with their brethren.

Three weeks, y’all.

It haunts me at night.

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Rest.

A few nights ago, as the boo and I were cooking dinner, our girl Susie was – unsurprisingly – glued to our feet. At no other time does she wish failure upon us more then when we are handling food. For at least ten minutes, she was pacing back and forth, nosing her way between our legs, just waiting for a crumb to fall out of our hands and do a somersault into her mouth.

Hope springs eternal, baby girl.

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Still Here.

This is the final post of the Everywhere series.

Flying is a love/hate relationship.

On the one hand, it allows us to travel beyond our wildest dreams and experience adventures that await in far away lands.

But before those dreams and adventures are realized, you have to sit in a confined space for hours while a small child kicks your seat from behind and a large man reclines his seat in your lap.

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Everywhere.

On Sunday mornings, as I climb out of bed and dress for church, I’m always hopeful and expectant to learn a valuable lesson from the sermon.

Additionally, during the week, the boo and I dedicate a weeknight to partake in church-like fellowship on a smaller scale – appropriately named “small groups.” This, too, is a place to hear the voice of God.

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