Splash the Puddles

I like words. I mean, I REALLY like words. I think there is such beauty in both written and spoken language. If you open safari on my phone, you’ll likely find an online dictionary open in the first tab, if Amazon Prime hasn’t claimed its spot that particular day. (I also love Amazon Prime).  I look up definitions all the time. Ask anyone who knows me better than most. I’m obsessed.  I write words. I speak words. I teach words. These days I even hang words...ALL OVER MY HOUSE! (My best friend and I have admitted we have a problem with this. We have a pact: no more words on the wall. Then Hobby Lobby and Southern With Grace happen. Words, words, words).  They just call out to me. They speak to me. They give me expression. I love word meaning.  At the beginning of each year, I ask the Lord to give me, you guessed it, words . Words for the year, words He wants me to hear. Words he wants me to live. Last year he gave me one word. Peace. This year, like on the interior walls of my house, w

Last night when we got home, Will was pogoing in the house. (We’ve allowed this because it’s so cold and also he’s obsessed and he’s being active. It helps that we are on a concrete slab.) I was in the bathroom, but apparently Cliff told him to stop and get ready for bed, and it took him another few hops before he actually stopped. He stopped by accidentally landing on one of my new wall decor pieces from Southern with Grace. (Gasp). It broke.  Hasn’t even been hung yet. Have I mentioned that’s pretty much my favorite home decor provider? I knew none of this because I’m still in bathroom. (Maybe hiding for a little peace and quiet. I’ll never tell). I heard him start crying loudly, but figured he’d gotten in trouble about not listening or something and didn’t think much of it. Anyway-when I finally came out of the bathroom he was sitting on my bed crying pitifully. I smiled at him and patted his head, but I didn’t really coddle him or anything because I didn’t want to undo any discipl