Big Announcement: I’m Writing a Book!

Big Announcement: I’m Writing a Book!

Holy moly, y’all–I’m writing a book!

Although I’ve penned columns, blog posts, articles, reflections, devotions, studies, retreat and conference talks, fables, countless unpublished short stories and plays, academic papers, haphazard grocery and overflowing to-do lists (those count for something, right?!), an award-winning poem (when I was 9 years old, LOL) and even a chapter in this book, I’ve never written my very own, real life book.

Until now.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet the little book that could: It’s called…wait for it…Death By Minivan. It arrives in the Fall of 2018 from the superlative and very brave folks at Our Sunday Visitor (please pray for them all, especially my long-suffering editor), and I! Am! So! Excited!

I’ll provide information about pre-ordering the book as well as some pre-order freebie goodness (‘cuz y’all know I LOVE me a good giveaway) in this space soon (see the end of this post to sign up!).

But for now, Death By Minivan, a book by me (!!!)–is on its way.

It’s not a memoir. It’s not even a “how to.” It’s for you Real Catholic Moms out there who have good days and dark days. Some days you’re on top of your game, and some days you drag yourself out of bed. But most days, you stop whatever you’re doing to clean bottoms and make lunches and say prayers even when you don’t feel like it. Because, as the Chief Minister of Interruptions for your household, that’s just what you do.

Death By Minivan is for you road warriors who drive the minivan (or any other vehicle) day after day after day to run errands, go to work, drop off one child for sports practice, pick up another child from religious education, and try to get everyone together for dinner at least, because this is what your path to holiness looks like, petrified french fries on the floor be darned.

Death By Minivan acknowledges the (sometimes ridiculous) sacrifices the vocation of motherhood entails, yet encourages you to cultivate and celebrate the many amazing fruits that come from offering yourself with love to your children–your very own “least of these.”

Death By Minivan is a book that, I hope and pray, will encourage, inspire, and uplift all you sweet Mamas who don’t always have it all together but are giving everything you have to live the life that God has given you. Because, my dear sister in Christ, like me, you may not win any “Mom of the Year” awards. But. You are worthy. You are enough. You are loved.

Please sign up for my email list to get the latest and greatest about the book (and so much more) delivered directly to your inbox!

 

Until next time; God bless y’all.

 

 

 

P.S. A huge shout-out to my dear sister from another mister Christy Stephens, the genius behind the minivan drawing. She will be providing illustrations for this project, and I am so excited to see what her pen produces!

P.P.S. Would you please pray for me during the writing process? May God’s will be done in this work. Thank you so very much!!

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A picture is worth a thousand tears

A picture is worth a thousand tears

“I am so very sorry for your loss,” the woman told me. “I wish there were something I could do.”

I stood there in stunned silence, holding my phone in one hand and my four-year-old’s sticky paw in the other, attempting to process what she saying.

Gone.

Can’t get them back.

Lost.

All. Gone.

At this point in my story, you may be wondering who died. Thankfully, all the Renshaws are, to my knowledge, alive and kicking …

Read the rest here

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash
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All the light we think we can see

All the light we think we can see

It’s been quite different having only one small child tagging along with me this past schoolyear. Young Sir K has been my shadow, my sidekick, and my adventure buddy. We’ve spent countless hours running errands, reading aloud, chatting about Legos and Paw Patrol and bugs. Simply enjoying each another’s presence has been so refreshing as I work on embracing a more measured pace of life.

I’ve found that, during this time of less doing and more being, God speaks to my heart in ways I couldn’t hear amidst the cacophany of constant noise and motion.

For example, something interesting happened during a routine trek to the grocery store the other day that compelled me to ponder perception, reality, and waiting on the LORD.

Small red basket overflowing, Sir K and I headed toward the check-out lanes. Since the self-serve stations were occupied, we high-tailed to the nearest open lane. What a blessing! I thought. There’s no one else in line! I figured we’d be out of there in no time flat.

Read the rest here.

photo credit: Josh Boot with permission via unsplash
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Life in the mother’hood can be a real mother

Life in the mother’hood can be a real mother

Motherhood is a motherBeing a parent is a bizarre and tremendous thing. All of a sudden, you’re expected to be completely responsible for someone you’ve just met, who has all manner of needs that you’ve never supplied before, and has various personality traits and proclivities that surely don’t come from your side of the gene pool.

But necessity is a mother. I am a mother because my children were conceived. And I had to figure out how to be a mother because, all of a sudden, I was one.

It’s inconceivable how small beings so thoroughly inexperienced and utterly helpless can somehow reduce grown-ups to puddles incapable of rational thought, but they can. And do. At least, they do in my house. Regularly.

Read more here

photo credit: Jordan Whitt

 

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Life moves pretty fast.

Life moves pretty fast.

busy sidewalk

 

As noted 20th-century philosopher Ferris Bueller remarked, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to be older. My Mom would say, “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Heather. Enjoy where you are now.” Despite her sage advice, I was never content being whatever age I happened to be.

To my naive mind, if I could just be 5, or 9, or 18 — I could go to school with the big kids, or stay up later to finish that compelling novel or eat cake for dinner because I was old enough to make my own choices.

I guess you’d say I wasn’t a “bloom where you’re planted” sort of youngster. If I had a dollar for every time I said or thought “I’m bored,” in my youth ….

Read the rest here

Photo credit: Mauro Mora // unsplash

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