Me: Livia is making me CRAZY!
Jeremy: Well, sometimes *you* make people crazy.

Can’t argue with him there.

As delightful as dark rainy mornings are, they are not my favorite when it comes to getting Livia ready for school. We’re a family of sleeper-inners. All summer long we would sleep until 9am and then we’d slowly get up and get moving. Alas, the public school system doesn’t care to start their day when the sloth-like Tredways walk through the door. They have a start time and an end time that must be respected.

Motivating my seven-year-old to complete her morning tasks and walk into first grade on time is a challenge. It’s a challenge that I often screw up entirely. I have a love/hate relationship with timeliness where each minute I seem to get more wound-up about being late. I become something of a pressure cooker and then I explode with statements like the one above. And truly, no one looks crazier than me when I’m yelling, “Livia is making me CRAZY!” Oh yeah? Well, you’re looking like a nut yourself, mama.

This morning I watched my child walk ever so slowly down the hall to meet her teacher at the door to her classroom. (She’s the same kid at home, at school and everywhere after all.) As I opened my umbrella and walked back out into the rain, I felt like weeping over my sin. I really wish I hadn’t hollered at Liv this morning. I really wish I was more creative in my approach toward her. I really wish I had handled myself with more self-control. But deep down, I *really* wish I didn’t have to apologize for my behavior, that I could be perfect on my own.

I am being drawn to Christ.

I am not drawing myself to Him.

I wish (again with the wishing) that I could approach God on my own terms. Pop open the Bible when my heart is happy and content, when I’ve delivered a skipping first-grader to school on a sun-shiny day, when I feel like I have it all together. But that would be a total lie. In my weakness I see my need for forgiveness. And the need looks something like a mountain, looming large and impossible before me. It makes me grieve because I so much want to be good without a Savior. With the utmost stubbornness, I want to do it myself. But I fall time and time again. I can’t be good all the time, or even some of the time.

The Gospel pulls my eyes away from myself and towards Jesus. The mountain of need, the giant mess of sin in my heart, becomes absolute forgiveness in Christ. His record of perfection, claimed over me and for me. It’s not something I’ve done, not something I’ve earned, but it’s given to me freely.

And can it be that I should gain

An interest in the Savior’s blood?

Died He for me, who caused His pain—

For me, who Him to death pursued?

Amazing love! How can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?


Forgiveness, such a sweet word. As a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an artist, I need forgiveness. I crave grace moment by moment to be a better person, to lift my head up and make sense of the day that stretches before me.

The sun is coming out just a little bit. May God give me grace to be more patient, more joyful, more creative and more gentle when I pick up Livia from school this afternoon. I want to try again, by the strength of Christ, to be the woman God has called me to be.

**The lyrics to Charles Wesley’s And Can It Be? are so so good.

I took one look at my furry little dog curled up in the comforter I had dropped and told him, “Well, you’re not so stupid, are you!”

Shiloh does a number of things that qualifies him as fairly unintelligent, but this was not one. A super warm and cozy down comforter left by my nice, sweet owner? Well, yes, I think I will take a nap here.

My tired brain is about to explode from juggling mom tasks with photography work with home-repair and eventual home-selling. I am not at my sharpest after putting Livia to bed. So for now, I leave you with Shiloh pics. Keepin’ it light here.

Something kind of magical happens when a few very creative people get together. And crazily enough, when those artistic types get their friends, and then those friends get their friends, well, you end up with something like X Files the Musical—and over 1000 people will give up a weekend night to be entertained by you.

Last weekend the Colonel Mustard Amateur Attic Theatre Company debuted X Files the Musical to eager crowds at 9th & D in Lincoln, Nebraska. Several thousand people from all over the world turned on their computers and watched the live stream. Mulder and Scully, the Smoking Man, the Lone Gunman, Skinner… everyone was there. And because it was the Colonel Mustard version, there was also Mr. Tumnus, Dr. Thoreau, a tree chorus, and a Terrible Thing.

The show—hilarious, irreverent and witty—was more than just musical theater, it was about community. And the community here, as well as X Files lovers around the globe, loved it. I hope it inspires others to jot down a few insane ideas, grab a few friends, and make more art.

**Last year the Colonel Mustard folks put on Dr. Quinn the Musical in our backyard. We had to replant the grass after it was over and couldn’t host again as we’re trying to sell our house this year. Needless to say, all things worked out for the better with the change of location. There’s no way 1000+ could’ve fit in our collective back yards.

**X Files the Musical was written and produced by Aaron Holmes, Lindsay Kerns and Phillip Malcolm. I’ve known Lindsay since she was a little kid, and I’ve known Aaron for the last several years, but believe me when I say these guys are amazingly talented and deserve great kudos for their work. Phil, who composed the score, blows me away—the music and lyrics of X Files were fabulous. I’m still humming the tunes, and having to make up my own words because I can’t remember the correct ones.

Big kid.
Not the newbie.
A bit shy at drop-off.
Admitted she was anxious.
Walked in hand-in-hand with a friend.
And had an awesome first day.
With a teacher she declared, “Wonderful!”
Success.

Despite the wonders of I-80, it’s rare that anyone just “drops by” Lincoln, Nebraska. Lucky for me, my dear friends Bryonie and Josh Moon were on their way home from vacation and stopped in for an hour of coffee, muffins and conversation last Tuesday. Know what that meant? I got to see JUDAH again! After visiting this little guy once in April and again in May, I was in something of a Judah withdrawal. What a treat it was to kiss his chubby cheeks again.

Bryonie once noted that Lincoln seems like a hub for connection. Case in point, the Moons knew Chad and Kacy Steiner in England where both couples were pursuing graduate studies. Fast forward a few years and I meet the Steiners back in Nebraska. I love those it’s-a-small-world-afterall connections, and it was fun to have everyone hang out in my home last week.

Pause for a moment and review these Before Renovation photos. All kinds of ugly, right?

Now you may proceed. Welcome to our lovely bathroom!

The walls are Cafe Latte and the trim is White on White by Glidden. The shower curtain and grey towels are from Target. The towel hooks are from the Tredways’ Stash of Future Things and the packages were covered with half an inch of dust.

One of our favorite things about the bathroom—oh, who am I kidding, the whole place is a favorite thing!—is the ample storage that we created. The closet, now painted bright white, has been transformed from a dungeon to shelf heaven. We can stack towels to our hearts’ content, store bathroom supplies in baskets, and hang towels on hooks. There’s even a decent spot to store paint cans while we continue to repaint the upstairs bedrooms. Also, there’s an alcove behind the shower where we can now hang robes and towels (see the image with three hooks) which is uber-convenient.

We are incredibly grateful for all the folks who helped redeem this space! From the professionals (Jonny Friesen, Jerry Lewis and his crew) to friends-with-organizational-skills (Renae Morehead, Jen Hinrichs), from patient parents who paint (Mom and Dad Tredway) to parents who wash and fold copious amounts of laundry (Mom and Dad Lawton), we thank you.

1. Kisses from my seven-year-old.
2. A dinner/movie/watch-the-storm-roll-in date with my husband from last Saturday.
3. A soft white dog who licks up crumbs and chases yard bunnies.
4. Remarkable grace from Christ that covers all my sins.
5. Free ice cream from the Schwann’s man and Runza.

**I’m reading Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts with women from Redeemer this summer. In the midst of transition, when I’m tempted to complain about the hard things, I’m reminded to consider all I’m thankful for. It’s hard to be a big grouch when you realize how incredibly blessed you are!

First I’d like to say that I have rock stars for in-laws. Jeremy’s parents have been coming over nearly every day to scrape, patch, plaster, sand and paint our house—and I can’t express adequately how grateful we are for their help. I have very un-rock star elbows this summer. Thank you a million times over, Karen and Bill!

I know, I know. You want bathroom photos. They are coming. Besides installing some quarter round (is that the right term?) and adding a candle or two, the bathroom is complete. Showering is quite the luxury, I’ve discovered, and after living without a bathroom mirror or lighting for way too long, seeing oneself in the mirror is quite delightful, too. Adequate shelving and storage are nothing to sneeze at either. I love this new bathroom.

I am struggling to get this house ready to put on the market. There’s a lot to get done. But I am really blessed with loving parents (mine included), a hard-working husband, generous friends, and a mostly patient kid. While this journey feels never-ending in some senses, I have a lot to be thankful for.

When the economy feels really shaky, and when I worry about all the what-ifs of the future, I am reminded of these verses and take comfort in the sovereign nature of the One who strengthens and equips me.

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.
– Habakkuk 3:17-20