Thanks for stopping by! I wish we could sit on the front porch and visit while we watched a West Texas sunset one warm summer night. I think you’d be surprised by how it transforms this barren place. I’d like to chat about how I think it’s a metaphor for most of life – this searching out of beauty in the places we think are wastelands.
But, this will have to do instead.
My name is Carrie, and I really like words. When I was little, I filled pages and pages of journals with them. Nowadays, you’ll find me here.
I’m married to my high school sweetheart, Jacob, and we live in the land of tumbleweeds and oil wells with our house of girls. (Bless him.) I work part-time at my church and believe I have the coolest gig ever. (I get to come up with ways to engage our church in praying and caring for vulnerable children in our community and around the world.)
Jacob and I have two young daughters, Cora and Alea. Cora is wise-beyond-her-7-years. She’s sometimes serious, frequently sassy, and always tender-hearted. She is just starting to perfect the eye roll. Alea is our free-spirited 5 year old who twirls and whirls and joyfully sings her way through life. She is spunky, the very definition of an extrovert, and incredibly affectionate. Right now, she still really wants to marry me. Both of our girls were born in China, but only one is adopted.
Then there is our bonus-blessing, Du. She’s in PA school right now and living with our family for a few years. We met her when she was newly-arrived teenage refugee from Myanmar, and we claimed her as soon as we could. (I mean she has an out-of-state family of her own, but we are grateful she’s one of us too.)
Rounding out our house of girls is our pup LeLe who has just about the same level of emotional needs as the rest of us. She wakes us up in the middle of the night to get some attention. So does Alea. LeLe lived on the streets of a Chinese village until she joined our family, and I imagine she’s the only dog in the world who was born in Qingyundian as a stray and now lives in the USA, where she begrudgingly shares a couch with a family who will wake up in the night just to pet her. Her name means ‘Happy Happy’ in Chinese, which also happen to be the top two words that describe her personality.
Needless to say, between my daughter and my Du and my pup, I really love immigrants.
Other things I love, in no particular order: Jesus, Asian food, meaningful conversations, unsweet tea and sour sno-cones, brave vulnerability, adoption, salami and cheese, the great PNW, a few close and deep friendships, hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurants, people on the margins, boba tea, yoga, public school, refugees, searching for God in the once-broken places, friends from other countries, friends from this country, going down water slides with my girls, books, campfires, riding bikes with my family, my church, saying and eating falafel, kids from hard places, plants, people who go into the gritty and dark corners of this world and shine brightly, sitting on the porch with my grandma, and Jesus. I know I started with him. But really everything in my life starts and ends with him, so he’s worth mentioning twice.
Things I don’t love: fish, milk, eggs, exercising, 24-hour-news channels, marketing robo-calls, and ‘us vs. them’ mindsets.
As I started by saying, I really love words. I write my way through life. I wrote through our years in China when Jacob and I were footloose and fancy-free and volunteering for 4 years at New Day Foster Home. I wrote through the early days of motherhood when I struggled to find meaning in spit-up and middle-of-the night feedings. You’ll find all the posts from both of those seasons in the archives here, if you’re really curious and like falling down rabbit holes. Then I stopped writing publicly for three years. There were hard and necessary reasons for my silence, but lately I’ve been feeling it’s time to start up again.
I write about motherhood and adoption and finding healing after great loss. I write about what’s in the headlines and how I see that intersecting my faith. I write about looking for God in the mending rather than in the breaking. I write to make sense of my life and sometimes I get the gift of finding out it helped someone else make sense of theirs. If I could tell you one thing it is this: “You are loved and held by God. No matter what.”
So there you have it. Here I am; back with all.the.words.