The South African school year just ended, but it ended extra early for my differently-wired son. His sparkle has been losing its luster since the middle of this year. School breaks, weekends, and our family's accommodations brought no relief or restoration. He loves his school, family, soccer team, and the church community growing around him more than you've ever seen a six-year old love. But even good old-fashioned childlike zeal costs him much…

Last week, I marched into my kitchen and announced, "I will not utter a SINGLE grumble or complaint for an entire month. I won't think one. I won't say one. There's no venting. There's only gratitude." My husband hadn't had his first sip of coffee yet. His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he wondered what had his wife riled up so early in the morning.

It didn't feel early in the morning for me. I'd been up for a long time with a sick child. Beyond that, seismic concern for my son with special needs was rising.

Better question: How many times did Wyatt shout, “I’M RIGHT!” when he guessed the right answer?

We kicked off school holiday with a tour of a sea bird conservatory and rehabilitation facility. Wyatt was absolutely FERAL. He and I were asked to leave the tour for the sake of the penguins. But not before he answered the tour guide’s questions correctly with his favorite number.

How many times a day does a penguin poop? ONE HUNDRED.

We went ALL OUT for Thanksgiving this year! The Church Home family gave their time, talent, treasure - AND they invited their friends. It was our most epic celebration yet! We served a full traditional American Thanksgiving menu and feasted on the power of gratitude in God’s Word.

We collected donations for a local women and children’s shelter and look forward to a serve day there in a couple of weeks.

We are FULL of turkey, pie, and, most importantly, soul-satiating gratitude for the people God has placed in our lives.

There have been a few seasons in our missions career when we didn't have enough money to buy makeup. I only keep a few, inexpensive cosmetics products on hand, but it's a little thing that makes me feel like me.

Almost ten years ago, I held an almost-empty bottle of makeup and looked at its almost-empty companions. I prayed, "God, please don't let me run out until we can buy more." Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe it was vain. But God answered that prayer.

We celebrated Lifa this weekend!

Mr. Nathan (Lifa's tutor, mentor and friend since grade 4) joined our family for taco night and a game of "Would You Rather" around the table. We took an intermission for table clearing and soccer, and then came inside to watch this video.

It's almost 11pm on Thursday night. I've been trying to write this call to worship all week. There were some curveballs. But more than unforeseen events, my body was just not on board. I woke up daily with an unexplainable sense of panic and a mind that refused to stay engaged. I couldn't sleep, and, when I did, it seemed to only make me feel more tired. Overwhelm was a storm cloud above my head, following me wherever I went.

I tried to understand what was going on while I drove to the gym one morning…

If you saw last week's Call to Worship, you might have picked up that I was going into the weekend overwhelmed and undone, capsized by life's chaos. I was also heading into a weekend away for the women's Alpha course I've been leading. It was just seven women, a house in the mountains, and an exorbitant amount of snacks.

I think I ate three weeks of calories in two days and caught up on a year's worth of laughter. Peace-filled silence and open skies recalibrated my soul's rhythms. Time stood still. My nervous system healed.

There’s honestly nothing else to say. I made them wear helmets. I told them they couldn’t scream too loud if they got hurt because it would disturb the neighbors. And that was it. The Ladd boys became skater boys. At least for this week.

I just got home from Church Home’s Ladies Alpha weekend, and I am changed. Eating, laughing, worshiping, fetching water, studying scripture, watching baboons, making jewelry, and everything else… it was all spiritual. God was in it all. We gathered in His name, and His love permeated every silly photo and deep conversation. He ushered in hope and healing through it all.

There is nothing more important than this. Get to know God. Plant yourself in His house. Love and be loved by His people. The rest is fleeting.

Many years ago, I had a profound encounter with God that's stuck with me. My loving Father said, "Daughter, you never have to live in chaos." Simultaneously, a picture flashed in my mind of myself in a room with laundry spread out, toys strewn recklessly, and a complete absence of order. I hadn't even met my husband yet, and the picture didn't match my life at the time. But it often does now.

I once heard a pastor talk about hiring a media consultant. His church was one of the fastest growing churches in America at the time, and social media wasn't yet as popular as news or TV interviews. I can't recall the details of the event that led to the pastor seeking professional advice, but I remember his church breaking the mold in a lot of ways at the time. A public outreach had unexpectedly made national news, and the young pastor was being chased by the media. He was facing a very different audience and knew many interviewers weren't looking to build the Church.

Rondebosch Boys High School E25 Valedictory was one for the books. We got to commemorate the end of Lifa’s extraordinary high school career with grandparents, friends and overflowing memories. Pray for Lifa and the other matrics as they endure another month of national exams. And then… 💨 It’s done!

Lifa, you are set apart by God…

My husband and I sat in a crowded auditorium this week for our oldest son's high school valediction. The headmaster's final address to the students encouraged them to shape their lives around generosity and connection. He spoke of Nipun Mehta's "Karma Kitchen", a generosity experiment that has become a global chain of restaurants.

My sons are 17, 6 and 3 years old. One is preparing for the last exams of his high school career; one is practicing subtraction; and one is learning to sing the ABC's. Almost every evening, all three brothers gather around our low coffee table to play dominoes. The oldest makes sure both of his brothers get a win, but all three are completely unified in purpose and passion. The proverbial "playing field" is leveled by their brotherhood.

Chris’ parents are here! Today was our first day together. GoGo Sherry joined us for soccer practice, and everyone gathered around the coffee table for bedtime dominoes.

Sometimes I get caught up in my grief over living so far away from our parents. But days like today remind me of the power of love. It holds fast, doesn’t lose shape, and grows from a distance. Our kids never skipped a beat, and the house felt so much better with them here.

They had uncovered every bug on our property before 7am - and brought them all inside for me to see. So hit the park for some fresh bug hunting terrain. You just never know what a Saturday morning’s going to be until you get there.

This week we asked, "Why did Jesus die?" in the Alpha course I am hosting. This story was part of the lesson and has been on my mind all week…

Corrie ten Boom was a Dutch Christian who hid Jews during the Holocaust. Her whole family was arrested and imprisoned. Her sister died beside her in Ravensbruck concentration camp just ten days before Corrie's release.

Three years later, ten Boom went to Germany to speak about God's forgiveness. Her message was put to the test as soon as she delivered it. Torment resurfaced as she recognized one of the cruelest guards from Ravensbruck approaching her.

We’ve found another happy place in our beautiful city. The Atlantic Seaboard promenade is not new to us - but exploring the rock pools at low tide has become our new favorite pastime this spring. (We’ve been three times in a week.) Benjamin catches crabs. Wyatt plucks pin cushion stars and throw rocks. We fill our faithful traveling aquarium (a plastic measuring cup). And we always pause to reflect on the Creator. The infinite details. The immeasurably loving masterpiece. He is so much more than good. But He is indeed so so good.

The beginning of the ends has begun. Yesterday, my first baby towered over me as a full-blown man and endured my photo requests like a champion.

Matric Dance is an extravagant event for grade 12’s that commemorates the entirety of their high school years. In American context, it’s kind like a culmination of prom and project graduation.