


The Thing About Motherhood
They say, “Home is the where the heart is,” so what does that mean when your heart is spread all over the country and even all the way to Heaven. Watching children transform into adults and move far away takes a toll on a mom. Being asked to give two of...
When I Live a Life of Listening
“Shhhh, Tammy. Listen.” How often does God whisper this as I move through my day? Or even while I pray. Words. I’ve released more than my fair share. But how many have I received? Soaked up. Allowed to change me from the inside out. Jesus calmed the...
When All We Know Is We Just Don’t Know
Across the room in my office or with the help of a computer screen, I sit with people weekly who say these four words, “I just don’t know.” Who can I trust? What would make things better? When will I feel good again? Where do I turn next? Why did...
Because Every Tree Should Be Decorated With The Ornament Of Hope
This past weekend, Tim and I had the opportunity to visit our son who lives in California. While traveling, I had the pleasure of reading my friend, Georgia’s, recently – released Christmas novel entitled, “The Ornament of Hope.” I don’t...
Because the Value of a Constant Never Changes
I love math. I took every mathematics class possible in high school and then again in college. And when I decided to become a teacher, I chose to get my Masters in Middle School Math and English. I think the thing I love most about math is that formulas never change....
Thoughts on the Mother of Jesus in 2020
It almost feels like an out of body experience. Listening to David Nevue’s “Broken,” and clicking away at my keyboard. When I think of blogging, I think of the “good ole days” when I got up at 5:00 a.m. and wrote every single morning...
A Walk With A Writer
When a writer experiences a phenomena called “writer’s block,” where he sits and stares at a blank piece of paper or an empty computer screen for hours on end, there’s one thing he should always do. No matter what. ___________________________...
When Guest Books Speak
An old copy of “Singing in the Rain,” found by my son-in-law as we were packing our Grayson home late one night, became a place for all of us to take a break and practice what is called in literature as “black-out poetry.” We had so much...