Dad, you were right.

Being a pastor, my dad has either performed the funeral for, or had a clergy buddy perform a funeral for every single possible way a person could die.

And Dad's parenting brought this fact out time and time again. "Hey, have fun on the ski trip this weekend! Just remember that woman we knew in Michigan who fell of the chairlift and when she went to stand the chair hit her in the head." Or, "well you can jump on that trampoline, but don't forget that boy who fell off his tramp and will never walk again." (Needless to say, I never ended up jumping very high for fear of losing control and therefore my ability to walk.)

None of this was said with any sort of malice...it was just the truth. Dad actually knew these people (and lots of them) and as a result he parented with a nervousness which I ended up inheriting. You can now catch me saying, "wait, before anyone dives in, do we know how deep the water is right here? I know a woman who once jumped in and broke her leg..." Or, "No. We have to take two cars. Everyone has to have their own seatbelt."

But I have got a confession. My dad has been concerned about our space heater and electric blanket for quite some time (as well as halogen lamps, toaster ovens and flat irons that forget to be turned off.) But the night of the fire in the apartment across the way, we did away with our space heater and our electric blanket realizing the pros just didn't outweigh the cons. (I can hear my dad exhaling a sigh of relief right now.)

But isn't that crazy that it took the real deal before I finally heard what my dad was saying?

Parenting must just be annoying sometimes.

The whole mustard seed thing.

Rory and I have been going to a church that we really, really love and during a prayer last Sunday the pastor mentioned the whole "faith as small as a mustard seed" thing. And for some reason, this time it hit me. I think preschool VBS was the first time I was shown a mustard seed and since then the words have washed over me like a good analogy, not quite sinking in.

This time it did though. Maybe it's because we just took a great leap of faith, following what I know is God's call to this land called Nebraska. And like any leap of faith, some days I am fully confident and content and other days I am lonesome and hoping.

So I took out the half pencil and offering envelope stuck in the chair in front of me, wrote the following and stuffed it in my purse:

faith the size of a mustard seed.

do you ever feel that way? Like your faith is actually that small. because sometimes, in some seasons it just is.

And yet, God will still move mountains for you. He is still mighty to save- even with that tiny mustard seed of faith that we believe in.

I read the envelope each day this week, knowing that I wrote the words to myself. And as I read them again each day, I began to remember the grace of God: God moves the mountains, we just cling to him.

So true, so true.

Rory: Did you actually buy these teddy grahams?

Becca: Yes. I like them.

Rory: (after eating a few) The problem is that I can actually taste the church nursery carpet when I eat these things.

Little Miss Sunshine

My new skill from Jessica Sprague is turning pictures Sepia and then bringing back the color in just a few select details. This is my niece Mara. I love everything about this girl...especially her free spirit.

My drive to work

I am not a morning person, I love my sleep and my sleep loves me. So when I realized that I would have to leave my house at 7:30 each morning to get to work on time, and would have to wake up at 6:30, I just couldn't fathom how I'd do it.

But so far, I actually haven't minded it too much. I go to bed early enough and I really like the 20 minute commute of listening to good music driving down a gorgeous country road to camp. I took this picture the other day...probably not the best idea, driving and picture-taking, but I'd say it was worth it.