Here’s a little secret… marriage is hard! After a long day of wrangling kids, doing the ever mounting dishes, folding the Leaning Tower of Pisa laundry, you may collapse on the couch wondering, is there really time or energy for your spouse?...

A sandy-haired boy with deep ocean blue eyes and a strong stature, coyly sits. He reminds me of a young David in the Bible; fearless, handsome, and loveable. His emotions dangle off his sleeves as he lives his life in extremes. Hate and love are often on his lips... as he either disdains something or can’t imagine life without it. This boy, a warrior at heart, filled with passion and emotion is my son, Jayden.

A Father’s hands tell his story. Dedication and sacrifice are how he spends his days as his life no longer becomes about himself. It has been broken for another. He tirelessly rises and grinds so as to make sure his family is...

My body is tired from a long day, I have a slight headache, and some crazy hair. Yet, as I sit here, I fully comprehend why God called the man blessed who has kids. It is not the temporary discomforts that affect anything in a large scale; your body will have good and bad days. So as I sit here with my youngest on my lap, I am extremely thankful. I am thankful for the impromptu dance parties, the silly jokes, the brilliant way that children's minds work, the sweet cards, the time they want to spend with me, and their pure faith. The list could going on endlessly. How do you show your appreciation to the ones who mean so much? How do you bless your children and express your thankfulness?

Marriage is a commitment filled with promises that are made between two imperfect people, yet tied together with love and a vow. With the words "I do", you promise to love and cherish your spouse. Although society says love can be temporal and disposable, and that it is okay to disregard your vows; God paints a different picture. His is one of perseverance, companionship, love, and devotion.

I watch my precious kids grow up before my eyes. Each 24 hour period passes almost as quickly as it arrives. I try to balance all of life's details, while still prioritizing my kids. Despite the slew of stuff that bombards each day, I want to stop and breath in the moments that make each day special. I want to appreciate my kids and savor the moments that I don't want to pass by. Hopefully if I pause long enough I can create a memory that can't be taken from me. So as I hear the laughter bubbling through my house, and the joy that kids bring, I want to put aside my tiredness, my work, my distractions and remember how fleeting these moments are. I want to soak in just one more memory.

You were so young, still forming in my womb, as anticipation of motherhood filled my heart. Everyone around us was so thrilled to hear the announcement that you were on the way. Each passing day I grew more and more excited, longing to hold you, to meet you.

In today’s busy society, multitasking seems essential to keep up with all the demands of daily living, yet with this mentality sometimes we don't pause long enough to show proper respect. I think teaching children respect at a young age really makes a big difference.

My daughter Isabella Grace Houle is almost four. For a while I was convinced she was going to be primarily a daddy’s girl and I was going to take a back seat. To put it bluntly… we did not always see eye to eye.

Don't get me wrong; it's not that I am not excited for you. I am. I know you will excel in school and do awesome. You are super smart; you always have been. You recognized the alphabet at 2 years old. That seems advanced to me. You love to learn. Your teacher already picked that up at kindergarten evaluation. They flattered me with the notion that they almost wanted to advance you to first grade. Your brightness shows.

It was 8:20pm, the kids were in their room winding down for the night. Me and my husband were relaxing on the couch, as I hear the pitter patter of little feet. This is a normal occurrence at night, the kids seeking their one (or three) last goodnight interactions.

On May 9, 2009 at 11:24pm I gave birth to a 4lb, 11oz son. The first time I held him I didn't fully comprehend what it was to be a mom, and yet I knew I loved this child I carried for 36 weeks. The sacrifice, the devotion, the love had not sunk in as I confidently assumed mothering in its entirety would come as naturally as riding a bike... perhaps I was thinking of a bike with training wheels?

As parents we need to be at the front lines for our children as their number one advocate and protector. Taking the first blows as situations come charging at our kids, whether it be filtering what they hear, protecting their steps, or nurturing their heart we need to invest in our kids with passion and conviction, teaching them what true love is and learning it ourselves. There are few days that go by that some foreign food substance hasn't lodged itself on my shirt, or that the coffee pot has run dry way too early; yet, we need to plow forward. Not because it's easy, but because we love our kids, and we are going to be held accountable for how we parented them.

The door shuts, as disagreements mount. There is a progression of pain, that escalates as one wonders where is this person I married? Does he hear the cries of my heart? Does he care? In a marriage you love deeply and hurt deeply. Each spouse knows the others buttons, and they WILL push them. What are some practical ways to make your spouse loveable again?

These last couple of weeks have been dicey. The busyness that accompanies a transition to a new house has certainly effected me and my family. It has taken time to fall into a new routine; no wonder God reminded me to pray for patience this morning.

Peaceful that is what I’d call this moment. How is this possible with 3 kids? When I had no kids I felt frazzled, and yet now I am relaxed? What caused this paradigm shift? I stopped living as though I had no kids.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that wives are important. We have big shoes to fill when we say, “I do” and step into this role as a “helpmeet” with our spouses. In the Bible, there were clearly woman who helped their husbands, and those who hurt them.

Awakened at the crack of dawn by a 31" girl and a 37" boy. I stumble half awake as my children ask for “dinks”, a.k.a. drinks. We start our routine of breakfast, cartoons, devotional… the list continues.

The wedding ceremony, joining of two lives in perfect harmony. You feel complete, whole. Then, something happens on the way home from the reception. You realize your soul mate is completely different than you. You have different opinions and dreams. You can't even agree on the thermostat. So what now? How do you honor your husband with love and respect despite the seeming different worlds that you live on?

Who knew humility would be served to me by a three foot tall toddler. My first child, Timothy, bright eyed lover of life, has stolen my heart, but has also caused me to eat some extra chocolate (for medicinal purposes). I am the mother who strolled into the grocery store, only to stroll right out, because their child was screaming bloody murder while trying to leap from the cart. I am the mother who had to straight arm my child to try to get him into his car seat long enough to buckle him in. I am the mother who tried to get two kids in the house, while one is screaming "help" loud enough for neighbors 5 blocks away to hear. I am “that” mother.

As parents we desire the very best for our kids. We want to love them with all that we are, but it does not take a rocket scientist to realize that parenting is hard. We mess up daily. This conflicting interest of desiring the best for our kids while being imperfect is a tough battle. Not only do we fall short with things we can change, but feel overwhelmed by things we can’t change.

My prayer is that I can be the best wife and mother I can be. A task that would be easier if I had a Ken Barbie husband and children who lived at Super Nanny’s house, but the reality is, I am not perfect and neither are they. I have to keep my head in check and focus so I can love my family as much as they deserved to be loved despite our big ball of imperfections. Today I'd prefer not to focus on what our family needs to change, but rather how to work on ourselves.

With God all things are possible". That is the verse I found myself clinging to when days at the NICU soon became weeks. My daughter, Isabella Grace Houle, was born 6 weeks early with Respiratory Distress Syndrome, and battled Pneumonia the first week of her life. I was beaten emotionally, physically, and mentally as we carted our 1 1/2 year old around to different babysitters because he wasn't allowed in NICU with Isabella.