Rachel Holmes

It was for me

For you too

Dear Momma, Do you know that Christmas is for you too? As you plan the things and string the lights and wipe the noses and kiss the owies? Do you know that He came for you too? As you arrange their advent activities — the ones that remind them daily that

In and out to find pasture

Devotional time? When does this happen? What is “quiet time” to moms of young children? Quiet anything is long forgotten! First: This is hard. Might as well say it. And it's not because moms don’t want to. We do. And worse, Satan doesn’t want us to. He really

These Counters

They’ve seen light of days And the dark of night. They’ve seen messy sprays, Sure, they’re quite the sight. They’ve heard laughter passing, Even our anger lasting. Held up weight of the seasons, Holding up without reason. Sand and sun and snacks And mud and little

Just normal

Never have I been so deeply grateful for “normal.” Normal breakfast. Normal go-to-work. A normal walk in the woods. Normal go-to-school. Normal homework. Just…normal.  This year has been anything but normal. But gradually, with school in full swing and Joel starting a new job, things are settling into normal

So much blessing

“You need a friend, Rachel. Someone your age.” My aunt candidly told me this during a 2am visit at her kitchen table several years ago. And it was exactly what I needed to hear.  Mama, do you long for deep friendship? Like a flower for water or a diver for

Daily

Silence in Heaven

“When He opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour” (Revelation 8:1). Imagine that half hour. Do the creatures and the elders look around at each other bewildered? Are they surprised that God would pause in silence before the seventh seal and the

Laughs

Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come (Proverbs 31:25). Laughs? I’m not laughing. Not when I think of all the burdens of life. Not when I see how the world is going and the insecurity I find in my own heart.

They confessed

They confessed And they did not deny  To the ones that  Cocked a brow: Strangers and wanderers.  People on the move.  Always journeying,  Always following,  Always longing  For home.  “But just take it! It’s here.” It’s not.  Not the home He has.  This street, these trees,  That breakfast

Just one day

Dear sister, praying, waiting, for days, months, years.  Did you know that God is faithful even when you don’t believe Him? Even when the press of grief or trial or suffering is so heavy you have long since given up hope? When all you can hear is the condemnation

We'll make it home

To my dear girl, who’s been uprooted and transplanted in an empty place you didn’t choose: we’ll make it home. It doesn’t matter how big or small or pretty or ugly. Home is not in a building. It’s in people. In us. In you and

That blackberry

A Blackberry My friend sent me a picture of the life cycle of a blackberry. It starts with a bud and around the circle it goes until it ends with huge juicy fruit. My eyes were immediately drawn to the part of the cycle right after the lovely petals have

What we need

A job. A home. A spouse. A family. Relief. Things we might feel we need. “Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts” (Acts 3:2)

Lacking

I’m not privy to statements  Of Heaven’s accounts  But I have Father’s promise  That He’ll not renounce,  That He knows our need And He plans our steps,  That He will supply  And we need not strive.  Could it be that we miss  A journey He’s

The Death of a Seed

Imagine being a seed. What kind of seed would you be? Would you sway above a sea of green? Would you grow on emerald boughs? Would you be held firm and secure or be trapped and demure? Or would the cottony chaos be what you call home? One thing is

I do

I did so much, for me. I did so much, for them. I did so much, I burnt out. I did so much, I learned - The constant doing was a lie. All the doing - It’s been done. Now I’m undoing To become. Now I do so

Real

My kids have a classic children’s book called the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams Bianco. And that story only seems to get better and better for me. You know those books that are not really written for the children but to the worn-out parents? This is one of them.

I've been there

The stately houses whisper on the wind. A porch had fallen in on the corner home. With a crash, all the hopes of all the years and memories crumbled down the face of the graffitied red brick building. Long forgotten, long unloved. “We’ve been there,” echoes long and low

Measure by Heaven

Measure by Heaven  And not by man  The cost He asks you to pay.  For steep the cost  And foolish loss  The Way through human eye.  But they are blind  To the Love that binds  Us to that rugged Way.  And they cannot see  This is but tiny fee  For

Like we didn't know

One night we went to the park. We lolloped about and the girls screamed on the spinner while Joel grumbled about their volume. They were using it all wrong — lying on the top, pushing and pulling each other. They are too big for it. But they didn’t know. Then

We're looking

We can go back. Yeah. We know. But we’re looking, yeah looking On before. On to forever To a home for me and you, Soaked in the sunshine of All that He is. We can go back. Yeah, we know. But we’re looking, yeah looking On before To

Munching

Like a moth He consumes  All that harms and pulls,  All that tempts us down  And tender tugs our souls. Like a moth He is munching  All that dross, rot, and sin.  Can you hear tiny crunching?  A purging munch by Him.  He crumbles and cracks,  All the wood, hay,

Worth it.

It's been a couple months, and I suppose all the social media professionals would tell me not to post two posts in a day, but I have a minute so here we are.  We're moving. It's so hard to say that - again. People ask me if I am happy,

Two Mites

Two mites was all she had Two mites was all she gave Two mites was everything Ten times the tithe Ten times the gift That all the others gave Could it be that when Our little drains away To further nothing than before That then we have rich Chance to