I saw the most lovely meme on the Internets today.

“If you see something beautiful in someone, speak it.” — Ruthie Lindsey

I don’t know anything about style and I’m not an Instagram beauty, but this thing Ruthie is saying? I’d like to do that. Okay? Let’s do that. I’m going to start right now.

I’ve transitioned through grieving for the madness of the world and am now just going to whip up as much sweet beauty and encouragement as I can. I’m not going to take depression/fear/numbness/exhaustion lying down.

I sang all my instructions to the kids when they were getting ready for bed tonight. They’re still the age that I have to say things like, “brush your teeth,” three times if I have to say them once. That’s a good way to turn yourself into a crone twenty years early, so tonight I sang it all.

“Clear your plate, please!” (to a herald tune)

“You must, someday, stop pestering your sister…” (to a mournful, beautiful ballad tune.)

Last week we finished The Children of Noisy Village. I panicked for a minute because what else can I read to the kids that will make them laugh and tell the stories over to each other over the breakfast table without being low humor or teaching values contrary to our lives? It seemed unlikely. But then I remembered Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, so we’re good.

Tonight at the dinner table the kids were laughing about Mrs. Piggle Wiggle’s “radish cure.” Sadie had to run in a circle around the table to demonstrate what it was like when that rascal child, Patsy, refused to take a bath.

It was like this. “I won’t take a bath! I won’t take a bath!”

Except probably a bit louder than you’re thinking.

Nope, still louder.

I sang, “Sit down! And eat your dinner, please!”

Also louder than you’re thinking. We are a sweet, wholesome family. But also we are loud.

I love our funny kids and I love the way they recite stories and jokes to one another. I love the way their beautiful brains entertain their beautiful funny bones.

In fact, I think beginner’s mind, or naiveté — which is not the same thing as going all numb and pretending nothing bad is happening — is one of the most beautiful things in the world. It’s how you engage fully with the world, as if every day really is a new dawn and a new chance.

So I’m speaking that. This is what I mean by speaking beautiful, so my kids and I won’t go under to the push to be angry and numb and scared and tired all the time and be convinced that that is reality.

Today’s personal-channel video is a sequel to an old video called, “Testimony of a (Famous) Homesteader’s Kid,” in which I’m also speaking beautiful again about my weird mom.

I hope you’re all putting one foot in front of the other today.