MSI Press Blog

  The penny was never just a coin. It was a cultural placeholder—small, familiar, and quietly powerful. Now that it’s gone, we’re watching subtle shifts ripple through everyday life. We’re rounding prices. We’re rethinking value. We’re losing the tactile ritual of counting change. But we’re also losing language. Idioms like “a penny for your thoughts” or “penny-pinching” now float untethered, relics of a currency no longer in use. The penny once signaled thrift, humility, and overlooked worth. Its disappearance marks a shift—not just economic, but emotional. We’re entering a world where the smallest denominations are digital. Where rounding replaces reckoning. Where the weight of a coin no longer anchors memory. And in that shift, we’re invited to ask: What did the penny teach us about value? What do we carry forward when the smallest things are no longer counted? a post inspired by the forthcoming book,  No Pennies to Pinch  (Franklin) See related posts ...

There was a time when I believed that the more I controlled them, the safer my children would be. Meals on time, schedules color-coded, emotions accounted for before they even spoke them aloud. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about love expressed through precision. But love has layers, and one of them is trust. Not just in your child, but in yourself, in God, and in the unpredictable beauty of growth. 🌾 The Illusion of Control Control masquerades as strength. It offers structure and certainty, often born from the quiet ache of fear—fear of harm, of mistakes, of being misunderstood. But when control tightens its grip too hard, it can silence spontaneity and dim the spark of genuine connection. Children need boundaries, yes—but they also need room to trip and rise, speak unfiltered, and feel the weight of their own choices. Letting go doesn’t mean abandoning structure. It means reorienting your compass from authority to trust. 💗 The Shift from Command to Communion True motherhood isn...

  There was a time when I believed that the more I controlled them, the safer my children would be. Meals on time, schedules color-coded, emotions accounted for before they even spoke them aloud. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about love expressed through precision. But love has layers, and one of them is trust. Not just in your child, but in yourself, in God, and in the unpredictable beauty of growth. 🌾 The Illusion of Control Control masquerades as strength. It offers structure and certainty, often born from the quiet ache of fear—fear of harm, of mistakes, of being misunderstood. But when control tightens its grip too hard, it can silence spontaneity and dim the spark of genuine connection. Children need boundaries, yes—but they also need room to trip and rise, speak unfiltered, and feel the weight of their own choices. Letting go doesn’t mean abandoning structure. It means reorienting your compass from authority to trust. 💗 The Shift from Command to Communion True motherho...

  There was a time when I believed that the more I controlled them, the safer my children would be. Meals on time, schedules color-coded, emotions accounted for before they even spoke them aloud. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about love expressed through precision. But love has layers, and one of them is trust. Not just in your child, but in yourself, in God, and in the unpredictable beauty of growth. 🌾 The Illusion of Control Control masquerades as strength. It offers structure and certainty, often born from the quiet ache of fear—fear of harm, of mistakes, of being misunderstood. But when control tightens its grip too hard, it can silence spontaneity and dim the spark of genuine connection. Children need boundaries, yes—but they also need room to trip and rise, speak unfiltered, and feel the weight of their own choices. Letting go doesn’t mean abandoning structure. It means reorienting your compass from authority to trust. 💗 The Shift from Command to Communion True mot...