Ryanne Molinari

Buckle up, friends. It’s time for a long, rambling catch-up.

Did I mean to take such a long break from blogging? Nope. But, although I’ve been quieter online, I’ve been steadily scribbling away on a project I am very excited about. I can’t share too much, but I will ask for your prayers: it’s a project dear to my heart, but also one that may be difficult to place with a publisher because it’s a sensitive (but significant!) subject.

I’ve also continued to add to my running list of blog post ideas, though none of them have struck me with enough force to actually get themselves written. That said, I figured that rather than forcing a post prematurely, I would pop on here to give you a little glimpse into what has turned out to be a surprising summer.

It’s now just over five years since my husband and I got married and moved to Iowa in a span of two weeks. Whew. I think I am still tired from that season. With a grand piano and organ in tow, we had to move into a house right away, and bought what we could without seeing it in person. I absolutely do not recommend this approach, but we loved our first home. It stood strong since the 50s, weathering record-breaking storms that any Iowan will tell you about if you stop to chat for longer than thirty seconds. It was a wonderful place to begin our married life, and I learned so many valuable skills such as painting everything (walls, tile, floors, furniture, you name it), replacing light fixtures, warding off groundhogs, and fixing appliances myself in order to save money. I have a particularly fond memory of squeezing under the kitchen sink at nine months pregnant to replace our garbage disposal. It seemed a good outlet for my nesting energy and saved us at least $150. Worth it.

Anyway, our first home was a “very, very, very fine house” as the song goes. But it was also clear that it was not going to be our long-term home—our “forever home,” as HGTV would say. Although we were not planning to move imminently, that’s what we did. The right doors opened and we find ourselves happily settled to a home closer to our church, with less land to maintain (remember how I hate gardening?), right down the street from my parents’ (future) house, and—I can hardly believe it—behind a 60+ mile running trail. Nearly every morning, I get to run through cornfields and woodlands. It’s a dream come true and we are so thankful.

Needless to say, though, it was a whirlwind few months. Providentially, one of my best friends is a realtor, and another friend sent her seven sons (yes, you read that correctly! She’s a literal super mom!) to help us move in. It made me wonder how anyone manages life apart from the church. Our church really has become our family, which brings me to another benefit of this house: hospitality!

Being closer to our church and its local community has made hosting easier, whether having couples over for actual meals or inviting other moms to join me for a casual coffee. Billy’s dad also visited for a few days last month, spending time with Martin and leaving much laughter (and Red Vines) in his wake.

In the midst of all this craziness, I received an offer for my first children’s book, which I wrote while expecting Martin. It won’t be released until 2029, but publishing is always a slow business and time seems to be flying anyway. Wasn’t it just Sunday? It’s honestly terrifying how quickly the weeks are passing.

And wasn’t it just last month that I had a newborn keeping me up all night? Apparently not, because I woke up this morning to discover that Martin is a chunky seven-month-old with the most endearing one-toothed grin. His greatest ambition is to pet our cat, who does her best to pretend he does not exist. He is neutral toward all solids except yogurt pops and likes the idea of sippy cups even if he has not quite grasped the mechanics. He has an inexplicable hatred of bubbles, bursting into tears of anguish, fury, and terror at the mere sight of them. We love our little weirdo.

My work is slowly ramping back up as the summer turns to fall. Last week, I led my first church choir rehearsal of the season, and it was such a joy. Although I only have to be gone two nights a week for my work, I don’t ever like leaving Martin, even in the capable hands of Billy or my mom. But to make music with other Christians for an hour or so fills my cup. Being able to keep using my gifts for the church amid the demands of motherhood keeps me going.

But lest you think I only make music when away from Martin, I’ll share my current diaper-wrangling strategy: singing “The Lonely Goatherd” from The Sound of Music with my best attempt at a Julie Andrews yodel. It stuns the poor guy into stillness. Martin does seem to love music, to my delight. He will listen to me practice before “playing” the organ for himself, whining when I try to pull him away. He also enjoys patting the bongos. As an aside, I’m not sure why more parents don’t invest in a set of bongos; they’re the least annoying percussion instrument you can give a baby, and they enable supported sitting. 10/10 recommend!

Are you still with me? Wow, nosy, aren’t we?

Just kidding. I am honored that you’ve made it this far.

Somewhere in the middle of unpacking and organizing our new home, I received my diploma in the mail. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to earn a doctorate, although I never would have guessed it would be in ministry. I am so thankful to Covenant Theological Seminary for making a way for me to earn this degree alongside my husband (he graduates later this year) and without any financial burden. Now, if I’m on a plane and somebody cries, “Is there a doctor on board?” I can respond. I’ll be absolutely no help unless its a theological crisis, but, after all, aren’t most crises theological at the core?

Construction seems to be a theme for this chapter of our lives. We can see my parents’ house being built from our deck and, each week, I am astonished by the progress being made on our church’s expansion. We have needed more sanctuary and classroom space for years, and it’s finally happening! The builders anticipate being done early in 2026, which is hard to fathom. We’ve been praying for this ever since we arrived and it is amazing to see our praying materialize as framing! God has been so good to our not-so-little church on the prairie.

After all the craziness of the summer, it’s no surprise that we all caught colds. Plus, it’s ragweed season, so all of Iowa is sneezing up a storm. The benefit, though, is that this round of sickness gave me an excuse to practice my soup skills. I don’t typically enjoy cooking, but am—if you will pardon the mild boast—excellent with soups. I’ve discovered that the key to a chicken noodle soup that doesn’t taste like liquified depression is a whole package of fresh rosemary. I also recommend using bone broth and protein pasta (made with beans) to make it extra nourishing, along with giant handfuls of kale which, unlike spinach, doesn’t shrivel into a sodden mess.

I am also a bit of a savant with chili, if I do say so. The key is chopping a package of carrots so fine that you can cook them with your meat. It adds a little sweetness and a lot of vitamin A. I also recommend adding cinnamon to corn bread and crumbling it on top.

But this isn’t a recipe blog, so let’s move on.

In the midst of all this, I’ve continued to enjoy as much literature and music as I can. I had the sheer delight of rereading the Harry Potter books. Years ago, my mom gifted me the British editions, which have a few different terms here and there and, I think, much more elegant cover designs and typesetting. When I was growing up and my peers were first discovering these books, I was wary of them because of the “witchcraft.” But, while I would never advise reading anything that goes against your conscious, I personally find this series not only enjoyable but edifying. My philosophy on fictional magic is simple: Would the story and moral of the books in question make sense in a world without Christianity?

Yes, Harry Potter and his friends use magic. But the overall narrative is one of courage, sacrifice, and a clear line between good and evil. I posit that, if Christianity had not thoroughly permeated our thinking even in a supposedly secular age, these books would not be nearly so captivating and, ultimately, satisfying.

I have more thoughts on Harry Potter that I’ll likely list out in a future post.

As for listening, I have had the following album on repeat:

It’s profound, lyrical, and a bit spooky. It may be the best stand-alone album I’ve listened to in a long while. Every song is worth your careful attention. Plus, its acoustic and haunting sound is perfect for foggy, early-fall mornings! Although I am classically trained as a pianist and organist, I’ll admit that this folksy style of songwriting is my absolute favorite. I have a not-so-secret dream of a career as a singer-songwriter. Perhaps for my midlife crisis?

That’s all for now. I am eager to dive back into blogging more regularly now that our boxes are unpacked and our lives are settling into a more predictable rhythm. If you’ve made it this far, know that I appreciate your readership more than I can say!