Stacey Weeks

Stacey is from the play-until-the-streetlights-turn-on and come-when-your-father-whistles generation. She’s a cool-off-in-the-sprinkler, drink-straight-from-the-hose, and fish-off-the-pier kind of girl. She’s loyal even when others are not. Stacey has wrestled with brothers, played Barbie with neighbours, and stayed up too late reading just one more chapter. She’s from big Sunday dinners, steaming hot tea, and Saturday morning coin-sized pancakes. She grew up with Tupperware, paper bag lunches, Yorkshire pudding, and mashed potatoes. Stacey is one of four children framed in memories on a wall. She jumped off docks, endured eight-hour trips that took twelve, and sat in the middle bench seat of the family sedan. Stacey’s family is a finish-what-you-start, bargain-shopping, home-cooking, and respect-your-elders kind of family. She is a wait-until-you-enter-the-house-before-driving-away kind of mom. She boils the kettle in a crisis, and she knows that a job worth doing is worth doing right. She is a fixer of old things, painter of everything, and cleansed and forgiven child of God. She believes that nothing matters more than the Lord Jesus Christ and who she believes that He is.