I'm sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of Babies R Us, it's plush cushions cradle my body. I lean my head back and close my eyes. The chair is the softest thing I've ever felt and I'm in labor with my first child. I want to be cradled. I want to be held. I … Continue reading A Metaphor For The Holy Spirit
The sound of weeping cut through the still, morning silence. The wracking sobs and desperate cries struck a dissonant chord with the bright bird song that announced the early hour. It didn’t matter, Mary Magdalene was alone, bereft of comfort, bereft of the one who had come to her rescue before. At least that’s what … Continue reading Why Are You Crying?
“Mama! Did you know that without flies we wouldn’t have chocolate,” my 8-year-old son yells from the dining room table. He’s doing research for a project on pollinators that his teacher assigned him. It’s part of his new remote learning, part of our new normal. I had hoped he would choose to research butterflies, but … Continue reading Flies and Chocolate
“Let those who have been set free by the Lord tell their story.” Psalm 107:2 I read the verse through a lump in my throat. A lump that’s been there for days now. Every time I think about the comments, the animosity, the division, and destruction between my brothers and sisters that lump lodges itself … Continue reading Set Free and Sent Out
I want to notice. I want to see the veins on leaves, winding trajectories of life and nourishment. Roads that lead to shade and rest and air and beauty. I want to see how the wind takes form. How it moves with grace and power and becomes whatever it wants to be. Gust or breeze, … Continue reading So, I Write
Have you heard that I'm writing another book? If not, let this serve as your official notification! It's odd, though this book writing stuff. Odd because it's the most private and solitary endeavor until suddenly it isn't. I've been working on this story for the last year and a half but have only recently actually talked … Continue reading “When Dormant Daffodils Bloom”
I’ve not been out of the shower for more than ten minutes when my youngest son Oliver wakes up. “Can someone get me up?” he yells from his crib. I walk into his room, hair still wet, and pull him up and into my arms. “Hi buddy,” I tell him through kisses. “Is your pull … Continue reading Musings On Mornings