511Jul 4, 2014
When we step onto the beach, the sea swells high and shimmers golden green in the sunlight. Â A storm matures unseen somewhere off the coast, out over the great deep. Â I know this, and still I cannot imagine how the water pools so high just here at the edge of the shore, why it gathers […]
512Jun 27, 2014
This auditorium has different lines than the one in which we usually worship. Â Pews make up the rows instead of the moveable interlocking chairs with which we’re so familiar, and something makes the room feel broad. Â The moment we push quietly in, there’s the impression of red velvet, though the seating arrangment feels spacious and […]
513Jun 13, 2014
In the middle of the afternoon, when the sun burns so hot we can almost see the scorching heat and the grass curls brown and crackles beneath our bare feet, we eat peaches that taste of sunshine. Â The sticky juice runs down our chins. Â We spoon up blueberries dripping with sweet milk and push out […]
514Jun 6, 2014
She’s such a shining, starlit soul. She walks through the kitchen, where I gently lift lettuce leaves with my fingers, sorting the torn pieces into salad bowls. “Mom, what’s that?” She says, with a casual turn of her hand, a subtle gesture toward the line of butter yellow bowls. I know she doesn’t really mean, […]
515May 30, 2014
Before the light splits apart the sky or steals soft through the clouds, revealing their lines, the only sound we hear is birdsong. I fold my legs up in the chair, drawing near to God, and it’s as though He wraps around me and breathes, Listen. Â In the darkness, hidden from view, the birds sing […]
516May 9, 2014
I walk into the kitchen from the garage, carrying an armful of things—a bag, a few books, a coffee mug someone left behind—on my way to distribute these and consider the afternoon climb, and one of my daughters presses into me, draping the now dangling legs, grasping me solid, clinging to me with now enfolding […]
517Apr 25, 2014
Saturday night, and the descent happens just this quickly: We sit around the table licking frosting from our fingers, when she finally lifts her cupcake in one flattened palm, admiring the shape of it from all sides. Â She has her own way—her own “technique,” she says—for savoring food. Â When it comes to cupcakes, she tastes […]
518Apr 18, 2014
Sometimes from the start of a day a dull ache builds, spreading slowly from the curve of my back well into the sharp edges of my shoulders.  It is the sore feel of self dying, the good ache of need, the one meant to remind me that God accomplishes and satisfies (Deuteronomy 8:3).  But the truth […]
519Apr 11, 2014
I start our dinner in the morning so that the smell of simmering will bring warmth to the house all day.  This is also my preemptive strategy to avoid that moment in the weary hours when cooking no longer feels like an art and I murmur there’s still supper, forgetting the ever-constant whisper of the Spirit urging […]
520Mar 21, 2014
Today, this encouragement: Write it down. In her lap, a piece of notebook paper sits folded, pressed beneath her hands. Â She picks it up, fingering the edges and the corner, where the paper turns up like a curling wave. From across the room, I can see the faint blue ruling, the holes at the edges, […]