191
Oct 9, 2015
So many times this week I’ve whispered the words—running under stunning blue skies; exhaling beside grassy spaces where dewey spider webs glow like hundreds of silver threaded veils seemingly abandoned by impetuos ethereal brides; in the dying light of the afternoon, when the work still stretches, teasing at the edges of impossible. I say it […]
192
Sep 11, 2015
I love wide, open spaces, those places that could never be arm-measured, that overflow conceivable depth and stretch further than sight; spilling over, covering completely, unbound, unheld, uncaptured. So today, because I need reminders, God sends us in a different direction, turning left on a road instead of the usual right, and this just as I […]
193
Aug 28, 2015
Most days, the last thing I hear before I lay down the day all empty and relax my weakened grip and let my heart rate slow is the sound of his heartbeat. It’s the sound that’s found by letting go. We sleep close; we always have. And most days, I fit my cheek into a […]
194
Aug 21, 2015
I walk in from my sweaty work, the pruning shears heavy in one gloved hand, the bottoms of my bare feet stinging with the heat of the sidewalk, the brick steps. Finally, I couldn’t watch the ruined blooms weigh the branches any longer, nor let them continue leaching away the sweet goodness the tiny, emergent […]
195
Jul 24, 2015
In the morning, the rain comes, and I do what I have determined to do more and more these days: I stop to see, to gather up the feeling of the breeze lifting my hair away from my cheeks. I spy a plump cardinal hiding just inside the gardenias bobbing gently by the steps, an elegant […]
196
Jul 10, 2015
So, I’ve been hurting over something we do to each other. I say we because I’m guilty too, we because we’re in this together, we because it takes all of us to change our culture. In my life, the repetitive strategy of the enemy often looks like this, just with different supporting details: Flashback nearly twelve years, […]
197
Jul 3, 2015
I confess that when she comes to get me, I do not want to get up. I just picked up my book—Dorothea Frank’s Plantation, and I have precious few moments to mind-leap on down to the Lowcountry and shut out the world. Every time this author punctuates a sentence with the word yanh, I smell the […]
198May 29, 2015
I like doing this with you, she says, and I look away from the wild roses just beyond us in the yard, their bold red beauty twisting madly toward the limitless sky, jutting elegantly through the slats. Their freedom completely captures me, that and the way they’ve doubled in size, the way they reach in the […]
199May 1, 2015
He’s in a thousand tiny things: the way one strand of Riley’s hair falls unevenly across her forehead, the rich sound of Zoe’s laughter—and mine—over song lyrics she misinterprets, the faintest hint of flowers on the breeze when I open the back door and walk across the porch. The bird feeders, empty, swing ever so […]
200Mar 20, 2015
For a moment, just breathe. Morning run under bluest skies, and the warmth of the sun splits apart the crisp, cool evidence of a night safely passed. The trees, red and swollen, change the tone of the landscape, pregnant now with possibility. Spring comes suddenly, like a first breath, a startled gasp exhaled as relief; […]