311Aug 22, 2014
Adam stands beside me and his voice climbs, higher and higher toward the sky, pushing, pressing, growing. Sing like never before, oh my soul. Like everyone else, Adam has different voices for different kinds of experience. Â This voice with which he sings is his voice for joy, for love, for comfort. Â It’s the same voice […]
312Aug 8, 2014
Beside the pool in the late morning, he suddenly kneels, leaning out over the water. Â Majestic clouds move across an unfathomable sky, changing the clear light as it travels down and washes over his bent body, the rustling trees, the white plastic chairs in orderly, framing lines. Â From my chair, I pause, gathering him […]
313Aug 1, 2014
He builds conversations out of her gratitude. Â Right now, while I write. Â I stop typing to listen, to respond, to touch him on the cheek. He stands just a few inches shorter than me, all bright blue eyes and sun-drenched skin, so golden brown he looks warm to the touch. Â When he speaks with intention, […]
314Jul 18, 2014
Afternoon, and the beach becomes another elegant art, a mosaic of striking contrasts. Â I love the seascape for the way she changes, for the intensity of her perspectives. Â Across the water I see rain, a blue black bruise on the horizon blurring the line God made between the deep sea and the boundless sky. Â I […]
315Jun 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 […]
316Jun 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, […]
317May 16, 2014
It’s time to leave, so I stand at the bottom of the stairs and call to my son. Â I hear his music, the fullness in the air that always colors the rooms where he moves, the strains of worship that make our living rich. Â His feet thump against the carpet in an unseen stretch of […]
318Apr 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 […]
319Mar 28, 2014
On the way home from school, we ramble down a country road sandwiched between two busy thoroughfares. We leave the highway still feeling jostled by the cars and trucks that whizzed past while we waited to turn and wander down just this little stretch of peace before we turn again into the chaos.  I always smile […]
320Mar 14, 2014
Rigidity is a Spectrum curve, one we’ve worn to a polish, fast slipping our way through so often that we know the feel of it by heart. Â After all, we’ve got not one track here, but two, and even though the trajectories spin differently, that particular curve is common to both. Something starts fresh, like […]