101Oct 4, 2013
Morning comes and we hear the sound of the ocean, the crash of waves. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that sound,” Kevin says, fresh from sleep. Â Â Almost all week, we’ve kept the door open to hear the sea, and I keep listening to the Spirit reminding me that the voice of […]
102Sep 20, 2013
I am an everyday daughter of the King. Or, I am a daughter of the King every day. It’s all a matter of how I hold those words—wrapped sweaty and sqeezed together in the palm or held up to the Light.  I’ve come to see that the way I order those two words—where and how I […]
103Aug 16, 2013
Sometimes my hurry seeps into the most precious places. Sometimes I carry it into eternal spaces, into my living resurrected, into holy things not made for hurry. Â Hurry is a temporal symptom. Â It is a physical distraction. Â Hurry is born of all that passes away. With a sigh, we lay our hands gently against our […]
104Aug 2, 2013
I admit it: Â Sometimes my attitude stinks. I wake up heart sick—breathing sighs, swallowing complaint, coughing up rot. Â It spreads quickly, my gray brooding. Â Suddenly I look around, and my husband and children carry my heavy. Â My ungratefulness wraps their shoulders, black and thick-chained. Â And together we ache, weary of this place, and our blinded […]
105Jun 21, 2013
Streaks of fire and amber color the clouds, royal streamers declaring another day done, and I sit down with the glory at my back and the warm, afternoon breeze tickling my cheeks. We love Summer for meals on the screened porch out back, where we can hear the birds singing loud and see the worms […]
106May 3, 2013
I love so many hurting people. And the impulse I have, because it’s God obliterating me, is to bring them joy. I want to grab the heavy shadows shrouding them and rip them apart with my hands. I want to free them from the grip of the things that steal their laughter. I want to […]
107Apr 12, 2013
Mom, come look. She says it breathlessly, wiping sweat and wild hair from her forehead with her hand. I stand at the sink, washing my hands with the honeysuckle soap, preparing to chop onions for our supper. “Come look at what?” I ask, drying my hands on a towel. Â I reach in the cabinet for […]
108Apr 5, 2013
Over lunch, we talk of how we first imagined ourselves as mothers, smiling down at our fingers. I’ve always longed to be the Proverbs 31 woman. Â She is clothed with strength and dignity, Word says. Â She can laugh at the days to come. Â I don’t know, but somehow the unmanicured edges of my fingernails seem […]