171
Dec 15, 2017
In the picture, taken all-smiles just after the coronation, our Queen stands twinkling in her strappy, snowy dress. Somewhere else maybe she would not have been a royal, but here, we celebrate her, and with her the two kings by her side. The kingdom belongs to such as these (Mark 10:14), and if ever I’ve […]
172
Dec 8, 2017
“This isn’t a gift,” she says, passing the gift bag across the table. The bag is cool teal, like one of the stripes in her shirt. Except for the clear absence of tissue paper, it certainly looks like a gift. The twisted paper handles slide down her fingers as she extends her hand. “No, I […]
173
Nov 10, 2017
He presses the cross into my hands, a rugged, delicate thing he pulls from his pocket I don’t know how; it seems bigger than pocket-sized. I run my thumb over the intricate carving on the stem and then let it rest on one palm so I can dip my fingertips into the tiny ravines. I […]
174
Oct 27, 2017
On the field, a tangle of feet, tennis shoes slick with wet, flat grass, green-smeared on Converse white. Some of the kids sprint, others twist and skitter, like wind-blown seeds. It’s a game, a favorite: the prey try to make it across the field to grab up a bit of foam “food” in their fists, one […]
175
Oct 6, 2017
We rumble over bridges, wheels rolling across weathered slats, dappled shadows stretching. Zoe takes the lead, crouching low, blonde hair flying behind her in ribbons. Kevin trails her gently, restraining his pace just enough to let her go. Somehow at first, I’m in the middle, sandwiched between these I love–two blazing, two simmering. The path […]
176
Sep 15, 2017
Walking and talking of heavy things, the churning, sputtering things that muck up a mind, I drop them like stones from my hands, leaving them discarded. This is the one place I can toss out all the yuck without poisoning another soul, this winding road beneath trees that endlessly pour forth praise. The wind carries […]
177
Sep 1, 2017
Out of the corner of my eye, I see them kneeling in front of my son, knees pressed hard into the floor right there in front of the chair where Adam sits waiting for me, glancing at his watch. I’m too far away to hear them, but I can tell that they’re talking to him, […]
178
Aug 25, 2017
It’s an old, familiar, childhood question. If you had just one wish, and you knew it would come true… It’s a genie question, hovering in smoke, the answer thought-whispered over snuffed out candles, wispy and curling. Just once, it was a question of Biblical proportions, only God posed it differently, to a young king: Ask […]
179
Aug 4, 2017
Home and kids settled, I run upstairs and slip on my walking shoes, tugging at the laces. Sometimes the only thing I know is that I need God. I slip my keys and my phone in my pocket and promise to be back soon, and I move, carrying water, heavy in one hand. I’m thirsty, […]
180
Jul 28, 2017
Since I got home, I’ve been trying to see with my ocean eyes–the ones scrubbed, rubbed and salt-glazed like old viridian sea glass, but everywhere I look, something is out of place. In the morning after breakfast, I sweep, my fingers still rubbery and root-shriveled from the dish water. Sometimes the receding tide carves lines […]