Outside, rain softly falls, soothing sheets like curtains on every side of the porch, and I sit still, watching. Late afternoon, and God has made a few moments for me to notice the gathering puddles, to trace the splash of drops from finger lengths of upturned leaves, rolling down, down to drip or, finally, to […]

Today, I walk early, slipping out the door with the light barely new, thinking maybe I’ll escape the heat. But Summer’s sun burns and throbs like it’s been up for hours, and the air sits thick in my lungs, and before I make it down the front steps, sweat becomes my slippery second skin. Already […]

The breeze falls light on my cheeks and lifts the flyaways around my ears, moving unseen like the Spirit, holding me carefully as I walk out of the crisp Autumn morning and into the last dying traces of Summer heat.  I allow myself deep, slow, limitless breaths, gazing up at the sky stretching out in […]

In the beginning, nothing.  I stand at the edge of a wide, blank canvas.  From the street, as the first light cracks open the sky, I only see a broad, smooth, sandy plain, and beyond this, a dazzling sheet of silver glass.  For a number of days, I disconnect everything and step away, wiping it […]

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, […]

Even as we leave the house the rain falls silently, light and soft, dotting our arms.  We stare at the sky, the wild chaos of cloud, the battle between light and dark.  After a cleansing, everything looks raw and startling, new. The shore looks flat, smoothed and then embroidered with gemstones, bordered with old lace. […]

We are growing stronger here, together. I say this to her as we walk along the beach, leaving impressions of our feet in the sand.  With every purposeful step, the soft shore sinks.  The salty sea rolls over our footprints, filling the heels, the toes, making briny tidepools and minuscule islands—our own desolate Lilliput, soon […]

I step down the ladder and balance my paintbrush on the edge of the can, reaching down to trace the paint-tattoo on my knee with one finger.  This now dry glob—when did that happen?–looks like a Maui Mist cloud, all wispy at the edges.  I clench and unclench my hands, sore, noticing the red welts rising like blistering […]

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 […]

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 […]