11Oct 21, 2016
Travel weary and temporarily keyless, we knock, feeling as dusty as the door, as parched as the plants.  I run my thumb along the delicate thinning edge of a swooping leaf, crisp and browned, like old parchment.  On the door, the vinyl letters have broken in places and begun to curl away, even as they still […]
12Oct 3, 2014
This week, a departure for Kevin and me, a Sabbath rest: Tucked away, pulled back from the busy road and held–but lightly–by the trees, we hide beneath the fog. Â Sound is magnified here, somehow, or perhaps it is that other noise removed leaves room for hearing birdsong, the cheeky chatter of squirrels, the deep-throated gurgle […]
13Jul 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 […]
14Apr 4, 2014
In the water, I see the sky, bluer than the feathers of a bluebird, dramatic with wide, radiant strokes of cloud. Â It’s enough to steal my breath. Â The water itself looks silver in the sunlight. Except when we move across the bridge, the lake and the floating dock are completely still. Â I settle into a […]
15Oct 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 […]
16May 24, 2013
Just home. The front door opens as we pull into the drive, as my friend and I unfold our legs and think toward dislodging my bags, my chair, the hat I wear on the beach. Â Our conversation hangs unfinished and that suits us fine. Conversations between true friends never really end anyway. We leave the […]
17Oct 19, 2012
It makes perfect sense to me that God brought me here, beside a clear, turquoise sea that shines like burnished silver, iridescent in the day’s dying light, to remind me to be available to Him.  Every day, He asks me to be available, waiting, watching, surrendered.  The doing remains His, the surrendering entirely mine. God gave us […]
18Jul 20, 2012
High tide, and the waves curl deep, pounding the sand into a cliff at the break line. I sit watching one shore break after another, absorbing powerful beauty, the explosion of white caps, hard and close. I would love these waves if they broke a little further out and I could ride them in fast […]
19Jul 13, 2012
Five o’clock on the beach, and the light falls soft and golden on our shoulders. It doesn’t escape me that on normal days, this hour finds me weary and pushing through, juggling homework and dinner and a thousand other things, counting the moments until I can sit down. Â Usually around five I can feel the […]
20Mar 30, 2012
We are not an easy family to love. I mean, even for us the loving isn’t always easy. We are difficult, tired, a ball of chaos with accessories. Everywhere we go, there are tote bags filled with an eccentric conglomeration of things—our accoutrements, I call them: stuffed monkeys and calculators; dry erase markers, insulin pens, […]