31
Mar 31, 2017
I can hear him beside me and his voice is reverently light, soft and piercing.  But the thing is:  Adam never just sings.  He worships. We sit beneath the trees when the sun is soft and dying.  A breeze blows through–a Spirit-wind, and I hear him quietly crooning, oh the grace reaching out for me.  We’re […]
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Mar 3, 2017
Driving home at night in the sluicing rain, I can barely make out the thick white lines that mark our lane. Â Water arcs, pounding dull against the wheel wells, and Zoe says, “Go slow, Mom. Â We’re almost home.” Go slow. Â She’s right. Â It really is the only safe way through. Tonight, it seems easier to […]
33
Oct 7, 2016
So, we’re talking honest about real spiritual warfare, the gritty underbelly of living Loved, the ugly ways the enemy tries to douse our hot, Spirit-lit fire, and my friend says what maybe some of the rest of us have been just a little too timid to say, something that just sizzles with courage: He just […]
34
Sep 30, 2016
I ask them to tell me something good, something grateful, something excellent, right there in the last light of day, and she grins at me, dipping her chin into the shadows. Coming home, Zoe says.  It’s the thanks-giving she offers every day.  She tucks her hair behind her ears as she says it, still grinning.  It’s […]
35
Sep 9, 2016
Arms full of teenaged girls, every afternoon.  I mean, I have their hair in my mouth.  Those long, honeyed strands fly in my face whenever my daughters curl their lithe bodies into me, the one pressing her cheek into my lap, the other settling her ear on my shoulder, reaching for my hand with long, bronzed […]
36
Jul 15, 2016
In the dark, we slide our feet into flip flops, creeping out the door with steamy mugs of coffee balanced in our hands, with plump towels draped and dangling from our arms. Â Whispering, we search the sky for signs of first light, for wisps of cotton-candy pink. Â Carefully we descend the stairs, touching foot […]
37
Mar 11, 2016
Today, just a prayer, whispered, then fervid and carpet-muffled because that’s where I plant my nose.  I can’t seem to bend low enough to accommodate the feel of Him.  It’s a prayer I need, one I offer often in some garbled, half-torn way. But He knows all the parts, so I don’t have to remember them, […]
38Aug 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 […]
39Jun 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 […]
40Jan 17, 2014
Our living is a wandering…and a return home. We have lived the same story in vast repetition since the couple left the Garden, since they glimpsed the two trees for the last time, barely touching the leaves with their fingers as they passed. Â And since that time, when they believed for just a moment too […]