I don’t know how much time I have left.   Afternoon, and autumn leaves wander and twist to the earth, fluttering through the grass and along the sidewalk.  The sun makes a blaze of the trees.  I stop for a moment just to see, putting down my work, stunned by the fragility of life.  I […]

He builds conversations out of her gratitude.  Right now, while I write.  I stop typing to listen, to respond, to touch him on the cheek. He stands just a few inches shorter than me, all bright blue eyes and sun-drenched skin, so golden brown he looks warm to the touch.  When he speaks with intention, […]

Afternoon, and the beach becomes another elegant art, a mosaic of striking contrasts.  I love the seascape for the way she changes, for the intensity of her perspectives.  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.  I […]

We spend an afternoon at the table passing sheets of sticky letters, photographs, pens.  Before I turn my attention to helping Riley through homework, before cooking, before folding the towels, Zoe and I sit together tasting gratitude like honey on our tongues.  I press down a bit of light-catching foam and wonder why it feels […]

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.    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 […]

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 […]

I admit it:  Sometimes my attitude stinks. I wake up heart sick—breathing sighs, swallowing complaint, coughing up rot.  It spreads quickly, my gray brooding.  Suddenly I look around, and my husband and children carry my heavy.  My ungratefulness wraps their shoulders, black and thick-chained.  And together we ache, weary of this place, and our blinded […]

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 […]

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.  She is clothed with strength and dignity, Word says.  She can laugh at the days to come.  I don’t know, but somehow the unmanicured edges of my fingernails seem […]

Gratitude is not the festive color of a day, but the shape of a life redeemed. My deepest wish is that Thanksgiving finds you crowded warm around a table, surrounded by joy. I hope laughter makes you giddy, love satisfies you way down deep, and memory soothes like a hand gently resting against your back. […]