11Oct 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 […]
12Oct 12, 2012
Adam had been talking about this trip for a week–father and son, side-by-side in a pick-up truck, on their way to the beach. To say that Adam has been talking about anything just makes me smile, because nothing sounds as sweet as his voice, nor does anything touch us quite like his earnest efforts to […]
13Oct 5, 2012
“This way that we love, that’s how it should be loving God,” He says this morning, eating breakfast beside me. Â “The way that we communicate, the way you know how I’ll feel about something, how you hear my voice in your head, that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be with Him.” He folds his napkin, […]
14Sep 28, 2012
Something about the way he broke that day reminded me that living is cross-shaped. “Adam has been crying for the last few hours,” she says to me, the aide instead of the teacher, walking carefully to my window as I park the car. “The last few hours?” Oh, how the living hurts, how it drives […]
15Sep 21, 2012
She sits, curled on my bed, the polish on her toes slightly chipped, and she reads, absently pushing an errant blonde wisp back from her forehead. I am struck by her beauty, the beauty of having her near. The reading has absorbed her, first her Bible, then the devotional book we gave her for her […]
16Sep 14, 2012
Sometimes the thief comes early, sliding into our sleep, wrapping his black fingers tight around our throats. Â He reeks of murderous jealousy, the kind that killed Abel, the kind that taints every breath and sits heavy on the heart. Zoe stands in front of the dry erase board, not yet fully awake, her hair a […]
17Sep 7, 2012
Clouds the deepest gray, hovering close, and I gather myself into the van to retrieve my children, preparing for the storm. Â It will rain soon, and hard. Â I can smell it. And I never have enough for this part of the day. Honestly, I laugh and sometimes cry whenever I hear that someone thinks I […]
18Aug 31, 2012
The waiting settles in—somewhere deep in my bones—laying a heavy hand against my eyes, clouding everything like the veil of early morning fog blanketing the horizon, obscuring the sharp lines of roof tops, cloaking the striving limbs of the trees. Two and a half hours at the doctor’s office, and I come home to dirty […]
19Aug 24, 2012
Five o’clock and the day gasping, my children hang on me like satellites in orbit.  I stand at the sink, rubbing green beans between my fingers in a colander, the water rushing over, warm.  For a breath—just one—I wonder about where these beans grew–what close field, the color of the soil, the smell.  I wonder whose […]
20Aug 17, 2012
It’s time. I glance at my watch and sigh, not ready to stand, not ready to gulp the last of my coffee and sit the mug by the sink, not ready to see Kevin off to work, not ready to help Adam brush his teeth. Â Not ready. Â Never quite ready. Upstairs, we stand in the […]