Our Beautiful Hunger
“It is our desire, after all, that makes us most like God.” (Fred Bahnson, Soil and Sacrament) We are, all of us, so hungry. My children dream of sugar, and I crave hot, buttery toast. I spied the first white flowers in the strawberry bed, and now all I can think about is warm, rich red. We hunger for food and drink. Not...
These Farmhouse Bookshelves (and a Giveaway!)
Let's all spread a blanket on some fresh spring grass and read a book, shall we? Not sure what to read? Let's see if I can help you with that. Not only am I recommending a few of my favorite recent reads (books with this season very much in mind), but I am GIVING AWAY FREE BOOKS. Do I have your attention? Read to the end for all the details....
Our Stories Come From Hunger
Our Easter feast began the day before, on Saturday morning. One hundred or so neighbors. Two thousand or so eggs. Warm sunshine and hot coffee. Conversation and sticky children. Or maybe it began earlier that week. When my sister and her four children tumbled, along with the crayons and crumpled napkins, from their minivan. A three-day road...
At the End of All Our Journeys
"We thank and praise you, Lord, for the gift of your victory over death, for the gift of holy awe that comes upon us as we enter into our Easter joy. Christ has passed from death to life, may we always know you as our way through the desert, our food and drink as we thirst. You are our safe passage through treacherous waters and the home that...
Why I Will Not Set My Mind on Things (Too Far) Above
Today, I glimpsed the first haze of pink on the old magnolia tree that towers over one corner of our yard. It is a magnolia tree worthy of a fairy-tale palace, but it presides over a chicken coop and a child’s yellow plastic swing. In summer it becomes the world’s largest shade umbrella, but in April it is a miracle. Too impossibly beautiful...
This Is The Beginning That Has No End
I have seen the first snowdrop, and I have seen the first crocus. Eight baby chicks are cheeping away in our basement. Seasons generally do not shift like clockwork. They tend to pour like water. But as I stood in the yard yesterday, ringing that snowdrop bell with the tip of my boot, I was fairly sure that this was spring’s beginning. It’s...