On the Far Side of Fear
A week ago Friday, Maplehurst’s kitchen was the scene of a pizza party. Rice flour crusts turned crisp in the oven while puffy dough rested on the counters. Oregano snipped from the pot on the steps turned tomatoes, garlic, and oil into more than the sum of their parts. We sliced fresh mozzarella on one board. We scattered dairy-free cheese...
Because You Are My Best Birthday Gift
When I turned 29, I ate coconut cupcakes. They were baked by my mother, in my kitchen, with my daughter. They were brought to my maternity ward hospital room by my pastor and his wife. That day I ate coconut cupcakes and introduced you to my dearest friends. Tomorrow, June 23, you and I will celebrate. I made those same coconut cupcakes this...
Eating His Words
I see the world through a lens of metaphor and story. The magnolia tree near our chicken coop is a love letter. The window in our stairwell is a promise. Like a pair of good eyeglasses, metaphor helps me see the world and my life more clearly. It is the tool I use to scratch beneath the surface of things. These days, I am learning its limits....
All the Missing Pieces
If you are a parent or teacher or camp counselor, you know the forms I'm talking about. One for each child. Name, birthdate, address. Mother's cellphone and father's cellphone. Mother's email and father's email. It's the final question that gives me trouble: EMERGENCY CONTACT PERSON. If the parents cannot be reached, who should we call? For...
These Farmhouse Bookshelves
Here is one last peak at my bookshelves before summer. I think one of these might be just the thing for that afternoon in the hammock, the long car trip, those sweaty hours between events at the swim meet. I plan to read as much as possible these next few months. I'm imagining quiet afternoons with a sleeping baby and three kids with...
Acquainted With Grief
We wake again to the most terrible news. Like many of you, I turn the radio off when my children stumble, sleepy-eyed, into the kitchen. In an hour, they will sit in their own elementary school classrooms, and I don't have answers for the questions they will ask. I pack lunches, and my own head pounds with questions. Old, old questions. Could...