My Daughter, Dr. Seuss, and the Good News About Hell
I often have a face in mind when I write out words in this space. To be honest, it's usually my own. When most of me is stuck in boredom, doubt, or depression some small part of me still sees the truth. I write to remind myself how beautiful life is. How good God is. And how near he is. Today I have a face in mind, but it isn't my own....
These Farmhouse Bookshelves
Last Saturday, I gave you a peak at my bookshelves. Let's take another look, shall we? I found Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry, by Katrina Kenison, years ago. It is about neither God nor mittens, but if I could put a copy in the hands of every new mother, I would. Kenison is in search of a less frenetic, more...
Why I No Longer Pray My Son Becomes a Leader
I sometimes wonder why God gave me boys. Recently, my oldest son had to wear a team sports jersey for “spirit day” at his elementary school. I’m sure whoever came up with this idea imagined it to be fairly inclusive. Who doesn’t have at least one shirt for some kind of team playing just any kind of sport? Well, our family, actually....
Because the Ordinary is a Gift
I began to love stories when I was tiny (my father told a serial tale about a little girl and her many exotic pets). That love has only grown. It makes perfect sense to me that I would want to measure my days with the Story. Walking through a year with the liturgical calendar is, essentially, living the story of my faith from its...
These Farmhouse Bookshelves
Books are bread and water for me. You may think that’s metaphor, but I mean it quite literally. I feel the need for reading like I do a sudden drop in blood sugar. My introverted, sensitive self falls apart regularly. Time spent with a book puts me back together. It won’t surprise you to know that my bookshelves are crammed. Two whole...
This One Word: Return
There is a river, and it has washed my slate clean. New home. New baby. New friends. New church. New weather. The year is new, and my days are full of new things. Strangely, not one bit of it feels new. These are déjà vu days, and everything in them feels familiar and comfortable. As if I have already worn deep grooves into this daily...