India, Happiness, and a Bag Overflowing
A good friend of mine just returned from a trip to India, and she came by recently to share her stories. Stories of hopelessness. Stories of darkness. Stories of Jesus in the midst of it all. In addition to her stories, she gave me another gift: a gorgeous, hand-sewn bag covered in the faded colors of vintage sari fabric. The label inside says...
Why I (Mostly) Refuse to Live in the Moment
That’s quite a confession, isn’t it? I may as well admit to disliking puppies. Slowing down, living in the moment, appreciating the ordinary gifts of each ordinary hour: those aspirations have become a kind of religion. Widely admired if less widely achieved. Like most religions, I suppose, there’s a commendable seed of truth. I do believe...
Everyday Pain, Everyday Joy
I’ve been so sick for so long that looking back over the past few months is like staring into a dark tunnel. I’m just glad to be at the other end. I’m a little too worn out to fully analyze the experience. Maybe some things are meant to be endured and survived rather than understood. Still, I do know that there is a metaphysical, spiritual...
When Our “No” Meets God’s “Yes”
When we moved from Chicago to Florida, we gave away all of our baby things. There was no reason to bring a bassinet, a baby swing, or a boppy pillow halfway across the country. Our family was complete. Some friends asked me how I knew. I’m not sure what I said, but I know, looking back, that our decision felt like the most reasonable one. It...
A New Moon for a Dark Season
Things have been a little quiet around here. A little empty. On the blog and in my heart. This Lent I find myself in a waiting, resting mode. Waiting for my lungs to heal. Waiting for a little boy's fever to break. Waiting for God to reveal something of what's next. I'm waiting on big things and small and holding on to the hope that there will...
When Lent Comes Early (and Stays Late)
I live in Florida, but my inner calendar has been tuned by the north. In other words, no matter what I see outside my window, January means cold and snow and spring never shows up until after Easter. I suppose ten years living in Chicago did this, although I think it may go back even farther. Growing up in Texas, I felt cheated by...