a collection of paths

a vision. god gives us a vision of dry ground becoming a pool of water. then we try to make it so. but it’s not so simple, it is not so straightforward. i have to become the vision before the vision is a real for me or for anyone else. how are you? how is the

double standards and marriage

a friend lets me know that he doesn’t want me to take this the wrong way, but he has a question. “do you live at the beach?” and i smile. i wish. another good friend told me recently that she loves me, but that i really need to back off in my parenting style. i laughed

a fairytale they say

the snow started coming down and eleanor wanted to build a snowman with her dad.  she waited patiently.  she let her wishes be known.  she left the request on her father’s ear. we were busy.  abe had a dance on friday night.  saturday was special olympics and dinner at my parents.  kids stayed the night

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pie crust promises

the boy has started a comic book club and i have a tooth in my front pocket.  the girl smiles at me.  both of her front teeth have gone missing. things go missing sometimes, like whole summers, entire years even. a new friend and i talk about how we’re subject to the seasons – how fall

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all that i own does not compare

i forget that the most compelling thing about me is jesus. i forget. in the forgetting i lose myself and become ungrateful, confused. am i a good mother? it is because jesus has wrought my iron will in his gentle hands. is my marriage remarkable? it is because he has been remarkably generous to two

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blueberries and the will of god

“let’s stay here for a few hours at least.” so much of what i’ve hoped for this summer is right in front of me. berries on a branch. sunshine. children close and concentrating. mazzy is crouching low and finding what others miss. “is there more at the bottom, maz?” i lift up heavy branches and

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with this ring

two children couldn’t stand it.  mom’s door slightly closed.  it was too much. “mom!  you have to see the dining room table.” sunlight is coming through my windows and from their faces. and he’s in the kitchen.  he’s making hash browns.  dad’s famous hash browns. “they woke you up?” he pours the coffee in my

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ferris wheel church metaphor

the ferris wheel never stopped. they opened the doors like greeters on a sunday morning and ushered you right to your seat. it was unnerving. i hesitated like at the mall before an escalator. it inched. barely perceptible. it kept moving. the wheels of the machine don’t stop. i got in. of course i did.

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