ascending at your friend’s house

before jesus ascended into heaven, he took a walk. he led his followers to bethany on the eastern slope of the mount of olives, a sabbath day’s journey, about a half mile. he blessed them, lifted his hands and bye. mary, martha and the resurrected lazarus lived in bethany.  was he walking them home? was

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the mother of god

one place in my heart holds a grudge against humanity and all my friends. weddings and birthday parties. whenever i catch wind of another girl’s birthday party happening with no invitation for mazzy, i plot a little murder in my heart. every time i see friend’s daughters walk down the aisle trailing after our dearly

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your life from here

there’s a man out there in the snow with his dog. he’s clipping back the vines on these frozen lanes.  my romantic notions of owning a vineyard evaporate a little bit because that’s what these lines represent.  the hard work of a farmer.  the day in and day out.  those posts are just necessary means

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over-realized eschatology

(this post was inspired by a friend that i get to spend time with this weekend…thankful for time to slow down…) the firefly slow cruises by, heavy with light.  the woods are dark and deep.  pinpoints of yellow blink and fade.  i’m sitting on the porch with my friend.  all day she’s pointed out the

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amanda

i’ve been thinking about friendship this week.  thursday i’ll post my recent thoughts on the topic, but for today i’m reposting one of my best friend’s stories… “tell me again about when you died.” i’ve asked her this before and she’s told me the same story, but i want to hear it again. “i don’t

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back-alley heart surgery

gravel is crunching under my shoes as i crouch down low near a dumpster. my friends, my good friends, are in the bar.  i don’t have a lot of praying under my belt yet.  but i need.  i need so bad. i need a listening someone with sway. i set down his keys.  my father’s

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