i’ve watched and waited for the anxious in him. he’s not one to worry. hurry doesn’t sound like a good idea. he thinks about what to do and lets time shake a few things out before moving forward. he loves. when we talked of a third child his biggest, best reason, was more love.
when we traveled into the night to come and visit his mother, i prepared for trouble. she and i struggled to understand each other and we both knew it should be easier. there were smiles and hugs and meals. time itself helped. but there was one thing that spoke loudest to my frowning heart. i’ve
we had traveled for christmas. every holiday, a road trip, in the early days of our marriage. this time we landed with his family. the in-laws. the not mine. the other way of doing christmas, of doing family. in keeping with a rocky courtship, we’d made rocky ties to each other’s families of origin. my
we’re watching the fire. free firewood from the apple orchard. my mother gardens with a woman who owns it. come and take as much as you want. when we sat down at the restaurant and started to talk it wasn’t easy. i had to remember that the words that come out of the mouth come
communication ain’t simple. all the roads of relationship are threatened by neglect, by lack of effort. trails of ivy that speak comfortable and lovely imperfection, that’s fine, but left untended our relating will all be done in work gloves. that’s how it feels this morning. this morning in the woods, tucked away for camp.
it’s late and we’re fighting. our children sleep rooms away in their beds. one minute before we’d been as close as bodies can be and now he takes my arm away and can’t look at me. your picture in the picture frame. the idea of one another. the difficulty of bringing reality to bare in
when the disciples saw the lord walking on water, they thought they’d seen a ghost. it doesn’t happen this way. but when peter saw it was jesus, he asked if he could walk out there with him. joshua leads us out onto the frozen lake and it’s a little like walking on water, this family
seventy percent of the earth’s surface is covered by water. the human body is about seventy percent water, too. god may be trying to tell us something. each human being is a walking ocean. we, every one of us, has depths therein that can’t be fathomed or known. titanics and freighters sunk to the bottom
“what’s that noise?” i pull over to the side of the road and joshua checks all four tires. it’s raining. it’s a flat. we crawl into a parking lot and he tells me to get in the car. “you don’t have to stand out in the rain while i change a tire.” i sit down
some things aren’t anyone’s fault. sometimes there isn’t anyone to answer for tears that fall or harsh words said. sometimes all we can do is remember that everything isn’t done by human hands. it was a busy weekend and so i prayed for an hour. i asked god to give us one hour to take a