after i hung up the phone and told joshua what i’d just learned, we knew that our tiny church plant was done. there had been signs leading to that moment in our kitchen. but this was it. the final nail. he leaned over onto the counter and put his head down. and that was a
Categorythankful
lord, to whom can we go?
O Lord my God. Teach my heart this day where and how to find you. You have made me and re-made me, and you have bestowed on me all the good things I possess, and still I do not know you. I have not yet done that for which I was made. St. Anselm I
all to reveal a secret we can’t hide
during communal prayer at church, anyone can say anything. i’ve heard mothers weep for children and homeless men go off on political rants. last sunday i had a prayer in my throat. but i think and rethink. i wonder how i’ll say it. i’m always writing my words. finally i pray. and as soon,
the friends you want to avoid
the problem with surrounding yourself with truth tellers is they tell you the truth. i’ve been giving paper a sideways glance and walking into the kitchen to do the dishes. i would start to type a blog post and then delete the words not liking the tone, my tone, any voice that comes from my
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
through the airwaves
the countdown to summer has begun. somehow. i’m confused how we go from buried, too cold to step outside, to easter morning on the beach, toes in sand. but alas, it is so. and i for one will hold my spinning head and say thank you for the spinning globe. bare branches have performed their
a word is worth a thousand pictures
i heard good things today. richard foster praised silence for writers. bret lott shared that we will never master writing because it is filled with self-doubt and loneliness. anne lamott said that writing takes much longer than you think it will and remains a struggle always. this is good news. i was told to keep
dear vanessa
the difficult parts of life don’t come with instruction booklets. it’s just us, hammering out the days we’re given with flesh and blood. it can be a messy business. add to the mix the odd desire to share that process with people on the internet through a blog and it can get messier. or better.
tune my heart
it was a gas station. we’d driven hours with three kids close and now one of them had to use the bathroom. joshua was pumping gas and i thought i’d just send her in by herself. i wanted to be done. i didn’t want to get out of the car until we arrived. i pulled
where there’s a peaceful sound, lonely souls hang around
when the dust settles near the table legs again, the ordinary life can change into a meaningless one. in a twinkling it goes from flight to plodding. at times like these i look for a star to hitch my wagon to. a business plan, a person, anything outside of myself that is shining bright. i’m