milkweed thanksgiving

it’s late. we’re under blankets in our cold bedroom.  joshua’s reading and i’m remembering the milkweed plant i saw in a garden at mazzy’s school. we don’t know it but clouds are gathering right over our heads.  we don’t know that we’ll wake up to snow and that right now a grey sky is being

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the stars in my eyes

each night the starry sky waits above us. whether it’s obscured by city light or goes unseen by eyes that won’t look up. it’s waiting there. we drove the kids to southern ohio and saw the stars again for the first time. we took them to the caves. they crawled into the furthest recesses and

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sugar maple

i drive down ohio roads.  i drink in the rolling southern ohio landscape like water.  i don’t know what it is about coming up over a slow curve to find a white, paint-peeling church with it’s faithful buried along side of it. it does my soul good. i spend the day barely indoors.  there is

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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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bonsai christianity

the confining christian life. the wires and the pruning.  the relentless discipline to become a miracle of sorts.  a seemingly impossible spot of shade and shelter in an undisciplined world. could anyone look at me and see a towering tree in miniature?  i wonder. we visit another church. ever since we stopped trying to start

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you foolish galatians

“if righteousness could be gained through the law, christ died for nothing.” – galatians 2:21 for a long time i’ve sought the approval of man. the funny thing is that at the heart of pleasing man – there is really only one man whose approval i crave more than anyone’s. when human approval is the

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summer’s parting sighs

it took me the first two months of summer to catch up. you were older this summer. you didn’t want to go to the zoo.  again. you didn’t want to go to greenfield village.  again. i kept getting frustrated that this summer wasn’t quite like the last one. i slowly figured it out. you’re growing

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the family vineyard

my mother is worried. the grapes ripen on the vine and the white clouds sit in bluest sky. i agree. there’s a lot to worry about. she’s telling stories. grandma bessey’s house.  she and her brother and sisters would stay there when her parents fought too long.  grandma bessey, a savior of sorts, with her

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