glory be and saints alive

i’m spending a week with words. i call home and hear the news of home.  at home there is a lot going on.  babies just found out and children needing thermometers.  a true friend hearing truly hard news.  but i’m not home, i’m here. it creates a tension in my stomach and i wonder why

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time stands still

we packed up and went to greenfield village for the first time of the season. it was exactly the same. there is a freedom in faithfulness. to keep things, with a determined hand, to keep things the same.  the ever-growing grass and the demands of the age are kept at bay and instead the same

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the one without years

a mother has permission to stare long.  a mother’s gaze would make anyone else uncomfortable, but her children exist under it without a thought.  they’re used to her eyes not turning away – always watching, always seeing them.  from the beginning her eyes feast on the babe in arms and i see now that it

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when the youngest turns four

much of my life has been divided into four year periods.  high school, college, living here or there, the space of time between brother and sister. for her, it’s a lifetime. she tucks her hair behind an ear and the gentleness shown, the soft heart revealed in the gesture makes me swear oaths of her

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how to pray

“we have to learn how to be broken bread and poured out wine on the line of intercession more than on the line of personal contact.” ~ o. chambers and again, i’m convinced today. how could i not be? your goodness, your ability – your love is an ocean. you give answers to the questions

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internet martha

we drove up north on saturday.  blue skies lead us by bodies of water and slowly i remembered.  we turned down the lane towards our friend’s home and trees forced the crane of the neck to see their tops. i remembered. it occurred to me once again that i can slow down. maybe even rest.

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be brave, dear one

it’s strange about a scar. the flesh heals and holds the mark of what the body endured.  most of the time we forget about it.  my hands and my feet and my heart engage in the right now, in the everyday. but sometimes.  sometimes when the weather is melancholy or if i bump against a

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a few of my favorite things

reality is really pointing at its watch today.  it’s monday.  joshua back to work.  kids back to school.  laundry is in the dryer and homeschool lessons lay open on the table.  but happy new year.  happy is the man.  happy is the woman. i am thankful. last year brought answers to prayers.  this year is

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i have found that he is good

counting the gifts i’m given everyday… 1066. woodbox full 1067. avalon on my doorstep 1068. paying library fines 1069. sunny thursday 1070. nutcracker on sunday  it’s good to have a day to be thankful, but a lifetime doesn’t hold enough days to remember all that we’ve been given… 1071. books 1072. bicycles 1073. my grandfather

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bella

the girl is relaxed.  her belly laugh is contagious and noticeable and she takes up such a small slice of the earth, of heaven.  she’s overly interested in how big she is and how big she’s getting. she is a walking poem. she is three and soon she will be four.  she takes up a

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