Stories about moments that connect us to God, each other, and ourselves.
One evening after the holiday had passed, I observed my five-year-old granddaughter circling the tree. It only took a moment to discern her purpose as she made her way slowly around it. Our kindergartener carefully inspected the branches, eyes scanning each tag, in search of her name.
Read MoreOne October afternoon, with the first crisp nip in the air, I set off with a trio of eager adventurers to roam The Backyard in search of treasure. The Golden Boy quickly took the lead, guiding us into parts unknown. The Silver Warrior’s keen eye and brave spirit proved invaluable to our mission. The Bronze Princess, though small in stature, possessed the power to transform the most mundane of objects into items of rare beauty with just two words, “so cute.”
Read MoreOne day, a predictable rhyme
falling into neatly metered stanzas.
The next, irregular starts and stops.
Awkward transitions of one verse into another,
the meaning obscure and hard to ferret out.
Read MoreFor centuries, he sat atop the mountain. The world stretched before him—the winding river, the endless sky, the gentle whisper of the wind. He was strong, jagged, unmoving. A piece of the earth itself.
Read More“Once upon a time.” I began and Stella snuggled closer beneath the leopard print throw. “There was a star high up in the sky.” I paused for dramatic effect. “A star named Stella.”
“No,” said Stella, leaning forward and peering up at me, bronze curls dangling. Her expression much too serious for a three-year-old. “A printh-thess.”
Read MoreMost mornings, I go onto the porch to sit and sip my coffee and listen to the birds. It’s my way of easing into the day, like warming up the engine of a car before you drive it. From where I sit, I have a clear view of the yard, the garden, and the pond beyond. There are times when the morning starts out clear, then a fog drifts in, the scene before me obscured by a cloudy haze in a matter of moments. That’s sort of how I felt as I wrote the last chapter of the novel I’ve been working on for ages. Things were a bit murky.
Read MoreLately, I’ve been thinking about the ways in which Daddy left his mark on me. From as far back as I can remember, people have said I look like him. But our resemblance has to do with more than genetics.
Read MoreStanding by Daddy’s hospital bedside, I watched him slip quietly away. All the while I had the overwhelming sense that his life wasn’t ending. Rather, it was beginning somewhere new.
Read MoreWho can understand why the heart chooses to love? Physical beauty, strength, charm, social standing, or wealth? For every why, there is an equal and opposite why not. Beauty fades, strength fails, wealth is unreliable. Love is difficult to explain.
Read MoreIt’s 6:38 p.m. Supper is over, and the kitchen is clean. I’ve come out to the porch to sit and soak in the last of this day. In just a few short weeks, it will be dark by this time of evening.
Read MoreI’d forgotten that Mama likes to hold hands. Not that I’d remember the iron grip that steadied me as a toddler learning to walk or the one that kept me from running headlong into danger’s path. I was too young then for such memories to stick.
Read MoreFor many years, Boston ferns hung in baskets along my front porch, from spring into fall. I enjoyed their graceful foliage spilling over the edges of their plastic containers. I watered them diligently, especially during the hottest part of summer, and they rewarded me with lush fronds that waved to me as I pulled into the drive at the end of each day. Then one summer, the ferns became infested with tiny caterpillars that quickly ravaged them, leaving behind containers of nothing but long skinny sticks.
Read MoreAfter a while, I sensed someone by my side and felt a hand on my back. In a thickly, accented voice, a man began to pray. He prayed quietly for a few moments, then to me he said, “Prayer is your backbone.” That was it. He moved on.
Read MoreWhat would your answer be if Jesus were to ask you, “What do you seek?” I think such a question would overwhelm me. There are so many things I want to understand, I’m not sure I’d know where to begin.
Read MoreIt was mid-December last year before I got the Christmas tree up. I don’t usually wait that long, but I was having trouble getting into the spirit of things. I put if off over and over waiting for the right time, a convenient time. Eventually, I thought, “Just do it. When the tree’s up and the house is decorated, it’ll feel like Christmas.” So, I did.
But Christmas didn’t come.
Read MoreIn the past, Thanksgiving usually meant traveling to my in-laws to celebrate with my husband’s family. Like most other families, the Thanksgiving meal, and in particular my mother-in-law’s cornbread dressing, was a highly anticipated part of the day. When the meal was over and the time came to travel back home, styrofoam or plastic containers filled with leftover dressing accompanied us.
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