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  • a little mishap

    On Monday, November 30 th, 2009
    Ann’s sister has hacked into her blog to let you all know of a little mishap involving Ann a large pair of scissors a stubborn staple an old burlap bag and a trip to the ER She’s mostly fine and will be back soon (I’m thinking I’ll be buying her a staple remover for Christmas…)
  • weekend wanderings: Christmas preparing

    On Saturday, November 28 th, 2009
    As ornaments hang gracefully in the woods…. we prepare too…. What You Really Want for Christmas — Want to open your Present Early? You know you want to. Go ahead! Simplify the HolidaysA complete booklet to guide through the holidays — an extremely thoughtful, useful resource to explore how each family would best like to
  • Faith For Those In The Field

    On Friday, November 27 th, 2009
    Ann?” He calls from the back door. “Can you can grab me The Word? On the stick?” His voice finds me at the table with books and children and pencils. From the window, I can see the tractor idling in the lane, the cap of it’s muffler bobbing. He’s headed to the field. “You left
  • All Good Gifts

    On Thursday, November 26 th, 2009
    You visit the earth and water it abundantly; you make it very plenteous; the river of God is full of water. You prepare the grain, for so you provide for the earth. You drench the furrows and smooth out the ridges; with heavy rain you soften the ground and bless its increase. You crown the
  • Because of the Running God

    On Wednesday, November 25 th, 2009
    In late November when the deer run and a singular goose cries lonely, flies south, the tongues, they pause in the pleas they know well, the please prayers, and heads they bow to pray the thanks prayers, the real prayers that mouth You are enough, You who took the iron through the sinew, You who
  • wash

    On Tuesday, November 24 th, 2009
    The hour is late and the house dark and I lie on the pillow listening to the spin of the washing machine, day’s last load, the splash of the dishwasher too, after the feast, And his hand, that one that fed the stock today, Shoveled the dung, brought in the eggs, That washed her smeared
  • you asked what’s in the camera bag?

    On Tuesday, November 24 th, 2009
    Disclaimer: Humbly, and obviously, I’m not a photographer in any way, shape, or form…. I don’t have a Photoshop or Lightroom, I don’t shoot in manual, and it’s apparent I know very little about the mechanics and intersection of ISO, Aperature, Exposure etc… I only know what moves me and so I click a shutter.
  • ‘And Now I pant for You’….

    On Monday, November 23 rd, 2009
    ‘Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!…Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all.You called, You shouted, and You broke through my deafness. You flashed, You shone, and You dispelled my blindness. You
  • weekends are for listening to the stillness

    On Saturday, November 21 st, 2009
    If you still long enoughand wait…listening… you can hear Him. May your weekend be about knowing God, kind friends… All’s grace, Photos: walk in the quiet hereShare your thoughts?…Would you like Holy Experience delivered to you quietly via email?…
  • When You’re Just a Tad Overwhelmed ….

    On Friday, November 20 th, 2009
    I‘m standing at the counter, day seeping in without knocking, jotting down a list of the day’s tasks, the work of a week, in my journal, and it’s just a tad overwhelming and I am trying to remember just to breathe… And then I am fifteen, that summer I grip the handlebars of a Honda
  • Homeschool Routines and Rhythms

    On Thursday, November 19 th, 2009
    `What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to the soul.’ – Joseph Addison You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working; and just so, you learn to love by loving. All those who think to learn in any other way deceive themselves.
  • When Life Heats Up

    On Wednesday, November 18 th, 2009
    I‘ve got the squash peeled, gutted, chopped, November’s sun food, and water’s bubbling in grandma’s pressure cooker, the one with the decades old, hand-smoothed wooden handles, and I only need the weight, that thing-a-mo-bobber that will dance in the heat. And she not on the shelf by the stove where I tuck her away, or
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