On Tuesday, April 01 st, 2014
So when you curled up on my bed last night and we watched The Power of Ten — nothing could have prepared me for the exponential power of the broken bits of us. Of you four boys and two girls. And your dad and I letting go and becoming one and multiplying love at the kitchen sink with the burnt pots stacked high and you kids scrapping and scraping hard and we all bled a bit ev...
On Tuesday, March 25 th, 2014
Dear Daughter, I know it seems the unbelievable impossible— but really — it’s going to happen one day to you too. Turns out you can blink and find your mother’s very words rolling right there off the tip of your tongue. True Story. So hear me out on this, okay? (I know, I know — How in the world does it turn out that you become your mother and really, how do her words...
On Tuesday, September 24 th, 2013
Over here today… and I really need to connect with you over there & what’s going on in your heart
On Wednesday, September 11 th, 2013
You talk with a police offer on your last Sunday. Your last Sunday still living at home — after the Preacher had said his Amen 10 minutes before noon, you walk up to one of the guys milling around with these smooth stones of small talk out in the chapel foyer – and you up and ask the cop how to shine a pair of shoes. There are people who find small talk soul shrin...
On Thursday, July 18 th, 2013
Simply put, author and pastor Mark Buchanan is one of my all time favorite writers. His insights into Scripture, the way he turns a phrase, his keen perspective — never fail to startle and astonish. I have been reading his words for the last decade and am always famished for more. I quietly invited Mark today to the farm’s front porch — and his words here are ...
On Tuesday, July 16 th, 2013
When one of the boys pulls off his Sunday shoes, the filthy ones ridiculously still clinging to “Sunday Shoes” status, he catches my eye and grins like he’s swallowed a canary. “So I only wore one sock to church.” What are you going to do but laugh with the grinning kid? Yeah, I am that Mom… Yeah, after 18 years, there it is: I have be...
On Tuesday, April 16 th, 2013
Dear Son, So your GPS can say that it’s about 5 hours and 24 minutes from Steubenville to Gosnell’s clinic in Philadelphia? But you’d be about right if you said Gosnell and Steubenville were right around the corner from one another. And you were about right when you said that Gosnell is as much about us as Steubenville ever was. That’s how you and...
On Wednesday, March 20 th, 2013
Dear Son, When you’re the mother of four sons, Steubenville is about us. Steubenville is about having a conversation with sons about hard things and asking you to do holy things. Because a Steubenville doesn’t begin with football and it doesn’t begin with alcohol and it doesn’t begin with unsupervised jocks with inflated egos and shriveled morals. ...
On Thursday, March 14 th, 2013
So the thing is, back there in the beginning, we all had this shattering fall in a garden. And we mark it on the calendar, Christ, falling in the garden of Gethsemane. Christ, righting our messy fall. So the kids and I, we put our hands into dirt, and we remember our garden fall and His garden grace, and we make a Grace Garden for Easter. : How to Make a Grac...
On Saturday, January 26 th, 2013
So I’m a mess and we’re all failures — at least all the honest of us are. And the truth is, no one ever runs before they take baby steps. So I scratch down these 25 points, like my own sanity manifesto, and there are a thousand ways in a thousand seasons to make a life glorify God. I scrawl out mine, which would be different than yours, and make a place for...
On Tuesday, September 18 th, 2012
Sisters make circles of time, a completing of sentences and memories and laughter, the past curving into now and you both know how it all rolls. A sister born friend, she turns all the inner worlds that won’t fit into words, into a deep knowing. From the moment I first cupped a woman child into me, I had always wanted this for her — a sister to round out her heart. A...
On Thursday, September 06 th, 2012
Only a few more weeks left now. That is what the Farmer says at dinner, what he says as we clatter dishes off the table, the enamel plates all stacking and clapping for the cook. Only a few more weeks left and August will dip the beans fields bronze and the leaves will reluctantly fall off the beanstalks and just the pods will then dangle, the only rattling ornaments hanging of...