On Saturday, August 30 th, 2008
“O Lord and Maker of all things, for whose creative power the first light came forth, who looked upon the world’s first morning and saw that it was good, I praise you for this light that now streams through my windows to rouse me to the life of another day. I praise You for the life that stirs within me: I praise You for the bright and beautiful world into whi...
On Friday, August 22 nd, 2008
A note that made its way to the inbox… “I’ve been thinking on that recent post, “Yes, the answer is YES!”…. I remember a morning not too long ago when I woke up feeling already spent. I was overwhelmed, so terribly tired, and realizing that my day had not even begun. Hubby had already climbed out of bed and so I was there alone listening to t...
On Monday, August 18 th, 2008
I found the evidence yesterday, unexpectedly, on the trail to the woods. It was at the the curve, just before that large made-for-sitting-on stone, where one can see down into the valley of fields from the top of the hill. A sea of corn tassels stood stilled, waiting for me to know. The woods behind the fields, dark and green, worshipped silently, anticipating the unveiling, in...
On Saturday, August 16 th, 2008
But a few days ago, I scratched it down in “Looking for Love…” : “Have you known love? That saturating-your-pores, leaking-out-your-arteries kind of love….I’m speaking of the love you keep looking for. Unless the heart brushes up against, touches, that kind of love, knows God intimately to be her only happiness, we still ache. We still strive and...
On Wednesday, August 13 th, 2008
“Give up the bitterness, the anger, the sadness for what isn’t, that you wish you had. And embrace the gift of what you do have. For therein is really what you want more of: Joy.” ~Elizabeth Elliot a summer of healing hand, without trampoline, or swimming, or bikes… but there’s always frogs! the shirt he wears to remind me to, r...
On Tuesday, August 12 th, 2008
Have you known love? That saturating-your-pores, leaking-out-your-arteries- kind of love. A love that satiates and satisfies and fills you to a state of perfect soul wholeness; a state of sweet calm… of deep, long peace. I do not mean the kind of love that ignited cheeks a fiery awkwardness when he caught your eye. Nor the kind that makes you rock a babe through thickening n...
On Tuesday, August 05 th, 2008
“Union with Christ is really the central truth of the whole doctrine of salvation not only in its application but also in its once-for-all accomplishment in the finished work of Christ.” –John Murray I had felt like a fool out there in our garden right off the front porch. A picket fence frames the rows of tomatoes and peas, lettuce and beans. Sunflowers march...
On Friday, August 01 st, 2008
…workers, geared and faith-filled ones, return again to the harvest fields. Always return. Photos: wheat harvest, our Kai-guy out there too, and brother-in-law John, tired and dirty… but smiling
On Tuesday, July 22 nd, 2008
She bought it for the view. Moving to town was hard; everyone who’s lived in places where you witness the sun rising and setting over earth’s rim knows. You still listen for gravel’s crackle under tires going down the lane. You ache to watch sky come close to land and breathe green life into her. Mama needed to still reach out and feel a bit of that country when she drove...
On Saturday, July 19 th, 2008
From the inbox: The posts this week on the “ugly-beautiful” reminded me of Irish poet Patrick Kavanaugh’s “The Hospital.” ~Kim The Hospital A year ago I fell in love with the functional ward Of a chest hospital; square cubicles in a row Plain concrete, wash basins – an art lover’s woe, Not counting how the fellow in the next bed snore...
On Friday, July 18 th, 2008
A week of seeing the past the (supposed) ugly to the beautiful. Because all His gifts are good gifts… if we have see past and through… ugly: rusting, dented lawn tractor beautiful: faithful workhorse that’s cut our grass for the last twelve years ugly: hole in a smile beautiful: first lost tooth! “I’m getting bigger!” ugly: greasy rag...
On Thursday, July 17 th, 2008
She sits in a hospital waiting room, scissors in her hand, snipping up old men’s shirts. Plaid ones, cotton. The man three chairs down is wearing one the same shade of brown as the one she’s shearing. I wonder if he notices. He’s reading an outdated Reader’s Digest, glancing at his watch now and then, listening for his name to be called next for that escorting down t...