On Tuesday, March 20 th, 2012
Malakai and his paints sprawl across the table like a bit of the sky run all down. These thousand colors in rain. That’s the way Malakai paints, dabbing in the underbelly of the darks, lining the greys with white light. He pulls this rainbow of colors back tight and he shoots for stars, right there on canvas. Even his hands boldly wear it, shades of the sky. I don’t...
On Thursday, March 15 th, 2012
I don’t know who said you couldn’t, but they were dead wrong. You could be death wish over a toilet, a flagrant sinner over a credit card, a Pharisee over a pulpit, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter a hill of beans. And it’s a hill I’d die on, because that’s exactly why a Carpenter really did: Whoever you are, wherever you’...
On Thursday, February 16 th, 2012
Bless this nest, Lord, of fragile things, encircling the breakable and broken in grace, in the ever warmth of Your wing, in the sheltering shadow of Your face, us the clinging ones, You our clutch of hope, singing to us the song of home. Resource: Bless Our Nest
On Tuesday, February 14 th, 2012
When he asked me what I wanted for Valentine’s Day? I’d grinned and said all I wanted was a clean house. I mean, National Geographics wave across the study like a sea. Boys erupt here, lego this lava everywhere. There are dolls, two girl in this blast of boys, and their stream of scissors, and papers, and...
On Friday, February 10 th, 2012
It’s what I sang over dishes. Sang on the days when I felt too weary to take another step, clean up another mess, change another diaper. It’s what I sing when the enemy attacks with lies, when I feel alone and scared, when I fear the future and whispers in the shadows. It’s what my mother-in-law, a Dutch farmer’s wife and mother of nine...
On Tuesday, February 07 th, 2012
They build it with their own hands. They build it in the angling sun and they are loud and happy and they pack in in all the gap...
On Thursday, February 02 nd, 2012
We’re not sure exactly who walked across the boy’s bedroom carpet with green paint on their heel. There is an Everest pile of laundry to be folded in the mudroom and another 3 to be washed and kids are maki...
On Friday, January 20 th, 2012
remembering this, this week… When the Farmer slumps against the door frame, slides to the floor, mumbles that he needs me to take him to Emergency, I nod mute. I haven’t the faintest idea how I’m going to get him there. In that exact moment, four of our six children wage desperate tummy revolts. I shuttle to each squirmish with cold cloths, courage words, a pr...
On Tuesday, January 17 th, 2012
When we meet an ill moment with a surrendered smile, it loses some of its sting. I bring her a cup with a prayer and she takes it up and her eyes light and nod. And too, a little tray of beauty, a cool cloth, a few favorite things, and a bud in a vase. Perhaps this is the...
On Saturday, January 14 th, 2012
To print out a copy of Week-at-a-Glance To Print out of the Daily Draft — my plan for the day. M ay all your wanderings this weekend, kindest friends …. plan little moments of grace-filled loveliness… : All is grace because of C...
On Saturday, December 31 st, 2011
The New Year wears hope like a fragrance. I watch a new day of the first month of a brand new year come, breaking up over the horizon, up through hopelessness, there on the rim of our fields and the scent, fresh, carries in on the wind… carries me. Unspoiled winter stretches across our fields — like an unfurled year awaiting new ways of walking. How to trek out acro...
On Wednesday, December 28 th, 2011
When we read this book , there’s this character that puts on her “habit.” A little hand here pats my shoulder and asks, “What’s a habit?” The amaryllis on the sill, it’s swelling in hope. And I tell Shalom this: a habit is something that is worn. She flickers recognition, nods, turns back to the page. She waits for me to read the next ...