On Friday, March 30 th, 2012
Why be crazy enough to homeschool? So a series of questions land in the inbox for a print article on homeschooling, asking how a Christian family makes education...
On Thursday, March 29 th, 2012
That is what came at the end. At the end of the day, aft...
On Monday, March 26 th, 2012
How long do I really have to figure it out? How long do I have to figure out how to live full of joy? So my husband might find himself married to a woman he loves being with. A woman who knows how to laugh at the days to come? So our children have these memories of a mama who smiles easy, listens long, makes jokes and praise and all these good days out of cra...
On Wednesday, March 21 st, 2012
It’s hard to know what that is — when it’s a spotlight that heats up a prophet’s fervor. When ardency kindles with a microphone and holiness is this blazing performance for audience and applause. But what is that, that zealous ember in the dark, when a...
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 Thursday, January 26 th, 2012
Dear Son — who is called to climb a thousand walls, You have to know how your unfolding from me was a miracle. That’s the miraculous thing about miracles – they really do happen. How is it in this crazy, holy world does a girl-woman bear a boy-child? How does she raise a squalling boy-child into a man? I’ve never been one of those. And this the...