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  • if your heart’s breaking just a bit…

    On Thursday, April 28 th, 2011
    In a fallen world, we trip and break our hearts. Shalom comes to me with her’s cut directly out of paper.   To continue reading over at (in)Courage… :: :: ::
  • The Art of Celebrating a Messy Life Anyways

    On Friday, March 04 th, 2011
    She says she aches for me, like down inside of her, like where the winds howl and we moan. And I tell her that there are pots on the stove and crumbs on the counters and yes, wherever we are, there’s always hard things howling through the rhythms of the cooking, the washing, the dishes
  • Why it Really is Worth it to Tell Your Secrets

    On Thursday, October 07 th, 2010
    My Mama was diagnosed with split personality disorder and my dad loved me more than her. We all split. I remember how my heart did, how the shards drove into everything. How bearing secrets made the breathing hard. My mama nods now that it is all true and no daughter should ever feel that and
  • What It Takes to Join the Real Sisterhood of Women

    On Thursday, August 19 th, 2010
    When Lissa Turscott slid down her bus window and whipped that baseball hard, I felt the thud in my back and the smash of my heart and I hunched over to catch the pieces all shattering.  I heard her friends all slapping her back in congratulations as the bus moaned away. Some bruises break the
  • weekends are for…

    On Saturday, July 17 th, 2010
    I’m over here this weekend… Wouldn’t it be grand if you came to visit? I think there’ll be good food on the menu! Share your thoughts? If you would like Holy Experience posts quietly tucked into your reader or emailed to your inbox for free…
  • The Work of all Kids: How to Forgive Our Parents

    On Saturday, June 19 th, 2010
    When I carry our first babe home from the hospital, I carry him home alone. My husband can’t get off work. He works for my Dad. I cry.Please read the rest over here… (I’m looking forward to listening to your voice & stories & wisdom in the comments over there…)
  • Why the Kids Really Need a Little Red Hen Mama

    On Saturday, May 08 th, 2010
    The grain mill whirs loud, crushing a stream of kernels. I stand in the kitchen by an open sack, grinding the wheat to bake the bread, to break the fasts. Since the beginning, since the dawn, this, the work of women, the feeding of children. The sun rises. And I have to ask it straight
  • What Every Family Needs to Really Be Strong

    On Friday, April 16 th, 2010
    I turn the last child’s light out and I slump down a door frame and I cry quiet in the dark. The mother grief scalds the cheeks but what washes away the mother grime? I’ve become the parent I knew as a child. The one I looked straight in the face and fierce vowed I’d
  • When You Keep Sinning: The Key to Fasting and a Real Lent

    On Wednesday, March 03 rd, 2010
    After he slings the van door shut, the silence offers an open embrace and I drop my head heavy onto the steering wheel and I wrack sob. Why do I ask to be good but I don’t act good? Why does sin sabotage and this skin seep with the festering stench of self? Why am
  • Five Steps to Real Change in the New Year

    On Saturday, January 02 nd, 2010
    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
  • What Spending Christmas in a Barn Really Teaches Me

    On Saturday, December 26 th, 2009
    What spending Christmas in a barn really teaches me … and it really excites me! Please find me over here today? Photos: newborn piglets in our barnShare your thoughts?…If you would like Holy Experience posts tucked into your inbox for free…
  • Symphony of the Seraphim

    On Tuesday, November 17 th, 2009
    (with return of our internet server, I whisper) They were happy tears but he didn’t know that, in from morning barn chores and those mama sows, finding me in front of the world’s flickering screen. Those man hands stroke my hair and that always gentle whisper brushes my ear, “You sad?” And I shake my
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