STAY, in the Breath

letters from a writer & photographer's journey

Holy Days

Since our move, everyday is bringing new experiences, many firsts, often breathtaking. Last week we watched the first harvest moon in October since 2009 rise over the mountains as we watched from across the Columbia River. It was thrilling. Literally squeal-inducing from several of our children’s perspective. “I see it! I see it!” Other days we often go down to the river. It is always there, but always new. It.. Read More

Dear Dying Heart: A Slight Figure of Speech

“They say you’ve gotta lose a couple fights to win It’s hard to tell that from where I’m sitting They say that this is where the fun begins I guess it’s time that I was quitting A slight figure of speech I cut my chest wide open They come and watch us bleed Is it art like I was hoping now?” —Avett Brothers, Slight Figure of Speech Dear fellow sojourners.. Read More

The Truth About Trial

The truth about trials is that, in time, their appearing monumental reality crumbles and whirls away like dust in the wind. The lasting things though? That’s what we are planting consistently in the midst and passing seasons of trials and successes, disasters, distresses, the celebratory and oh most of all, the ordinary, days. It seems to me that, at first, we discover by “accident”, the way things come to us… Read More

The Art He Makes Out of it All — Even Parenthood

Hello friends! It’s been several weeks since I’ve posted here, but not for lack of writing. My journals are brimming but more than anything, my children—the most important books I’ll ever write—and I have embarked on the adventure of our new homeschool year.     These are some of the highlights. What you don’t see in these photos: all the sit-down, practice book work, me running into myself over whether.. Read More

Why We Create: The Love of God in this Burning Wilderness

The littlest was howling. He hurt his knee. He came running. Tucking himself next to me, he took my long skirt and draped it over his wound, holding it tight. Eyes closed tight too, unaware how he was warming my heart, he cuddled into my lap. That kind of smile that comes from deep down broke out all over my tired face. It comforted me that I could comfort him, even with.. Read More

Searching For Beauty

I’ve been searching fierce for beauty for weeks now. Physically, halting for poetry and photo-taking of the dogwood trees. Drinking tea in the afternoon and listening to stories, watercoloring with my budding artists and stopping, to listen: this was my search party. My war-cry looked like words spilling out the poems that fill me up in the journals. I’ve been listening to the quiet and the breeze. I heard the.. Read More

Dear Mom Who Needs Rest (OR: How to be a Super Mom)

I’ve got a whole lot of hurting hearts on my heart as I write today. People with grief I don’t know how to touch are on my mind. People who find resonance in Jeremiah’s words when he said, “I wish I hadn’t even been born.” I’m praying and I’m wondering what can be done. I’m praying for that illuminating moment we all need from time to time, that hand beyond.. Read More

I Choose Joy Because God

It’s what the children know without an explanation or need for one. It’s what they don’t know too and why they need me to know it. Joy is a choice. The often cited “research” results that children laugh 400 times a day compared to the 17.5 times of an adult has been revealed as an urban myth. However, as a mom to several young children I can vouch that there.. Read More

Living With the Ache for Home

Who knew I would speak with not one, but two of my children, between the ages of 3-14, this week about their future spouses, their future lives. I found in my boys a longing to know their place in this world. How surprised I was to come across their tiny but true nonetheless, ache. I perceived in them, ache. They are aching for their wholeness, and so am I. I didn’t.. Read More

Burnt Toast: A Prayer, (and poetry too)

Wouldn’t it be just the way of it? The morning I have this wonderful break-through thought, a certain breath from heaven kind-of-thought that transforms my affections and makes me ache with the longing to honor my God even as I cook breakfast for my family, all filling me up warm and bright inside—I burn the toast.

I don’t mean burn in the toaster kind-of-burn the toast, I mean, “Everybody open the windows before the fire alarm goes off!”, kind-…