We spilled out our heart, it got shoved back. We spilled out. Though beautiful, we were not seen. I…I took it back before there was a chance to be rejected again. I decided to keep my heart to myself. And, so the pattern goes. The truth is, I have often spilled in the wrong places, the wrong times. Being authentic doesn’t always mean entrusting fragile parts of ourselves to just.. Read More
There are wounds that wind our souls so tight we quit breathing from our bellies. That’s how babies breathe. Until the pain comes, we breathe from our bellies. Then we swallow the pain down to our guts and kill ourselves—but we simply think we’re trying to survive. And, in reality, we are. What’s so horrible about that? Why should surviving make us sick? It’s this question I have to capture;.. Read More
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
Yeah that photo is blurry on purpose. Kinda like my head. I recently felt very clear-headedly that I should delete all my social media accounts and this blog. At least I thought it was clear-headed.
I reasoned that my extreme need for growth was inhibited by a sense of having to stay-the-same in these places. I needed to stretch, but for a little while, I forgot how.
Do not be afraid of a life of sacrifice… I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts then there is no hurt, only more love. — Mother Teresa Funny, Not Funny Faithfulness is a funny word to try to wrap our minds around and then at times, not very funny at all. Like the faithfulness of newborn baby diaper “blow-outs”. Whew, I mean, I was laughing.. Read More
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-…
Another week is beginning, how’s our hearts? Those hurts that came, that come and come again in different ways, but sometimes feel the same? I’ll always hold on to a simple whisper that literally changed my life a few years ago. Imagine me in the kind of pain where you curl up on the floor and ugly cry, “This is too hard, too hard!”… And then—so simply, “It’s suppose to be.” Lord,.. Read More
The laboring woman knows how the pain comes in waves. She knows the transcendent way they wash over—wash through—her. She knows they bear tidings of gift and soon the gift itself. Yet the way they come! Such tumult at times that stirs the blood to one of two things: Wild trust or wild fear. Two, so same and so different all at once, it could make us wonder how both.. Read More
“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.” ― Mother Teresa It would be a fool’s way to come to the end of my day despising the little things, the little ways. But I do. It would be a sorry sin to say, “no thank You” to the adventure of diaper changing, feet washing, tear kissing or frigidair stocking, thinking somehow an adventure “out there”.. Read More
Yeah, it’s true. I laughed out my nose when the three year old lunged across the table to steal food from his older brother’s plate deft like a praying mantis after it’s cricket. Seriously—the way he moved was impressive and spontaneous and I could NOT help it. Yeah, it’s true, I sighed at first when: 8 year old: “mommy.” me: “just a minute, I’m in the middle of a.. Read More