Dear Man of Mine, A couple of months ago when we were at a friend’s wedding, I stood in the fellowship hall before the ceremony wrapping the stem of the bride’s bouquet with a white ribbon, silk over thorns, and I thought. I thought about the day sixteen years ago when we stood, bare toes […]
Some things don’t settle in until you see it in somebody else’s eyes. Especially when they’ve known you forever and they can see the change. I stood on a hillside graveyard in Kentucky last weekend, bare toes in deep moss, and looked sixty or so of my family in the eyes. There was no pretending
I’ll go ahead and say sorry. I’m sorry in advance for the things we’ll do and say on furlough. We’ve only been away from the States for a year and a half, but we’ve already forgotten a lot about how to live there. When we show up to speak at your church and neither of
I write like I breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Pull thoughts into the core of me, let them saturate, then push them out as words. It’s less a pastime and more a necessary function of life. Sometimes, though, the thoughts and emotions flow wild and the framework of words doesn’t hold them. They pour out like water,
I love the idea of road trips – seeing the countryside, visiting friends, setting our own pace… Notice I’m saying that I love the idea of road trips. The reality of life on the road is somewhat less, um, romantic. Over the past five weeks, I’ve slept in my own bed a total of
I’ll be packing up my plates soon, wrapping them well and putting them in storage for the next few years. There’s nothing flashy about them. They are earth toned, with leaves on the rim. I think I was nineteen when I bought them for a dollar each at Walmart. But I’m a little teary
Thirteen years ago, I was so pregnant I could barely breathe. My toes had disappeared beneath my belly months before, and I couldn’t even bend over to put shoes on my own swollen feet. I was done. Those last few days before I could hold my baby in my arms moved like molasses. And
I’m not sure what we were thinking. We had grand illusions of a peaceful get-away to the Virginia mountains. No internet, no cell phones. Just beautiful views, a little unrushed Christmas shopping, and plenty of quiet time to be together. I don’t know why I thought it would be quiet. After all, we brought
Time heals, they say. And it’s true, but there are some things that don’t fade over the years. Like the memory of someone’s laugh or the deep reservoirs carved by words spoken again and again. It’s been two years this weekend since my mom’s battle with cancer ended and she stepped, whole and healed,
We’ve had some beautiful summer days recently, and we’ve done some beautiful summer things. The other day, the girls and I joined the little one’s Sunday school class at a local park for playtime and popsicles, and then we ran by the drug store to pick up a prescription. The grocery store right across