A Feast of Joy
Joy is loud. We sing. We shout. We process in celebration. We dance. Our hearts thrill. We share.
The Reconstruction Choice
“The reason the Father loves Me is that I lay down My life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of My own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from…
Orchard Memories
Margaret Philbrick spent many summers playing tag in the cherry and apple orchards of northern Wisconsin. Her friend Julie grew up on one of those orchards and her life experiences of harvest and loss inspired this story. ******* Like most things it started with one. Grandma could never throw anything out. Like every Grandma in…
Cracked Viola
Entrapped by cold concrete, beauty unnoticed between back-to-school walkers, dog sniffers, after dinner strollers. Protected by a crack, fending off frost, courageous late bloomer. Could we be like you? Shining our summer colors when least expected? Hiding our seeds in safe places? Creating while waiting on winter to wane? Awakened by April snows – showing…
Healing Racial Trauma
God’s timing is perfect and that is certainly true for Sheila Wise Rowe’s book on Healing Racial Trauma. In the midst of a pandemic year, which may well be the worst imaginable year to launch a book, God has allowed our present circumstances to usher in a deep need for the message of Rowe’s book….
Empathy Not Excommunication
“If you’re offended when you look on your Facebook page, and you see someone call Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters the b-word or the c-word, you should be equally offended when you see someone call Ivanka Trump or Ann Coulter those words” – Dr. Brene Brown speaking at the Washington National Cathedral, January, 2018. These…
Laughing with You!
“Someone needs to take out the trash. I can smell it from here.” Our daughter, the prima donna, diva ballerina shouted from the stairs as she rounded the corner to grab her bagel breakfast before heading off to high school. Claiming an extremely sensitive sense of smell, she regularly managed to opt out of this…
Gratitude to the End
“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.” The whispered phrase, repeated like a Gregorian chant as John leaned back against the bathroom wall submitting to my husband’s lifting of one foot, then the other. The immediate goal, get him into a clean pair of pajamas and prevent him from collapsing on the floor….
Is the Proverbs 31 Woman for Real?
We’ve heard about her, sewing late into the night by a lamp that does not go out, gorgeous toned arms planting a vineyard, a prominent husband, self-designed purple clothing, and children that get up in the morning and praise her. All of that sounds like an unattainable biblical ideal. Reflecting on who you know that…
She Lost All Her Memory
She lost all her memory in drops of misplaced keys forgotten bills a disconnected phone. Her makeup grew heavy. Pristine eyeliner, now charcoal cakes stacked on summer tan base, claret jacket, mauve sweater out of season. “You’ll need to wrap your neck now that it’s starting to turn cold, dear.” As we inch into April….
Christmas Lights
White Pine, Red Cedar Evergreen decked in strands of web separated by wind ushering in winter. Once summer’s home to spider’s fare of fly and flea now flown and barren blown down, a single hair of hoarfrost catching crystals. Sparkle, twinkle single thread newly adorned in celebratory refracted rays of holy light.
Hoosier Red
A reflection on taking our first son to college Indiana University Orientation A hot weekend in roasted granite wandering the ivory tower of Southern Indiana red. Hoosier Red. Red faces with beads of sweat streaming down alongside sideburns still coming in. Red cheeks blazing with melting hot passion inside, waiting to bust out. Waiting to…
An Easter Sonnet
With inspiration from Pilgrims’ Hymn by Stephen Paulus Yes, even before we call on your name Lord, you meet us. Before we humbly ask, In a single branch of Jesse you came, Offering life which darkness cannot mask. Unceasing love, O your unceasing love Falls freshly from your blessed throne of grace. Calling a servant…
Pew Marker, A Tribute to William E. Gahlberg
My mother said, “He was a pew marker.” Colorful, broad-jacketed shoulders marked the spot, twelve rows back, a Sunday regular, always early, always eager, waiting for the word of God. “In the beginning was the word.” God’s word, his marker. Informing life, expanding vision, building dreams, enabling mighty laughter. A laugh ringing out, From Tubac,…