Remembering Home

I close my eyes and, effortlessly, I’m a child again, sitting in my parents’ blue Plymouth Reliant, riding in the dark along WI-29. Heading home. Everything is perfectly still, except for the rhythmic thunk…thunk…thunk as our wheels speed over the seams in the road. My eyes are closed — I’m thinking as always — but I open…

The Abundance Manifesto

I said something on Twitter the other day that made me stop and think. And made others stop and think. It was this: “Write bravely. Use up all those good ideas now, don’t save them. There will be more. Art comes from abundance.” The idea came in response to Glennon Doyle Melton’s post on “Forever Tries“; she…

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Soap Bubbles, Prayer Fragments and the Glory of Childhood

I remember reading Kathleen Norris’ slim volume called The Quotidian Mysteries, where she talks about washing dishes as an entrance into the holy. And reading Ann Voskamp and her contemplation of the views outside of her kitchen window as moments of experiencing the goodness of God that she would number as gifts. It all felt…