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…
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,…
College visits come, a prerequisite to growing up, while garden tea parties fade as seasons extinguish alongside summer camps, baby ballet slippers, reading logs, and AP tests. The future is wide open on I-35 north. Open handed sky, arching this Texas highway with a ribboned morning of March mist, unveiling sun glinting streams upon cattle…
For the people building of Church of the Resurrection, Wheaton, Illinois, who wrote their names and verses of hope on the concrete floor of the old Alcoa building before it was converted into a glorious worship space. Faceless Saints In black steel and cold concrete God’s people begin with words. Written. Sung. Prayed. Spoken. Marked…
The first smile, the first tooth, the first steps, the first word. As a new parent, these are the wonderful, magical moments you anticipate and cherish as your first child grows—forever etched in your memory like a frozen slice of time and place. But there’s one “first”, I’m sure you will agree, that you would…
It’s that time of year — in the Midwest, at least — when the amazing happens: the Canada geese make their annual trek to the warmth of the south for the winter, passing through on their way. I always wonder and marvel at this God-given impetus within them as I see a gaggle flying, in…
I close my eyes and see A seagull in the desert, high against unbearable blue sky. There is hope in the past. (From the poem, P.S. by Franz Wright) The skies have been gray for days now, and KCRA 3 meteorologists keep saying the storm is supposed to arrive any minute. I suppose they’re right….
It’s hard to admit when we’ve done something wrong and hurt another person in the process. Really hard. In fact, it’s easier to point our finger at another source than to own up to our role in the matter. Have you ever noticed this tendency in yourself? You know you’ve got to apologize because it’s…
Parenting requires so many decisions, it can sometimes become mind-numbing. How to respond to discipline issues, what to do about kids’ friendship struggles, which sports to encourage them toward and what other activities to enroll them in. We have so much information and so many opportunities at our fingertips, it can be hard to sort…
Years and years ago I read an excellent little book (more like a booklet) called The Tyranny of the Urgent. This was in the days before cell phones, email and text messaging. I remember being struck then by its simple message about how we should stop diverting our attention from the important to take care…
Do you remember the vultures in Disney’s 1967 Jungle Book movie? The Beatles look-alike, sound-alike characters? I often think of their patter, “What we gonna do?” “I dunno. What you wanna do?,” when I think of the indecisiveness that can creep into motherhood. If your answer to the question: “what do you want to do?”…
I’m waiting at a stoplight when I see one again: that oval sticker on the back of a minivan that says “26.2” (or sometimes “13.1″). Are you tired of those yet? Because I am. And not because I think those who have completed a marathon don’t deserve to boast. They do. Completing a 26.2 mile…
My parents did not love me well. I thought maybe they didn’t know how for most of my life. I told people, when they asked about them, that they just didn’t have the right tools in their toolbox to be generous loving parents. So, I forgave them before they ever asked to be forgiven because…
My 16-year-old headed for the door with baseball gear slung on one shoulder and backpack over the other. In his wake was a palatable trail of weariness and anxiety. I called to him and he stopped, sporting a resigned expression. “I just want to say I’ve been praying for you since 4:00 this morning,” I…