Shaping My Story with Story
The Bennets proved to me that a writer need not be of the Jack London ilk. One might inhabit a small world, but a keen mind could expand even the most confined drawing room.
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…
Old Testament Threads in Gospel Stories
Unlike the people of Jesus’ day, or any modern-day religious Jew, most of us do not have the Old Testament as part of our collective memory. Unlike us, the Israelites of Jesus’ day had in their imaginations signs, images, and longings that were formed through their people’s history and the work of God among them….
Living Immersed in the Whole Story of the Bible
According to Guinness World Records, “There is little doubt that the Bible is the world’s best-selling and most widely distributed book.” And yet, for a book acclaimed for the teachings of Jesus, its readers—and teachers—have vastly different ideas of what it looks like to follow these teachings. Our tendency is to approach the Bible as…
The Body Brings
reflecting on the woman with the issue of blood from Matthew 9 You do not need to think your way to faith fierce enough to frighten fragility into a footnote. You do not need to lace your lips with lustrous prayers or pound your chest in penance for the puzzle of your pain. You do…
Joining God in His Pandemic Work
I can still picture the moment in March when I realized life, as I knew it, was going to be completely interrupted. Working nearly full time as a substitute teacher had become part of my daily rhythm. It was also my current calling, where I found fulfillment. In addition, my daily rhythm operated harmoniously with…
Finding Myself in LITTLE WOMEN
A framed print of Norman Rockwell’s Jo Writing in the Attic hangs in a prominent corner of our little home library, and not far from it, on a nearby bookshelf, rests an old abridged edition of Little Women, my childhood introduction to Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel. I recall my first experience with the story…