8 posts
I’ve got lilies and birds in my own front yard.I didn’t put them there,I don’t keep them there.As they are fed and watered through the natural course of things– a nature put in place deliberately, so Jesus told us, by God’s own self,So I do nothing to deserve their beauty, their symbolism–there...
Today’s cake begins last fall, with pancakes. More precisely, our five year old son’s desire to share the joy of pancakes with his soccer team. Our pre-soccer Saturday morning tradition, in addition to those glorious morning snuggles, is sourdough discard pancakes, made from the gloppy, sour mash leftover from feeding my sourdough...
When I see the school administrator lighting up my phone Tuesday morning, my heart fills with dread. Since early December, when we left for an early holiday family visit, we’ve had one blissful day of all three kids in childcare. There’s a direct correlation between number of days in a row the...
I have a gift for you.Here it is, at your disposal:A clear blue sky,Glistening sun, A snowy field,silence.You are invited, if you choose,To lay down. No one is forcing you.You may remain on your feet,Walk those sensible boots back to a warm, dry place.No one will know.Or you may, if you choose,Nestle yourself Into this...
The rain feels fat and semi-solid, like snow that has only just melted moments before landfall. We’re holed up indoors, except for one intrepid trip down treacherously compacted-snow-covered back stairs: time to put the Christmas decorations away, now that we’re in Epiphany; time to empty a week and a half of frozen...
My spiritual director tells me she thinks God is inviting me to make a cake. At the end of our session, we sit in silence together. You think that sounds awkward, try sitting in silence with someone over Zoom. But it doesn’t feel awkward to me, it feels like a reprieve: permission...
“They went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then...
I feel a pang of guilt every time I go out to the back yard. There’s always something ugly about it, something ragged, overgrown, in need of tidying. There’s almost always something growing too; the rate at which growing things outpace my available time is part of the problem. There’s always more...