There is that moment in the very early morning, when I’m half awake and I don’t quite know where or when I am.
When the light hits only the highest places, when the heat of the day is still distant, and I’m still allowing sleep’s current to take me wherever…
It’s the sweet moment when the quiet fills my room and my soul and I can’t remember anything.
Then, the alarm sounds and it all rushes back. Continue reading
I used to go to my room to cry.
I would hold it together until I fixed a snack for one child, pulled down a toy for another, and assigned math pages to two more. Finally, with trembling lip, I’d hustle down the hallway to the privacy of my bedroom.
There, my God and my pillow absorbed the tears. Because someone called with bad news. Or I didn’t get my way in marriage. Because it was the wrong time of the month. Or mothering and homeschooling four kids was just plain lonely and hard. Continue reading
As a Sunday school coordinator, and as our session is ending, I’ve been thinking a lot about what our students have learned this year.
We studied parables, Old Testament prophecies, the significance of the Passover, and The Great Commission. I expected them to learn these things, and I’m glad they did. But as I observed, taught, and listened, I realize they also learned some lessons that we didn’t plan, lessons that might end up hurting them – and the church – in the end… Continue reading
Recently, my sister sent me a link to a real-estate listing. Because neither one of us is house hunting, I was curious. I clicked on it and saw a picture of a small white house with black shutters sitting between a field and a pond. Immediately, I recognized it as
We were getting ready for church and I wanted to check in on my middle-school daughter. Lately, she’s had many tearful fashion crises and I was prepared to help her settle on a cute outfit. You know how girls need their moms for stuff like that… Continue reading
Maybe it’s partly my imagination. Maybe I’m hyperaware and just noticing something that was already there, but it’s there regardless.
The lady in the grocery store strikes up a conversation with me about pomegranates. She looks me in the eye longer than I expect. She smiles warmly and lets her black hand linger on my arm. Continue reading