Journeying Home Together
I had an hour before I had to pick up my daughter from school, so I was leisurely perusing the aisles at Target. Having chaperoned her class trip to a pet store that morning, I needed a little grownup solitude before beginning the rest of my day. I discovered some inexpensive fall decorations for my house and, having deposited them in the shopping basket on my arm, stopped in the
This October, I’ll be attending the Allume Conference for bloggers and writers. As a form of community-building, conference attendees have been challenged today to write letters, so to speak, to our roommates for the conference. I’m doing that today, and linking up with other conference attendees. Feel free to read along. Dear Shari, Well, I think you know already the first thing I should tell you: that I didn’t even
To my husband, on our anniversary: Is there any way that I can write what I want to say to you? I’m going to try, because that’s just what I do, but before I do I want to tell you a story. It’s a story in progress, right now, right here, in Panera as I sit here. Just over from my table is a man – probably in his 70s,
We’re in a series at my (awesome) church right now called “The Big Picture,” and we’re exploring the idea of God’s will for our lives. We’ve been saying how so often we act like God’s will is something far out there for us to search for…unearth…discover, but the reality is that God – who WANTS to be discovered – has made His will within reach as well. Honestly, in our
Every so often, I link up with Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday, a community of writers who get together and write for five minutes and five minutes ONLY on the prompt for the week. No editing…no planning…no corrections. Just love for the written word and the satisfaction of having written. I’m linking up there today, writing about the word lonely. ____________________________________________________________ Loneliness. It is a cruel, deceptively sneaky villain. With
This morning, as Mother’s Day approaches, I’m reflecting some on my own motherhood – especially the changes and feelings that occupied my mind in those first bleary-eyed weeks. Curious about all I had forgotten, I revisited something I wrote when I was a brand new mama. It ministered to me profoundly this morning. We’re in a challenging stage in our house right now (though I think every stage has its
Dear Jennifer, Honey, I’m proud of you. Do you know that? Do you really know that? Because I am so very proud of you and it’s important to me that you know that. I’m proud of you for the obvious things, of course, like how you’re learning to read and how you really care about other people. I’m proud of all the wonderful things your teachers tell me about you
It’s one of those days. One of those days when “need to” clashes violently with “don’t feel like it,” and “want to” is not at all the same as “have to.” When my spirit feels weighed down and lethargic. When tears press behind my eyes, and the only thing restraining them is the keen awareness that I don’t have any real reason to feel as badly as I do. It’s
It had bothered her for years. The spot on the wall, a fist-sized crescent, the sole remaining reminder of a particularly bad episode of panic. When she closed her eyes, she remembered it well: the anger, the tears, the pain when her fist met the wall. At the base of the stairs, right by the front door, it sat in direct line of sight for anyone who entered. She had
Her escape from her dorm room was like an escape from prison. She had been working…striving…slaving over work that was immensely important and yet completely pointless all at once. She knew if she stayed inside a minute longer she would suffocate. And so she left, ignoring the confused stares from her roommates and carrying only her CD player and journal. She walked downstairs…down the hall…into the parking lot, all without
