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. . . for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his. . . – Gerard Manly Hopkins Long and leggy, doe-eyed, she walks with confidence, a gentle fawn, a young colt. He is all angles, sharp...
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I’m still tip-toeing around this place like an uncertain guest. Stopping to pause at every window, checking to see that the sky is still there. Stepping across the road to retrieve the mail, the old corn field opens before me like the ocean. ...
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Thirty More Years, by Wendell Berry When I was a young man, grown up at last, how large I seemed to myself! I was a tree, tall already, and what I had not, yet reached, I would yet grow to reach. Now, thirty more years added on, I have reached much ...
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My little boy resting in those early days. (A reflection on the Last Supper that I wrote during Holy Week, an invitation to us all as we return again and again to that life-changing meal.) It’s Holy Week and my littlest boy is sick. A fever struck early...
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This is the field across the street from our house. Lovely, isn’t it? A new nest rests in the pine tree now. The Mourning Dove and her eggs are gone. Too early for the eggs to have hatched, we wonder what happened – a...
