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Bare chested, my three-year-old twins ride, stacked, in the low-rider bike. Isaiah can’t pedal and Levi’s legs are too short to reach, so they tag-team. Isaiah sits in the back – a place-holder, and Levi in front – the engine pulling them...
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When fear creeps in, clinging, I hear a voice say, “Open.” When I leave, by well-worn mental paths, the time, the place, the space I’m in, I hear a voice say, “Return.” When I watch the boys on bikes chasing round and round the van in the driveway, when I see my...
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Easter weekend I made my favorite icing, tinted it pink and worked with a wide butter knife to spread it across the gentle curves of lemon cupcakes. It was my Grandmother’s recipe, the only icing I’ve ever really liked. The recipe got me...
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I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside. – C.S. Lewis What keeps me from the joy and wonder of This Day, This Moment, is the Dream, the Longing, to be in some Other...
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This week it’s my great joy to welcome a guest post by fellow #SmallWonder host Amber Cadenas. Amber blogs regularly at Beautiful Rubbish: everyday art of learning to see. In her own words, Amber “writes with the hope that others might be...
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You have to return to the tomb to experience resurrection. Return to the place where once you knew without doubt all hope was gone, the last dying gasp of breath expelled. Then silence, stillness and the great tearing open of sky and earth. The first sign...
