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I’m here to make a confession. Are you ready? Here goes . . . I’ve become a little obsessed with the tall leather boots everyone seems to be wearing these days. Boots paired with skinny jeans, boots paired with dresses, brown boots, black boots,...
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Last night, in a charming bid to avoid bedtime, one of my three-year-olds asked me, “Where does shadows go?” I stood in the dark doorway explaining about darkness and light until they seemed satisfied. Then, when the other boy woke at 3 am in a...
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Kneeling on the cold stone hearth each morning, facing yesterday’s ashes cold and gray as death, ignites a necessary humility. Today’s fire must be made from what lies at hand – life and heat coaxed from pages of an old newspaper, ...
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Eggs arrive one-a-day, like manna. We run to check the nest box, Israelites leaping at first light, hands open, to gather the mystery of provision from unlikely places. Photo Credit. Linking with Playdates with God and the Unforced...
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All of the things of fall are as beautiful in their dying as they were in their birth, as if it were a farewell party, a last hurrah, a riotous wake. May I also be beautiful in my surrender, fading from green to brilliant orange or red, and may the moment of my...
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The cornfield across the street preparing for its winter nap. The only way I can get my three year old twins to nap is by joining them. It started last week, the day after a horrid night of fevers and chills that kept the littlest one and me up until...
