The joy that springs from hard places cannotbe shaken.Although, it canbe stirred—tears melting—as hardened hearts unthaw,seeing gracious the hand which withholds.(or trusts it to be) The work of reconciling the what-ifs with the have-nots;The work of sowing unseen seedsin the desert.Low yieldsyear after year.Yet hoping and prayinga welcome rain will one day comewaking seeds from … More Springtime Rain
I have two friends. Their names are Grace and Hope. They are sisters. Grace is a sweet soul. She swirls and dances, always offers the last bite, always gives the benefit of the doubt. She’s far too trusting. And so, she always ends up in places she shouldn’t be, making acquaintances with people she shouldn’t … More Sister Virtues
It’s taking the dirt road home, not because it’s quicker, but because it’s beautiful. It’s eye contact, “how are yous,” and hugs that comfortably linger. It’s the gentle squeeze of my palm in your palm at the word “amen.” And when they remember, “no sugar, just a little cream,” at the local coffee shop because … More Intention
My friend and I recently coined a term we like to call “hope snatching.” It is, just as it sounds, the process of getting your hopes up for something only to have the desired result or end product absolutely fall through your fingers in a most devastating blow. It’s when the seeds have been planted; … More When hope hurts
It’s late August now in Michigan, and crickets croak in the afternoon heat. Their song is comforting and smooth, a predictable symphony that will usher in a Midwest autumn. By September the leaves will start to turn. Cinnamon and nutmeg, cardigans and leather boots. Burgundy, eggplant. The seasons won’t delay. But, right now it’s still the in-between, with both sticky air … More The Words that Hold it All Together
Here’s to the hard seasons. Here’s to the hard seasons built by moments that started small and few, but spiraled towards much and many- the culmination of difficult feats and disastrous blows. Here’s to the seasons that humble you, to the seasons that lay you flat and strip you bare. Here’s to the transitions that remind you, once … More On Hard Seasons
I remember it well – the wild way the fog held close to the peaks of those blue mountains, trapped in clefts and crevices like slow, low-hanging clouds. The white vapor hung precariously, as though it wanted to rise but had hit a glass ceiling, an impenetrable wall. So, it settled instead. The sky was the lightest, most fragile shade of cotton … More Beautiful Storm
It’s late January. The month of my birth, and the first month of the year, it is also the month when my aging body grows tired of the cold. When my bones ache from the freeze. January, for me, is when the charm of winter starts to fade just as quickly as the pure white snow can turn itself muddy and gray. Christmas has come. Jesus and the New Year have come, … More Keeping a Warm Soul (Waiting for May)
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