I see youWalking down a tightrope,Gun to back.You are smilingbutI seethe beads of sweatthat gather at your collarAs the crowd roars. I’m watching youWatch your self worthrise and fallthrough another’s eyes.Eyes that confuseand misconstrue.Eyes that can’tSee. Look at me and answer honest:Aren’t you tired?Aren’t you anxious?Aren’t you wishing they would just let up?I bet if … More A Failure to See
There are certain times, certain hours, certain days and certain months, I’d like to bypass if I could. For example: Valentine’s Day. Some baby showers. New Year’s Eve, when the clock strikes midnight. And the faint – yet burning – flickers of envy, sorrow, and shame that flood my heart when another friend texts me … More I’d like to think
WWJD bracelets were, I think, mildly “cool” back in the day, long before I was a Christian and long before I really understood how it was that Jesus acted which made the rest of the world so eager to emulate him. “What would Jesus do?” It’s a worthwhile question we, as Christians, ask ourselves often. … More WWJD: On Emulating & Becoming
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
For a recent homework assignment, I was instructed to write about the best moment of my life. Yet, it’s difficult to pinpoint one exact moment, and one exact memory, that could comfortably hold that title. Because in my twenty seven years, I’ve found that life’s richest moments are often the summation of a million little … More A Million Little Things
I fell accidentally in love with a house on a lake. It’s white with red shutters, and there’s a For Sale sign stuck in the yard. The grass is freshly mowed. Two months worth of grass, in fact, have been grown and cut; the sign, however, does not budge. I found this house for sale, … More The Hands that Mold Us
Something I do when my heart is overwhelmed is look up at the stars. I tilt back my head and let my hair fall loose, feeling like I did back in the tenth grade while standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon, at sunset. It was June and I was sixteen. Tourists flocked at the edge, … More Stars and Grace: I
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
Mothering itty bitty vegetables from seed to harvest has been a strange desire on my bucket list for years. Carrots, with their knobby roots and wild stems, have always been a particular fancy of mine. Every summer I fantasize of the satisfaction that must follow yanking one of those stubborn vegetables from the ground. I imagine firmly gripping each bushy stalk and giving … More Carrots And Dreams
fancifullove 