-
“Who loves you?” I used to ask my children as I held them close. Mama. Boppy. Jesus. We were made to love and be loved. In the image of God…
-
I do some cross stitch embroidery every now and then. I stitch to remember, to give something of myself that my hands have made for those I love. It seems…
-
“Your gall bladder needs to come out right now,” the emergency room doctor said. “I’ll contact the surgical team.” I was in a city far from home, my husband recovering…
-
They are in the nursery. In the classroom. While we work and worship, they care for our children in back rooms and church basements, sharing the love of Jesus with…
-
My mother attended boarding school at a time when girls were taught the importance of setting a proper table: salad fork on the left, then the dinner fork. Knife on…
-
He counted the change carefully, brow furrowed at my question. “Sorry” he shrugged, “my English…not good”. “It’s okay”, I answered, “Welcome to America”. And then, turning back, I looked into…
-
My son Ben strides through our church like he owns it, seeking out his favorite people to hug. As we have finally emerged from our year-long quarantine, no one is…
-
I wake in the night to the moon rising, hushed, over the lake. I sense it there, in the soft lapping of water, in the cattails whispering in the breeze.…
-
In the politics; the rage; the turmoil around and within us. In the fear; the conflict; the disasters in the news and in our neighborhoods. In the discouragement; the hopelessness;…
-
Graduation season is upon us and my social media feed is filling with pictures of smiling young faces in their caps and gowns. I remember that feeling of hope and…

















