Our family dinner was a lovely success despite a candle-wax spill (entirely my fault), and blurry pics, and too much food.
Held in warmth and darkness, the embryos await the light
Grow whole and plump out of the broken
Push their rumpled heads out of the night
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not have needs
He maketh me to be just fine, thank you, and I have it covered
What you said did not hurt me and what you did does not make me angry
But I have a friend you could pray for, she is really having a hard time…
I am the light you cannot see, searching, piercing – not the mild sunlight of a summer day or the glimmer of candle and firelight, but the unescapable blaze of a streetlight on a deserted parking lot when all around is darkness.
I love you.
Let’s say that the mister and missus are going outside to dig in the yard. Maybe she needs a new flowerbed, or maybe the septic system is acting up again. One of their two shovels is a little unwieldy; the other is the perfect size, strong and reliable, with a comfortable handle grip.
WHO GETS THE BETTER SHOVEL?
If we dare to meet your eyes at this moment, it would help so much if we could see in them that you respect us – not because of what we’ve done or left undone, but because we are fellow humans going through the worst days of our lives.
I love these books for their powerful imagery and empathy, building a bridge between those-who-have-firsthand-experience and those-who-need-a-window-in.
It must be a strange experience to have an injury that your family does not know about. We keep writing you letters as if nothing has happened.
Sarah Beiler shares her experience of secular college, and rejoices in what she learned along the way.
I find myself loving what we make: things that mean something to me. Or sometimes, distressed letters from Walmart. Yeah, that works.
Rachael Lofgren tells a story of walking with Jesus when we don’t know the way. What can He mean? Where is He going with this?