I watched a baker layer silk on velvet. Fresh raspberries, cream, chocolate. Hazelnut, liqueur, and curls. Decadence on a plate, flawlessly arranged. Tantalizing. Perfect. A hundred and six comments. You will never be a great cook. I watched an author sculpt wonder with his words. Awaken feeling. Evoke character. Wrap sense and subtlety in layers […]
Look what happened in the night–a magic all its own. Confession: It is so easy to believe in everyone but the people we know and love best. I’m not thinking of my man Ryan, because I’m freshly in love with him and I think he could probably, you know, do a chin-up on the Milky Way
Confession: Sometimes I hope that heaven will involve the reliving of earthly life, perfected. Our sweetest moments are foretastes. Our worst moments plead for redemption. And those in-between moments—the beautiful-broken occupying so much of our time—what would they be like in Paradise? What flaws would He heal? What beauties would He unpack? If I live
There and back again Read More »
“Which way to the doldrums?” asked the outbound schooner. “There are many ways,” replied the lighthouse, the authority on all such navigational questions. “Many ways, such as Loss, Laziness, Exhaustion, Grief. There may be others. Why would you want to go there?” “I don’t,” said the schooner. “I want to know my way back.” “Ah,
Which way to the doldrums? Read More »
Confession: I dream prolifically. I go through dreams like some people go through Kleenex. I once suggested to Ryan that if I recorded and published my dreams, maybe I’d be famous. He replied, not unkindly, “Yeah, or locked up.” But I couldn’t help it. Just for fun, I kept notes of things I did in
Marriage is a dance. A battlefield. A rock of refuge. A rollercoaster. Ryan says, a primary means of sanctification. I say, more than anything else a learning curve. I’ve been married nine years next month. “[Nine years] is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I know less than half
When I was a teenager, I read in a nondescript article these words, “Here is some sage advice for you youth girls: Never assume a guy is interested unless he asks you.” I believe it was written by someone who’d gotten burned. And I took it to heart. That was a mistake. The philosophy protected
“Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has invariably gone one way… the way of the love of a woman.” (Charles Dickens) Confession: This is the most binding agreement my sons can produce. I don’t
A tale of two sillies Read More »
My words go out from me. They plink-plank-plunk into the cosmos of my small tin pail. Then they are gone. Sometimes they age down there, shriveling into crabbed forgottenness. Sometimes they fall. Sometimes they become food, and they are gone, and I have a hard time believing that those three small berries nourish. I pick
Confession: I think we are prejudiced against homosexuals in the Christian community. I don’t intend to preach to the choir, delving into the ethics of this lifestyle. I and at least 99.999% of my readers will agree that Jesus designed a woman for a man, a man for a woman. Homosexuality cuts across his design,