Under the ice

Today, at last, the snow melted enough for me to check how things were doing. The tulip greens were up a couple of inches, the daffodils barely poking, not even the crocuses showing any color yet. I looked for the Lenten Rose, finally exposed to the light just hours before.

It was tiny and crumpled and distressed.

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Four-week cleaning schedule

I do not enjoy housecleaning. I enjoy only the afterglow. In fact, I have almost resolved to spend as little time housecleaning as possible for the rest of my life. But I do not enjoy a messy house either. In light of these facts, I tried an experiment that I just completed: my first month on a four-week cleaning schedule rotation, where I scrub for a few minutes each morning and that’s it…

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Regarding herbs

In my husband’s rubber boots, I walk through the crunchy-wet snow to check how things are growing. Brave and hardy, new-sprung leaves are poking through the ice. I always worry about them, and wish I could tuck them up warm. They need another mama while the earth pulls her nasty pranks on them and leaves them to shiver.

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On the whole

This is the sixth homemade dinner that’s been brought to my door since my foster kiddos arrived seven weeks ago; and another is promised for next week. Plus there’ve been special desserts and homemade granola and snack mixes and a huge box of diapers and babysitting and you know, little stuff like that; ladies bring this and say can you use it? I don’t know how to say how blessed I am.

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On worship

We Christians have always been good at line-drawing, and we are usually the ones who do it best. Or, if we dislike our upbringing, the ones who do it worst. The Catholics are too iconic, the Anglicans too liturgical, the black churches too emotive, the Quakers too quiet, the Methodists too formal, the Pentecostals too hyper, the Mennonites too traditional. Private worship is too individualistic, and public is too contrived or too showy. In the end, is there any good way to worship? that’s unlike what we are comfortable with?

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