Why I live in this community
I know and love so many people. I cannot go to town without meeting people I know – all the folks I love walking the sidewalks and store aisles alongside me.
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community
And yet I am unmoved
The point is that no amount of detached communicating is ever as effective or as fun as being With.
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Baking with Joy
When I tasted the chocolate chip cookies that night, I said WHO MADE THESE? They were that good – creamy, flavorful, melt-in-your-mouth…
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.
In defense of foster parents
We can’t tell you what we’ve seen, because it would be violating section nine of code-code something-something, but we’ve seen it and we can’t unsee it. Our children carry deep and lasting pain because somebody who was supposed to protect them hurt them.
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Communion Sunday
Confession: I love communion. I wish we had it every Sunday like Catholics. The Lord Jesus is everywhere in our world, and touches us in a million different ways; but I like to think there are a couple of places He will never miss, a couple of intimate graces that always lead straight into His
Displacement
The main caution I have about blogging (reading or writing) is a traditional conservative-Christian concern about—well, really anything new. What is it replacing? Isn’t that a nice conservative tack? “Not so sure about that there new-fangled tractor. What’ll I do with ma horses?” Blogs take time, no argument there. You heard in the interviews a
Communal living
My parents-in-law are living with us for a week: communal living at its finest. We’re remodeling our master bedroom together–‘we’ as in I’m cooking the lunches and riding along to Home Depot. And asking good questions of course. And there may be a few other things I forget, like handing a tool to someone and
Closets and community
This summer I heard a woman strongly caution against receiving truth from flawed sources. As in other people. “Anyone we allow to speak truth to us,” she said, “becomes our god.” With all due respect, this cannot be so. Everything good speaks truth to us, albeit imperfectly—even the sky. The heavens declare the glory of God,
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Mennonites and metaphors
Confession: Sometimes I think that being Mennonite is like being part of a big butte out west. That’s what my husband says. When you look at a butte, you think—Whoa, where’d that growth come from? What subterranean forces heaved it out of the earth? But it didn’t grow at all. At one point the whole
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