Getting My Hands Dirty Doing the Hard Work

It was a good evening for a walk. Humidity had dropped, the sky was clear and a sunset awaited at the end of the lane. But first, I had some wrestling to do. Earlier in the day, a good friend had offered me a clump of purple Japanese iris, with a start of Michigan...

When God Comes in a Whisper

I tell him what I know — and it’s all I know. Most of the time, God isn’t in the wind. He’s not in the earthquake. Not even in the fire. Most of the time, God comes as a gentle whisper. “That’s how it was for you?” he asks....

I Am My Mother’s Daughter

I hear laughter as I step onto the porch. Young voices ring out tonight, mingled with those of my friends, daughters home from school, daughters joining mothers in this monthly tradition of coming together to create something with our hands. And with our hearts....

It’s the Little Things That Matter

Sometimes all you need are a good buddy and a dandelion plucker. I ran into my Dad this week in one of the most unlikely places — an antique auction in the middle of Amish country. We live within an hour’s drive of my parents’ house and I see them...

Saturday in the Valley

It’s rainy and cold this morning, but the grass is turning green here in our valley. Daffodils are blooming along the creek bank and the field down the road has been disked. Soon, seed will be pressed into the furrows and the growing season will begin again....

When You Look Into Their Hearts

Come Friday, our nest will be a little emptier. Son Number Three will throw a few boxes and bags into his Jeep and head south, an eight-hour drive to Nashville — the “country music” Nashville. Son Number Two waits for him there, along with freedom,...
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