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An Invitation to Pancakes and Peace

The moon sat veiled behind clouds as we arrived at the RV park just before midnight. My husband pulled into our allotment, and with the aid of a headlamp, hooked up the RV to water and electric. The kids and I, woozy and tired from the dark, winding journey through the mountains of southern Utah,...

Finding Our Place

It was just a few weeks before Thanksgiving and we didn’t have a table. Well, technically we did have table. An old one we had bought through Craig’s List that fit the small space in our old house perfectly. It was distressed cream and snuggly seated six. But we’d moved into a blessing: a spacious...

Reclaiming the Kitchen Sink

Standing at the kitchen sink the other week, I quickly scraped three-hour-old bread crusts off one of my children's plates into the food waste bin and then hurriedly put the plate in the dishwasher. The sink was full of lunch dishes and I needed to start on dinner. Also, a writing deadline loomed, and I...

The Thorn and the Gift

I live in a house with a husband who has a thorn the size of Texas protruding from his side and God is choosing to let the thorn only pierce him deep enough so as to allow the thorn to pierce me too. The thorn making us bleed out is making us cry. The grace...

Recovering From Busy

Since cracking open Shelly Miller's book, Rhythms of Rest, I've been captivated by learning about the gift of Sabbath that I've been missing out on all my life. I've also been confronting my busyness. Why do I stay so busy? And why do I fake being busy when I'm not? Why do I resist rest? If...

An Invitation to Pancakes and Peace

The moon sat veiled behind clouds as we arrived at the RV park just before midnight. My husband pulled into our allotment, and with the aid of a headlamp, hooked up the RV to water and electric. The kids and I, woozy and tired from the dark, winding journey through the mountains of southern Utah, stayed inside the camper and fell into a fitful sleep, unaware of the stunning scenery...

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The Joy of Remaining and Watermelon

This summer has been marked by rhythms which are a bit off beat. Perhaps they are syncopated, mostly beautiful, but different. As women we establish routines and traditions, often following the seasons and the calendar as we make our life within our family and home. Our old normal, the paradigm we grew accustomed to when our children were young was one of embracing summer, racing headlong into the three month...

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Finding Our Place

It was just a few weeks before Thanksgiving and we didn’t have a table. Well, technically we did have table. An old one we had bought through Craig’s List that fit the small space in our old house perfectly. It was distressed cream and snuggly seated six. But we’d moved into a blessing: a spacious house that boasted a huge dining room. We were hosting our first Thanksgiving and were...

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Reclaiming the Kitchen Sink

Standing at the kitchen sink the other week, I quickly scraped three-hour-old bread crusts off one of my children's plates into the food waste bin and then hurriedly put the plate in the dishwasher. The sink was full of lunch dishes and I needed to start on dinner. Also, a writing deadline loomed, and I wanted to get the dishes done and dinner made and the kids packed off to...

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Intimacy Through Abiding

“Pruning seems counterintuitive,” my friend points out in her hesitation. “So I cut back this main stem on my zinnias and dahlias? Are you positive?” I reassure her, “By pinching back that lead stem, your plant will branch out and produce more blooms, and they will be luscious.” Sometimes I too forget this truth and that same hesitation seeps in my gut. If I forgo pinching them back, I could...

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The Thorn and the Gift

I live in a house with a husband who has a thorn the size of Texas protruding from his side and God is choosing to let the thorn only pierce him deep enough so as to allow the thorn to pierce me too. The thorn making us bleed out is making us cry. The grace covering the thorn that is making us both bleed out is making us weep. And...

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Recovering From Busy

Since cracking open Shelly Miller's book, Rhythms of Rest, I've been captivated by learning about the gift of Sabbath that I've been missing out on all my life. I've also been confronting my busyness. Why do I stay so busy? And why do I fake being busy when I'm not? Why do I resist rest? If I'm being honest, I'm so busy because a lot of times it's just easier that...

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The Table Of Suffering

She lost her baby that fall. It was early in the pregnancy, but there had already been celebrations and joy at the positive test. Then there was blood and aching and sorrows that sliced them open. Our baby came two months later, the little girl we were planning to adopt. And it was too early. Way too early. I sat in a NICU holding her impossibly small hand and praying...

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How To Find the Spirit of Sabbath on Summer Vacation

“I think we need to cancel our summer vacation,” I said to H, surprised by what I heard myself saying. Saturday arrived without fanfare and we missed the morning hours by sleeping through them. Sipping coffee and reading from a warm spot in bed, he looks up at me, makes eye contact and replies with words that bring relief. “I agree.” We’d been planning to tick boxes off on a...

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Rest and Ratatouille

In summer, metaphors are as plentiful as buzzing bees. Here is one with its nose buried in a hollyhock. Here are half a dozen more darting among the clover. Summer is a gradual unspooling, and I see the picture of it everywhere: rosebuds unfurling, pea vines and morning glories curling and uncurling. Summer is for slowly, but surely, unclenching our fists, letting our hurried shoulders drop, and leaning in toward...

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