Love One Another

56 posts
Do You Hear What I Hear?

Do you hear what I hear? All the sounds of Christmas are in full swing here: songs that bring nostalgia, the raucous laughter of cousins and aunts and uncles crammed around the table, those golden few minutes of silence when the door slams closed, after the kids have found that missing glove or hat and boots and finally made it out the door to sled down the big hill. Do...

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Grief Is Best Served with a Casserole

It had been a long nine months. In and out of the hospital the whole time. Sometimes spending only a few hours, others spending more than a week. From the day she learned she was pregnant, she knew it was different. She would say to her husband, “Something isn't right.” She never used the word wrong. That would be too much. Too strong. Too harsh. "Wrong" might make things worse. “Not right” would leave...

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On Differences, Debates, and the One Thing to Embrace

We pass like strangers in the night. Our feet dance up and down stairs and across narrow halls, hurrying to get littles fed and tucked into their beds. We move methodically—quick, quick… slow—until the day’s loud chaos calms to a hush. Then we make our way back downstairs, where the remnants of the day’s craziness silently greet us. Physically exhausted, my husband and I sit in the midst of it,...

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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 Be a Safe Place for Single People

I was going to write an essay for June about singleness. In my head its title was “What I would tell my single self,” a list of advice and anecdotes, thoughts on friendship, living a good life, staying present and doing the next thing. I asked a question on my Facebook page in preparation for writing this essay: “Single friends, what’s the most annoying/offensive thing married [people] say to you?” ...

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On Marriage: Hunger And Fullness

We live and breathe and have our being within a place of oneship. We are tethered, man and woman, anchored to our Shoreline. This is good for our one vessel. All the shared living within a place of oneness leaves us both hungry and full. Satisfied and longing. We come to the table hungry for grace. It is our fuel. It feeds and sustains us. We come to the table...

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The Art We Make at the Table

This is a story of two tables. The first is round. The wood is dark, and the square pedestal is cracked. We bought the table as newlyweds. We spent weeks hunting for chairs to match. The six chairs we found were always a little wobbly, but the warm, wood color was just right. It needed sixteen years, but we did, eventually, grow to fill those chairs. Jonathan and myself. Two...

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Sunlight, Shadows, and a Supper Club

When I was younger, I was sure that loneliness was both inevitable and temporary. It was simply the price one paid for moving to a faraway city or taking a new job or joining a different church. Loneliness was a straightforward ailment easily cured in time. Now that I am older, I understand loneliness not as a sickness but a shadow. The sun shines brightly here in the land of...

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Love Can Be Prickly

I like easy love. Easy love is loving people who are like you. They think like you and have the same opinions as you. You might share the same passions, have the same political views, laugh over the same jokes. It’s easy to love them because there is common ground, a bond that connects you without friction. Easy love is comforting and comfortable, and we all need people who fall...

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In the Habit of Hospitality

I am allergic to goals and averse to resolutions. I love to dream, but I prefer my dreams in rosy shades of vague. Details and action plans make me tired. Oh, January. Oh, month of optimism and ambition. I love you. But I do not trust you. * Or, perhaps, I do not trust myself. For though I am no setter of goals, I, too, long to turn over that...

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