Posts tagged "live interrupted"

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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On Rest And Going Slow

“ Mom, what’s for dinner? Will dad be home? Is there going to be garlic? You know I don’t like garlic!” Questions pinged one after the other from the backseat of our suburban as I shuffled my girls home from ballet class. I ran through the evening’s logistics in my head, unsure of how to answer. Would Josh’s meeting run late or would he join us for dinner tonight? How...

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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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Practical Hospitality In The New Year

This morning in church during the sermon my pastor talked briefly about the news continuing to come out of Aleppo. He talked about the terrible videos and shocking goodbyes some of the people under attack were sharing via social media in their last hours. It broke my heart, and it made me feel helpless to do anything that could change the situation. ***  The other day I had a conversation with...

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Reconciling With Time Means Reconciling With Myself

“When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but That piecemeal peace is poor peace.” -Gerard Manley Hopkins Sometimes reconciliation is hardest in your own heart, with your own mysterious self. We are fickle toward each other, and therefore fickle toward ourselves. And, as Hopkins says, “piecemeal peace is poor peace.” This has been a season of forced...

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Count Mercy

After a quick trip to Target for a handful of items, Thad met us at the door just like he always does and I caught the whiff of something I recognized as familiar but not exactly home. I searched his face from the edge of the front porch, trying to read what I already knew. We had a guest. With bags in tow, the girls and I crossed the threshold...

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A Lifetime of Reconciliation

My luggage slammed into a row of seats as I tried to dash down the aisle and remove myself from the plane as quickly as possible. I had spent a week in Bolivia eating meals in the dirt, next to trash heaps, in a land scorched with drought and the threats of hopelessness. I broke bread and chiseled away at doubt. I tumbled out of the airport and started taking...

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Invisible Hospitality And An End-of-Summer Cake

Ten years ago, she confessed to me that hospitality wasn’t for her. The tasks that brought me life brought her only unbearable stress. She sloughed off a burden of expectation that wasn’t hers to bear. She said no to hosting friends for dinner and said yes to so many other good things. * Today, that same friend is mom to a houseful of kids. They arrived through birth and adoption...

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Practicing Spontaneous Hospitality

My plan was to run into and out of Goodwill. I was searching for mid-century barware. The thought of finding it as a gift for my husband had my hunter-gatherer adrenaline rushing. As I stepped out of my car, a woman approached me from behind. After I recovered from being startled, I realized she wanted to note that she and I were driving the same model, year and color Subaru....

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Desire And Longing

The story I want to tell you is not mine to write and yet, to write my story is to write hers. We're knit together, she and I, not by blood or by marriage but by Jesus who makes families from nothing but willing hearts. My family is stretching and all the stretching is painful. Placing one twin bed with one beloved quilt at the end of a noisy hall...

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