I am back among the land of the breathing. This morning, I opened my eyes and realized two things: one, I had slept through the night without a single coughing fit, and two, I could smell the rain-washed air drifting through our bedroom window. No more congestion, no more sore throat, no more rattling cough. It's funny how just three or four days of discomfort can make you appreciate normalcy. I ran through the house sniffing that lovely smell and even went outside for a long moment, just ... continue reading...
Search Results for: All eyes
On Writing and Ritual … and the Power of the Obituary
I don't use a specific pen, nor do I wear a lucky writing hat when I sit at my desk. I don't keep rotten apples in my desk drawer to sniff for inspiration, although this apparently worked for the German writer, Friedrich Schiller. And on the subject of clothing: Unlike Victor Hugo, I prefer to wear some while I'm composing -- but that's just me. The rest of you do what you like. I don't habitually write in the bathtub while eating apples, like Agatha Christie, although I did write in a ... continue reading...
Heart Cries
On Sundays, I often come home already missing those I've left behind. I love this group of people. And I love what God has done in our midst. He's created a family who worships together, studies together, dines together, and prays together. Here's a post about the latter. On Wednesday nights, when the message has been taught and we're all full and satisfied, we close our Bibles, arrange ourselves in circles, and turn our gaze from the Word to the Writer. Within my own group of seven or ... continue reading...
Dinner and a Show (part 1)
While on our trip to the East Coast, we witnessed an unexpected outburst by an old woman. I'll give you all the details in another post, but for now, here's an old post that came to mind while I was mulling it all over. Dave officiated at a memorial yesterday for a woman from our church. Patsy was 71, a hard-worker, the possessor of a great sense of humor, and a clutch-you-tight, squeeze-your-bones hugger. I miss her. Sundays will be odd without her. Later, we headed to Costco to pick up a ... continue reading...
No Hands
I've been missing my dad this week, and wishing he was only a dial away. He had a way of taking the trouble out of a day, and calming all things stormy ... and that's hard to come by in this world. Here's the post I wrote just before our last "I love you." Craig is a small, small town in northern Colorado; a place with an abundance of taxidermists, gun shops and liquor stores, but not too many churches. It's a town where the stores have names like the "Loaf 'n Jug," the "Kum & Go," and the ... continue reading...
A Cake For Spring
I made this cake a few days ago, just for the sake of emptying my cupboard of one cake mix and three packages of instant pistachio pudding mix. But as these things have a habit of doing, my cake took on a life of its own. First, my daughter-in-law spied the makings on the counter. "Whatcha making?" "I'm not sure yet ... it's an experiment." "For what?" "I thought I'd make some sort of cake and take it to the church potluck tomorrow." Brittney's face fell, and I could see in her eyes that ... continue reading...