There's been a whole lot of reflecting going on in the blogosphere the past few weeks. The majority of people are assessing and good-byeing 2011, and outlining all the ways that 2012 will be different. I briefly entertained the idea of jumping on that bandwagon and giving you my year in review. But then I thought, Why stop there? So here, in a nutshell, is a life in review. I knew He was there before I knew what to call Him. In deep pockets of memory, I hold visions that are hard to put to ... continue reading...
Search Results for: All eyes
Cowboy Courtin’
I was seven that summer morning between first and second grade when I had my first taste of wooing. Danny was a quiet classmate, someone I'd smiled at once or twice and shared my reading book with on a half-dozen occasions when he couldn't find his own. Sometimes that's all the encouragement it takes. Sometimes, that's enough to make a boy rise early and don all his cowboy gear ... and go a'courtin. “Mornin’, Ma’am,” he’d drawled in his fake John Wayne voice when my mother answered the door. ... continue reading...
Scars
On my left arm and hand, I have two identical scars. I received both in the exact same way, doing the exact same activity ... two years apart. I know what you're thinking, but no, I wasn't bull-fighting. Nor was I bungy-jumping, sky-diving or knife-throwing. No, I earned my scars during a different teeth-clenching, death-defying activity: teaching. Both times, I was teaching a history lesson about the Revolutionary period to a group of homeschooled children, and both times I dribbled hot wax on ... continue reading...
Dutch Babies
Look at that. See those tiny, frothy butter bubbles? Hot out of the oven. And the hardest part of this Dutch Babies recipe is pushing the "on" button on the blender ... that's always so exhausting. You just can't go wrong with this recipe. It's my go-to whenever we have overnight guests, or we're in the mood for pancakes but I'm NOT in the mood to stand over the stove for 45 mindless minutes. It really is a pancake, you know. Some people call them Puff Pancakes, which is okay, but not as ... continue reading...
And When He Is Old …
I had a really wonderful talk with my son the other day. He's 22 now, and a husband and a father. Life is not yet a smooth path before him (but then, when is it for any of us?) Something about that conversation reminded me of this one ... "Hi, Mom," I hear. A man's voice, and not my son's, comes crackling through the phone. I scooch up higher in bed, hoping the extra few inches will land me in that elusive current of "Yes, I can hear you now." It works. We'd spoken earlier in the day, when his ... continue reading...
Hungry
In those early days, when I came to the realization that the God of Sunday actually lived and breathed and beckoned for me all the other days of the week as well, and I fell into those warm arms and whispered, "Not just my Savior, but now my Lord," I reached for His love letter and began to read. I read as though the pages were bread, and I, a starving woman. I read before I left my bed each morning -- grateful that the sun had roused me from sleep (which I counted to be wasted hours) and ... continue reading...