Any time I write about self-image, weight lifting, exercising, our diets, publications, and anything at all happy, the following thoughts ricochet about in my brain after hitting “publish” on my blog: People are going to think I’m arrogant and self-centered with all this, “Look how joyful and healthy I am” stuff. Am I arrogant and self-centered? I … More Confidence vs. Arrogance
Recently I started working with the worship team at our church, and I’ve been having so much fun. I don’t sing, and while I might be able to toot a tune on the ol’ licorice stick, there isn’t a whole lot of room for a clarinet in our contemporary worship band. Unless we start playing … More Creativity in Worship
It’s been a week since our newest, and last, son – Henry Delbert – arrived safely into the world via c-section. He is absolutely beautiful, perfectly content and as predictable of a baby as I’ve experienced. Ever since we became pregnant with Henry, I’ve been coming to terms with this being our last baby – … More Confessions of a Tubal Ligation
Sydney Cast in Shadow The garden stroll before a matinee balletbirds of paradise gawking these palms this lushnessthis pristine park dustless alleythese streakfree storefront windowsthis cloudless painless blue this skylineetched with geometric concrete wavesjutting saucer tower arcing bridgesailboat-speckled placid harbor this paper bagsoaked in grease from fish and chips Me too far away to seemy … More Sydney Cast in Shadow
Easter Saturdays (tentative title because I stink at titles) Cars full of people split the swamp where my creek flows.They must not ponder, pause, stare at hollowed logs,branchless trunks and wonder about the end of winter,spring still a whisper in the trickle of cold water through the culvert. What does all this dying mean, this … More Easter Saturdays
Lydia *Poof!*
*poof!*
Look, my daughter, the pine treedropped its seeds, and herea fragile sapling braves the forest floor.This used to be a birch treebut maybe lightning sliced it,wind heaved its heavy breath against itand now the trunk is rust.Sticks used to flirt, flaretheir skirts of springtime buds, but now we throw the broken limbsinto the rushing floodwaters … More Cascade Valley
