It’s true. Sometimes I tire of the poets and I want plain words. Unhurried, slow words with lazy syllables. Maybe even stilted words that fall like heavy bricks and land with a singular purpose. But even then, we’re building. I just fed you a simile, even if filled with clay and dust. Words are busy little things, so much more than the feel in your mouth as you roll the letters down your tongue or march them through your teeth. They are meaning and vision, color and sound, texture and taste. …
Writing
We Have Much to Learn From the Flowers: An Incourage Post
I get only what’s on the list. Gingerale and saltines to settle her stomach, a family sized box of cheerios and a gallon of milk so the kids can make their own breakfast if I’m tied up taking care of my mom. I toss a bunch of easy to make lunch stuff into the cart, things the kids can manage in a pinch. I grab some fruit and almond butter. We just have to make it until dinner. Our church fills in slots on the calendar to drop off casseroles and soups, crusty bread baked fresh in their ovens …
When Your Mom Breaks Her Back and Then Teaches You the Gospel Again
I answer my phone with a joke. “Did you lock yourself in the chicken coop again?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone out in the morning to feed the chickens and collect eggs to find the latch had fallen into place and locked her in with the flock. But the voice on the other end wasn’t joking. “I fell, I’m hurt…I think I broke my back.” The voice is my mom and yet not my mom, strangled and gasping for breath. I’ve never heard her sound like that. I am out the back door scanning our …
