4094358833_a912071b0cBlog, God

What Is Your House Made Of?

Yesterday the sky hung low and dark and brooding, clouds so menacing my daughter gave them names. Just as the storm was breaking I pulled up to the house.  Cars littered the little street and thunder rolled in waves across the ridge line. We made a run for it, my girl and I, through the yard, past the hand written sign that read ESTATE SALE TODAY. Inside it smelled of ointment and old carpet and years of living. It was packed full of evidence of life. I’d gone looking for things to fill a house that is not yet our home.  I browsed a table of costume jewelry, mismatched platters with corners chipped. There were silver teapots and iron trivets and little forks whose usefulness had long expired. …

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peace-be-stillBlog, Check yourself, God

Peace. Be Still.

We rushed out of the house that morning, once again late for church. No homemade breakfast filled the stomachs of my family; it was handfuls of cereal and past-ripe bananas in the car on the way. The children fought and I hissed back, cat-like, wild eyed. The coffee in my travel mug sloshed beyond its plastic banks and onto my lap like coal slurry. I cursed. My husband couldn’t find his belt so he went without, and a cockeyed bow perched atop my daughter’s head. Still, this was an improvement from the two weeks in a row that we hadn’t even made it this far. We parked the car and filed out, hands reaching low for the little ones. …

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