I’m sitting in the coffee shop. I have 45 minutes to write, but the computer is sitting in the bag at my feet. For the moment, my mood matches the weather outside, and I can’t even remember why I call myself a writer. The last thing I want to do is to write words for…
I’m a country girl.
Real is the dirt field my farmer plows.
Real is the paper and ink love letters we wrote to each other.
Dear Lord, It’s past 1 o’clock in the afternoon on this, the National Day of Prayer here in the U.S. The house is finally quiet, for the first time since the middle child woke us all up at I can’t even remember what time. I sit down with my Bible and a hot cup of…
Last week, I planted miracles in the ground. Racing the coming thunderstorm, I spaded the earth and pushed them into the holes. With one eye on the lightning streaking through the black clouds, I covered them quickly, knowing the rain would soon do the rest. Little bits of dried up nothing. Barely a wilted green…
I grew up in the same little community my dad and grandpa had before me. I went to church with the same ladies who’d babysat my dad when he was little. We had shirttail relatives everywhere. Moving to a new town when I got married, looking for a new church, all in a community where…
You know the person that you always call when you have a question about healthy food? The one you call, not because they make you feel guilty for eating the way you do, but because they give you really good, helpful advice in quick, easy-to-follow steps? That would be my friend Trina Holden. When I…
Dear Mary Kate, Your daddy and I insisted on everyone napping Sunday afternoon. Then, we promised, then we could all plant flowers outside. We left the front door open (yay for screen door weather!) and knew you’d wander out whenever you woke up. We were working right by your bedroom window, not too quietly, at…
Writing can be a lonely calling. The hammering out of words on keys. The editing, the honing, the writing again. It’s laborious and lonely. So there’s nothing like doing it together with a team of those who are also called to write. Cheering each other on when we get published, when we’re featured as a…
They try to be just like mommy. They write little tiny characters all over every square inch of paper, making a list just like mommy. They take half the clothes off the hangers in my closet, parading around in my shoes and shirts, looking just like mommy. They jabber away on their toy cell phones,…
Weddings make me cry. So do goodbyes. But goodbyes at weddings? They really make me cry. I made it through my own wedding day with a big smile and dry eyes. Except for that moment my childhood and forever friend, my guestbook attendant, came up to hug me right before the ceremony started. And when…
The sunlight streamed through the window on the first Saturday afternoon in April. My daughters and nieces were at my feet, the golden threads of their “Chinese princess dresses” glistening in the sun. Their antics were the only thing that kept me from needing to use the Kleenex I’d wrapped around my bouquet. To my…
They ring loud in my ears, the words that I just said. I bow my head, silenced in my shame. That tone, those words—unworthy of His name. I can’t take them back. I can’t erase the hurt, the pain. I can only pray that next time, the louder words will be His words, within my…
The End.
The End.
