Dear Ru, I cut your daddy’s hair this morning. You sat and watched in rapt attention. “When I get big, I cut my hair?” “No, honey, you have pretty hair, you don’t need to cut it.” “Mommy cut her hair.” “Yes, because Mommy’s silly.” “She got you, Mommy,” laughed the man in the chair. When…
My husband works nearly within view of where we live. He’s home for lunch almost every day. We have yet to spend a night of married life separated farther than him being on the tractor in the field and me in bed. I’m spoiled. Really spoiled. And I know it. Because the first ten years…
It was hard to think of it as bad news when it came. Dan was so ready to go Home. A year and a half is a long time to deal with brain cancer in an earthly, pain-wracked body. Now, he has a new body. No more pain, no more tears. But last Saturday we…
This weekend is for celebrating and loving on our mothers and the maternal figures in our lives. But in the midst of the special breakfasts and pretty flowers, my heart is with some other mothers. Who are not celebrated. But who need even more loving on than the others. One such mother has graciously allowed…
Dear Ru, Sunday is Mother’s Day. But at two, you can’t understand that yet. Instead, you love everyone and expect everyone to love you. Your trust in those you love is so implicit that you take every good thing as something just for you. Your daddy went to town on Wednesday. But he got more…
My grandparents came to visit last weekend. For once, things weren’t too busy on the farm. We weren’t remodeling. Or cleaning up the garden for the year. We had time to just visit. We sat and drank tea—hot tea, iced tea, and watery tea from a tiny aluminum tea pot—and talked about theology and marriage…
On days like today, I decide to hang out the laundry even though there are grey clouds in the sky, knowing that laundry brings rain, knowing that we need rain for the fields and our newly-planted grass. On days like today, I pause to admire my laundry hampers—one, made in Africa of elephant grass and…
Ru girl, You had to get down from the high chair to go potty Sunday night during dinner. When you got back, you wanted up on Mommy’s lap instead of back in your high chair. “Do you need some Mommy time?” I asked. You emphatically agreed. And even when little sister loudly let us know…
You’ve heard about Patty Reed’s Doll. You’ve read of Hitty. And of course everyone knows Raggedy Ann. But have you ever read The Story of Delicia? It was my grandmother’s book. I grew up reading a photocopy of the precious original, that was enclosed with pink construction paper to match the pink board cover of…
Whenever I feel all mixed up, unsure of what to do, please show me what the right path is and help me follow you. -This Little Prayer of Mine I like the words, my 2-year-old daughter loves the pictures. Just how a children’s story book should be. But This Little Prayer of Mine is more…
The Easter M&M’s in the dish on my table have a new meaning for me this Holy Week. They are reminding me to look first to the Man on the Cross—not to the food in the cupboard.
A Promise Kept. Such a simple phrase. In a short little book. With a lifetime of meaning. My husband’s grandfather already had Alzheimer’s when I met him. I only saw Grandpa twice. I only saw a shadow of the personality that was his. But Grandpa’s military photo from the 1940’s? That smile is the same…
The End.
The End.
