June 8 Papa, Did Edwin Teale write those travel stories you were telling us about -- River Horse, I think it was? I'd like to read it. Speaking of reading, Stockbridge had a wonderfully regal and airy library with tall, paned windows and a white fireplace. Dad told us to meet him at the van at … Continue reading Day Three: The Inn
If I could find the stamina, I’d like to pick up Metaxas’s big biography and sit down with Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the rest of the summer, reading his words, his wisdom, his sermons, his German heritage, his spy work against Hitler, his imprisonment, his love story, his death. History is one of the things I … Continue reading Two Legs on God’s Earth
June 7 Papa, The trees are different in New York. The forests on each side of the interstate are lighter, thinner, less honeysuckled than back home. There are vineyards, windmills, pines... and a sign that read: "Correction Facility -- Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers." Then, there were the Falls. I'm sitting here, trying to work up … Continue reading Day Two: So Much Water
I spent the night in a forest once and filtered my water from between two rocks, where a stream got caught and pulled through, bubbling up on the other side. It was just the place to rinse my fingers or fill my bottle. Streams flow down, and we use that phrase for grace too, because … Continue reading Grace that Roars
June 6 Papa, Today has been us and the highway: low cumulus clouds over farm fields and power lines, the smell of honey pretzels and luggage, and the interior plastic of the van rattling against my elbow. Not too much to write yet. I hope you don't mind an email each day or so; these … Continue reading Day One: East
At the end of each day on Cape Cod in June, I’d find a quiet corner of our cottage and jot off an email to my grandpa Larry. I'd mostly pull from my journal, trying to capture for him the way things smelled and looked and moved. He and my grandma (we called her Nanny) … Continue reading This Summer: The Cape Cod Letters
"I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall-- what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do." ~ Mary Oliver, I Go … Continue reading june ttmmh
Today, we're headed toward the sea. Since winter, when our plans for this trip were still scattered across the kitchen table, Papa Larry has brought a new scrapbook with him each time he’s come to dinner. They are all full and tell the stories of different trips he and Nanny took to Cape Cod (30 … Continue reading A Holiday at the Sea
This article was written for AnchoredPassion.com. I grew up between two brothers and down the street from three more boys, so I learned right away you’d never score a touchdown if you didn’t know how to juke. I was fast, but so were they, and without a quick stop, pump, and twist, I’d never make … Continue reading Play (Or Plod) To Win
"Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers." ~ Juliet, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society Running Allie's property with her, down to the pond and across a field Planning a trip to the seaside English L'Abri Fellowship podcast Volleyball tournament Sunday night … Continue reading may ttmmh
bethanyjlincks.com 