Upon the Fall of a Pastor

On the week we were engaged, Jared and I were grocery shopping together when he got a text that nearly took the wind out of him. It was from a fellow pastor, asking if he'd heard the news: a preacher they both greatly respected, a stalwart leader and renowned expositor, had fallen to immorality. Overnight, … Continue reading Upon the Fall of a Pastor

The Year My Sourdough Starter (Nearly) Died

A few days ago, I dug my sourdough starter out from the back of the basement fridge, lifted off the tea towel, and found it was black and hard as stone. I said, Of course. This would be the year my starter died. My biologist friend had told me just last week that itโ€™s quite … Continue reading The Year My Sourdough Starter (Nearly) Died

Consider the Hummingbirds and the Seas

I remember the way I described the Atlantic Ocean in my letters to Papa Larry from Cape Cod, when we walked the easternmost hem of Race Point Beach with the sea "rising and falling at our sides." But the Pacific, I now realize, does not "rise and fall" like some prim lady curtsying. It cracks … Continue reading Consider the Hummingbirds and the Seas

I’d Hate to Think

I'd hate to think that somedayI could be watching a soap operain a beach motelwhen,outside and across the street,there is a full-bellied moon risingover the crashing tideslike a great, golden peachin a storm-tossed orchard.I'd like to think that somedayI'll be like the man with the long camerawho'dsearched the Internet and watchedfrom his car for weeks,and … Continue reading I’d Hate to Think

Hiding Place

On Dangerous Hospitality One of the first chapter books I owned was a little paperback my dad bought for me, called The Watchmakerโ€™s Daughter. It must have been a childโ€™s adaptation of Corrie ten Boomโ€™s story in The Hiding Place, which I wouldnโ€™t read until I was old enough to brave it.  I loved Corrie. … Continue reading Hiding Place

Remember

For Joel & NatalieA Blessing for Their House May you live like youโ€™re young in this house thatโ€™s older than you,old as the trees,old like the bell steeple on Main Street,and the railroad that runs with the river west to the town where Dad was born. May you not erase the aging lines of this place, which … Continue reading Remember