This piece was written for the December issue of our church's newsletter, Grace & Peace. One day a few years ago, I found myself sitting on the first floor of a doctor’s building, talking to a lady named Darlene. It was a few weeks before Christmas, and rain was blowing against the big windows, wet … Continue reading In the Waiting Room
Dear Maggie,* Last May, Jared and I found ourselves in that funny place of not-yet-being-engaged but knowing we would be pretty soon, if know what I mean. It’s a gentle transition you don’t necessarily talk about, but that’s written all over a girl’s face and obvious in the things she starts buying: dishes, for example. … Continue reading To a Girl Engaged
A month or so before we started dating, Jared offered to send me seeds in the mail. This surprised me, because I didn’t know many guys who planted gardens. I knew fewer who had an abundance of heirloom seeds on hand. When I thought about it, Jared was the only guy I’d ever talked to … Continue reading Seeds in the Mail
A True Story from Home Last February was gray and long, as the lean months before spring tend to be when winter feels old. But in my mailbox on Edgewood Road, there was something new: letters from Jared about what he hoped to plant in his garden that spring. He wrote of marigolds and tomatoes. … Continue reading When You Come Marchin’ Home
On Waiting, Hunting, & Courtship “Come back and see us,” she said. “We’ll be here.” And as we turned in our coats to go, she caught me once more: “And enjoy yourselves. Have fun.” This was just after she’d said she was bored of bingo, and couldn’t they offer more activities for the long, dark … Continue reading Late In Time
The kingdom of heaven is as near as the hand at the end of your arm. So turn the dough, stitch the wound, change the sheets, play the notes, stack the wood, sow the seeds and straighten the rocks along the wilderness road.
Papa Jay married Mema in the preacher’s living room. He was on leave, and they had decided to go ahead with it, so Mema ran out to buy a dress and some flowers. Papa wore his uniform. Aunt Margarete baked a pecan pie to serve afterward, and Papa still talks about how good it was. … Continue reading A Wartime Love
A Story of Christmas Yet To Come Race Point is the easternmost I’ve ever been— in fact, it’s just about as eastward as you can get in the States, at the fingertip of Massachusetts’s arm. It was a strange thing to stand with all North America behind me, to face the horizon of sea, to … Continue reading Look East
My friend who shares my name, Bethany Rose, called me last Tuesday morning from somewhere up in Minnesota, where she was bundled and walking her Great Pyrenees named Shiloh. “We’re experiencing a warm front,” she said. “It’s twenty-five degrees today.” I was planting a tray of lettuce on my patio in Missouri, because we were … Continue reading The Long Winter
By Joel Melton … and we wait. we know the end, how the promise was kept, and is being kept. He has and is and will come. the advented Light still breaks -- is adventing -- in our night-like days. we wait like winter. the curse is being reversed. redemption’s cycle spins in the song … Continue reading …
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