1000 Generations!

My maternal grandmother and mother have been the caretakers of an old Bible that belonged to my great grandparents, William and Grace Coston. It’s huge and heavy—almost too big and cumbersome to read from my lap. The tattered leather cover is bound by an old brass clasp, and it’s pages are yellowed and fragile. Both…

Summer Garden

I can stand for hours in the midst of a summer garden—awash in silence— save a symphony of lilting birdsong, babbling brook, and the rustling of wind through weeping willows, the wild lilac, and dripping wisteria. I can wait there—longer than the darkness and sorrow of night—longer than the brassy banging of a mad world….

Shades of Violet

When I was in the seventh grade, a new girl checked into our homeroom class named Darla Star. She shone like a beacon in a dark sky with her curly raven hair, beaming brown eyes, and confident smile. To this day, I think those magenta suede go-go boots, that she glamorously paraded, gave her a…

Dilemma of Joy

My treasured keepsakes bulge in pockets of time—rather moments—that are tucked hard against the bones of my heart. They remain as fresh and life-giving as the first-offerings of spring rosesbuds, tight with fragrance and bleeding of crimson that smears across my fingers as I pull them out one petal at a time. The edges are…

Discovery

Not even two, she steps into her first winter day of discovery. Heavy and stiff with warm woolen armory, our little explorer stretches mittened hands out into the cold air of gently falling snow. Next, one then two brave little black boots slide forward into the sparkling powder. Her big brown eyes fill with childhood…

The Tree in Winter

Lacy and austere at once–beautiful barren trees–winter’s mystique. Frost-covered branches, in winterland magic, play music when jiggled. There is promise in the tree, stripped of fruitfulness in winter’s glory. Winter’s splendor is best revealed in tree unrobed stark against the gray. Let the barren branch take root in bleak mystery–deep hides the new leaf. The…

Pond Real Estate

I’m envying the sunbathing turtles across the pond, flippers splayed upon the muddy beach and heads raised to the sunshine. Most days they come and settle in for hours—the mud on the edges of their shells and skin drying to charcoal grit. Oh the luxury, the decadent extravagance—to sink deeply into the earthen shoreline and…

A Deeper Solace

Faith is a daily consolation, but it takeson an active, deeper solace when we awaken to know the lion share of what and to whom we anchor in a storm is developed through heartfelt gratitude. In the embracing of thankfulness upon the mountain and in the valley, an incandescent joy and strength burns a consuming…

Vespers

Amidst autumn’s burnished copper leaf mirrored across the pond, lighted houses are pressed into dusk against chilly November winds. In this moment at day’s end, let me tell you of my gratefulness. Let me say thank you. The leaves I raked today are resting on the shoulder of the road—bagged and still warm with life….

Lavender Shirts Not Required

Leaning against the wooden porch fence at the wayside barbecue stand in his crisp lavender shirt and black dress pants, he explained that he’d just come from the church up the road. With a defined zest for life, the man spoke about local news and history to us that stood in line for our Sunday…