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The Holy Deep
My toddler boy hands me a rock and it is small, cool, smooth in my hand. “God made the rock,” he says, searching my face for confirmation, purpose. “Yes, sweetheart, God made the rock.” “And God made the berry,” he tells me, smashing a broken wild berry in my hand. “Yes, God made all the…
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The Mother Next Door
via It is a hot August afternoon when she takes her walk beneath the sun that bakes lawns and casts shadows through trees. I watch her, my neighbor, everyday and wonder. Does she wonder about me? I would guess she was seventy years old the winter I was born; nearing one hundred this summer that…
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32 Weeks {Where’s Baby?}
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On Baby Names {and why your name matters}
There is a crescent moon on the silver night my husband and I lay face to face discussing baby names for our second child. He smells like soap. He is blue eyes and rough unshaven. A breeze rolls through tree tops and our open window. Cotton drapes shift. “James,” he says. “Too plain,” my first…
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Dream Future
via When I was a little girl, my sister Elizabeth and I made elaborate scrapbooks that we each titled our “Dream Future.” We poured over the Sears and J.C. Penny Christmas catalogs, shopping not for toys and dolls but for the likeness of our future husbands and children. We would each find our “dream guy”…
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The Christmas Baby
If you look at a pregnancy test long enough, turn it toward the light and squint your eyes, you can almost see that second pink line . . . even if it isn’t there. I am convinced there are two types of women in this world: (1) those who are nodding their heads in complete…
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East of Eden
There was a cold wet wind tonight. Biting. I wrapped him in a quilt, thick with flannel and a grandmother’s love. His hat was wool and his coat too, but still I held him tight against my body before walking out into that biting night air. I remember how one year ago he was protected and…
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Dear Wynn {Your Birth Story}
“For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”Romans 15:4 Dear Wynn, I wanted to sit here tonight and write all of the details of the night you were born. I wanted to sit here with a…
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Dear Wynn {ever mine}
Dear Wynn, I wrote the other day of the curious riddle of motherhood. How you would have me hold you all day long. All the while my mind will run over the things that need to be done: clothes to be washed, dinner to be cooked, and yet no hands to complete those tasks. For today…
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Dear Wynn {The Birdhouse}
Dear Wynn, I carried you in my heart for many years before I carried you inside my body, and now, in my arms. While you were in my heart, sweet boy, I talked to Jesus often. I prayed that he would send you down from heaven so that you could be my darling babe. And…