Showing posts from July, 2011


It has been a long while since I have posted anything here. I have been busy completing three years toward my B.A. in English and my senior year is underway. My current class (Creative Writing) has finally given me the space to take off the tight harness of academic writing rules, and it feels SO GOOD!! After reading my first assignment, Mom and Daddy gave it their thumbs up and suggested I make it a blog post, so here it is. It is my story and their story. It's a little longer than my usual posts, but as with everything I have ever posted here, I pray it encourages you to run "up the sunbeam to the sun" (C. S. Lewis).

"Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ." 1 Corinthians 11:1 NIV

I sat above them on the stairs. Looking down through the window-like openings in the partition between the living room and the stairway, I listened to the basketball players, football players, baseball players, wrestlers, track athletes, both the lettermen and the also-…

What I Learned From an Underwater Squirrel


Blue on blue, aquamarine Bay meets a California summer sky, world-famous San Francisco skyline stitching the seam together. Thousands of people around the globe would give their eye teeth to live as close to this view as I do! And yet, I am caught between worlds, between water and steel, sky and concrete, natural wonders and city marvels.

The city is not my home, not my native habitat. I don't mean San Francisco, but city in general. I am as much a foreigner here as a fish out of water, as much a misfit as an eagle living underground. I have lived in California now longer than all my other homes combined, but I don't think I'll ever feel like I'm from here. Even our quiet spot in the suburbs is more city than I'd like in my heart of hearts.

There are times when I have a lot in common with the SpongeBob SquarePants character, Sandy Cheeks, a Texas squirrel living at the bottom of the ocean:

I'm not from Texas, and I don't have to live in a glass bubble in …

Made To Fly

For two weeks I had been trying to no avail to block out the raucous and incessant screech emanating from the mulberry tree outside my dining room where I do all my writing. Imagine the sound of a rusty door hinge stuck on infinite repeat!  The noise was so unpleasant and distracting, I had to all but abandon my usual love of an open sliding glass door, just to put something of a buffer between my ears and that horrid squawking sound!

One morning, when I did have the door open to let the cool breeze in, I noticed that the squawking was moving around instead of staying in the mulberry tree.  She So Sweet and I went to investigate.  Finally we saw the noisy little culprit who had been disturbing our peace!!  It was a baby mockingbird who had yet to discover he could make more than one sound!

We tiptoed out toward the baby bird and much to our surprise he didn't make any effort whatsoever to get away. Perched in a flowering shrub underneath the nest in the mulberry tree, the littl…

The Unwitting Drift and the Way Back

So slow, so easy, the unwitting drift. Eyes all full of the immediate wave . . . and the wave on its heels . . . and all the waves upon waves after that, unaware I'm being taken slowly, surely further from where I should be . . . from where I meant to be.

Father, I want to be well!

I say it again and again, trying a new prayer on for size instead of the generic and inexactLord help me!  I know, even as I make it known to God that I want to be well, I need to be more specific still, but it's a place to start, a place to launch, a place to set a new course.

I am not sick.

I'm just not healthy and fit and ready to rock the heck out of this gloriously gifted life I've been given.

I have wanted to be. I have wished I was. I have lamented and cringed in shame and yelled at the reflection in the mirror I don't even recognize as me.

I miss me.

I am living beneath my privilege.

"When he came near, Jesus asked him, 'What do you want me to do for you?' 'Lord, I …

God Is Not Afraid of the Dark


"The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out." John 1:5 PHI
Caught and captivated by the spangled darkness of a starry and moonless night; the sky seems a limitless ink well, glossy and liquid and black and . . . somehow comforting in the quiet way of shadows.

Just in case you wondered . . . just in case you thought so, the enemy does not own the dark!

Sometimes, the dark is just the best backdrop for light.
Nowhere is beauty more stunning than in the vividness of contrast, and God is a Master of it! His Shekinah, His powerful, dwelling Presence, blazed glory-fire in a mighty pillar, lighting up the desert nights for His children.  It was not only to give help and comfort to them, but as a warning to anyone who might try to attack . . .

My people are not alone in the dark! My people are protected! My people are MINE!! I. AM. HERE!!!
God is not afraid of the dark!
"And they will tell the inhabitants of this land about it.
They have already heard that y…

Through A Knothole . . . Darkly

-- It doesn't always feel like this.
Sometimes the thoughts and words and pictures bubble to the surface so plentifully that I can hardly tap out the keys and snap the shutter fast enough to keep up.
But at the moment, my mind is a blank, a blur, unfocused, unsure. If I want to be any kind of professional at this writing life, how can I withstand and overcome this dryness in my creativity. What am I missing? Why am I so empty of ideas?
My heart and life are not empty.
I am filled with the goodness of God, the blessing of my precious family, a life that is rich with beauty and provision despite an extended period of economic uncertainty both for our family and the world.
Minutes after I wrote those few grasping words, writing about not being able to write, my computer blue-screened to match the blue-screen in my mind. For the last two days I have tried everything I can think of to rescue my computer, but it appears to be down for the count.
Now, stuck both…

Soft Hands, Gentle Words

People who know me now would probably be surprised--at least I hope they would be surprised!--but when I was growing up, I had a very sharp tongue, especially when it came to my two younger brothers. As the big sister, much older than both of them (one by 6 years and the other by almost 13 years), I was sometimes left in charge as the built in babysitter, and unfortunately I got very good at using my sharp tongue as a weapon of control.

During this time I can remember my parents' efforts to help me with this.  My daddy used his sense of humor and would tell me to be "Gentle like Charmin." My sweet mom would gently but firmly work to temper my speech into something more gentle, more loving, less cutting and less superior in my tone (tone of voice was big in our family). She would often remind me of a Bible verse that made God's thoughts on this perfectly clear,

"Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which…