Showing posts from January, 2012


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-…

From Generation to Generation

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." ~ C. S. Lewis ~

I am the daughter of two teachers. Daddy taught Physical Education and coached football and basketball for forty years, and taught young athletes about faith through the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Momma taught several grades from preschool through middle school, not to mention countless hours of women's Bible studies. Between the two of them and their teaching careers that spread across two countries, their impact and influence on young lives will only be measurable in heaven. They both teach like most people breathe. It's part of who they are. Even now, though both have retired from the teaching jobs they loved, whether it's with their most fortunate children and grandchildren or people in the community in various venues, they continue to teach and encourage and inspire.
I grew up in a home that valued education . . . a home that saw ordinary moments as opportunities to …

Why Not?


I can feel my own spine lengthen and stretch in empathic connection with the waves as they rise, and rise, tension building almost to breaking, until they finally arch their backs in defiant determination just before they commit to the forward, crashing, headlong fall into the waiting shoreline. Whatever sand and rocks await them, the water will both surrender and subdue. What is left of the mighty wave when the rocks are done with it? What is sand, but stone pounded fine by crashing waves?

On the same day these giant waves were joyously galloping to shore, risking surrender to subdue, Drummer Boy set out for some beach combing. No matter that his age names him adult, when there is fun to be had on a wide open beach, he is a child at play, imagining all manner of adventures. I think this particular day he was caught somewhere between shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe and an episode of Man vs. Wild where he and Bear Grylls would be in full survival mode, needing to find shelter to stay al…

A Few Words from the Hinterlands

I can hear the telltale clanking.

The monkey wrench has been thrown into the machinery again.

The gears are grinding to a halt, and the flow of words has stopped. I keep anxiously watching like a weary traveler waiting at an empty baggage claim for bags that do not come. I wish I could see down the chute and open everything up to fix the problem.

I wish it was as easy to focus my thoughts as it is to focus my camera.

I flit and flutter, scanning my mind for an idea, just one good idea, to perch upon. 

Where, oh where are the words hiding? Why won't they show themselves? What have I done to chase them away, and what can I do to bring them back? Are they alive and green somewhere under the frosty cold?

What if I've already written everything I know? What if there are no more good ideas? What if nothing I say is original or creative or special? What if the keys have gone silent for the last time?

Wistful wishes, wretched what if's, mixed up images, where's, why's a…

The Father Who Delights

There are few things as toxic to a relationship as disapproval.

Husbands and wives, parents and children, pastors and congregations, employers and employees, teachers and students and among friends--disapproval does damage and leaves wounds that rarely heal on their own.  Stories abound of grown men and women who find themselves crippled in their adult lives because on some level, they are still trying to win the approval of fault-finding, never-satisfied parents, sometimes years, even decades after those parents have been laid to rest.

Spirits wither and waste under the harsh, hot glare of disapproval and I pray that as a fallible, imperfect parent, I would not fall into communicating in ways that feel like criticism and disapproval to my children.

Human disapproval is bad enough.  What about disapproval from God?  Isn't He always stern and endlessly disapproving, looking with disdain and disgust down a long nose and a longer finger, always pointing out our failure?

I hope yo…

No Eye Has Seen

Someday I will have read everything ever written by C. S. Lewis.  I am woefully behind on the way to achieving this goal, despite owning a whole shelf full of his books, but it's a work in progress.  However, maybe knowing this will help you understand why my interest was especially sparked by something our pastor shared yesterday.

In a sermon about integrity, focused particularly on marriage, he referred to an idea taught by C. S. Lewis that if we could see now what glorious beings believers will become in heaven, we might be tempted to worship them.

With this idea in view, the pastor encouraged us to appreciate the privilege we have of watching, up close, the becoming of our spouses and children. He further encouraged us to be filled with grace toward them as we keep in mind that they are works in progress on the way to future glories unimagined.

"However, as it is written:
   'No eye has seen,
   no ear has heard,
no mind has conceived
   what God has prepared for those …