Where Is Your Beauty?

We fingered the rocks tucked deep in the folds of our pockets — all of us, adults and children, as the lake wind whipped against our bodies. The clouds hung low and the air whistled through the trees bowing low to the water. The rocks offered opportunity for us to join their genuflect.

Each rock symbolized a sin. I knew my pockets weren’t deep enough this day.

Of all days, this one went sour early. I left my morning quiet with big prayers and big intentions only to find my flesh louder than either of those on this day. I was irritable. I sought only to manage their behavior, not reach their hearts in the meantime. I overlooked successes to tweak failures. I looked at them the way I used to believe He looked at me; I had eyes for what they weren’t.

And if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

Before the sun could set on this mood  [continue reading over here on Mothers of Daughters -->]

Pinterest
View All Posts

Recent Blog Posts

The Story That No One Sees

Our bedtime reading became hours of youtube adoption stories in those months before we adopted Eden and Caleb. We were hooked on home-spliced, three-minute life snapshots of forlorn children — who had a slight sparkle return to their eye as strangers became their parents overnight. We couldn’t watch without imagining what that would be like when it was finally us. In…
Continue

Little People. Big Gaps. {what to do with unnerving weakness}

Her shoulders slump and her eyes search the floor. She mumbles and turns her back towards me. This little sprite went from fire-in-her-eyes to a stone-cold-countenance in a matter of seconds, all because things didn’t work out as she’d planned. I could write the script for this downward spiral. This mama is quite familiar with how her little girl handles…
Continue

The Inconvenient Tree

In his thought-provoking book, The Mystery of Marriage, Mike Mason compares our spouse to a great tree “growing up in the center of one’s living room.” Mason goes on to say how beautiful and unique the tree is—how utterly rooted and unmovable. Standing in the middle of everything, my husband is so amazingly inconvenient! That image describes well my first…
Continue

Teasing Up The Splinter

She was baptized once, and we weren’t there.  Not part of her life, her story.  And the way she tells it, her grandmother held her in a deep pool and together they went under. I still don’t understand it.  And neither does she. In honor of this new skin on the old blog, I’m throwing an open house. For the…
Continue

Italian Villas and Morning Confessions

I sat in her office, staring at a golden-framed poster of an Italian villa.  How did I wind up here? In honor of this new skin on the old blog, I’m throwing an open house. For the month of July and into the first days of August I am going to introduce you to some others in my life who…
Continue