Showing posts from February, 2012


Sundays always remind me of how grateful I am for my church family.  Without fail, it’s a community where believers are seeking God and finding Him, experiencing His presence in ways that are remarkable, amazing, inspiring, worthy of celebrating. 
I know the faith-stories I encounter there are meant to bolster my belief.  But every once in awhile, they have the opposite effect. 
Sometimes they make me wonder why I don’t have a similar story to tell.
Today is one of those days.  And so I find myself longing to hear from those who haven’t quite made it to the other side yet. 
From believers who are on the leg of the journey that happens after the prayer, but before its answer.
The Land of In—Between. 
The part that’s between the vexing question and the reassuring response; between the sigh of fatigue and the comfort of renewal; between the diagnosis and the cure; between the seeking and the finding.
Because this Land of In-Between is where I live much of my spiritual life. 
And knowing others…


It’s taken awhile, but I managed to do one of my favorite February activities today.
I picked up a mini-greenhouse kit and some seed packets, got my kids around the table, and helped them do some pre-season gardening. 
We poured water over little packed dirt pellets, watched them swell, and pushed those seeds into the soil.  After a few days sitting on top of my (very dusty) refrigerator, we’ll see tiny stalks pushing up to find the light.  Then, the greenhouse will live beneath a fluorescent light I’ve tied to the bottom side of a bookshelf, where they’ll stay until a season we can scarcely wait to see.
I’m certainly no gardener, so I’m not sure what prompted me to start this little ritual.  I’ll never forget the unexpected comfort it brought.  That it brings today.  
Tonight, as we open the packets of colorful zinnias, stately sunflowers, tangy peppers, and crisp cucumbers, I’m struck by the look of the seeds.   Some pale and anemic-looking, others brown and sharp-edged (nearly indist…

Hope Proof

[A little note of introduction:  In January, I spent some time contemplating and writing about the reference to generosity in Proverbs 31 (31.20).  My mind continues to linger on a question:  So often, my own generosity leans all too heavily on the levels of abundance I'm experiencing in my own life--material, emotional, spiritual, or otherwise.  Yet this tendency doesn't seem quite right.  Perhaps it's a misguided goal, but I wish to remain open-handed, regardless of my own state-of-heart.  The fact, though, is that I often find myself falling short.  Hence, this meditation.]

TheseHANDS betray myHOPE (or lack) as they giveortake away cherishordiscard deliver comfortorinflict pain offerorwithhold receiveorreject make availableorsnatch away
They can beclenched tightlyorrelaxed extended

Openhands arereadyhands willingtolend eagertoembrace POISED to provide

Where's My Mojo?