Leaves of Healing

Before the sun slipped down on the Sabbath, Mary might have pressed aloe leaves and squeezed their gum into a dish, mixing it with myrrh and water. Carrying it to a buried Jesus at dawn must have felt like a last, little fragrant offering. But when she saw the sunrise streaming into an open tomb, … Continue reading Leaves of Healing

Burnt Grass ~ A Good Friday Reflection

It was April, and a thousand daffodils were blooming down the hillsides, along the pond banks, and up near the old Bascom House. Helen met Papa Larry and I in the parking lot of Shaw Nature Reserve. It had been more than a year since we’d seen her, and I’d forgotten how her laugh sounded … Continue reading Burnt Grass ~ A Good Friday Reflection

Summer Is Near

“There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the … Continue reading Summer Is Near

Gardening Shame

I wrote a letter to my friend, Sarah, last week and told her I’m suffering from Gardening Shame. There are weeds in every box, and I haven’t re-mulched the paths, so black tarp shows through like the garden’s underwear. My tomato plants won't take to the soil and stand limp. Zoysia grass creeps in and … Continue reading Gardening Shame

Destined to Rise

It’s that time of year when I go hunting for spring, checking every corner for it the way Frog and Toad did in their Adventures. We have a patch of early bulb shoots, but our yard stands blank compared to Papa Larry’s. I worked in his front gardens yesterday afternoon, straightening up soil fencing with … Continue reading Destined to Rise

Story of stories

The Internet isn’t just bawling with dark news and death tolls these days. Look a little closer and you’ll find stories— hopeful ones. Old people still madly in love, communities using the web to unite, neighbors singing the Doxology from their porches at nine sharp each morning. And then there’s the story God’s spinning smack … Continue reading Story of stories