A little over 10 years ago, I was antsy to pack up all of my belongings and move far, far away from Kansas. The busy, exciting city of Chicago was calling my name. I settled in to this new life without a hiccup. I loved everything about the noisy, fast-paced, windy city.
Read MoreA little of this. A little of that. Mostly looking for God in the ordinary. In people. In place. In the world. These books are certainly opening my senses to the mystery, grace and presence of God everywhere I turn! I also can't resist sharing a few of my favorite blogs as of late.
Read MoreIt’s time to admit that Summer is over, and fall is settling in. The morning air is crisp and the leaves are beginning to fall. You know the feeling of a season about to change, like it’s instinct. It feels programmed in us.
Read MoreThe first Sunday at our new church I walked into the nursery to leave my toddler, and she ran to a pile of raggedy stuffed animals. She grabbed and kissed and wiped her nose all over them.
Read MoreImagine a fleet of 20 boats out at sea, with a limited supply of fuel and resources. We could send all 20 boats on their way with the hope of getting to shore, each with their own idea of how to get there.
Read MoreIt was the end of August 2012, and I was seven months pregnant. My husband, two daughters and I loaded up a U-haul truck and watched Chicago disappear in the rearview mirror. We drove west 700 miles until we hit Nebraska.
Read MoreIt seems we’re always looking for God to show up in some dramatic way. Our eyes are in search of a burning bush or a parted sea. We love it when things are dramatic, because we want a good story to tell. But the more I listen to people’s stories, the more I’m becoming aware of the subtleties of God.
Read MoreThe day after the funeral is the hardest. The days following the death of a loved one are overflowing with friends and family, phone calls and text messages, meals and cards and hugs and stories. But the day after the funeral, it all stops.
Read MoreOne morning Jeff got up early and headed to class. We had only been married a few short weeks, and I was already discontent with the once romanticized state of (relative) poverty that is accustomed to newlywed life. I despised that I would walk into our bedroom at night, and my socks would slip and slide on the hardwood floors. There was no way we would ever be able to afford a rug. Or a dresser. Or a nightstand. We had a 15 year old mattress, and a lamp leftover from my college dorm. It sat on the floor next to the bed.
Read MoreThe word spread like wildfire to reach people hundreds of miles away. The streets of this little rural town could hardly contain the cars that lined its curbs. The auctioneer’s voice was getting faster and faster as the price was going up and up. The entire block was littered with the couple’s possessions. Eighty years of memories; eighty years of stories. Stories that will soon be forgotten once the furniture, the knick knacks and dishes are loaded into the trailers.
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