Christ the Breaker, Peacemaker

It is full Spring and our first in this house. I experience every bloom like a surprise. The bush out front just exploded in pink and white and fuchsia blooms. The dogwood in front is struggling, but even it’s hanging on is beautiful — delicate as it frames our little home with white petals. The two dogwoods in the back reach high, speckling the sky with rosy pinks. Spring’s sparkle. Does nature choose to be beautiful? It seems to just happen, despite its own battle against itself. Is eternity in there somewhere, too? Isn’t everything imprinted with eternity because God breathed its first life?

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the mind of motherhood

If the chairs in our dining room are pushed against the wall, it means I’ve had a go at the food scraps and broken crafts underneath the table. I’m sure I’ll host a middle school dance someday, but for now, the chairs line the wall because my kids are entertained or sleeping or throwing things down the stairs and I have a minute to really sweep.

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I am too much about myself

Maybe I feel most alive when I can taste the “not yet” part of being human, when I can get inside my soul and wrestle specters like they’re real — like their teeth are tangible so that believing they can be beaten means something more than an abstract run-on sentence.

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oh, this Love that will not let me go

Her legs dangle down to my knees. I catch my breath, from both her weight and her new dangling reach. I guess I never thought her limbs would get this long, never thought her body would stretch out of the folded-up position under my chin. I never thought kissing that precious spot on the bridge of her nose would be a rare treat.

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so clinging near

"I love you and I want you to come here and I don't want you to die," she said, "write that to her." I filtered. I decided it wasn't the kind of uplifting message we wanted to communicate to Zella's library teacher, Miss Lisa. But as her crazy, fly-away (three day old) top knot bounced with her squealing excitement to deliver the message, I knew I would have to tell Miss Lisa the whole thing. Zella does not want her to die and that is a wonderful thing to want for a person. A beautiful and pure and human thing to want for a person.

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I am still the same amount of weak

I have tried to conquer weakness all my life. At times in small, subtle ways and at other times with great flair and volume. Something about the daily lectionary reigns over my whitewashed importance and anchors me in a Strength I will never attain. It is slow, steady work that calmly lives inside the liturgical year - absent any flourish or marketing savvy and present a faithful plodding toward the most important Easter season.

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