It's Thanksgiving week! I am running around picking up coconut cake, pecan pies, salad greens from the Farmer's Market, bread from the bakery, and fresh cranberries. I am excited to gather around the table, actually we will need many tables, with my sisters, brothers-in law, parents and 16 kids. There
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I am in a season where I feel there are not enough hours in the day to transfer from my heart to God's everything I long for, worry about, and I am thankful for. I confess there have been times in my life that God was the last place I
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I don't know what has happened. For over 26 years, I have watched my husband's enthusiasm—devotion—to football. The moment the TV switched on, that was my cue. Go for a hike. Take a lavender Epson salt bath. Fix a cup of tea and curl up with a book. Something
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I recently rediscovered the special book, A Book of Hours, by Thomas Merton. Merton writes, "We do not know we are full of paradise because we are so full of our own noise that we cannot hear God singing us and all things into beauty." I am learning that when
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Welcome sweater weather, the crackle of home fires, hot chocolate and marshmallows on repeat, and a stack of marvelous new reads. This Fall, I have been on a grand college tour with my daughter Belle. A highlight is getting to visit local bookstores in every town. I immediately walk up
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I am an avid fan of Bono and his iconic band U2. What I didn't know until recently was that Bono is a passionate seeker of God. Recently, I listened to a beautiful conversation between the rock star and Eugene Peterson, one of the most treasured writers and theologians of
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