Another year has passed, a year painful to remember yet impossible to forget. A year when last my mother breathed, when last I embraced her, heard her voice, saw her face. The last year any of those things would ever take place in my life.   The new year dawned with her birthday. She would have been 60. Every new year will make it impossible to forget, as if I could, as if I wanted to. I will never forget the life with which my own was so connected.   We don’t forget what we’ve gone through, the pastor said on Sunday. Remember God’s goodness and faithfulness, what He taught you in difficult...

Faithful, ever. In changing times, unchanging.   In sorrowful times, revealing grace upon grace upon grace, lovingkindness that endures forever, changeless.   In lonely times, manifesting love, deep, great, unwavering, true.   In restless times, inviting rest providing hope for new things, making ways, directing steps ordering days, proving Your Word deep, great, faithful, true unwavering.   In needy times, in weakened times, a very present Help and helping a strong arm fortifying and strengthening.   In all times—Potentate— in time itself—Creator.   All this You are You...

a poem   tonight so thankful for You whose lashes healed me whose nakedness clothed me with salvation whose innocence removed my guilt You unchanging Rock midst my tumultuous emotions Shelter that graces me with peace and security the broad path that keeps my feet from slipping so thankful for the family You gave me for Dad whose character is like diamonds in the coal of night for sisters who understand, talk, laugh, grieve with me for 37 years with beautiful Mom for her parents— lights, love, warmth for friends from all seasons of life so thankful for Your abundance, extravagant in forgiveness,...

Nashville your green and yellow hills won my heart from the very beginning   your tree-lined fence-lined two-lane roads and Southern pillars and porches   became home away from home   now your rock-faced shoulders are mine, with their summer vines, slick surfaces after a rain and icicles in winter   your blue skies and orange sunsets are copies of the ones in my favorite childhood nursery rhyme book   Nashville city-town of dreams and dreamerswho believe in miracles and magic when they arrive with sweet expectations and leave with something different and more   as I will...

It is a muggy summer day, Overcast. The first of August.   I walk into the overgrown grass which I don’t feel like mowing to pick flowers, which feels therapeutic. A song about being still in the presence of God floats through my mind.   First trip: long cuts of black-eyed susans. Inside to trim and drop them into a canning jar. Mom is so good at arranging them, but I’m not. She also loves canning jars, will have many bouquets like this around her house by now.   Back out for the large pom-pom zinnias, light and dark pink. Pale yellow. I planted these in spring when Mom and Dad were...