Every time I step through the doors of Nashville’s Schermerhorn Symphony Center, I fall under its majestic spell.     During a private tour of the three-year-old limestone building this weekend, a lone cellist practiced on the auburn Brazilian cherry-wood platform in the concert hall. The lush rasp of his bow over the strings surrounded us with music even up in the balcony, as if the instrument were whispering its melody right into our ears.   I am overwhelmed by both the beauty of strings and the artistry of an elegant building like the Schermerhorn. As it turns out, so was the king...

It is Saturday morning, and quiet, except for the sound of rain splashing out of the gutter into the empty clay flower pots beside the house. I sit at the kitchen table, lit naturally by two great windows and the pale peach glimmer of the candle warming my little white teapot. On the other side of the room, the small window above the sink is open a few inches, letting in the spring-soaked smell of rain and the music of its falling—almost like bells in the distance.     On that windowsill sits a tiny earthen vase containing three mini daffodils. They sing with remembrance of my mother’s...

I awoke this cloudy morning to yellow buds on the mini daffodils I planted in memory of my mom last March. By the time I got home from church and errands this afternoon, a downpour had given way to sunshine, and the daffodils were fully open.     This transition from winter to almost-spring is a fitting picture of life infused with the presence of God. He is the rain that waters seeds of faith in cloudy seasons. He is the hope that flowers after the heart’s winter. He is the spring that brings redemptive life to places of pain.   This weekend I had the privilege to serve and speak at...

Today is the year anniversary of the day my mom took her first breath in heaven. Though I think of her every day, I wanted to do something special as a memorial on this significant day. I wished I could leave a bouquet of daisies, her favorite flower, on her grave, but I live 800 miles away from it.   What, then, to do? I wondered if a ritual of some kind could really matter anyway, since nothing could possibly be an adequate memorial to a lifetime of love, to the rest of a lifetime of deeply felt loss.   Somehow, though, memorial rituals do matter to those who desire them. We got the idea...

Tonight the sparkling, cold sky and cradle of a moon paint peace over the earth. It’s a beautiful reminder of the Creator’s nature. No matter what unrest, sadness, or burdens the people of earth carry, He always offers peace to those who cast their cares on Him in faith-filled trust. Tonight, my family continues to think of the day almost a year ago that ripped the stars from our skies and shattered our hearts. We’ve been talking both about that day and the present day: the reality of our sadness, the truth that healing is taking place. Our family’s landscape, and that of our...

What unexpected warmth and sunshine on this last Saturday of a dreary month! January has hovered unusually over Middle Tennessee with snow and cold, oppressing my spirit with a relentless gloom.   As I sat by the bubbling creek at my favorite park watching the sun cast golden sparks over a cattail-filled marsh, a sense of relief settled over me—the tearing of a thick curtain, the rolling away of a heavy stone. It was as if nature were letting go of winter and preparing for spring, rejoicing as it did the morning Christ rose from death.   There is an appointed time for everything, Solomon...