the blue and yellow lines around our umbrella   the sparkling stripes laid wide and long across the ocean, alternating with the darkness of water   the glossy emerald stripe just off the shore between lines of frothy white waves   and that one cherished silver stripe around your finger gleaming gold against the hot sand

On a cold Sunday two weeks ago, my sisters and I stood under an overcast sky near our mother’s grave, each with a different bouquet of flowers to lay beside it. We were there to mark the day when, four years ago, she slept her last sleep and awoke in heaven.   Earlier that morning, when the sun was still shining and melting sparkling rivulets into the streets, I had the unexpected privilege of attending my childhood church with my mother’s parents. Filled with old family memories, I sat on the wooden pew next to my grandmother. The tone of her silvery voice singing Holy, holy, holy floated...

Today is my wedding day, and my father will read this poem during my ceremony.     Today is like the new wine flowing from the hands of Christ at the late hour during the wedding of Cana It is like the first blooms of spring and the brilliance of sunrise after the sunset before a long winter: Today is a tree of life. Today is the wonder of divine redemption after the death of dreams, like Isaac’s ram on the mountain It is like a feast at harvest, the evidence of seeds unseen cultivated by Sovereign hands: Today is a promise received. Today is a reflection of God who is faithful in covenant love,...

Peonies. Pink like the dawn, fragrant with beauty, awash with freshness like new mercies. I love waking up to their soft elegance on my kitchen table.       Today they stir thoughts lately on my mind: We have no idea how good God is. How deeply good, just how enduring His mercies are, as the Psalms proclaim over and over. His glories sweep over our lives every day, His words pour forth like sunlight. He is there, He is here, ever-present, accessible because of Jesus Christ.   Today He brings with Him the beauty of dawn, the fragrance of hope, the surety of mercies never grown...

My house smells like cinnamon and coconut.       For me, there’s nothing like rolling out of bed and baking something sweet on a Saturday morning, putting aside the to-do list for a moment, following that spur-of-the-moment fun idea.   Enjoying the way God has wired us and the things He has already given us are ways to rejoice and give thanks for His goodness, and I think it brings Him pleasure.   Rejoice in the Lord always, and I will say it again: Rejoice!    

It is blue-sky cold, sun-soaked clouds cold, on again, off again snow flurries cold. It is a beautiful day.       And it is windy.   The blue and white balloons in my hand whip forward, eager for flight. Eager to be carried away toward the blue and white horizon.   It is the third anniversary of my mother’s death, another day forever cold in my memory. But it occurs to me, as I stand on a high ledge overlooking my town, that my mom’s spirit flew forward eagerly toward a horizon I couldn’t see, the moment her breath left her body.   I let go of the strings.   The...