This flurry of plansis over, over.And I’m sorry and glad together. Our bustling houseis sane now, sane now.And I’m sorry and glad together. “Sorry and Glad Together,” Karen Peris This lyric by Karen Peris of The Innocence Mission perfectly articulates my feelings on this ripe and radiant November day. It’s the first “normal” Monday I’ve…
Last month, I had the great privilege of interviewing one of my heroines, Andi Ashworth, upon the occasion of the re-release of her book, Real Love for Real Life by the Rabbit Room Press. You can find the interview here, and I really urge you not only to avail yourself of the gentle wisdom of…
Thanksgiving, like any other beloved memorial with which the years are reckoned, has its own certain types, its venerable standard of ‘brightest and best’ against which each year’s observance is weighed. They may all—or most—be cherished in our hearts, a mellow, collected memory of loved rituals and the loved ones that give them meaning. But…
It was a glorious November day, stark and long-shadowed as only South Georgia can make it. The road we traversed was a familiar one—as familiar as the drive to my own home—and every field and house and stand of pines was a familiar friend. Even the red dirt roads veering off to the left and…
Disclaimer: the post that follows professes to no merit or significance, literary, theological or otherwise. It’s just a silly story. And it’s quite long. Consider yourself warned. 😉 It was too easy. We had come laughing over the golden sands, we six: my husband and I and his brothers and their wives. It was an…
I want to begin by saying that I have no intention of titling every post henceforward and forever after Innocence Mission songs. It just so happens that I’ve had a lot of poignant moments lately—some happy, some not so much; all under the Mercy—that Karen Peris’ lyrics have been a literal soundtrack to. One for…
I could tell by the tone of my mother’s voice that something had happened–even over the phone I sensed the gentle sadness–and I knew with a pang of kindred sorrow what it was. Aunt Ruth had died. Quietly, my mother told me, in her sleep. 104 years old and the last of my grandmother’s sisters….
“Do you know what today is?” My Granddaddy leaned back in his chair and regarded me through partially closed eyes. August 18th—what Civil War battle took place on that date? My mind roved frantically through a jumble of generals and statistics field maneuvers that he was always parceling out to me like choice sweets. But…
for Marshall–Nulla dies sine linea Those who know me best would never label me a ‘big camper’—that is, until the Airstream came along. I was driving home from my book club one afternoon, navigating the rush hour traffic, when something along the roadside caught my eye. I smiled and progressed to the next red light. …
It was our last Big Adventure as a family, though we didn’t know it at the time. Perhaps only Mama had some premonition of the changes that lay in wait for us upon our return from the trip to Boston, Bar Harbor and Prince Edward Island. Of course, she couldn’t have forseen that I would…
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