It’s a season of snow melting and sun shining through windows and spring cleaning. I’m driving home from a chiropractor appointment, singing. It’s afternoon and my husband is home with our youngest as he only teaches part of the day on Mondays and the sky is stretched blue and peaceful above me.
Recently, I had the privilege of speaking at the funeral of my good friend Mary McKay. Mary courageously lived with a lung disease for more than 20 years. Here’s an abbreviated version of the eulogy.
I’m seated at a long table with women from my community, some facing me, others beside me, all of us with cups of coffee and little squares or cookies and our Bibles open.
HERE SHE IS. In my arms. Eyes closed. Face serene. Safe. Loved. Freshly untethered from her mother’s womb. Ours. Ava.
My wife Louisa and I recently made a visit to our financial advisor to check on our investments.
I was 26 with two kids at home and felt like I was still waiting for my life to begin. After working to finish my degree, get married, establish a career and start a family . . . what was next? Where was I going? At what point do I “arrive”? What does arriving even mean?
In our daily trek through the Psalms, Ed and I just finished Psalm 27. It’s only 14 verses long but it’s particularly potent with trust in God, and a resultant hope through desperate times.
Then a new thought comes, and the dogs pause. What if the whole purpose of my life on this planet, the only task of significance I’ve been given, is to make a difference in ONE life?
All of these experiences serve to remind me our anticipation is limited by our human inability to know all and see all. We anticipate what we know. We anticipate what we think we need. We anticipate what we wish.
I’ve noticed one of the popular themes lately is something called “mindful eating.” The idea is that rather than absent-mindedly jamming food into one’s mouth, we take the time to unplug from our assorted electronics, sit down and actually pay attention to the food we’re consuming.
Since the birth of their son Samuel two years ago, Amy and Rich DeKorte have learned so much about Down Syndrome and experienced God’s remarkable work in their lives. In an email interview, Christian Courier asked Amy and Rich to share their family’s story.
Pain does crazy things to your life. It can bring the toughest person beyond their breaking point.
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