I knew a lady–I will call her Mara, which means “bitter.” Mara died in her bed, in her room at the care home where she lived. She was in her seventies when she died, a thin, quiet-faced lady with iron-gray hair. She wore blue jeans, tennis shoes, a sweater. She had a pleasant smile. She […]
The Way that People Meet Death Read More »
On a day early last week, distressed and hemmed in by busyness, I walked down the road to our scrubby, half-beaten patch of woods, and prayed. I have always done this. From an early age, I have known trees. When I was a girl, Dad brought home a dozen maple saplings and planted them around
When I’m an Old Lady, I’ll Talk to the Trees Read More »
A few days before Easter: I stride in boots down the gravel road that runs past our house, look back at heel prints left in soft dirt. Water and half-melted snow pool in ditches. I scoop up a handful of soggy gravel and smell it, but the peculiar scent of earthy spring is not in
Jesus, Who Lives in Mud Read More »
Until last December, I thought the only person to have come out of a grave alive were Jesus and Lazarus. Since then, I’ve added another person to my list: Kim. It happened at my great aunt Lydia’s funeral, held on a Monday in late December. The service was lovely. Aunt Lydia had been well-loved in
Up from the Grave She Arose Read More »
I started out young in my testing of God. I was probably twelve years old when I sat in the green lawn under a tree, holding a bunny in my lap and wondering whether God was real. The black-and-white-spotted bunny nestled securely between my legs morphed with the Bible verses rolling around in my mind.
The Non-Power of Bunny Prayers Read More »
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