Once, there was a son who wished his father dead, took his money, and ran. And once, there was a father who abandoned his child, a mother who said she was through, a friend who betrayed the most intimate secret. Forgiveness actually means reaching into the depths of your pain, to do a kind of surgery there, a cutting and shifting and sealing. I’ve carried around the sting of unsought reconciliation, where there are uncleaned corners of dust and dark.... Read more
“For all that has been, thanks. For all that is to come, yes.” –Dag Hammarskjöld This last Sunday, two of our pastors shared their last morning of worship with us. The next season is unclear, except that we move on toward the goodness of Jesus, deeper into the heart of God. And Sharyn and Julie move on in it, too. They will wake up every morning and do exactly what they are called to do, coffee cup steaming in hand. And... Read more
servant: a person who is devoted to or guided by something Sometimes servanthood is concentrated. It pours down like a fresh rain, it covers everything with the promise of life. In the course of a few days, a few different friends have stretched across and extended themselves to us in a kind of servanthood, calling us into each other, into community, into the holy places of God. One friend offered to watch the boys so we can go on a... Read more
If it weren’t for the changing of seasons, we wouldn’t know when to start and when to stop. And if it weren’t for the presence of words, we wouldn’t know how to appreciate the absence of them. It’s hard to accept it, when you’ve had a steady stream and then suddenly, all’s quiet. My first instinct is fear, fear that nothing will pick up, that I’ll never have anything to say, ever again. But instead, I gather myself back together,... Read more
I remember now that at the deepest part of Your goodness, You are a parent. I remember that Your love beckons us beyond our tantrums and selfishness, beyond our mistrust and fear. Right now, today, we’re the exhausted ones, who come to the end of ourselves over and over again. We’re sharing sideways glances of What are we supposed to do here? And we’re also screaming Jesus, help us! in our deepest spaces. And so I also remember that I’m so limited. I’m... Read more
When the boys begin to smell like the stale heat, like the salty playground air and the trampled dirt path, then we are on the brink of summer. When we see snowing pollen fall across the air in sheets, and we close our eyes to save ourselves from sneezes, then we are welcomed to the Georgia summer. Debra took us across the path, little bridges over quietly running creek water, and around to the cemetery. She and Eliot ran ahead,... Read more
Barbara Brown Taylor says that we practice reverence to remember that we are not gods, to remember that we are small, and that we belong to each other. The guys bought me flowers and herbs for Mother’s Day. But really, they gave me the gift of a space that’s mine, a balcony garden that pulls me into hidden comfort, a safe place. I hide behind my flowers’ faces, glancing out to see my neighbors walking their dogs. Every time they... Read more
Once it came out of Eliot’s mouth, I knew why it stung so badly. What I’ve been trying to teach my boys is to acknowledge their own bravery, to not be afraid. But instead, I’ve been teaching him that women are not brave, and that fear is our nature. I’ve been teaching him that all the important stuff (beyond killing spiders) should be left for the men and the boys, so moms can do mommy things. We were telling stories, and... Read more
Trav, God must have laughed, His fingers pressed to His smiling lips as He looked on at the trials and joys we’d face together. Because you’re so you, and I’m so me. He saw the way we’d lay in bed at night, cheeks to pillows, eyes darkened by the lately-fallen dusk, overlooking our day. And He knew it then, what the tired eyes and whispering hearts would one day want, more than anything: the peace and the quiet. He knew us, and He knew... Read more
There is so much we haven’t reached. And I suppose our whole lives will be spent reaching, striving, seeking. And we may never get there, never see full glory before our last days, our last moments of sight and breath. Still, today, I strive. Today I hope for a better heart- I beg for it. “Make me better! Make me new!” And today, I long for more presence– more presence with myself, more presence with the people I love, more... Read more
Stories - with Kaitlin B. Curtice
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