Sometimes a Friday night mariachi band makes you cry, because you know you’ve found your place (and you’ve wanted good cheese dip for quite a while). And every Sunday after church, the burger place around the corner helps remind you of the gift of investment. We’ve lived in Atlanta about 10 months now, and we’re finding our places. We have a coffee shop, the place of reprieve and writing, the place for quiet hours of study. And we go to... Read more
We are so layered, each of us. For God to really know us, it means He’s gutted out the corners. He’s nursed the open wounds, tended to the scabs, wiped clean every dirty surface. He’s moistened the cracks and given life to the barrenness. He’s called the dark to light, huddled close the tear-stained cheek, kissed the tired brow. For God to know us must mean that He knows the tender places, the hidden places, the desperate places. For God... Read more
It’s been two days since Listen To Your Mother, Atlanta. We all gathered into the theatre, and we trickled out with new friends, our arms full of flowers, our hearts covered in thanks. And today I’m quietly gathered into my home, nursing my toddler to sleep while I read my friend Dawn’s book. I read these books and blog posts, like I listened to those essayed words, poured out from full hearts, and it’s the miracle of Story every time.... Read more
“Can’t nothing bring me down, because I’m happy…” I listened to the song streaming from the car radio speakers, and I was just about to believe the words, to claim them for myself. Then I remembered what had just happened. And then I heard my toddler scream from the back seat, I WANT A BOTTLE OF WATER!!! The song was over. I was completely at a loss, baffled once again by how such tiny, happy people can get so overcome with... Read more
If you’ve been here with me for very long, you’ve probably noticed the way I describe life in seasons. Right now, Travis is in the throes of PhD study, in the we’ll-get-through-this, but-I-love-learning sort of place, and we’re just hoping for spring sunshine along the way. And me? I’m right here, when I’m not snuggled up for story time with the boys or baking graham crackers in the kitchen. This season is a challenging one, and I’m thankful, honestly. We’re... Read more
Sometimes I scan Pinterest for ideas, for those little creative DIY projects that I know I can hack, even if I’m not very good at it. So we’re decorating the balcony a little, trying to make it more of a home for our potted plants, an extension of the intentional living we’re trying at inside. I found this idea for a wind chime made of old keys and a stick. So the boys headed outside with me to dig in... Read more
On Saturday, Eliot asked to read the story of Jesus and the tomb from his children’s bible. Then we kept reading about the ascension, about the Holy Spirit, back to the day Jesus welcomed the children. I think when our bible translations feel stale to us, we shouldn’t always reach for the next Message Remix or NLT. The simplicity of that children’s bible fed me in draughts, enough to last me through Easter weekend and beyond. Eliot is in the... Read more
I’ve lived 26 years in this skin. So, you’d think by now, I wouldn’t be jaw-on-the-floor, heart-overwhelmed surprised when I experience community with somebody. Why is it so astonishing when someone invites me into their home, feeds me, asks me to be their friend, looks me in the eyes? And it’s not that we’re friends because we think the same way about all the same things (though that’s what seems safer to me). It’s that we’re all so varied, and because... Read more
For most of my life, Easter has been a one-day event, a whoop and holler of Kingdom-come and coming, a Sunday morning celebration of my Savior-friend. But this is all supposed to be a longer experience, a tangible moment-by-moment revelation of the last days of Jesus, of His out-of-the-tomb rebirth. Now that we’re in Atlanta, we’re at a church that acknowledges certain aspects of Holy Week that I’ve not often been able to appreciate in community. On Maundy Thursday, I had... Read more
This last weekend leading up to Palm Sunday didn’t pan out exactly the way we thought it would. We planned for things and they seemed to go poorly; tried to remind ourselves to breathe deeply, and we kept saying, Sorry. Sorry it ended up like this. But Sunday afternoon, it was all redeemed. We took a family nap, and I decided it was time for a little adventure, hoping to God it would be a well-chosen one. There’s a lake about... Read more
Stories - with Kaitlin B. Curtice
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