In which these are the tired thirties

  I am reading Madeline L’Engle’s first volume of memoirs from the Crosswicks Journals, A Circle of Quiet. In it, she writes – for me, I am convinced – about this time of her life, this one that I am…

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In which [it is Lent] words need flesh

Source: potsc.com via Sarah on Pinterest These days, words are becoming flesh for me.I drove in the pitch dark pouring rain to Pastor Helen’s house, perched precariously on the hill next to the ocean, navigating hair-pin turns in a minivan….

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In which I lean into it

She asks me, how do you know anything? How are you so sure? How do you do this? Oh, I know that gesture, the palm flung wide in a circle with disbelief and frustration and sadness and wonder and hope and pain,…

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