This was a full year for our family: Haiti, book writing, book deals, finishing seminary, working, three small tinies, church, family, friends, life, change, home making, blogging, working, all of it.

Nothing quite like spending an evening reading thorugh a year’s worth of blogging life to make one realise two things:

1. No wonder I’m rather tired, and

2. As Joe would say, “My have lotsa words.’

My 2012 Favourite Posts

These aren’t the posts with the most hits or the most shares or the most comments, but they are my own favourites.

In which I commission you :: Let me stretch my arms out wide, like an Old Testament prophet, my hands are worn and lined, I have mama-hands, and let’s do this properly.

In which (love looks like) room to change :: How do you disagree so strongly on something as vital as your spirituality or your expression of faith? How do you fall away from everything you believed, and yet, yet, not fall away from each other?

In which I tell you the truth about telling the truth :: I’m pretty sure not a single homosexual in the Western world is unaware that most evangelical Christians believe their desires and/or lifestyle to be sinful.

In which God doesn’t look the same anymore :: I think I got born again, all over again, tonight, and now God smells like sweat, like shit, like charcoal, like pineapples, in addition to my northern lakes and pine trees and clean air and water.

In which I dive into the water:: So I took off my glasses, surrounded by yet another church, I was braver than I was alone, and this was for us all. I dove into the water, head first, still in my clothes.

In which I am here, breastfeeding, but not for much longer :: So I want to remember, for the real rest-work, and for the metaphors of struggle and let-down and release and feeding, and for the weight of responsibility, the lightness of giving, and for the ordinary, every day, pausing holy-wonder. I want to remember that I was here, over and over again, and I was profoundly changed.

In which this is saving my life right now :: I could write big long theological treatise about the saving powers of my trees out back and the sound of the creek and the Psalms and ordinary radicals and the Gospel in real life with the real Church. (This post also gave rise to a gorgeous synchroblog.)

In which you are loved and you are free :: Stop waiting for permission.

In which it is this one ::  This one moment, after you’ve dropped off the babysitter, when you’re driving home in the dark night, alone, in the quiet, in the gratitude, in the starlight and the streetlight. Your babies are all sleeping in their rooms, the windows are open, your husband is waiting for you at home, he’s made a few promises, and your hair still smells like pool water.

In which God has restored Church to me ::  I loved God. I struggled with loving His Church.

In which I have an Evangelical Hero Complex :: All of those years of hearing sermon after sermon, youth camp after Bible study, about doing BIG things for a BIG God with BIG visions and BIG plans left us with crazy-high expectations on ourselves coupled with a narrow understanding of following Jesus.

In which I want to turn my life upside down (as usual) :: I want to paint the walls white and have a yard sale, I want to move, I want to burn something down and start over. I want a farm, I want to make soap.

Favourites, Elsewhere

A Deeper Story :: In which I am practising 

SheLoves Magazine :: Most Beautiful

Prodigal Magazine :: In defense of the cafeteria

Elsewhere :: This Sacred Everyday at Micha Boyett’s site


I imagine I’ll wrap up Fearless in a few days. Boy, did God ever call my bluff with that one… I also have my 2013 One Word ready to go.


And finally, first, always: thank you.

My entire life has changed because of writing on the Internet, and that is a strange and beautiful thing to admit. But this space, this sacrament, has changed me profoundly over the years. And I love it. Thank you for taking the time to comment on my Christmas post, with your greetings. Meant so much to our family as we are laid out with the flu this holiday season.

Thank you for doing life with me, thank you for reading and commenting and sharing my words. Thank you for loving us well.

You have made 2012 a very rich year for me, and I won’t forget it.




In which I catch a glimpse of heaven
In which I am fearless - sort of
thank you for sharing...
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