We had no desire for a big to-do. No fanfare, party or even a fancy cake. The day was too sacred for all that. Our baby is alive. She’s well. She’s one year old. Solemn joy. We had a family meeting of thanksgiving. It seemed more appropriate than throwing balloons around. Oh, how very, very…
My desk is a mess. It's covered in cut out foam letters and stencils and scraps. There's a stack of books and an even huger one behind me. File folders and spreadsheets. Leaning against the wall is a newly framed Rand McNally Map of the World, Classic Edition. I'm wondering how this is all going…
Is it truly possible to love what must be done? We are mere humans, dust with life, filled with failure and sin. Is there anyone we can confidently point to and declare a lover of dutiful tasks? I find it necessary to go beyond people and look to Christ. Did He love what had to…
It was just a little glass triangle. The late morning sun filtered through the large schoolroom window and we watched, mesmerized, as our teacher carefully placed a prism in the stream of light. A rainbow leapt from the glass, dancing, elusive, beautiful, the white light diffused into all our favorite colors. Mystery and wonder. There…
We spent the last several days in Mexico City, seeing a couple specialists who could give us some direction on our baby’s hip dysplasia after being told she’d likely need to be in a cast for three months. I could easily dissect each phrase of that sentence and probably write an entire blog post…
Cacao beans, cinnamon, allspice and ground vanilla, clay jug for hot drink It’s creamy, dark and delicious. Squares, powder, truffles. Ghirardelli, Lindt, Purdy’s. Mousse, pudding, cake. It’s a hot drink on a cold day, it’s a pick-me-up after a hard day, it’s an “I love you” any day. The ancient Maya, original cultivators of cacao,…
I feel like I can almost see you, running through the late sunshine, laughter in your dark eyes. You’re brown and lithe, hair falling forward into long lashes. You must look like that because the kids’ mirror tells me that’s the Alves Shutt model. I can imagine you playing crazy with Cyrus, finding comfort in…
We walked together, warding off dogs and mosquitos, stacks of calendars in hand. “Here, Mommy, I’ll do this house....buenaaasss!!......mommy, she just went in and ignored me.” She looked at me dejectedly and with disappointment put the calendar back on her stack. I called again, this time the mother came to the door. “What is it?”…
I think I’ve started this blog post no less than five times. It’s a new year, but it feels wrong to cheerfully throw virtual confetti in your face while gleefully shouting “happy new year” to a world who probably doesn’t feel too happy in a year that doesn’t feel too new. That’s why January is…
If you have followed my blog for any length of time, you’ll have quickly noticed a perhaps unintentional yet recurring theme: hope and joy despite grief and pain. More than once, I have heard believers critical of others for being open about their emotional difficulties, citing supposed bitterness or perhaps lack of spiritual toughness (“you…
penelope alves 