Lion and Lamb

by

I lie against my mother on the brown plaid sofa in the living room of our mobile home, a sea of ochre-orange carpet rolling out from under us in every direction. In her small strong hands, she holds a pea-green book, turning the pages as she reads aloud. We are almost...

A Literary Life

by

Cathy Day, in a post over at The Bird Sisters, suggests that if you’re a writer who loves words and books and literature and all things literary, well, for heaven’s sake, stop whining about how hard it is to get published and start creating or at least...

This Is The Day

by

The December Jack was one, I was invited to an Advent gathering for the Godly Play volunteers at our church. There was really no reason for me to be invited; I wasn’t a volunteer. But our children’s minister, Dianne, knew that I loved the Godly Play...

Of Perils, Prairies, and Poetry

by

The past six weeks or so, we’ve been reading The Fellowship of the Ring as our before-bed family read aloud. Having not read The Lord of the Rings books for a dozen years, I have been floored by Tolkien’s language, his ability to paint a vivid picture with...

Reading with Rugrats

by

A few weeks ago, my friend Cathee and her daughter, who is a month older than the twins, came over for dinner. As I chopped onions and sliced mushrooms, I asked her what books Sarah enjoys reading. She rattled off a handful of books and then said, “Why do you...