West Virginia Morning: Saturday

The house is quiet and I have not yet had my morning coffee. Through the bay window I am watching a male goldfinch feast on my fading purple coneflowers. He is so intent on plucking seeds from their dark, round eyes that he does not even notice when I draw near. Were it not for the glass I could reach out to touch him, stroke his golden beauty with my fingertips.

The dew is thick on the grass this morning, the air cool with a whisper of fall. At first light, I watered all my thirsty pots and my raised beds. By the end of it all, I too was soaked through. Back inside, I finished preparation for a no-knead rosemary garlic bread to pop in the oven later. It is rising in the window. Then I clipped some lavender and rosemary and twisted their woody stems together, curious. They are in water on the table, filling the kitchen with their spicy aromas.

I am still not used to the boys being gone. I try to be gentle with myself—it hasn’t yet been a week since Ted went back to school, not quite two since Jeffrey began his freshman year. We are officially empty-nesters, at least for a time. I still have summers to look forward to, and holidays. Time alone with my husband is sweet and we will settle into this. But I keep expecting them to come through the doors late at night or emerge on the steps with tousled hair early in the morning. This is a mother’s way of seeing, I suppose.

Yesterday, I picked my largest crop of pole beans and plucked enough jalapenos for a pint of pickling. My garden has been such a mess this year. I was overambitious with the tomatoes and they have choked the peppers. The tomatoes have been happy, and I have had a tomato sandwich for lunch every day in August; but my poblanos have not given up one piece of fruit. I’ve tried to make a sun-path for them, clipping out bits of roma and Earlygirl, but it is late and they may not give this year. Snails have been devouring the green beans and the Mexican bean beetle has made ghosts of the leaves on my squash and cucumber vines. Yesterday, as I picked beans, I noticed a vine had jumped the bed and latched on to my lilac bush nearby. One curving strand climbed all the way to the top and a cluster of beautiful beans dangled there, taunting me from ten feet above. Maybe the squirrels will find them? Or perhaps a bird. I was still able to pick enough for eight pints of canning, but none were so beautiful as that cluster on top of the lilac bush.

There is much to apply my heart to around here. Busy hands are the best medicine for the tiny ache inside but these quiet moments by the window also heal. I lift my hand and touch the glass with my fingers, as if—for the wanting— I could grasp his wildness through the pane. But at this one tiny movement from me he is gone, a streak of golden light winging through the cool air of morning.

Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World

Playdates with God cover

Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World is the story of how a simple invitation to play can open our eyes to joy and call us back to an intimate relationship with God.

Do you remember when you first fell in love? When you fell in love with Jesus, was it much the same? Did you spend countless hours poring over Scripture? Did sleep suddenly seem mundane as you rose at pre-dawn each day to meet with him? Was every sunset an expression of his love and did every sermon hold a secret message just for you? Isn't this the place we all long to return to within our spiritual lives? We desire the bliss of an intimate, unrestrained love relationship with God.

Playdates with God is the story of how, when we step out of our ordinary grown-up lives and set aside time for wonder, we open our hearts to be wooed back to our first love—to the excitement we felt when we first fell in love with Jesus. But this is more than a story about falling in love.

It’s about staying in love.

Buy Playdates with God at your favorite bookseller:

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Love Story

It's my anniversary. Today marks 24 years since I said "I do" under a cloudless sky on a windy day in May. Sharing a little re-post from the archives. … {more...}