Blog
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My Swedish Ivy
The kitchen windowsill holds several treasures I’ve collected over time. One, a birthday gift from my Aunt Ann, is a small white vase etched with a garden scene. Usually a pink camellia or a few pansies fill the vase, but today it’s home to my Swedish ivy. This isn’t just any Swedish ivy, by the way. The plant from which this cutting grew graces the mantle of the White House Oval Office. So how did someone without a green thumb acquire this distinguished ivy? My son, Corban, received a cutting from a work colleague, and Corban’s talented mother-in-law, who does have a green thumb, rooted the ivy and gave everyone…
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Time
Time matters. If you don’t believe it, try staring into an oven ready to snatch out a sweet potato casserole at the split second the marshmallows on top broil to a golden brown. An instant later, golden brown turns to crunchy charcoal. I speak from experience. Have you ever noticed most kitchens have more than one clock? Mine has four. Two digitals glow on appliances, but my favorites belonged to my mother. The larger clock hangs on the kitchen wall. Seashells decorate the clock’s round face, and rather than a digital display, moving hands mark the passage of time. The smaller clock sits on the counter and reminds me of…
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Treasures and Tea Kettles
Some of my favorite childhood memories are woven into family visits with my Grandmother and Granddad Stewart. I always felt special the second my sister and I burst through their den door. They’d hug us, exclaim how much we’d grown, and listen to my incessant chatter. A loud whistle would reverberate through the house, and Grandmother would hurry to the kitchen to move the tea kettle from the burner. She’d lift the tin cover from the cake plate and slice big pieces of chocolate cake. We’d sit in the immaculate kitchen with the starched white curtains, red countertops, and gleaming gray floors my Granddad polished the way someone from the…
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A Saving Defense
I sank into the hotel room’s swivel chair and glanced at the paper calendar on the small desk. October 24, 2016. My husband had already left for work, and our two dogs had settled in for naps after their morning walk. I debated whether to join them. Strange how exhausted the mile walk had left me. Probably the stress of six weeks crowded into a hotel room waiting for repairs in our home to be completed. I slid my Bible toward me. I’d sleep later. Besides, the cat had joined the dogs and there was no room left on the bed. I turned to the day’s reading in Psalm 28,…
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A Symphony of Sounds
What sounds surround you as you read these words? Stop for a moment and listen. Are they peaceful, harsh, solitary, layered? At this exact moment, I hear a dog barking in the distance, the hum of a lawnmower next door, and the comforting whir of my refrigerator. I’m thankful for the gift of hearing the symphony of sounds around me. One of my favorite sounds is the call of sea gulls. No, I don’t mean thirty squawking gulls descending at the beach when someone pulls out crackers. I’m talking about the serene call of one or two soaring overhead. I immediately relax and imagine myself sitting in the warm sand…
