Blog Announcement

Dear readers, Many of you I know… many I don’t. But I want to thank all of you for your lovely support as I’ve started writing regularly here on Full of Good Things. It is truly a pleasure and honor that you give me a few minutes or

A word to the weary

“You’re such an encouraging couple.” Her words poured into my parched heart. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to me. I admire her and deeply respect her. And after all she had done for us that day — taken us and our 4 rowdy girls out on

The Song

In dark dreary church, In suffer torn city of pain, She took seat at the keys, Silent fingers poised, In grief smothered pause. Before notes pierced the night. Hope tumbled, It rose...

I'm going to sit down

I'm going to sit down To read, to study, to wonder I'm going to sit down To make, to shape, to sculpt I don't often sit I stand, I give, I serve. I pass out what I have In comfort, in food, in good. But I cannot keep standing Else

Here in the waiting

Here in the waiting While I chafe to get going Here in the waiting Hot tears are still flowing. Here in the waiting There’s work to be done. Here in the waiting The true value’s won. Here in the waiting, We give out cool water Here in the

Everything Grows

Everything grows People, ideas, sin. Plants and worries and wonder. How long did they push Down before up? And hidden before known? Spreading quiet below Unseen by you and me. But everything comes to light Someday. Shoots or scandal or character Come from The roots, foundation, the ballast. They take

Before the Throne

There is a river that flows from the throne of heaven. Water normally comes from the rain, the runoff, the streams and rivers, the mighty lakes and oceans we love. But this water? It inexplicably flows from the throne. He said once to a wandering soul, “The water that I

There's a seat at the table

There’s a seat at the table For the defective, the shamed. There’s a seat at the table Each one has been named. There’s a seat at the table For the weary, the maimed. There’s a seat at the table For you to be claimed. There’s

4 and 11

*A gentle warning before you read — this post deals with infant loss. A bereaved mother always has one hand in heaven The rest of her days. I know, because I lingered There oh so long. And again, off and on. Over three souls taken A lifetime too soon. Before I

We just didn't know

Sometimes we got our healing And just didn’t know, Because we saw men as trees walking And felt worse off than before. We just needed to get to that pool, The pool of “sent” To wash the mud off. Or to run home and find His power gone before

This is how I was healed

This is how I was healed He muddied my eyes and then peeled Back the darkness, the fear, and the night I was blind and now have my sight. This is how I was healed He healed me in part and I ached for the rest, I saw men as

Child like

“Mission complete!” Adele roared to Elise. Her happy cry echoed softly off the water. She was halfway back already, having rescued the kayak paddle from the reeds on the other side. She had also abandoned the play shovel that she had used to paddle out there, necessitating another mission. But

Unless

How could the blind man know unless You opened his eyes? The deaf man know unless he saw Your sigh? The mute man praise unless his tongue was loosed? The rich man freed unless he found matchless grace? The oppressed man stand unless You broke his chains? The lame man

For Everything a Season

We were newly back from China, newly parents, newly moved into a tiny little apartment complex, and not-so-newly swamped with postpartum depression. I sat on my hand-me-down couch and stared at the blinds that I kept closed. Always. My baby crawled happily around the apartment chattering and getting into things.

Love me well, love me long

Love me well, but please love me long. Love me daily, just love all of me. Love my faults and love my strengths, Love in fears and hold my hand. Love me dear, but don’t forget When life presses in this hard Love me deep and love me well

I forgot

I forgot that I was loved And rose up in indignation. It wasn't fire from above Just haughty toleration. I forgot that I was loved. That subtle speck I judged Because I'm a cut above A plank that just won't budge. I forgot that I was loved And didn't know

A Prayer for Hemming

“Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

Tell me more

Tell me more, my friend Of this joy in you, Why your day is feast, Why comfort joins your dark. Tell me the source of this strange full light That seems to drench your path In trial or in calm, That walks ever on before. Is it power from another

Let me be little

Let me be little, For just a little while. Let me be little ‘cause time will fly by When you let me be little, You just let me dream I’ll wake up before long But now I can fly Just let me be little And let the clouds pass,

In May

Dear little girl, on the cusp of being grown. Hear me laugh, hear me groan. On the day you came into my life, into this world, and into my heart. With the sound of my labor in that crowded birth room, chattered the sparrows at the birth of dawn. Bitterness

You Knew

Lord, if You knew water’s roar and fire’s fury, If You knew the damage these troubles would bring, If You knew, dear Lord, then why did You stand? Watching long from a distance, knowing my plight? So much of my life, I simply don’t know. Your purpose,

Hannah

I stood there hollowing out the peppers. Tops off, seeds out, diced then in two. When you tore into the kitchen Shivers all full of glee They hadn't found you yet All tucked in here with me. And I thought that as I hollowed Out peppers for you and I

Expired

“You killed the Author of life, but God raised Him from the dead. And we are witnesses of this fact!” (Acts 3:15). It's Good Friday, and we’re soaked in the first part of this verse. The Writer Himself was killed, the very one who wrote the miracle of

He is.

Do you know what’s there, just like here? Deep cool breaths. Sunsets. Shifts in weather that are subtle, but course through you with quiet brilliance. Sunrise, and the hush right before, that makes you ache for the day, but long to linger in the half light. Birds. Flowers. Wind.

To Furnish a Heart

A parable about the invitation of kindness - to others, and to ourselves.