When my dad died last year – can hardly believe its almost been a year – , I found comfort in the years and years and years of great dad memories.  He was gentle and firm, standards and love driven, faithful and utterly reliable.  I know these things because I knew him for almost exactly 52 years.  I saw him in action, fathering and loving, brothering and laughing, husbanding and caring, dying and giving..

And yet…I still want one more.  Day, hour, moment  Opportunity to just hold his hand, or talk with him.

I have quit referring to my mom’s house as “mom and dad’s”., and I expect to see her when I walk in, rather than both of them.  It’s still odd, though.

Mom is making her way through late stage cancer, and I have the opportunity to be with her as she does.

Last weekend, we made her peanut butter cookies.  Mom’s recipe, her way. Fresh cookies, on wax paper.  I remember that from childhood, and it’s what we did last Saturday  Baking buddies.  Mother and daughter.  Repeated memory.

For Christmas, I’m taking her to see A Christmas Carol.  Fancy, dress up memory.

Weeknight dinners, and lots of talking.

We still have time for more.


If I could only capture an attitude of expectancy. Living in such a way that I consistently depend on God, and am always watchful for how He will work. Instead, I find myself surprised.

SURPRISED??  Seriously?

I generally have this philosophy about looking behind:  Looking back is only additive if it somehow illuminates the way for me to move ahead.  Looking back and camping there, feeling uncertain, ashamed and regretful, is of no lasting value.  If, however, I can look back, seeing how God worked (in spite of my stumbles) and brought honor to His Name and good in my life, I want to do that regularly.  That  sort of remembering births wisdom and expectancy.

Do I believe this? “My flesh and heart may fail, but God is the strength of my life and my portion forever.”  Ps 73.26  I DO. Yes, I most certainly do believe that.

And if I do, then I want to be expecting and depending.  Move on from fretting and fear.  Move on from surprise that God would work for my good and His glory.

Fathers love their children, and do good for them.

God is good.  I am not surprised by that.

Oatmeal morning

So Bath and Bodyworks says the favorite Fall candle fragrance is Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin

Sweet    Cinnamon   Pumpkin.   Utterly wonderful.  Delicious.  Calming.  Cozy.

I don’t stand a chance against Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin.  It wins.

Fall wins.  Leaves are starting to turn in my yard, and the last several mornings have been cool.  Refreshingly, blessedly cool.

Some would say that God cannot be found. Some would say that God is far away.

But I know that God is good, near, and that His love endures forever.

I know it when the seasons change.  I know it when I smell Fall in a candle or out the door into the yard. I know it when I can enjoy my oatmeal at work on an Autumn morning. with my new candle burning before my day begins

I know it when I recognize those as gifts.  Sight, smell, taste. touch, work.

I know it because God is consistent, creative, and Whole.