I am slowly learning that you can’t conquer a tantrum. When my kids’ emotions get too big for them, I can only enter the whirlwind and offer them a hand: an anchor and a way out.

Sometimes we need the refuge of a strong fortress. But sometimes we need a refuge of a place to rest and refuel, a safe place to nest and bring forth new life.

When we allow our religious practices or political affiliations or ideological connections to give us absolute certainty, there is no room for correction when necessary.

Troubles both public and private are enough to send a person diving back under their blankets. But this very morning, the Day of the Lord is one day closer than ever before.

It’s not all up to me. Or to you, either. When the well is dry, someone else has a drop left to give. That drop is God incarnate, Word made flesh, help in the very time of trial.

The wildness of the way still has beauty and bounty, even when the path is overgrown. The paths through the hills are still dressed in God’s joy, no matter the brambles.

Your home, O God, is in the mess and the mistakes as well as the grace and the gratitude. Your home is in all that makes me who I am.

Anger is a valid emotion, yet stewing in anger can eat away at our wholeness. Stewing in anger through Facebook creeping can hurt our journeys toward healing.

The work of reform needs quiet fighters as well as front line mavericks. Meekness is not weakness in the perseverance toward change.

I remember a lot of things at night: the emails not answered, the deadlines missed, the cookies I shouldn’t have eaten. I am practicing remembering God’s name above all.