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on what i think it means to be pro-life

by Emily Wierenga | May 22, 2012 | abortion, children, ethics, fair-trade coffee, faith, holistic, love, pro-life, sweatshops, unborn, wal-mart

i transplant a flower, rub the soil between my hands. it’s so much easier to worship without walls, and we skipped church today. it’s hard to skip church in a community that doesn’t ever miss a sunday. but we do sometimes, because the sabbath is for...

on why i’m losing sleep (and feature posts from this week’s link-up)

by Emily Wierenga | May 18, 2012 | alarm, devotionals, feature posts, fire, God, grace, imperfect prose on thursdays, legalism, prayer, sleep

he was making the last fire of the season. “i want the best of you,” trent said in a quiet way and i wanted to feel warm. “i don’t want the leftover, tired emily. i want the fresh, alive emily.”i sat in my flannels, the kids asleep and...

imperfect prose on thursdays: when the day seems a toilet-paper kind of blank

by Emily Wierenga | May 16, 2012 | blessing, foster children, God, help, hope, marriage, parenting, partnership, the high calling

It’s just nine in the morning, and I’m wishing to hear the garage door sliding shut, meaning Trenton is home, his bike parked.And I’ve never told him, because I’m too embarrassed of needing him this way. This desperate schoolgirl way that jumps when I hear him...

on how to have a meaningful life (and feature posts from this week’s link-up)

by Emily Wierenga | May 11, 2012 | faith, feature posts, imperfect prose on thursdays, Jesus, life, love, meaning, purpose

“that’s where Jesus died,” Joey says, pointing to the hole in the paper he’s scribbled with markers. it looks like an orange and yellow explosion happened, like a daffodil was torn apart. “that’s where it’s all empty and...

imperfect prose on thursdays: love is being a mirror for your children

by Emily Wierenga | May 9, 2012 | beauty, children, God, imperfect prose on thursdays, love, mirror, sheep, springtime

i tuck kasher under my chin on the kitchen linoleum and we dance while the tea kettle boils. outside my window i see an old man in a plaid shirt limping along the winding road. he’s so frail, i can almost see his heart pulsing through the plaid and i tuck kasher...
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