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... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 22, 2012 | belief, buds, emily dickinson, faith, family, flowers, God, heaven, hope, Jesus, katie davis, springtime, waiting
the birds have descended. flocking to fields filled with water, and when they rise their wings sound like hundreds of blankets being aired out in the breeze. they glint in the sun, these trumpet swans and mallards and pintail ducks and snowbirds, like guitar strings,... by Emily Wierenga | Mar 17, 2012 | bravery, children, courage, faith, fathers, fear, God, hope, love, mothers
my palms are rough and i don’t feel very brave, sobbing into them.trent has hurt my feelings because we’re both tired, and there are four pairs of eyes watching and it’s too much sometimes. so i go to my room and sit on our feather tick and cry. ask... by Emily Wierenga | Mar 8, 2012 | faith, fire, God, gospel, heaven, kisses from katie, prospering
i never thought of mother teresa as successful. as a little girl i’d dream about her landing in my backyard in her airplane and taking me with her to india to serve the poor. she was godly, yes, and sacrificial and strange and selfless, but i wouldn’t say... by Emily Wierenga | Feb 7, 2012 | boys, costa concordia, faith, God, good, integrity, men, parenting
we’re driving home from playing cards with friends. the night looks as though someone has dumped tar on the world. fields of black.and i think about the 30 people who are missing. the ones the captain abandoned, the man who ran the costa concordia into a rock... by Emily Wierenga | Feb 6, 2012 | book, champagne, contract, dreams, faith, God
my paintings are being exhibited this month at a local gallery. i had about five visitors friday afternoon, most of them members of the art club.the rest of the time i sat in the back-room of the gallery, writing. after four hours, i leaned my head on the plastic...