by Emily Wierenga | Jun 6, 2012 | box, Brandee Shafer, Eustace Conway, God, imperfect prose on thursdays, mailbox, normal, perfect, problems, value
(post by brandee shafer)Sometimes I feel a little like a mailbox: chock-full, and mostly with junk. I feel crammed with sales pitches, useless information, fluff. I feel depressed by the news. And I wonder: if it’s true that what goes in must come out, is anyone... by Emily Wierenga | Jun 4, 2012 | fair-trade coffee, God, happiness, heartache, heaven, joy, poor, sorrow, ten thousand villages
sometimes i’m not sure what to do with all of the sadness in the world so i just sort of tuck it into the envelope of my heart, all stuffed and overflowing with people’s letters of cancer and child-loss and pain. and i know i’m supposed to mail those... by Emily Wierenga | May 28, 2012 | afterlife, ann voskamp, christian, church, death, dying, fear, God, heaven, laura boggess, living, michelle derusha, scared
i know i’m not supposed to be. afraid of dying. as a christian i’m supposed to be brave because i believe in a God who’s overcome death but i’m still afraid. does this make me less of a christian? or just more honest?there’s a sea of bent... by Emily Wierenga | May 25, 2012 | art, children, colors, darkness, God, hope, light, opportunity, parenting, rain, sunshine, the gypsy mama
it rained on tuesday. rain is good for growing things, like cucumbers and tomatoes and patience. the boys splashed in the puddles and kasher insisted on sitting plunk in the middle of one.we were cold and wet and we stomped mud across the floor and changed into soft... 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... 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...