The morning the water swallowed my beach is the morning the world finally looked. Four nights later, the forecast promised nothing and the sky burned anyway.
Personal Growth
Glimpses of Heaven
I have a garden. I've had one for almost two years, only there's sea oats instead of roses. It is a pier on the York River at first light.
Beautiful Chaos in Motion
A stranger watched me shoot at Denbigh and called it beautiful chaos in motion. Four days later the sun disappeared, and I found out what I'd been chasing.
A Beautiful Bruised Capture
I superglued my heel shut last week. I didn’t plan to write that first sentence, but it’s where everything else starts, so I'll begin there. Six days ago, I was standing out on the shoals before dawn, ankle-deep in water I know well, framing a sailboat moored past the shallows with her mast running straight … Continue reading A Beautiful Bruised Capture
Another Sunrise
Tomorrow could be an ending or a beginning, and I won't know until I'm in the room. But I've learned this summer: sometimes the beautiful and the hard are the same light.
Grace, Mercy, and Power
He showed me His grace at the sunrise, His mercy at the sunset, and on the last night of summer, in a storm full of lightning, He showed me His power.
The Altar I Built
The first altar I built was made to hold a man, and it could not bear the weight of him. The one I stand at now holds up the sky.
The Lion Roared
For a long time, the sun rose and set in my husband. Now I chase the light at the water's edge, and I have learned the difference between an idol and a God.
Enough, Without the Fireworks
Three years ago I wrote that I was enough without the fireworks, and hoped it was true. This year, by the river, I found I could hold both the rare light and the daily one.
New Every Morning: 30 Days of Chasing the Light
Thirty mornings at one pier on the York River, and the sky never repeated once. What thirty sunrises taught me about mercy that's new every morning.
