Journeys of a Wandering Wordsmith
Journey with me on my blog!
I (Still) Love You, Camp Ridgecrest
I'm only twenty miles away from Camp Ridgecrest, but it might as well be twenty dimensions. A bunch of foggy memories along with a million unformed, never-to-be ones. It's a fog I can't shake, follows my footsteps within and beyond the Blue Ridge. Am I crazy? Obsessed? Why does a camp have such a grip on me after all these years? It was one summer. One effing brutal beautiful summer. Why do I feel so much? Why do I hurt with a longing for what was and what wasn't? And why do a bunch of entitled white southern Gen X Christian moms rake me to the core?
Prodigal Father
The plot twist of the book is Nouwen's charge that we aren't merely to identify with the lost younger son or the lost older son. But we are to identify with the founding father. Becoming more like him as we walk this road. We are to be ones who create home for other people. Ones who keep them safe and warm. Ones who always welcome them in. Even – especially – after they leave.
To Bleed Unfettered on the Page
A friend recently recommended we shut our Bibles for a second and pen some psalms of our own. I couldn't stop smiling and feeling convicted over his blunt advice. I want to follow it. So, here's to 2020. A bright and shiny new year with a bright and shiny new journal.
Do Not Calm This Storm
Jesus won't calm the storm with a single word. His way is a way of work. Of picking up crosses daily. Of lugging said crosses up mountains. Of taking the narrower way of all the broader ways available to my wanderlust.
