• Made Things

    When the Voice of Jesus Sounds like the Water Department

    I read recently there’s a bit of controversy about Sarah Young’s devotional book ‘Jesus Calling’, that perhaps it’s ‘extra-biblical’, even new-age-y.  The articles I read didn’t cite any of the particular daily devotions, just made rather sweeping statements about the fact she ‘claimed’ to hear from Jesus and wrote down what He said to her in first person. Mind you, each selection is accompanied by Scripture. Mind you, many, many of the people I know personally have heard God speaking to them as well through her words. Many, many times. Mind you, people have been led closer to Jesus as a result of these messages. But the validity of the message…

  • Made Things

    Catch the Song

    I’m so grateful Summer is officially over.  It lasted way too many long, hot, sunshiny days for me. Truly. (I live in the Pacific Northwest. I am allowed to complain about these things.) We did not get our reprieve with refreshing summer rains. There were no soft gray mornings to offset the cloudless days. And why would I bemoan all that sunshine? It’s just too noisy.  The clear blue skies and bright yellow days are like a music box all wound up—“come out, come play, join the fun!”  Just when the sound would fade away, the sun would come up with a new day—“hey there, let’s get busy!” I found…

  • Made Things

    Constant, Like the Waves

               The ocean has always been an anchor of home for me—particularly along the Southern California coast.      I spent all of my growing up and teenage years near there and most of my best memories involve the sand, the sea and the surf.  There is a lot of life wrapped up in those waves.      However, we’ve lived in Seattle now for over 20 years and my visits to the beach are few and far between. The Washington and Oregon coast do not compare—the water is near frigid even on the hottest days; I can’t remember when I’ve ever ducked under a wave…

  • Made Things

    From My Journal #2–Getting Good Grades

    Nothing is FINALThere is always a new day, a new chanceNoting is FATALYou won’t die; this experience won’t kill youNothing is FUTILEEven if you’ve blown it, you can learn from this; God uses it all. Bottom line: We have to believe what Jesus says about us  instead of what we think of ourselves. ~~~~~~From my journal August 29, 2007.First ‘from my journal’ post is here.

  • Made Things

    When You Can’t see the Trees

    There’s a danger in going back to visit a place you’ve grown up in–a chance for your psyche to experience a bit of a jolt when what you remember doesn’t line up with reality.Actually, much of life is like that.My husband and I recently returned from an 8-day trip to California, the majority of the time in Southern California where I was born and raised, attended school and was married.We drove around the old haunts–the house my husband grew up in, the home I lived in when we had our first date (and he kissed me in his front seat while my sister stared out the window).Then we drove over…

  • Made Things,  Poetry


    We’ve been informed we are flying  at 29,000 feet (approximately) above the face of the Earth, suspended (how? by speed, lift and whatnot) like a moving planet jettisoned in a line moving at the speed of sound (light?). Refreshments are served, secured with invisible payments traveling via plastic and magnets swiped by staff standing still as we travel at 575 miles per hour (approximately). My snack appears and I’m handed my cup. Nary a drop spills as I glance at clouds rushing by like white airborne water, and I can’t help wonder at which is harder to believe, that people can walk on air or that Jesus walked on water.~~~~~ This is…

  • Made Things

    When You’re in it for the Long Haul

    July 14th is Bastille Day, the French National Day commemorating the beginning of the French Revolution in 1789. (I believe the folks mark the occasion with fireworks.)One hundred eighty four years later, in l973, my husband and I were married. There are still a few fireworks.That was forty-two years ago; by God’s grace alone (and my husband’s persistence and loyalty) we are still married. I wrote this poem in 2002 after a visit to ‘home’–Southern California–and realized home is where my husband is.  Yep, it’s true. Your smile, your arms, your lips. The anchors tethering  my wandering, wondering heart. There is a safety in our past landmarks of history reminding me…

  • Made Things

    Doors–A Metaphor

    Doors are like plans. . Sometimes people hold a door open for you when your hands (your life) are full.   You also use them to leave and head out into the world. Doors open/close, open/close–traffic comes and goes, we come and go in and out to find pasture. Sometimes they are closed for a reason (it’s just not time). Sometimes there is more than one choice. There’s really only one door that matters. ~~~~~~~