Eyes downcast, Jamé exhales slowly. Pain flickers across her countenance.  It's ten  in the morning, and she's been laboring steadily for three hours. Never is a woman more vulnerable--  or more powerful -- than she is during childbirth. Sam kisses her forehead, laces his fingers through hers, murmurs encouragement. Never does a man feel more helpless than when his beloved gives birth -- and never is he more helpful, simply by being at her side. It's the being, not the doing. The power of presence. This is his gift to her. The two are becoming three, another holy family Continue Reading

In the quiet of early morning, two weeks before Christmas, I'm sitting in my office reflecting on the season. The dark wood of an empty crib gleams in the flickering light of a single candle. We're expecting two new grandchildren -- one any day now, the other next month. The crib is for nap times at Nana's house. But right now, looking at that crib,  I'm not thinking about little Zaccai or Helaina. I'm thinking about a baby born two thousand years ago. I consider how small Jesus made himself for our sakes. The one for whom and by whom and through whom all things were made allowed Continue Reading

I pull my robe around me against the chill, tug the window shade up to let in the morning sun -- and gasp wide-eyed at the scene before me. As a native of the California coast, it wasn't until I moved to Hamilton, Montana that I experienced waking up to the first snowfall of the season. Sure, I'd driven "to the snow" before, but this was different. The snow came to me. It had settled quietly in the night, blanketing the world in pristine white. Gangly dried weeds turned to intricate sculptures. The abandoned, burned out shack next door magically morphed into a charming Continue Reading