The Old Has Gone…

Many of you who have read this blog have noted my lament of late. I seemed to have lost Mary. Where she is, I don’t know. I’ve grieved this. I don’t know if this is one of those knowable stages of cross-cultural adaptation, and I’m spouting off...

Jesus, I love You

I have ten minutes to do a quick post. Life in France has been full. We’ve had lots of guests, with more on the way. (Note to self: next time we choose a mission field, choose Siberia. Not many guests scamper for a chance to visit missionaries there)....

Under the Carpet, Part One

Peter looked around, squinted, and looked again. No one. He hoped his hearing aid detected every patter of Mildred’s feet. He couldn’t risk getting caught. Not now. He slipped his right hand into his pocket and pulled it out. Funny how a flat, rough square of paper...

Pieces

Pieces of me break off and drop on the page one by one. Jesus, can You use my broken pieces? I want to embrace the breaking, the piece by piece chiseling, though the pounding hurts. Will I be there at the end of me? Will piece upon piece be whittled away so I’m...

Receive France as a Gift

After a week of feeling yucko, I finally dragged myself out of bed this morning and went for a run. The sun was shining as the honeysuckle scented my huff-and-puff journey. As usual, I prayed. And, thankfully, God spoke back. I shared my desire to be present here in...