I was listening to the Mumford & Son’s song the other day Ghosts That We Knew and at one point I heard the line, “…you saw no fault no cracks in my heart, and you knelt beside my hope torn apart.” For some reason those words really touched me. They seemed to sum up in such a visually poignant way what we all want and need from the people closest to us; our partners and parents, our children and siblings, those we call our friends. We want to know that someone will look beyond our failings and still love us, will look past the cracks and still love us, will kneel beside our brokenness and still love us when we need them most.
I’m lucky to have my husband Doug beside me still as we celebrate 34 years of marriage this week and that is my Wednesday wish for you–that you know the joy and blessing of a love that is quiet and kind and constant.
See more (nearly) Wordless Wednesday here.



I took this photo when we were up north in July. I don’t remember what building it was on, and I don’t know what is behind it, I just liked the way the door looked painted red against a backdrop of crumbling, beige cement. And the truth is, I’d rather not know what’s behind it because not knowing allows me the opportunity to imagine whatever I want. Maybe there’s a trapeze school in the building, people soaring through the air, reaching out toward polished swinging bars, learning to let go and fly. Or maybe it’s the storage room for an antique carousel, a forgotten treasure of beautiful hand-painted prancing horses, leaping bunnies, and roaring tigers, waiting to be discovered and restored. Or perhaps it’s the world’s biggest ice cream parlor, a palace of stainless steel and white marble where colorful sprinkles and chocolate chips fall from the ceiling like rain into bowls overflowing with delicious, lactose-free ice-cream!
I strong-armed my son Andy and my daughter-in-law (actually, it was my son who needed the coaxing) to model for some iStock pics this weekend. Before we got started I offered to do some photos for them of Meagan’s growing tummy. So far, everything is going great with this pregnancy. When they first got pregnant again we were all so guarded, trying to push back our emotions, afraid that…well, just afraid. Some of Meagan’s friends, when trying to comfort her after she lost the first baby, told her that everything would be fine this time because they already had a heartbreaking event. And as we stumbled through the baby’s loss last year and my mom’s progressing illness and difficult death, we sometimes told each other the same thing. Sometimes. Most of the time we knew the truth. That pain and heartache know no boundaries. That they will come into every life, even when we think we least deserve them, even when we think we just can’t take any more. But we have also learned another truth. That hope is not just a word. It is a light that can lift you up off your knees and carry you into a tomorrow where broken hearts are slowly mended – where joy replaces fear.