The Sacredness of Things

I am driving home, down this long, languid stretch of interstate that seems to grow more miles every time I travel it. The asphalt lies in great curves, snaking up the side of the Green Mountains that divide my state down the middle, looking for a way through from west to east. It’s a long road,…

Beautiful Unknown

There are things that I want to say, but I haven’t yet learned how. There are things I want to talk about, write about, think about, that are still somehow strange to me, but that are important, so important, and I don’t know how to approach that. I want to tell you what I am…

Good-good-good

It is cold again, and suddenly overnight there is snow on snow on snow, the way I remember it from when I was small and our little blue house would get buried right up to its shiny tin eaves. We’d climb up the drifts and struggle to sit on the edge of the roof. We…

We are River

I close my eyes, and it’s like nothing and everything has changed. There, the warmth of the lights from the mirrors. There, the smell of hairspray and sweat and hours of hard work. There, the odd, dusty scent of lipstick, like my mother putting on her best dress for an evening out and little me…

January Thaw

Outside, it smells like spring. The January Thaw has arrived a few days early, and the road is slick, the forest dripping like the eaves over the kitchen window, the paddock growing muddy as the layers of snow melt in a slow progression. Bits of December’s hay and the icy cocoons where the sheep lay…

Turning Back

I entered graduate school. I stood on the brink of the far horizon, and I stared out into the wider unknown. Yet without Art, without the chance to work with my hands, without dance or wonder or sub-creation, I was stifled. Without space to create, I lost my voice. I turned back.

Back Between Horizons

Christmas break is nearing, and I am a week and a half away from finishing my first semester at graduate school. Well. To be more accurate, I am a week and a half away from finishing my only semester at this graduate school. I can’t make this pretty, wrap it up in bible verses and…

The Very Stones

[On Sunday, Becca and I traveled back to Holland to worship with the church we went to in college and to attend a C. S. Lewis reading group, populated by some of the dearest professors at Hope, which meets in the previous head of the English Department’s house. These people are the ones who filled us…

Blood is compulsory.

You now how they say in college you can only choose two of these three: sleep, good grades, and social life? Well, graduate school has three similar options, only the choosing among them is a bit different. To those of my readers who want to know how school is treating me: My roommate and I…

A Gal in Kalamazoo

I’m here. The summer is passing, the weather is cooling, and I am here in Kalamazoo, officially a Graduate Student at the Medieval Institute of Western Michigan University. It feels like very little has changed. And it feels like everything has been upended and turned out and flung wide and strewn far and nothing is…

Summer: Up to the Wrist

There are signs that the summer is ending. A few days ago, I was reminded sharply that in less than a month, I will be returning to Michigan and school, turning my back on these fields and forests and the silence of my land, my home, this middle-of-nowhere, just-shy-of-paradise scrap of the Green Mountains, and returning…

Stars

[I was asked last night why I find such enchantment among the stars. I couldn’t answer–that is a thing I have never tried to put to words before. I’ve tried to respond to the question here, in some small and unsatisfactory way. My faltering words cannot do the most beautiful work of God justice. Not by…