Don’t know what gave me the idea, but amid grad school and piano students and my own elementary classroom, a couple of years ago I decided to add “doughnut chef” to my list of weekly duties.

I don’t think I was yet in kindergarten when my brother told me that he was going to fold me up like a towel. Actually fold me up. In my pre-operational stage of cognitive development, I kept trying and trying to wrap my mind around how he could do that to my body and what it would feel like to be folded into halves and thirds and put under the bathroom sink. I fully believed he was capable of human towel origami. 

I could say a lot here. I could talk about 60+ people coming through our home in one week in October of 2020, many of whom took a turn behind a microphone to record their lines. I could talk about treks to Shelbyville to help listen in to the editing process, and mostly work on stuff while Bobby did the real work. I could mention fall breaks spent working on this and weeks in summers that Bobby and Morganne Pickett gave to this project and endless text threads and phone conversations. I could mention staying a week at Bobby and Morganne’s while Erik Samborski and Bobby Pickett mixed and mixed and mixed some more. And I sat in the room and studied for state licensure exams and provided a tertiary opinion when asked for one.

“I'm currently thinking/wondering if the questions we ask may be one of the most important things we do as learners and as teachers…” Let that one soak for a minute. This runs completely countercultural to everything we think about in terms of education, theology, our way of being and doing.

Right here in these short days and long nights before the celebration of Christ’s incarnation, His coming to dwell with us, right here I want to offer you some peace.

These long nights can feel anything but silent.

Tonight is the longest night of 2021 and maybe you need something to help bring that stillness and silence and solace that only comes with the sense of His abiding presence.

Rule was, any book in my father’s study was fair game. Any of us six kids could go in at any time and choose any book off of any shelf and read it. I don’t remember when I joined the ranks of older siblings as a patron of my father’s library, I don’t remember the time when my ritual of slowly walking around his room began, carefully reading authors and titles, slowly selecting the books, feeling them in my hand, reading the blurbs,

Sometimes that preserving and holding close and keeping is painful as He pulls us away from what we love the most. Let us not forget Who is preserving us, and that He preserves us for Himself.

Not sure what gave us the inspiration, but over a decade ago Oldest Brother and I decided we’d walk to church everyday instead of drive his car. Save us on gas, we thought.

So early every morning found two walkers, backpacks strapped on, making our way along sidewalks and grassy areas and across a four-lane highway, covering the mile-and-a-half distance in as short amount of time as possible. He made his backpack heavier than mine as he was trying to train for a hike on a missionary trip in Haiti. We were rather proud of ourselves when we got our morning walk down to nineteen minutes.

I got a message today from a listener saying that her husband was making breakfast this morning as he listened to my newest album These Saints. And he shed some tears over the omelette. In fact I’ve received quite a bit of feedback over the last week since the release of These Saints. And (almost) without fail, y’all are telling me that you’re crying. So glad someone has joined me in sheding these tears.