A reflection on a paradigm-shifting book about a God who dwells with humanity…

Silence allows this mysterious, preternatural God to be known and felt and heard in ways beyond language…

I wonder: how would I live life differently if I dressed each day in the robes of a priestess?

Weeping elephants and laughing rats. Trees who speak and flowers who remember. It is as if the children and the elders and the poets and the fairy tales were right all along. As if the whole world—bird, tree, bud, bee—is fantastically enchanted, if only we would look a little closer…

The other day it struck me: my baby is one of these vulnerable ones so close to the heart of God…

I wonder: what if I saw my home as a dwelling place of God?

Just this past January, my husband Dagi, almost-one-year-old son Jeremiah and I flew to Addis Abeba, Ethiopia, for the first time in over three years…

A pause for gratitude, as “Grace-Glimpses” comes to an end…

For days now, clouds have snuffed the sun…

Today, for the first time, I looked at a sprig of squill up close, in my palm…

Now I am on the lookout for these little gestures, divine grace embodied in a flutter of soon-forgotten motion…

There’s nothing like it…

After watching The Wings of Desire, I wondered what it would be like to experience embodiment for the first time…

This morning I found myself at the post office with my wildly energetic one-year-old and two parcels to post…

There’s plenty of quiet really, if you know where to look…

For weeks, we had no salt…

There’s a square of light that falls on the floor on sunny winter afternoons…

After you tried to make me laugh, and I stifled my smile; after you asked me about my day, and I left your question cold on the table; after you pressed your palms onto my hips, and I shrugged away…

Held in divine radiance, even the dust mites glitter…

Here we are again. Another Tuesday morning with the kitchen sink stacked and the to-do list spinning. Sometimes the hardest part about life is its dailyness…