The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. Psalm 16:6

Monday, January 25, 2010

Multitude Monday

holy experience

"O that my every breath might be ecstatic praise, my every step buoyant with delight..."
from The Valley of Vision

I am learning how differently the world looks through eyes of praise. The Father of lights gives such good gifts, O that I would always have the eyes to see...

(66) That first break of light after the rain - dazzling!

(67) a silver wisp of moon

(68) "A rainbow! A rainbow!"

(69) mist in the mountains

(70) little boys and puddles and the necessary convergence of the two

(71) early morning phone calls from friends in different time zones :-)

(72) loving away the tears

(73) snow capped peaks

(74) tender toddler caresses

(75) "derfday" parties

(76) afternoon light through the shades

(77) 13 years of one flesh

(78) the creativity of the Creator

Sunday, January 24, 2010


I distinctly remember the day I found out you were coming, amid packed boxes, closing documents, and moving trucks. The dichotomy of emotions - sorrow to leave, joy that you were coming. That summer was difficult as we traveled across the country, like hermits, and we lived without your daddy for weeks at a time. I was tired and sick and anxious about our future.

When fall came we settled in Los Angeles. I slowly unpacked the boxes and smiled when I came across the things for you: crib bumpers, mobiles, and tiny little onesies. I set them aside lovingly to wait for your arrival.

And then, before we knew it, it was time for you to join us. We arrived at the hospital and nine hours later you were born. You came in screaming.

We took you home and you became the prince-ling of the Hoyer home. Four older sibling to love you, hold you, kiss you, smile at you. Life was good.

Not that you were always happy. Sometimes all that attention was downright annoying.

But for the most part you handled it well.

We learned of your penchant for escaping, and acted accordingly, from purchasing a crib tent to burying you at the beach.

You grew into a boy defined by his curly, surfer-dude hair. I cried the day it was cut. It was just

So now you are a talking three year old, lover of Thomas the Tank Engine, painting, Play-Doh, lollipops, and sausage. I adore you. I can't imagine life without you. I am so thankful that God knit you together in me. What a blessing, little boy. Happy birthday.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Why Poetry Matters Today

Glynn over at Faith, Fiction, Friends is sponsoring a wee little contest. As a closet poet, I thought I'd take a crack at giving answer to "Why poetry matters today."

Rooted in our shared human experience

In this created space, articulated into being

By holy Words,

Are the empty arms of childless Mothers,

Falling buildings, rising suns,

Hummingbirds and hammered nails,

Corpses lying under rubble,

Dreams realized

and dashed,

Sunsets and mine fields and eyelashes,

Despair, elation , hope, cowardice.

And when human emotions stretch within these fleshy skins

And surge past the walls that we, in our fragility, cobbled together to enclose them,

The animal which escapes its cage is Poetry.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Multitude Monday

holy experience

My list continues...

(55) Little boys tucked in at the piano, without even having to pull out the bench.

(56) The musky smell of the garden rosemary after a rain.

(57) Eleven heads of lettuce in my garden (the dog didn't eat everything!)

(58) Sweet toddler voice singing himself to sleep.

(59) "When I grown up I want to live next to Kurt so I can visit him all the time." Gabriel (6)

(60) "I'm a yittle boy and Gabe's a yittle boy and you're a big boy." Kurt (2) to me

(61) A little mistake in copying that made this Mama smile: "O, give tanks to the Lord, for He is good." Gabriel (6)

(62) Again Gabriel, "My carcass hurts." O, I laughed so hard my sides nearly split. We came to the conclusion that he meant his ribcage.

(63) The Word of God which directs, soothes, and rights the course.

(64) Desperately needed rain.

(65) The sweet, heartfelt prayers of children for those who need them in Haiti.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Man's Hands

We stand in a circle, a jumble of humans clutching one another. It’s New Year’s Eve and we are ushering in the New Year with a collective prayer – that we would love Him more, grown in faith and obedience, and that all these little ones, fourteen between our two families, would come to know His saving grace.

I stand and hold, perhaps it’s more like catch, the sweaty palm of one overtired two year old in my right hand, and grab, unseen, the outstretched hand to my left. It is wide and strong, and my smaller hand settles into it comfortably. I know this hand – it has been my steady companion all these years. We have grown together, as we settled into family life. It has been found many times in this same place, during joyful times and disappointing times, as means of encouragement and rebuke.

I wish I could say that I have always treated the hand’s owner with tenderness and affection. But I have not. I wish I could say I have prayed for him as much as I should. But I haven not. I wish I could say I have always put his needs above my own. But I have not. Most definitely not.

As I stand, head bowed, in these last few hours of a waning year, I am saturated with thankfulness to the One who knit together this hand and mine, the One who called us both into His family, the One who, in His sovereignty, gave us to one another. He is the Giver of all good gifts, and I am in awe that these hands were made in His perfect image. For, despite my inadequacies, He continues to grow us, nurture us, breathe life and joy and peace into us. He satiates us with His living waters, and we grow to be more like Him.

And as I add my contemplative "amen" to the cacophony, I give that man-hand an extra squeeze, some extra love shared through fingertips. And Nicholas squeezes back. And we smile. My boy.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

how to eat a cupcake - a tutorial

first, see how wide your mouth will open

next, look pensive while you try not to gag

slowly chew while trying very hard not to let crumbs fall out of your mouth

give a pained expression while you swallow that last little bit

ah, success

by kurt hoyer