Knock. Knock.

Knock. Knock. Knockknockknockknockknockknock!

Over the past couple of weeks, Sally's abnoxious knock has actually softened. I quickly walk around to open our back door to the familiar face of my neighbor.

"HEY nayber! Just to let you know your spigot's got a leak. Tried shuttin it off but it won't stick. Your landlord's gonna be payin' plus there's plenty of ice too. Say, it don't bother me but I just thought I'd tell ya."

"Come on in!" shouts Rachel from the kitchen. I realize the door's standing wide open and Sally may as well come in before too much cold air does. Sally obliges. Rachel happens to be sticking a tray of

An Unfamiliar, Scary Place

GUEST BLOG by Rachel McClenahan

Because a snowstorm was predicted overnight, I jumped out of bed on Friday morning to see how much snowfall had accumulated.  With just a dusting on the cars in the neighborhood, I got dressed and headed out the door.  Today, a foster care worker and I were driving to Detroit and I would meet the 11-year-old boy whom I was assigned as an adoption worker.

Ethan* is the only child on my caseload who does not reside in a foster/pre-adoptive home.  He is currently in a residential home, or a children’s home staffed by caseworkers and therapists, and today he would be going to a new residential home.  He had run away and threatened staff/other children so often that he needed more supervision and care.  The new home will be his fifth placement since coming into foster care over a year ago.

After a two hour drive, we arrived to where Ethan was residing.  Fifteen minutes later his therapist brought him to where we were waiting and the foster care worker introduced me as his new adoption

I Am My Tracks

Snowshoeing is new to me. I got some for Christmas but this last week is the first time there's been enough snow for me to get out there and stomp around. Yesterday the clouds pulled back, revealing a bright sun glistening and sparkling from the soft pillow of snow covering the whole forest. My new snowshoes were strapped on, pushing through the white and spraying my dark jeans with frosty powder. With snowshoes, it's much more fun to walk through the deepest snow.

I found faded footprints leading up a hidden trail and followed them way back into the woods, toward Lake Michigan. The trail split and headed down into a ravine, where a wooden fence stood guard as I walked around it. The footprints were smaller now, but I was determined to reach the lake. Branches heavy with snow hung over my path. Fallen trees made a jungle gym through which I clumsily maneuvered, my feet framed by snowshoes. Wind blew the treetops above, from which fell big clumps of snow all around. I was

Snow Blower or Footprints. Whichever.

With a steel-tipped shovel I scrape the pavement behind my parked car. It's early in the morning and probably in the single digits fahrenheit. Beneath my coat and fleece, I'm sweating and enjoying the hard work; it reminds me that I have muscle for a reason. In fact, my shoulders and chest are still tight from yesterday's shoveling. But it snowed again last night - four inches. My task this morning is to shovel the fresh snow out of the way, so our heavy cars won't pack it down into ice, bonding a slippery path to our uphill driveway.

I shovel hard, but despite my persistence, icy tire tracks still cling to the pavement. I know they need to be removed, but I've been out here for almost an hour. My shoulders, chest, and hands are getting sore and my face is becoming numb from the cold. I push the majority of the loose snow off to the

Getting Colder

speckled forest

Not Microscopic (visible!)

I pulled up onto the driveway today, all the way until our back lawn starts. I turned off the car, was about to get out, but was frozen by the snowflakes on my window. One by one, they landed lightly on the cold window without melting. My eyes strained as I focused on their tiny detail.

I always knew snowflakes were unique, that each had a pattern. But until today I thought the

Leaving the Trail

I've run, hiked and photographed the woods at Hofma preserve enough to know its trails like a good friend. But I discovered a small trail I had not seen before and decided to make it the direction of today's run. Marked by trampled leaves, the cold trail wove between slender and bare trees through a hole in a fence and quickly merged into a wider double trail, the kind made by tire tracks. Pine forests lined either side of the sandy, needled floor and I turned left, off the trail and into the thick of the trees. I criss-crossed two trails and took one of them. Pine needles turned to sand, which turned to deep leaves, under which lay sticks, ready to twist underfoot and snap me in the shin. Before long,

Make Up Rules

"I'm probably gonna fall"
"Maybe just put your hand on my shoulder and I'll walk with you"
"Okay," Anthony stepped his right sneaker up onto the skateboard and put his small glove on the top of  my shoulder.
"Ready? Go."

After cleaning up from lunch, Rachel and I plopped down on the couch and continued our

Wise Words are Few Words

Listen to your neighbors
In listening we invite
By listening we love

Thoughts Setting Like A Sun

I swing the door open with my foot and sidestep out in the cold. One hand* carries a chair from our dining table and the other clutches a thick book full of thoughts and ideas begging to be explored. I am tired of being inside all the time. I want to breathe fresh air and feel some breeze, however cold it is. I want to feel sun on my face, even if most of its heat is going other places on the planet (like, say, San Diego). It's pretty much sunset time, although this time of year it's hard to tell just when that begins.

I draw up the chair to the south edge of the porch, plop down, and wrap my neck in a long scarf. Snow covers the grass in patches, and the sun is dripping down through the bare branches above the

Holy Pajamas

Rachel and I slept in today, taking advantage of the fact that I no longer lead worship for a church. It's been a nice change of rhythm for us to drive together to our gathering as a church family. Sundays have become so much more relaxing and restful!

No alarm woke me up. I crept downstairs with my book*, turned on a lamp, laid back into the couch and began to read** as the snow fell gently outside. As I read about ministry and gifting, I reflected on some of the ways God has called my friends and me uniquely. Rachel came downstairs in her pajamas to say hi, about two hours after I woke. We realized we only had about fifteen minutes to

Winter Has Begun

a fork in the road

Can I Call It Home Yet?

We've "come home" to Grand Haven for the first time, back from our visit to California.

There's something dreamlike about visiting what used to be your home. It's like when you take an unfamiliar winding road and come upon the backside of a familiar building. "This leads to here?"

I'm not used to flying into San Diego with fresh suitcases. I am surprised by which friends stick around and make a plan to see me while I'm there. I'm not ready for such long goodbyes from my

Celebrating the Year

We ran out into the cold, hugged our parents, siblings and best friends, and jumped into our freshly and colorfully decorated get-away car, making sure Rachel's wedding dress was tucked in before shutting the door. As we began driving across the icy pavement, our friends ran alongside the car cheering. In all of the excitement, one groomsman (I won't mention his name*) slipped in front of the headlights, tearing a hole in the rental tux and barely evading an accident! We waved goodbye and we were on our way to downtown Grand Rapids for the night. In the low light of the dashboard we looked at each other, smiling and laughing. What a beautiful day, what a beautiful time in our story. 

Today Rachel and I are in downtown Grand Rapids once again, not only to celebrate 2013, but to