What Does Your Soul Need for Christmas? (or preparing for a contemplative holiday season with questions)

November 25, 2019 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 1 Comment

Before I get lost in the to-do list. Before I jot down lists of presents to buy. Before I stock my pantry in anticipation of Christmas baking. Before I get out ornaments and lights. I need to take a breath. I need to take another breath. I need to pull out my journal and sit … Continue reading What Does Your Soul Need for Christmas? (or preparing for a contemplative holiday season with questions)

Glory. Glory. And Gone.

September 4, 2019 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 7 Comments

An ache lodges in my chest late summer. I long to drink in the blueness of the sky and treasure each cumulus cloud drifting overhead. I want to absorb all of the sunlit warmth my body can hold. I want to hold on to the cricket songs and bird melodies, the cicada's thrum. I don't … Continue reading Glory. Glory. And Gone.

Rejoicing in Sprouts

April 12, 2017April 24, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ Leave a comment

Sprouts! I've spotted two so far. Tiny tomato sprouts from seeds that I planted 8 days ago. Seeds that are a few years old because last year I had a tomato tragedy and my plants weren't able to produce fruit. I've been checking for signs of life a few times a day since I planted … Continue reading Rejoicing in Sprouts

The Question that’s Saving my Christmas

December 22, 2016April 28, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 1 Comment

I’ve had a tenuous relationship with Christmas the last few years. Christmas has seriously stressed me out. It’s not just all of the extra and expectations that go into the month of December; although, these also play a role in holiday stress. But navigating Christmas with faith-shifting questions is hard. Christmas has a way of … Continue reading The Question that’s Saving my Christmas

March: A Poem in Words and Pictures

March 24, 2016April 24, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ Leave a comment

March-- is bird-song melodies coaxing the earth to life again is the maple's red buds and the willow's tufts of white is the beauty of a robin perched and still in swirling snow is living in the tension of new and not yet.

November

December 3, 2015April 25, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 1 Comment

With a sigh, I erased November from the whiteboard calendar yesterday. I like November. I like its rich barrenness. I like November's stark beauty: dried grasses studded with seed pods; trees unveiled and silhouetted against an early red sky. I like the chutzpah of pink and white cosmos stubbornly blooming until almost Thanksgiving. Next year, … Continue reading November

A Gentle Reminder

May 28, 2015April 25, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 1 Comment

Sometimes I get excited about really small things. Like seeds. Especially these seeds. These are seeds that I saved from a tomato that grew in my garden last summer. The fall before, I drove out to Milwaukee to visit my Opa in hospice. During that visit, in one of our last conversations, my Opa told me … Continue reading A Gentle Reminder

A Baptist Discovers Lent

March 3, 2015April 28, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ 2 Comments

I am grateful to be writing for At River's Edge this week. Here is a peek: Growing up as a girl born Baptist, Easter was something that we celebrated with triumphant music, Easter-egg hunts, and ham. We were excited for Easter, but Easter always caught me by surprise. Maybe it snuck up on me because I … Continue reading A Baptist Discovers Lent

Holy in the Silent Night

December 24, 2014April 27, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ Leave a comment

Silent Night Holy Night gets drowned out in presents and preparations, wrapping, cooking, shopping, family, family, and more family (whom I love dearly!). The way we celebrate Christmas seems to be a how-to-primer on how to miss Heaven on earth. We walk right by-- wearied and noise-worn, or excited, oversaturated, and overstimulated. Today, I want … Continue reading Holy in the Silent Night

Re-Created

September 8, 2014April 28, 2018 ~ Jessica Sanborn ~ Leave a comment

I. The caterpillar is beautiful in its own right: vivid green, yellow, and black. Is it comfortable in its own skin as it congregates in the sunlight, consuming what is left of the garden's dill? Or is it aware of the change growing inside? The caterpillar is just who it is meant to be . … Continue reading Re-Created