Author: Kristen

Campfire Saturday

The Silent Summer

One time, I drove past an orchard that was being cut down. The trees were in the full-blush of spring bloom. Covered in a glorious snow of pale-pink blossoms. Full of beauty and life and the potential for a fruitful year. But they had all been cut down. They lay on their sides, in full bloom, dead. All of a sudden, I find myself feeling like that orchard.

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Boy Quotes

Chopping Ice Burgs

Sweet Boy#3–“Don’t touch my toe. It’s hurt.”

Epona the Camp Intern–“I would never touch your toe, hurt or not.”

Sweet Boy#3–“Would you touch Jesus’ toe?”

Epona–“Only if He told me I needed to.”

Sweet Boy#3–“What if touching Jesus’ toe gave you wings?”

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poetry

Empty Bug Jars

I found my box of empty jars, from when my boys were young.
A brush of dust, a ream of rust. I sighed; my heart unstrung.

Stacked all helter-skelter, with holes poked in the lids.
Home to centipedes, pill bugs, and singing katydids.

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