The Journey

Birthday RibbonsPicture​Seven years ago, my little sister died very suddenly a week after her husband’s heart attack. We are a small family – just the two of us and our parents came as refugees in the 50’s. My sister and I were close – a kind of phone call every day...

By Mary McKSchmidt ​In the middle of another night, awakelistening to the endless chimes of the grandfather clock announcingfrom the living room downstairsthat another fifteen minutes of sleep are forever gone, consumed by a mind that refuses peace,...

By Dirk Hollebeek ​​I don’t consider myself much of a joiner but recently my wife and I joined a book club, my first but not hers. There are a lot of Reformed pastors and teachers in the group, and so, the first book selected was The Blood of the...

On a bench shielded from the afternoon sun by seven cottonwood trees, Mother and I watched the parade of boats, birds and people alongside Lake Macatawa for years. The only bench on the south side of the lake offering such protection from the afternoon sun, it was a...

Fifteen years ago, I hiked the state and national parks from the Indiana Dunes to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. I remember my delight at discovering this place of tranquility in Ludington State Park. I don't remember sitting on the bench. I was younger then....

It was Mother who suggested photographing her standing next to the saguaros while hiking the trails in the Rincon Mountains. Who would believe they can grow so tall?! Be so majestic? For the twenty-plus years Mother lived in Arizona, she introduced her many...

Sharing Multiplies the Joy Nearing the end of my summer morning walk along the shores of Little Traverse Bay, I came upon an SUV parked along the narrow road. One woman carefully picked her way along the narrow rocky beach. Another, leaning forward in what we have...

​In the autumn of 2012, I lost my dad, Rubin’s dad, and Lady, my parents’ dog and my best dog-friend ever. For the next two years, while mother remained in Arizona, I spent many months with her, often accompanied by Rubin.  For over twenty years I had visited my...

I looked for the wren singing from its perch on a nearby cactus, braved gale winds to photograph waves crashing over the harbor light, crawled along the earth’s floor to photograph wildflowers. When my shoulders are heavy with sadness, troubled with the weight of...

Geysers can be temperamental things. Sure, Old Faithful can be counted to erupt every 75 minutes or so, but when it was named, it was going off every hour almost to the minute. Its sisters are less predictable, and even though the visitor center posts windows of...

Last week, Mother and I braved winds howling over 20 miles per hour and a windchill of 31 degrees to visit Windmill Island on her 97th birthday. We walked out to the “Jane Tree Corner” to see the Jane Magnolia and the bench commemorating the life she shared with her...

Sculpench Sitting in our garden is a Philippine bench. Or is it a sculpture? It’s a bench. No, it’s a sculpture. It’s a sculpench. Spouse Julie was raised on Subic Bay, the Philippines. Her father, a Navy Captain, commanded the base. How this sculpted black bench with...