Friday, March 28, 2008


When she was in her fifties, Elizabeth Prentiss learned that her husband would be taking a new pastorate in Chicago.  The move from New York meant leaving all their friends and familiar things.  In a letter to a friend, she wrote:
We want to know no will but God's in this question. . . .  The experience of the past winter would impress upon me the fact that place and position have next to nothing to do with happiness; that we can be wretched in a palace, radiant in a dungeon. . . .  Perhaps this heartbreaking is exactly what we need to remind us. . . that we are pilgrims and strangers on the earth."

Sunday, March 23, 2008


Hallelujah!  Christ is risen!
Hallelujah!  He is risen, indeed!

Every year we make a "tomb cake":  it is angel food cake baked in a metal mixing bowl, and the stone for the doorway is baked in the smallest-sized mixing bowl.  Then the kids decorate it anyway they want.  We make strawberry short cake out of it for Easter dessert.