So … my name is not really Ferrell McClanahan. I made that up. It is a combination of my grandmother’s last names. I haven’t shared my real name for a couple reasons. First – protection, for myself and my daughter. We are the survivors of an all out, no holds barred, gloves off, two year […]Read Post ›
Holiness comes wrapped in the ordinary
Inspiration to allow God to be limitless in our lives.
There was a time I asked, “Will you tend the garden … the garden of your wife’s heart, the garden of your daughter’s heart?” One of many attempts to encourage the tender watering of our soul lives. I had heard somewhere that men respond to metaphors. As he stood there watching me plant spring flowers, […]Read Post ›
I am standing in the kitchen listening to the sweet humming of my daughter. She is sitting just outside, playing. It stops me in my tracks. There was a time when the singing was silenced by an immobilizing kind of sorrow. I want to bottle this up and pour it out over the tough and […]Read Post ›
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Rumi I have a confession to make. I’ve been visiting hell for the last decade or so. Sometimes I had traveling companions. I and […]Read Post ›
A Year in the Blue House 