A Haines Home Companion: my town, my bones, my bloom

My carpet is sprinkled with hero guys, Obi Wan’s head not 1 foot from Spider Man’s arm. Our playroom smells a little like death. I’m not sure if a sippy cup died or if it’s some mammal.

Such is life. So we open the windows when we can.

The sky has been blue again. The Lenton season is under way. My addiction to coffee hasn’t waned one bit, but when I crave it, I ask to find satisfaction in the Trinity. I haven’t asked for this in a while, though I’ve sung songs at church exclaiming that He alone satisfies. I want it to be true. In me.

Yesterday I took my Haines Boys to the library. I’m enjoying this stage where they’ll walk with me and mostly obey. I don’t have to worry about  one of them picking up and chewing a piece of used bubble gum. We checked out every book we could hold. It’s a little reprieve before baby-time hits again in 21 weeks.

My baby within is a gentle one. I can tell. We know his name now, too, I think. I love him. Yesterday after the library we took my belly to the Little Bread Company because it’s never too soon to introduce a youngin to the best cinnamon rolls in the world.

My boys know the little shop as home because we go there so often. It’s the place in town where the rastafarian granola hipsters go, so I don’t worry about having to wash their faces or to make them look any more put together than we really are. Dread locks seem an invitation to comfort if you ask me.

I always see an old friend or two there. When I haven’t been out of the house in a while, I can feel the granny come out in me. The things that come out of my mouth! Ah well, my boys still seem to really love me.

At 5:00 this morning I woke and showered. Then I drove to Mama Carmen’s for the first intentional accountability time I’ve had in years. I drank tea instead of coffee, and the three of us talked Kingdom Come, and when I got back in my van I had to squint my eyes for the bright glare of the sun, and a tear seeped out that had been hovering there.

Spring is coming into my bones. The relief of blooming is on us.

photo credit #1; photo credit #2
About me


When You’re Not the Fixer
October 24, 2015
Wild in the Hollow Book Club: an Introductory video
August 28, 2015
How Right Living Was My Brokenness: a guest post from Kelly Smith
August 11, 2015
Marriage Letters: On Home
July 06, 2015
A Final Haines Home Companion: a Secret I’ve Kept
June 06, 2014
On Broken Parts in Regular Towns: Alabama, Arkansas, and Haiti
April 03, 2014
Rosie the Prophetess
March 06, 2014
To Love the Shape of Your Life
January 16, 2014
On Losing Place
September 05, 2013


Reply March 11, 2011

This made me happy. Like you're sharing a bit of spring, on a day when I need it bigtime. It's snowing like mad outside. But you make me believe the daffodils don't care, that they're packing up even now and heading north with their blooms, that I'll see them soon.

Lindsey Nobles
Reply March 11, 2011

The relief of blooming in on us...good news indeed.

Reply March 11, 2011

had to read the playroom paragraph to my twin sister. we had a great laugh. it describes my car more than my house right now....spring coming to your bones. yes. indeed. please.

Scott Carothers
Reply March 11, 2011

I love lil college town coffee shop places like that. They really make or break an area for me.

Reply March 11, 2011


Reply March 11, 2011

love that i get to hear your words in person then come & read them here, too.:)
seriously, the bagels at little bread are the best in the world.

Stacey Guyse Brednich
Reply March 11, 2011

I love this post. Love it. I am jealous of anyone that gets to sit with you over coffee/tea and chat. Jealous.

Reply March 11, 2011

yay! the air is so full of hope right now isn't it? Especially in the face of Lent and tragedy and suffering...the hope seems more important...

My son is a gentle one too, sleeping all through ultrasounds...but I wonder if this is just his rest period before the kung fu madness of being born and meeting two other boys. So, I'm not counting my chickens. Lucky you having a name! We're stumped. And double lucky you for cinnamon rolls. mmmm.

Reply March 12, 2011

tear hovering, relief blooming... i love these thoughts and words. i feel happy for you.

Reply March 12, 2011

long for such time, tho not at 5am. ;-)

Reply March 13, 2011

Beautiful. I consider myself an ambassador for slightly dirty face, unbrushed hair, self-dressed kids out in public. There should be more. They are kids.
Yay, for 5am groups. We call it stealing from the day, but we drink coffee, so I suppose that is cheating a bit. But that time changes my week and possibly the world.

Reply March 15, 2011

This is refreshing . . . and your blog is so fresh. Thank you!

Danelle Townsend
Reply March 20, 2011

Hi Amber,
I love your writing. It feels comfortable, comforting. . like I am sitting at a coffee shop (or tea shop!) :) and just talking to a friend that makes me smile and laugh, maybe even cry, at all the small that is really important and I never noticed. . . love to you! Your boys are beautiful to by the way.

Danelle Townsend
Reply March 20, 2011

that should be "too" not "to" in my last comment. . sorry. . . :)

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