Christine Berghoef's Blog

(This post was originally published in the Reformed Journal) I’m just coming off the most challenging few years of my life, and I continue to grow and be stretched and learn so much along the way. This post gets personal, … Continue reading →

She glided down swiftly into the grass on her delicate wings so intricately threaded together in her cocoon. Beside me she landed. Her proboscis relaxed and rolled up tight a few times. We looked each other in the eye for … Continue reading →

Four acres of Poppies and Bachelor’s Buttons are tucked in beside the cemetery, in Fennville, Michigan. Four acres of unadulterated goodness springing up from the earth, twisted roots clinging to the soil, drawing up nutrients through the stems. This field- … Continue reading →

In the midst of the very hard parts of social distancing, this weekend I found myself thanking God that we at least get to stay close to the trees. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I would do if I … Continue reading →

changeless and calm deep mystery ever more deeply rooted in thee

Some people pray bedside on their knees. Some pray from the pew with head bowed and hands folded. Some pray bent over at the foot of a cross and others shout to the heavens with arms outstretched. I mostly pray … Continue reading →

Sometimes the fog holds a certain darkish murk in its clammy clutches. Even so, I am drawn to wandering away from the warmth of the home and into the thick of it. Cutting a trail of light through the darkness … Continue reading →

  Lake Michigan takes what it wants. She reaches into the woods and claws at the sand until whole trees slide down the dunes, are gnawed to palpable bits by the chugging and churning of waves and swallowed up by … Continue reading →

I went for a walk in a light fog this October morning. I needed to. Sucked the cool air into my lungs. Took the silence into my skin. Wove the damp into my hair. Stood out there on the fields … Continue reading →

Sometimes, when the things of this world feel sad and weighty and the very skin of the earth seems stretched and sagging and thin and tired and brittle and bustling with more unkind activity than it was ever designed to … Continue reading →