Visiting Ann Voskamp

(Welcome to readers hopping over from Ann Voskamp’s A Holy Experience blog!)

Ann and I knew each other via the Twitterverse and Planet Instagram and were each other’s big fans. (Ann has generously shared my books with children in Guatemala, in Africa, in other underserved areas of the world, working alongside Compassion International and returning with beautiful stories.) Finally, after trying to meet several times and places, we met in Canada.

Ann said, “If you want to come and see me at the farm…” so of course I didn’t even let her finish her sentence.

I leaped at the chance of such an adventure and last November I flew to Toronto, rented a car and drove through mennonite country.

the view out of my car as I drove to Ann's farm

fellow commuters on the road as drove to Ann’s farm

I drove a few hours, turned up a dirt road, counted the telephone polls, turned left at the 3rd and arrived at Ann Voskamp’s farm. I was welcomed by all the family and a delicious dinner around the farm table.

in the morning, looking out from Ann's porch

in the morning, looking out from Ann’s porch

And then Ann and I sat and talked and talked. The farmer went to bed. And Ann and I talked and talked. Almost until the sun came up. (Well, actually, until the farmer got up again to farm in the early hours!)

me and Ann's youngest daughter -- and a tiny piglet (we think might be Wilbur) on the morning I left

me and Ann’s youngest daughter and a tiny piglet (we think he might be Wilbur) the morning I left

What a gift that time with Ann was. And the best gift? The friendship that was born. (We are both scheming to get me back at the farm again! I would love it.)

from a run I took in nearby Mennonite country

from a run I took in nearby Mennonite country

another from my run -- the sense was that they were prepping for winter...

another from my run — everywhere everyone was prepping for winter…

I’m a guest over on Ann’s blog today (thank you Ann!), sharing some of the inspiration behind my new book, Bunny’s First Spring.

I was walking through the canyons of New York City in what seemed like an endless winter when I looked down. A tiny, impossibly green shoot was pushing its way up through the hard, icy ground. And with it the words of Martin Luther broke through:

“Our Lord has written resurrection not in books alone—but in every leaf in springtime.”

And I had found my Easter Story. It’s called: BUNNY’S FIRST SPRING.

That tiny green shoot preached to me that morning. About hope. About joy. And about vulnerability—which isn’t weakness, but true strength…


Please join us at A Holy Experience to read more {here}.


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