Lisa Michelle Hess

A friend mentioned being mindful of all the great art, movies, books made around our most recent turn of the century—and making sure your kids don’t miss them. Which reminded me of two nights ago, when my husband and I introduced Chariots of Fire to my two young adult sons. They’ve loved Vangelis’ music all their lives, so it was fun to see their faces light up at those (now anachronistic) opening credits. I have a REALLY soft spot in my heart for Chariots of Fire, for a numb

You say Knowing me is wistful Fleeting The last, three-minute glow of an autumn sunset. I’m here I give it all to you Tangled To be sure, but all I have ever felt or will. My loves, Hates, tragedies, triumphs, Hopes, dreams, Everything I’ve known and want is here in your hands. Read me. #WorthofaWord #novelist #poetryaboutwriting #writing

The world deadens them. Or winds them up. They come in with eyes scared… Anxious Sad Combative Cold Unable to focus Can you help me find what I’m looking for? My grandfather Mother Sister Best friend… Said I should. Recommended. Loved it. I need it… To move from one sort of life to another. To help my business, my child, my friend. To give me peace, rest, assurance. To escape. Rarely, sadly, what they want is not the kind of thing I offer. Mostly, they take the news stoically

(A Fall TBT, originally published in 2012) We can get bogged down in the what-ifs, yet here in the Intermountain West, Fall has come anyway. The stifling haze from fires that ringed our valley all summer long has given way to the alpine lake blue of a cloudless autumn sky. Cold nights and warm days have left us canopied and covered in stained-glass colors. The long shadows mean rest for the land, and invite us to stop and savor the moment as well. I don’t pretend to know what

The Sixties I am born in 1966 to white, professional parents and raised in a predominantly white neighborhood, in a predominantly white community, in a predominantly white Pacific Northwest city in what my two teacher parents only half-jokingly term “genteel poverty.” In the present, I have to think back and picture the few friends from my childhood to remember which ones (two, I think) weren’t white—it’s not the first thing I think of when I think of them. The Seventies I’m

There are ministries and needs we encounter every day that desperately need support, and lately I’ve had many friends who were actually feeling despair about this. As the Apostle Paul would say, “May it never be!” Friends, these are just opportunities, and like every opportunity that comes your way in a day, saying no to many of them doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t make you part of the problem and not the solution. At the same time, saying yes to the right opportuni

“And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint…” ~ The Apostle Paul The exchange below, which takes place between two authors I recently interviewed for one of my other blogs, first made me laugh, and then got me simmering about how much we humans tend to think we’d prefer the fantasy over the reality. “Peter: After the c

Woman, why are you weeping?” the angel said to Mary. As if that empty tomb should have been a comfort. “Whom are you seeking?” Jesus asked her. There are days that God speaks so loudly and dramatically that no one on earth can ignore it. They can try to bomb it, mock it, reject it—but not ignore it.Then there are the other days, the after days, the “blessed are those who have not seen me,” days, the “take up your cross and follow me,” days. Wouldn’t you know it, my friend, th

It’s close to midnight and I wake for a few minutes, like I always do. I listen to you enact a bedtime routine you’ve had since childhood. One last whoop or laugh or brotherly punch, switch off the screens and close the books, shower, glass of ice water, call your respective dogs to bed… I imagine you, your eyes heavy, exchanging real life hopes and pursuits for a dream-world filled with adventure, flight, super-heroics that most often end in salvation but sometimes, fright

I know God answers prayer. He’s answered mine, at times in dramatic ways, perhaps to let me know He’s actually listening. God moves my heart and my life in directions every day, and as I look back, I can see where. But I’ve heard him actually speak to me three times in my life, twice in my head, once out loud. I don’t talk about it a lot – no one wants to be accused of hearing voices. But when you get really honest with another believer of any years, you find we’ve almost all