321Nov 29, 2013
My son digs the bills out of his left pocket, spreading them flat on his thigh. He smiles–a small, delighted surrender, preparing for the giving. And somewhere long past—somewhere God can still see unfolding right with our present, a woman’s feet stir the dust as she walks purposefully toward Temple. Lightly, she walks across the […]
322Oct 18, 2013
Shine the light bright, just there. Tuesday night and we restlessly weave our way through the double doors, a slowly meandering people-river, a jumble of fabric and purses and shoes. We move patiently, craning our necks, and the sound of us ebbs and flows—the voices, the walking, the slide of our clothes. A security guard […]
323Sep 27, 2013
The truth is, our living is messy. It isn’t the carefully selected photos we share on Facebook. In the flurry of morning readying, I reach into the cabinet for a cereal bowl. A red-brown something has dried over the blue and purple flowers, and something tiny green and branching like a tree—something resembling a flattened […]
324Sep 13, 2013
On the bar in the kitchen, I find a scrap of paper she has forgotten. The blocked letters and lines and paragraphs seem too serious for her, too stark. Name: _______________________________ Title/Description for yourself (something you would naturally say to introduce yourself): _______________________________. Her handwriting softens the lines, beautiful, plain, easy. Riley. Peace. I lay […]
325Aug 30, 2013
“1,2,3…Okay, Mom—I’m going to count how many people signed my yearbook. Let’s see how many I have.” And she begins again, confident that she has my attention. “Let’s see, I have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…and here I have 9, 10, 11, 12,”she says, counting the ones who wrote words and the […]
326Aug 16, 2013
Sometimes my hurry seeps into the most precious places. Sometimes I carry it into eternal spaces, into my living resurrected, into holy things not made for hurry. Hurry is a temporal symptom. It is a physical distraction. Hurry is born of all that passes away. With a sigh, we lay our hands gently against our […]
327Aug 9, 2013
I bring my children home in the afternoon, as the sun beats hot on the pavement, and the one talks so quickly the words stick to each other as they pass through her lips. She has stories and I was like and then questions and what are we and then she fills in the space by […]
328Jul 26, 2013
Just as the morning becomes, we run together beneath the sun. A light breeze wraps our shoulders. I glance up at the sky—blue, the color rich like Morpho wings, with wisps of sea foam cloud. I stare hard, gasping. Day after day, the heavens pour forth speech. “They have no speech, they use no words; […]
329Jul 19, 2013
He sits in an arm chair with his small, tender hands pressed hard over his bottomless brown eyes, flaxen curls spiraling soft over his head. Three-years-old and his tone earnest, he counts, leading. 1…2…3… Adam kneels in front of him, bending his long, eleven-year-old legs, pressing his lengthening fingers against his own eyes. Adam’s voice […]
330Jul 12, 2013
I walk in the room and see Love: Tears leave slow trails on her cheeks and he leans over her, catching the drops with one finger. He slides his finger along her cheek bones, drawing wet crosses over the smooth, tender skin as she cries. She weeps quietly, the way she used to live. “I’ll […]