331Aug 10, 2012
In the worst moments, our Riley drifts away from us. She wanders somewhere deep and lonely, somewhere we can’t follow. It happens gradually, the going, the pulling away—a lost look in her eyes, the slow way she moves, the quiet we can feel. We reach for her, calling her name, and she murmurs, trying […]
332Jul 27, 2012
Adam has a crush on a beautiful little girl—the fine-boned, blue-eyed daughter of one of my best friends. They arrived at the beach on a Wednesday afternoon, and we stood on the front porch to receive them, wrapped in the thick heat and humidity of the island. The screen door snapped shut against the frame, […]
333Jul 13, 2012
Five o’clock on the beach, and the light falls soft and golden on our shoulders. It doesn’t escape me that on normal days, this hour finds me weary and pushing through, juggling homework and dinner and a thousand other things, counting the moments until I can sit down. Usually around five I can feel the […]
334Jun 29, 2012
Tuesday morning, I run into the newborn sun, gold and yet untarnished. I wake early, get out while the breeze rushes cool. I think of Riley, breathing my heart to God, whispering thanks. 5th grade graduation happens today, but I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I know, it seems silly to feel so much […]
335Jun 15, 2012
Morning quiet, the day all new, and as Kevin and I sit eating breakfast in small savored bites, sipping coffee hot and steaming, Adam comes, carrying his notebook. He lays it out purposefully on the table next to Kevin’s place, spreading flat the pages of favorite finished worksheets, pressing his finger into the paper, pointing […]
336Apr 27, 2012
Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, 15 I will remember my covenant between me and you…(Genesis 9:14,15). Twelve years old, and she asks for rainbows for her birthday. My rainbow, this reminder that God is faithful; this beauty—a whole spectrum of color, Light bent through rain until we see […]
337Apr 6, 2012
Today, Adam walks inside smelling of grass, his sharp, blue eyes fastened on me, his stride purposeful. “Hi,” I say, wondering. Is this the day for one of his (His) surprises? “Hi, Mommy,” He says, waving one hand a little. Then he bends down and kisses me. And I am blown, like the withered petals […]
338Mar 16, 2012
It’s as though every day is the first time I’ve met God, the first time I’ve loved Him. I wake up and I can’t remember who I am, or that I’m abundantly blessed. I feel trapped in the weary, aware of the walls that surround me, boxed in and dull. And then He shows me […]
339Mar 9, 2012
I know how you feel. Days come when I wake up and think, I don’t want to do this. I feel like the husk of a woman, emptied. I am clay, a bowl dusty from the kiln, all scooped out by the master’s hand and cooling in the ashes. With His fingers He has crumbled and […]
340Mar 2, 2012
Sometimes, I’m thankful for autism. On days like Tuesday, when Riley jumps in the van and puts her fingers on my shoulder, waiting. When I look back at her and she smiles, words tumbling out, words like these, words that cut me sharp but leave her pristine: “Mom, today someone said a bad word at […]