351Jun 29, 2012
Tuesday morning, I run into the newborn sun, gold and yet untarnished. I wake early, get out while the breeze rushes cool. Â I think of Riley, breathing my heart to God, whispering thanks. Â 5th grade graduation happens today, but I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Â I know, it seems silly to feel so much […]
352Jun 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 […]
353Apr 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 […]
354Apr 6, 2012
Today, Adam walks inside smelling of grass, his sharp, blue eyes fastened on me, his stride purposeful. “Hi,” I say, wondering. Â Is this the day for one of his (His) surprises? “Hi, Mommy,” He says, waving one hand a little. Â Then he bends down and kisses me. And I am blown, like the withered petals […]
355Mar 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. Â I feel trapped in the weary, aware of the walls that surround me, boxed in and dull. Â And then He shows me […]
356Mar 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 […]
357Mar 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. Â 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 […]
358Feb 10, 2012
Thursday morning, I push a table knife right through the bottom of a glass jelly jar. Nothing shatters. Â Nothing cracks. Â The knife jabs in more deeply than it should. Â And turning the jar upward on a diagonal, I see the flat, silver, jelly-smeared tip of my knife jutting messy through a rounded, toothless gape, all […]
359Feb 3, 2012
Thursday morning, and it hits me. The tears unexpected, I turn the corner into our neighborhood, thankful I’ve made it well beyond the place where I left my kids before the emotion rolls over me in waves, making me gasp. Sometimes it happens that way. I’m going on about my day, and then I see […]
360Jan 20, 2012
go to the dentist Last Thursday, I wrote it nonchalantly on the schedule, just below morning chores and breakfast. The girls already knew.  Riley pays attention to the calendar, had prayed about it the night before.  Remembering the last visit—when the dentist pulled me aside right next to Zoe and told me two of her permanent […]