161Jul 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. Â Usually around five I can feel the […]
162Apr 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 […]
163Mar 30, 2012
We are not an easy family to love. I mean, even for us the loving isn’t always easy. We are difficult, tired, a ball of chaos with accessories. Everywhere we go, there are tote bags filled with an eccentric conglomeration of things—our accoutrements, I call them: stuffed monkeys and calculators; dry erase markers, insulin pens, […]
164Mar 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 […]
165Mar 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 […]
166Feb 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 […]
167Dec 9, 2011
As your Christmas cards decorate our mail with friendship, I give thanks. Â I walk down the road, swinging my arms, telling God how He’s always provided someone. I read your notes, happy to see the curves of your handwriting, as personal to you as your fingerprints. Â I smile when you apologize, thinking your penmanship a […]
168Nov 25, 2011
The last year I shopped Black Friday, Mom and I sat in a parking lot for two and a half hours, gridlocked, trying to leave.  Our bargains, over which we’d shared exhilarated gloating, sat in their bags, looking less impressive as the minutes passed.  All in all, the madness just didn’t seem worth the money we’d saved. […]
169Oct 14, 2011
Last week, two friends knelt in the dirt beside me, the grass pressing lines into their ankles, and washed my feet. That’s exactly what they did, even if it looked more like twisting shovels into the earth and planting a little hope.  We buried the seeds of allium, hyacinth, tulips, and daffodils, tucking them away for […]