31Sep 30, 2022
In the late afternoon, I talk to Zoe on the phone, stretching my legs out in front of me, craning my neck toward the window to savor that beautiful golden hue that becomes the light at near-finish. Zoe and I will meander over miles of thoughts, sharing a pilgrim feast while I hold on my […]
32Sep 23, 2022
Slowly we begin, feeling rumpled, and, somehow, still buried under covers, even though we, in our performance series shirts, have just stepped off the porch and into the first gentle light of morning. I look down at my running shoes, at the edges dirty with road dust, assessing, as though the shoes will be the […]
33Dec 31, 2021
At the end of the day, while the lights still twinkle in the living room, I crawl into bed and sigh. Few moments feel as satisfying as this one. If energy sparkles in jars—we have this treasure in jars of clay, I’m still radiant, even if I feel as though I have turned up empty. […]
34Dec 24, 2021
“It’s so pretty out here,” I say, the words like an exhale. Golden brown leaves skitter across the asphalt, and everywhere I look I see another vibrant shade–the sky, cool blue; the trees, a sunset arch sheltering our pathway. I breathe a prayer, remembering something C.S. Lewis said, something that fits: We do not want […]
35Aug 20, 2021
My friend gives me the cross as a gift, just lays it in my palm, and it isn’t until that filling, the cool, solid weight of olive wood resting against my skin, that I realize how empty-handed I’ve been. “I found these online,” she says, giving one to another friend too, because together, we make […]
36Aug 13, 2021
Kevin and I set out for our walk in the early morning, while the air is crisp and new light glows soft pink. We smile over the volume of the birds, how they chitter and squaw from fence post to power lines to the peaks of the trees, sentinels passing messages. We gesture and smile, […]
37Jul 30, 2021
We should give this hour a name, when the afternoon swells like a bruise and we all feel molasses-slow, our faces stretched into unending yawns, and still, we have work to do. I want to pour myself another cup of coffee, but I think I have consumed more than enough caffeine today, and something feels […]
38Apr 17, 2020
Sometimes all I can see is what hurts, what’s hard, what I wish could be different. Before we even leave our driveway, Riley stops, setting her water bottle down, handing me the paper, her pen. She lifts her sunglasses, peers more closely at her phone. “It says license plate, so…” She talks to herself more […]
39Apr 8, 2016
“When I struggled so much with anxiety, God taught me to pray,” Riley says, lifting her hand and turning it over, as though neatly wrapping the words, a gift. And then, when later we reach for each other’s hands, she quietly asks God to help her brother talk to us. Maybe she’s just following Zoe’s lead. […]
40Apr 17, 2015
I like the way God built me. She says it like it’s the simplest thing. The words fall easy, fluttering elegant, lighting on a twisty varicose vein that branches pen-thin across my thigh. I had been tracing the bruised lines with my finger. These spidery betrayers invade, cracks in the shell of me suddenly […]