1Oct 18, 2024
Dear friend, our work is worship. My sister-friend, who forever speaks God’s words back to me, sends this text in the early morning, while the daylight is still new, as I rub my eyes and contemplate the day, the work, that I know God has planned well ahead of me. They are burnt offerings. By […]
2Aug 23, 2024
I wash Adam’s feet almost every day, soaking the diabetic’s precious, never-ending walk, his steady, vulnerable progress, in tender keeping, using a home remedy I found online, a mixture designed to slough off dead skin and soften calluses. You wouldn’t believe it maybe, but mouthwash features in the short list of ingredients, and so, the […]
3Jul 12, 2024
Adam’s delight. This my friend—my sister—texts after looking at the pictures from our trip, just those two words and a series of hearts, having arrived in seconds at the treasure I will carry with me long after even our memories of summer have faded. Adam’s delight, that wild smile stretching wide across his lean face, […]
4Feb 16, 2024
Adam shows up at the brunch table on Saturday morning wearing his glasses, a little smudged, because he’s still learning to clean them, and I treasure it up, because he has chosen to wear them on his day of rest. Here I am too, drawing my chair–blue, like a summer sky—up to our table, also […]
5Dec 1, 2023
Our new ophthalmologist wears red socks, that’s the first thing I notice as he leans into an apparatus that makes him look like a mechanical bug, or maybe an owl, with eyes made of magnifying glass and metallic feathers outlining the sockets, with grommets like tiny decoys scattered about his face. It can feel like […]
6Aug 4, 2023
When I open the email about Adam’s blood work, I have just finished telling the Lord that I don’t understand why everything always has to be so hard. I know that everything and always are sweeping, emotional words, but God is a sweeping, omniscient God who doesn’t need me to “pretty up” my feelings. I’ve […]
7Dec 30, 2022
I run my finger over the scars on the dresser in my bedroom, Grandma, twice etched, raw, like an incision in the wood in Riley’s handwriting. Always in twos. I murmur the dark echo of an old cliché, the shadow of an old joke still half bitter to me, but only by half, because God […]
8Jan 21, 2022
Into the night and our deep sleep comes the blare of an alarm. History repeats. Emergency emergency wake up wake up, the alarm screams, and cartoon me jumps up and runs immediately into the wall, while the real not-yet-lucid me picks up my phone, swings my legs over the side of the bed, and pulls […]
9Oct 29, 2021
On Monday morning, I wake up sore. Before I open my eyes, a shadowy thought moves through my mind: I can’t do this. I will not be able to do this. The weekend had been consoling and also desolate. On Saturday, Kevin and I had painted walls (renovation!) until our hands and feet felt swollen […]
10Aug 6, 2021
The first time we walked into the eye doctor’s office, the top of Adam’s head came up to my waist. I remember the feel of his baby hand, the way his soft, stubby fingers tried in vain to reach my own. I gripped his wrist to be sure he wouldn’t wander. At the time, the […]