141Aug 7, 2015
Stinging words curl through the grapevine like searing smoke, and I gasp, suffocating. Â I am distracted by a black storm, by the flicking tongue of a squint-eyed snake bent on spreading its own dark poison. Â The deception threatens the fixing of my eyes. Â Except. Except that God is my Father. Â And He hasn’t left me […]
142Mar 27, 2015
Walking behind him, I can see clearly that his jeans only just reach his ankles.  The nurse talks over her shoulder—okay, follow me and then some small talk about the weather, the red file folder jutting out, an extension of her hand that messes up all the angles.  She fills the space with words so light […]
143Dec 19, 2014
In the moonlight, her eyes sparkle. Â She never wears makeup, doesn’t really even prefer it, but she made a concession tonight, for dance. Â Just now, as we leave the building, a brisk wind lifts a few errant strands of hair away from her ears. Â The stars rest glittery on her cheeks. I hold the door, […]
144Nov 14, 2014
It is the way she says it—all laced with delicious joy—that makes me stop.  She sounds the way I might were I to say I get to sleep in or I.can’t.believe I get to lay on the beach and just read—like she’s just realized a thrill, an unexpected and rare gift, and she savors the sweet taste.  […]
145Sep 19, 2014
From a grassy field roadside, I gather up the picture of a broken barn with history clear tumbling from it’s splintered walls, the jagged boards dark, like the trunks of trees. Â These planks, hewn from deadwood dragged, shaped over sawdust piles, sanded, treated, painted; nailed sharp, clean, with a satisfied whack—these planks caught the sweat […]
146Jul 4, 2014
When we step onto the beach, the sea swells high and shimmers golden green in the sunlight. Â A storm matures unseen somewhere off the coast, out over the great deep. Â I know this, and still I cannot imagine how the water pools so high just here at the edge of the shore, why it gathers […]
147Jun 20, 2014
So maybe today–maybe in this—it’s time to press on, even though it’s hard, and it hurts, and you want to give up. “But I’m dying,” she says to me, gasping, sweat gathering like a halo along her hairline. Â She’s waiting for me to say she can quit, but I am not so easily convinced. “You’re […]
148May 3, 2013
I love so many hurting people. And the impulse I have, because it’s God obliterating me, is to bring them joy. I want to grab the heavy shadows shrouding them and rip them apart with my hands. I want to free them from the grip of the things that steal their laughter. I want to […]
149Feb 1, 2013
She’s afraid she’ll wake up and I’ll be forever gone, that the darkness will steal me away from her. We sit together all curled up, watching something on TV. Â I absently stroke her hair with my fingers, gently nudging out the tangles, and she tries to move closer, to squeeze out all the space between […]
150Dec 21, 2012
3 am and I wake with a gasp, resurrected from deep sleep. Â I am so tired that the word tired doesn’t quite work. Â Trampled might be better. It is an unlikely night for a victory. Adam stands next to my bed, shifting, trying for words. Â I’m not sure if he touched me or if I […]