251
Apr 29, 2016
My daughter is sixteen, so for her birthday we throw a big party at the building where our church meets.  And I receive this: a solid view of friendship. “Do you need help?” My friend asks, not in a maybe-I-can-do-a-few-things-if-it’s-convenient kind of way, but the way she always does, as though she’s already climbed up on that […]
252
Apr 22, 2016
Middle of the afternoon and I’m goofy-grinning over an armful of sorted socks, their neat little knots all white like dumplings; grinning even as they bob out of my arms and roll on the floor. Â I’m not going to lie. Â Something satisfies me about folding laundry. Â I love those warm stacks with the clean-tucked edges, […]
253
Apr 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. […]
254
Apr 1, 2016
Adam finds me sometimes, just to talk about the things that excite him. I’m one of the few with whom he’ll take that still awkward step, because he can appreciate the way that I know him, the way womb-forged bonds overcome every other kind of separation.  I almost always know what Adam means to say before he says […]
255
Mar 18, 2016
“Hey now, offer him grace, okay?” She sits in front of me, tears pooling in the pit of the day, and I wash onions off of my hands with soap meant to smell like a sunrise sail.  It won’t be enough.  I know that, but I try anyway.  Hours from now, my fingers will still smell […]
256
Mar 11, 2016
Today, just a prayer, whispered, then fervid and carpet-muffled because that’s where I plant my nose.  I can’t seem to bend low enough to accommodate the feel of Him.  It’s a prayer I need, one I offer often in some garbled, half-torn way. But He knows all the parts, so I don’t have to remember them, […]
257
Mar 4, 2016
I should have prayed right then, right out loud, right in the car. Â I’m learning that. Mom, middle school is hard, she says, just as I’m scanning the road for anything I might have missed, just as I punch the gas and we dart across. Â Navigating traffic always feels to me like being stuck in […]
258
Feb 5, 2016
I can miss so many things. Confession: I have an alarm that goes off like the first faint notes of a sonata half an hour before they get home, before the first one opens the door and drops her book bag right there, her pony tail all wilted. Â I have to. Â It’s long enough for […]
259
Jan 29, 2016
Mom, what will you write about today? Â Â Her question is a gift; a jewel in my palm. She sits at the bar looking very nearly sixteen–golden head bent over her phone and all those little flyaways catching the early light; a cup of coffee just south of her hand, steaming; a dozen bracelets sliding […]
260
Jan 15, 2016
Some days just feel bruised—suddenly all purple-black and sore, tender. Putting the towels away, the still-warm stacks soft in my hands, I lean into the linen closet and allow the tears I’ve been swallowing to come, quietly.  At the moment, I am sick with seems and nevers, near-drowning in shadows and struggling hard just to breathe.  I can […]