21Apr 24, 2020
On the screen, a dozen boxes, a dozen tiny windows into lives and homes, begin to stack like bricks placed by an invisible hand. You can see me, with my bad posture and my tired eyes, a blinking stone already added to a living, breathing, growing thing. Zooming (Have we already verbed that word?) feels […]
22Feb 21, 2020
Beside the auditorium door, Adam sways, a reed gently tossed, rooted at the feet. For Adam, this represents an attempt at stillness, this planted shifting of weight from foot to foot. I glance at him and smile, and he bends a lengthy arm, touching his name tag with the tips of his fingers, moving a […]
23Dec 13, 2019
In the garage, on the way in at the end of a bruised up day, Riley has another seizure. Kevin, coming around the other side of the car, sees her stop, notices her sudden silence. He calls her name, and she turns her head but can’t answer. Stuck, her head bobs, like something sinister has […]
24Aug 16, 2019
Sunday morning, the plate comes down the row, hand passing to hand—young, rough, wrinkled, busy, tired, dark. All of our hands look so diverse, each etched with their own unique lines. Everybody has different fingerprints. I watch as the bread travels toward us, the delivery of the plates facilitated by volunteers standing in the aisles. […]
25May 17, 2019
I look down the row all the way to my three babies, now all taller than me–my girls, their legs curving in all the same places as mine, Adam, with shoulders to match Kevin’s. Laser lights stretch across the room like sunbeams. The beat of the music trembles over my cheeks. Even in the darkened […]
26Aug 17, 2018
On the other side of a migraine, my Riley begins to sing: From the ash I am born again Forever safe in the Savior’s hands I stop folding and let the warm towel fall from my fingers, listening. She missed worship today, let her head fall like a rock on my shoulder during the opening […]
27Mar 30, 2018
It’s one of those days with locked-up steel skies and a chill seeping into my skin; one of those days when time bruises our backs and driving to school feels like slowly untangling knots; one of those days when I wonder what caused all this mess but have no real hope for a sensible answer. It’s one […]
28Feb 16, 2018
When I walk in the room, this is the other-worldly bit of heaven I see: a room clogged with dancing royalty, crowns throbbing, faces glittered with joy. It’s like throwing open a chest full of God’s glory and looking inside: Confetti spins, pouring from the ceiling, from cannons beside the stage, where the word “SHINE” […]
29Mar 31, 2017
I can hear him beside me and his voice is reverently light, soft and piercing. But the thing is: Adam never just sings. He worships. We sit beneath the trees when the sun is soft and dying. A breeze blows through–a Spirit-wind, and I hear him quietly crooning, oh the grace reaching out for me. We’re […]
30Mar 3, 2017
Driving home at night in the sluicing rain, I can barely make out the thick white lines that mark our lane. Water arcs, pounding dull against the wheel wells, and Zoe says, “Go slow, Mom. We’re almost home.” Go slow. She’s right. It really is the only safe way through. Tonight, it seems easier to […]