Mid-morning and they wander out to me, rested and fresh from sleep, blanket lines on their high-boned cheeks.  Riley’s brassy hair swings out from her shoulders, lifted by the breeze, as she settles into the chair across from me, carrying her breakfast.  “Happy birthday, Mom Jones,” she says, while Zoe gently drops a present on […]

Kevin walks in the door and the afternoon rushes right in with him.  It’s as though the jostling traffic, the dying sun, and dozens of fading fragments of conversation cling to his shirt sleeves, his warm cheeks. They fall off his shoulders, these things, as the strap from his leather bag falls to the floor […]

Into the bowling alley I go, “Saturday me” with her yoga pants and her clean face and her Mr. Rogers jacket (yes, because I wear it around the house).  This is the me that’s only me, the honest introvert; the quiet, swallowed-up, zipped-up me just holding tight to God’s hand, walking through the parking lot.  […]

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” […]

She’s awake before we walk in the room this time, not wrapped in the usual cocoon of blankets, that defensive arm peaked over her eyes, those lips tight-sealed against words.  Instead, this morning she stands dressed, a question hanging in her eyes even though she asked us to wake her up, as though of course […]

“What’s this?” she says, leaning into the doorway, that smile wide.  She wears blue eyeshadow, like tiny snatches of bright sky calling her eyes up. I explain that Riley and I are the proprietresses of the stocking stuffer room.  “Mmmhmm,” Riley chirps agreeably and the ball on her Santa hat bobs, while I guesture toward […]

“This isn’t a gift,” she says, passing the gift bag across the table.  The bag is cool teal, like one of the stripes in her shirt. Except for the clear absence of tissue paper, it certainly looks like a gift.  The twisted paper handles slide down her fingers as she extends her hand. “No, I […]

“I can’t–” “Here, I’ll help you,” she says, my Riley, who once said nothing. The kids at our table–this table, finished with glitter and glue and flecks of marker and fingernail polish, finished with a whole history of growing and laughing and living—these kids flat press their little hands on construction paper, tracing, jagged-cutting the […]

Ready to leave, and I touch his arm, just two of my fingers, gentle, against the bony jut of his elbow. “Don’t you want a jacket?” I ask instead of tell, because this is not a life-threatening situation, and because choices facilitate growth; the understanding that someone else can have a broader perspective, that Love […]

He presses the cross into my hands, a rugged, delicate thing he pulls from his pocket I don’t know how; it seems bigger than pocket-sized.  I run my thumb over the intricate carving on the stem and then let it rest on one palm so I can dip my fingertips into the tiny ravines.  I […]