71Nov 22, 2019
Riley and I sit against the foot board of the guest room bed, Shaker planks pressing into our backs. “How long will the tornado warning last?” She asks me, looking over at my phone, the radar map I’m scrolling. I stare at the blobs of color–red, yellow, green, spreading them bigger with my fingers to […]
72Oct 11, 2019
My hands lay open in my lap, palms turned up to receive whatever grace God loves to give, somewhere that should feel like home. I bend my head to rest, empty of expectation. This Sunday, round tables replace the rows. Today, we actually worship together; we actually commune. It feels like wandering into a sprawling […]
73Oct 4, 2019
“You need to get with it,” I say to Riley, like I do nearly a dozen times a day, then I jot down the phrase. Get with it. I taste the words a little, stare down at the shape of them, the jerking movement of the letters. Kirk Byron Jones has me watching my language […]
74Jul 26, 2019
I remember sitting at a too short Formica table, overflowing a child-sized chair, in the play area where a couple of bright, shiny women evaluated my then two-year-old Riley. Riley, distractedly pushing platinum corkscrew curls away from her eyes, lined chunky animals along a busy, primary carpet in a long, snaking line. It looked like […]
75Jul 12, 2019
My foot sits right next to Kevin’s under the table; I can feel the warmth of him. I glance away from my book, watching the rise and fall of his chest, noticing that he has begun to pray. His peaceful eyes shut out the world. Years into my own relationship with God, I finally understand […]
76Jun 14, 2019
Fresh morning and the coffee steams; my pen scrolls over a page in my journal. Out on the porch, by flickering candlelight and the dim glow of twinkle lights, I list gifts–morning stillness, early light, sleep-rumpled skin, a bed piled high with quilts—while the birds sing. Those birds, they’re only this loud at dawn. I […]
77May 10, 2019
I look at the pictures, pictures of my people and me, and I frown. Is my face really that round? I draw my fingers out toward the edges of the screen, attempting–without luck—to magnify the dark ache in my heart. Why did I have to smile so big? In the picture, my eyes look like […]
78Mar 22, 2019
Just home in the afternoon, her cheeks sun-warm, Riley pauses in front of me. She smells of tree bark and budding flowers, of grass crushed underfoot, even though as far as I know she’s only just walked from the car to the door. She brings the whole world through our front door, and with it […]
79Mar 1, 2019
In the late afternoon, we sit and sip coffee from steaming cups, two friends with a wealth of life between us and crinkles at the corners of our eyes. We toss aside our phones, with all their connection that disconnects, and wrap our fingers around warm mugs. I brewed the coffee and she showed up […]
80Jan 25, 2019
Riley walks in carrying her hairbrush in one hand. She’s still in pajamas–soft black, printed with dozens of unblinking owls keeping watch. Her plump, bare feet lightly thwick against the linoleum. She finds me half-together, though to say that can be misleading, since I am never really all put together. Every morning I dress in […]