Weary fingers, mine, and tangled in her hair, weaving, weaving, weaving the wet strands in thick ropes down her back. For at least fifteen minutes every day, Riley and I become the reflection of generations of others before us–their angled arms, their busy fingers, their bodies bending, tending. Riley, still and waiting, tilts her face […]

Early morning quiet and steam dances and curls over the cup, and I sit listening. The many sounds of silence include the voice of God, and His Word always changes things. I scribble the date in my journal and begin to write, glancing back to the Bible still open in my lap. The cover and […]

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 […]

“There will be a lot of hugs today,” she says, drawing me in with arms growing long enough to catch the world.  Her brassy hair falls against my cheek and lightly tickles my hands as I press them into her back.  I count her ribs, the knobby vertebrae in her spine.  She feels strong, solid, […]

I walk and let things go, whispered things, all the heavy and daunting things pressed against my shoulders like so much Winter weight, damp and thick and flat grey; things that cannot be at all what they seem.   This weather inspires every kind of ache; all day the clouds have swallowed us.  And if this […]

At first, Riley can’t see. Bright Sunday morning, and we’re just inside the building where the church meets saying hello, a bunch of mismatched, layered-up family wearing reunion smiles, and I see her bending over her clipboard, too low, too close, one eye flat closed like a patch and the other just barely a slit.  […]

Since I got home, I’ve been trying to see with my ocean eyes–the ones scrubbed, rubbed and salt-glazed like old viridian sea glass, but everywhere I look, something is out of place. In the morning after breakfast, I sweep, my fingers still rubbery and root-shriveled from the dish water.  Sometimes the receding tide carves lines […]

We gather to pray, our chairs pulled together in hasty circles.  The whole room echoes.  We make knots–so many weak-kneed, hungry children–tangling together to sort out the kinks in our hearts.  It strikes me sometimes, how our strongest posture can look from the outside like our weakest.  But see, there’s nothing stronger than being with […]

I put a damp cloth in Adam’s hands and point toward the bathtub.  “Go ahead, wipe it clean, now.” “We don’t have to clean the bathroom,” he says to me, because he doesn’t like scrubbing bathtubs any more than most of the rest of us.  And that’s his new thing, as if life spins on […]

On our way home.  It was pretty rough. Eight words.  I toss my phone down on the bed, sighing, and glance into the hallway at the window diagonal to my room.  Close those blinds and Riley will wrap the cord in her elegant fingers and tug them open again.  It’s something we share, this affection–a […]