The Thing About Spring
“I guess those details mattered the way my grandfather’s cologne and my grandmother’s pink couch mattered. They let my nervous system know I was in the safest place in the world.”
“See Me, Feel Me”
“In that vision I have of throwing my phone into the lake, I don’t retreat afterward to a Walden Pond-like existence. I get in my car, and drive to work and then back home at the end of the day. I continue at the same pace, doing the same things…I’ve just stopped screaming into the void.”
Baseball and Other Perennial Things
“when you lose that kind of stability out of nowhere, even as an adult with kids of your own, it takes a while to reorient.”
The Internet is Awful this Weekend
“…this kind of thing matters to me, not only because I’m a mother trying to raise good humans who contribute something positive to society, but as a human being who struggles deeply with perfectionism. I know a thing or two about shame.”
The Adamantia of Wildflowers
“Little Bull,’ Mom said quietly.
“When I asked why she called me that, she revealed that this was a private nickname she and my father used for me in my teen years. Immovable, like a bull.”
An Invitation to Witness My Midlife Becoming
“Purity isn’t keeping yourself clean from the filth of fornication and bad decisions. Purity is maintaining your authenticity in a culture where square pegs are asked to shave themselves down to fit into round holes.”
A Glimpse of Promise
“Many forces, including our own egos, work tirelessly to pull us off the mark God set us upon, convincing us daily that we aren’t capable, disciplined, or good enough to do the work God planned for us. It works, because pride is one hell of a drug.”
Long Days, Short Years:
“Not long ago I had a precocious and curious little girl, who wrote plays for her stuffed animals to perform. She loved to read with me and together we fell into wrinkles in time and camps for demigods, or schools for wizards.”
Inside the Threshing Room
“I bear witness. Silent and introspective, I watch and I wait to be transformed into a new thing.”
The Other Side of Discomfort
“It’s the discomfort I’m avoiding, and I’m sitting here thinking about how a single closet has a ripple effect that doesn’t just touch me or my family. It also touches the ghosts of friendships I could have built and nurtured by inviting folks like me, who simply need a friend, into my congested house with its over-stuffed closets and cluttered kitchen…”