Dear the Internets,
This is a true story.
This is my true story.
I lay down my dignity for you, because I love you very much.
Once upon a time, I pooped my closet.
I was pregnant.
Approximately 100 years pregnant with twins, judging by my size, but really only 7 months or so, which made me roughly larger than a semi-truck and smaller than the Empire State building. Big, … Continue Reading “The Day I Pooped My Closet”
I’ve been listening to Pandora’s classical Christmas station for two weeks now, which is a mistake for a couple reasons.
First, there are approximately six songs total on Pandora’s classical Christmas station and five hundred thousand different arrangements of the six. Honest to God, if I have to hear another classical arrangement of The Holly and The Ivy or its tied-for-most-mind-numbing-Christmas-song-ever, Here We Come A Wassailing, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Although, … Continue Reading “Living Between the Hallelujahs”
My friend Lynn lost her husband unexpectedly last year. She came home to find Jon unconscious. He died from a stroke a few hours later. And so Lynn has found herself at the crossroads. Again, really, because Lynn has lived enough of life to know that the paths we walk are winding, and we don’t always know what’s around the next bend.
Lynn went to the beach at the one year anniversary of Jon’s … Continue Reading “On Grace, Waves and How to Look at Rocks”
Anne Lamott talks from time to time about radical acts of self care.
Or maybe it’s Oprah.
Or Betty Lou from Sesame Street who’s one of the spiritual gurus of our time with her calm focus on kindness and sharing and befriending our fellow monsters.
A wise woman said it, anyway, except I feel they should be called RADICAL ACTS of SELF CARE, like that, in bold and all caps so we might announce … Continue Reading “Radical Acts of Self Care”
It’s the dramatic moment in the movie, when the one who is persecuted sprints into the Church and cries out for sanctuary.
“SANCTUARY!” she yells, bursting through the great, wood doors, stumbling down the aisle and falling at the foot of the altar, safe.
God, I miss this picture of the Church. And I find myself frequently brokenhearted that the Church isn’t perceived as safe anymore, but instead as a Sin Detection Agency where WE … Continue Reading “Sanctuary”
Tracy was my best friend in elementary school, and, though her motives remain unclear, I suspect she chose me as a friend because she was kind, compassionate, and knew I needed her.
And because she lived across the street so I was hard to avoid.
Not that she ever made me feel like she was avoiding me. On the contrary, she always made me feel welcome and wanted and loved.
And she cleaned my room … Continue Reading “Holding Hands in the Dark”
This is not a real post. I am far, far too giddy and drunk on I Am Responsible for ZERO Kids Right Now to write a real post.
An encouragement, hopefully. And a determined walk toward slow hope.
Because, you see, Greg and I are away. Away away. From home. On purpose. … Continue Reading “A Determined Walk Toward Slow Hope: An Update on Depression”