Last week a 6-year-old Alabama boy is murdered in the backseat of his Mother’s stolen car. Yesterday a home-made bomb maims and kills over twenty people. From the cozy interior of my Utah home life hasn’t changed. But it has. It does. The weight of life’s seemingly endless cruelty and senselessness can be together allContinue reading “How We Cope”
I looked at the dish. My hands shaking as they held the pieces. I looked at my son. As calmly as I could, looked at my husband and said “I need some time.” In my room I closed my eyes and let the tears flow. It was true. Mommy was sad.
Because what my computer doesn’t know is that you’ve been gone now for two years. My computer doesn’t know how aggressive your skin cancer was. My computer doesn’t know that we stayed up late with you in your last days, that we stood over you hand in hand praying, that we whispered into your ear “it’s okay, now, let go.”
My Dad was far from perfect, my parents fought and struggled. But on July 2, 1995 none of that mattered. Perfect or imperfect, he sacrificed himself out of love. It wasn’t my fathers gear that held him to the bottom of the ocean that day, it was love.
I’m 32 years old and have the immense pleasure of getting to watch my Mom interact with my children. She reads them books and helps them build Legos. She scratches their backs and soothes them to sleep. She chases them through the park and tells them about Jesus. She prays for them and loves onContinue reading “She Made Some Mistakes: My Mother”