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”
As a transplant to Utah I’m still very much in the season of making new friends and getting to know people. We don’t know each other’s back story. We don’t know each other’s struggles and triumphs. It’s all new. The other day I was at the gym with one of my new friends—because really they’reContinue reading “Pregnancy Broke my Body, but I Don’t Need to Stay Broken”
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.
It was the 90s. My Dad and brother had just died; my little community had been riddled with a string of suicides. The pastor of my tiny church was dying of cancer and I was sneaking Marlboro reds behind the oleanders with the neighbor girl. I was in the 6th grade and my world wasContinue reading “A Journal and a Jewel CD”