The Woman and the Seed, A Parable

This is a true story.  It is the story of a woman who fell in love with a man.  She married him with a certain picture of what life would be like in the back of her mind.  It looked like a garden in springtime.  Everything beautiful was in bloom.  Every bird was singing. They…

Grief is a River

Grief is a river that now runs through my life.  Sometimes it is slow and steady, passing gently over rocks of remembrance, pooling up in beautiful, idyllic scenes where the late afternoon sun brushes through the trees and paints the waters and the riverbank in bright splashes of quivering light.  The aching beauty of having…

My Beautiful Dying Mother, A Birth Story

Mama had nine children.  I am the youngest, and I have often felt a deep sense of gratitude that she surrendered her life to this process so many times.  I see it as no small miracle that I even exist in the world.  And that my seven children exist. Mama was always the first person…

Being There (On the Shores of Life and Loss)

A week ago we cried over the body of my beloved Mother.  She is gone.  This keeps hitting me like ocean waves, one after the other. How it swells.  How it breaks.   It all seems like a dream.  The next day was of course a birthday.  My daughter’s third. The only time to cry was…

Marking a Season

I miscarried nine days before our 15th anniversary. There we sat, across the table at a little cafe, drinking coffee together.  Our six living children were home with a friend who gave us the day together to celebrate our marriage. The week before, Randy and I had privately laid the whisper of a body down…

The Daily Turn #21: Blank Wall

Inspiration is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Take the blank wall I am staring at right now. Someone might see it as a barrier to creative thought, something solid and immovable, a metaphor for writer’s block. Windowless, it sheds no light on the question asked (what words are gathering just underneath the tip…

The Daily Turn #15: Sunflower

of courseit could mean only this:we need to clean the guttersof our house. But we both felt–upon seeing thestraight, strong stalkof a sunflowerstretching upfrom the rootsdug deep intothe ditch-bank-edgeof our roof(two-stories high)–that it wasa blessing,a definite metaphorfor something better.