Simple Saving Song

Where do I begin To tell this tale of love? I thought it was about What I was most proud of, How I'd love you best. I thought you were my pursuit. But the better story is I'm the broken one you choose. I did my duty all those years But missed you all along--… Continue reading Simple Saving Song

Bears of No Brain at All

“Think, think, think...” (Pooh says, tapping his forehead.) What’s as good for Bears of No Brain at All as it is for Bears Who Fear Their Brain Is Going--or Gone? Using words, thinking, communicating. It's the last day of June, and I haven't posted anything yet. My goal is to write monthly, but I haven't… Continue reading Bears of No Brain at All

Open Mike

I was dragging my feet getting ready. For as long as I can remember, we've had an open mike for folks to share their thank-yous the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  Children often go first and warm up the crowd with sweeping praises, "Thank you, God, for the whole wide world," and with smaller ones, "We have… Continue reading Open Mike

Wildflower

The sun was blinding me through the library windows.  We've had rain, rain, and more rain for weeks on end, so the sunshine was a big deal this morning and was more than welcomed.  It was worshiped. It felt like a long awaited vacation, like springtime and flowers, like a throwback to "normal life" at… Continue reading Wildflower

Writhing

Ransom Bruce Harris was born to doula-daughter, Sadie, and her hubby, Bryan on February 7. Sadie made sure to do all the training she’d been coaching her mamas to do over the years and was in wonderful shape for an easy delivery. Only there were other plans in place. After a nearly 30-hour labor and… Continue reading Writhing

Limping Praise

He walks to the door, As if he's just going out with friends. "Remember, mom, when I couldn't reach this lock?" His memory connects with mine. "Yes, I do," I say. The lock clicks, The door opens, He steps through. It's just an ordinary day. A little rain.  Cloudy. "I love you, mom." "I love… Continue reading Limping Praise

Hungry and Full

No one made room for him, save the one who yelled, amidst hay and manure, blood and smells. And she prepared nothing, except to accept-- turns out was enough, she opened herself. The womb that bore him and the heart that said yes were filled with a Savior, to rule and to bless. "Prepare the… Continue reading Hungry and Full

The Eye

Babies and children used to wake me in the middle of the night, and after that, teenagers coming in late, but now getting up for the bathroom does. Once I'm awake, it's hard to get back to sleep.  And then there are the unexplained wake up calls, the ones that wake me from sound sleep… Continue reading The Eye

Dark Thirty

Time stops in the dark. Before dawn, it yawns and stretches. Putters. Lingers. Moseys. Puts on coffee. And sits. Waits. Makes room. I remember endless time before clocks and counting, when the first day of school and the last stretched out like Highway 16, Macon to Savannah. Nowyearscram instead of c r a w l… Continue reading Dark Thirty

The Purge

The nest is empty.  Our last fledgling is settled into college dorm life and has already slept through his first test, while his mama-bird, blissfully unaware, awoke to her to-do-or-not-to-do list, none of it involving him. I've been preparing Stone his whole life--and myself all year--for when he would be washing his own socks and… Continue reading The Purge

The Bed That Wouldn’t Fit

I ordered my dream bed from a shop on Etsy, a carved and distressed French Victorian fit for a king and queen--or wannabes.  I ordered it in late February and received it sixteen weeks later, a sign that unless the New Jersey shop owners were felling trees and building beds on demand, my bed was… Continue reading The Bed That Wouldn’t Fit

Lake Trip

It looked like the perfect spot for our family's vacation:  a rambling lakefront home in an out-of-the-way cove with covered dock, lots of porches, and plenty of bedrooms for our growing family of 15 with two more on-the-way.  It's a challenge to find a house nice enough that merits dropping everything to be together for a week, but not… Continue reading Lake Trip

Delighted In

The ache in my chest was a tight knot, a familiar feeling.  I tried to tell myself I didn’t care, to push it down as I always had.  I went for a bike ride on our trails, straining hard against the pedals to climb pasture hills as I pushed hard on the knot to force… Continue reading Delighted In

Making Arrangements

If Mama were still alive this Mother's Day, I'd have a hard time finding the card I'd most want to send her.  I would have to make my own, and it would say:  "Thank you, Mama, that we didn’t discover any skeletons." That's a Mother's Day greeting I'll bet has yet to appear on any… Continue reading Making Arrangements

Passport to Punta Cana

It never occurred to me to check my passport status. At least, not until the day before we were due to leave. Twenty hours before, to be exact. I had checked Stone's passport details thoroughly when I booked a trip with friends for spring break. He was now 19. Would his passport from age 16… Continue reading Passport to Punta Cana

In Flight

I’m heading to New Jersey, writing as I fly. It was cold and gray in Atlanta when I left, and it is colder and grayer where I’m going. According to my weather app, Princeton will have snow tomorrow. Right now, I’m looking forward to breaking through the clouds outside my window to the sunshiny blue… Continue reading In Flight

Just Sayin’

She was talking, but I wasn't listening. I was thinking about what I wanted to say. I don't have to tell you how popular this weakness of mine isn't, especially with my own family. "So what's your experience been?" she was asking. Caught red handed, I had no idea what she was talking about. "The… Continue reading Just Sayin’

Pining Poor

Dear Rock Creek Women Who Pine, I was feeling out of sorts because I hadn't really wanted to come.  I didn't want to go to church last Sunday either, and I didn't.  I've realized over the last few nights that I haven't been listening to what I've read in the Bible. I've read hurriedly, just… Continue reading Pining Poor

Troubling Ourselves

Mama is dying. I’m sitting in her bedroom next to her hospital bed, the metal rail cold against my leg.  The oxygen tube is bothering her and Vicky, her caregiver, is adjusting it as I write.  “That better, Martha?”  Mama moans. Mama normally reads a page from her devotional every night with Vicky.  When I… Continue reading Troubling Ourselves