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

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

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

The Princess

for Sadie on her 29th birthday Sadie, Sadie delights my heart, Sunshine even when we're apart. Leans in to learn, Digs down deep, Pulls out truth both bitter and sweet. Sadie, Sadie child of mine, Strong and good, God's own design. His loving plan To frustrate me, And give me more than I could dream.… Continue reading The Princess

Chautauqua

I hadn't really wanted to get up when the alarm went off at 3 a.m. for a shuttle to the Atlanta airport at 4 a.m. for a flight at 8 a.m., but I did because she'd asked me to come.  This was the daughter who had only recently begun to like me again, and I… Continue reading Chautauqua