Baby fever is real. I know, because I was burning up with it. I spent a year giving myself shots in my backside and putting lozenges under my tongue and graphing my morning temperature and demanding sex because my chart said to. And then, I gave up. No baby. But there was this achey, constant… Continue reading Baby Fever
She got out of the car and loaded my suitcase in the trunk, a whoosh of stale cigarette smoke and ash exhaling with her, as if the car itself were trying to get a fresh breath of air. Debra, the Uber driver, slunk in behind the wheel, her head down, shoulders slumped. My goal was… Continue reading Making Room
I don’t like to admit it, partly because it feels shameful and partly because I was raised not to notice it, much less confess it. I was taught to do exactly the opposite—to cover up weakness by becoming competent. (And if I couldn’t genuinely excel, I learned to lie about it.) As a mother, I… Continue reading Just Who I Need
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
I was swamped and decided to take the month off. While writing for my blogs and an online women's magazine are normal monthly activities, October was just too darn busy. At first, it felt like a relief to take a break, but after a while, it felt like I don't want to write anymore. In… Continue reading Breaking Free
Everyday I’m not left in the dark, or floating in space, or without a bite or something to wear or air, I believe all over again what I’m prone to forget: God is good. His graces are daily. He brings up the sun, pulls tides, grounds gravity, gives food, changes seasons, allows me to work,… Continue reading The Little Things
What do you do when one of your best college friends moves to the beach? You round up the rest of the gang and head down to see her. This is just what we’ve done for the last several years, and it’s come in the nick of time for some. While we’re often in touch… Continue reading Beach Trip
This is a story about me and my baby, who’s now 22, and the misery we walked through together to find a love connection. It’s a story of our mutual failure, but it’s a story with a happy ending. I lived the miracle. I watched it change me. And then I watched it change my… Continue reading The Prodigal Stone
I’m awake and up before The Cowboy has gone to bed. It’s 1:21 a.m. and too darn early. I went to bed at 10, but I’m wide awake now. I’m afraid I’m getting weird. Unbalanced. And while I really love getting a jump on my day, I’m also afraid I’m getting pulled out of sync… Continue reading Wake Up Call
We had a threat of frost predicted for 2 a.m. Unsure of whether or not the pots I'd planted at church would make it--with Easter coming up, it seemed a shame to risk it--I grabbed garbage bags and shish kabob skewers and headed out. I hadn't bothered to unload the yard tools that were in… Continue reading A Threat of Frost
I don’t want to look at what’s inside the Tupperware at the back of the fridge. But once I brave it, I’m relieved to start the task and be done with the judgment lurking behind the hummus and pimento cheese. There’s no guilt in dumping rotten food. After all, black spotted soup is obviously trash,… Continue reading For Anyone Who Bleats
Hit, crack, plop. Eggs are beaten; shells are tossed. It’s breakfast with toast and jam. (Forgot this week to pick up ham.) Fire in family room roars and pops. Just how I like it and not too hot. Another log? Please don’t bother. I’ll have to move somewhere farther. All at once, a face is… Continue reading Morning Scramble
Hardly churchy, much less Presbyterian, our pastor steps aside the Sunday after Thanksgiving rather than preaching and lets anyone who wants to, step up and tell what they're thankful for. David, age 8, thanked God this morning for getting to watch anime on his computer and for cars, "just for lots of cars," he said… Continue reading Skin and Bones
Dug up. Tilled. Hard words are augers Where they’re spilled. Does your hand hold the plow? Sow bitter seeds that fall? Planted with tears, will you bring a harvest after all? You see the harrowing. You hear when I call. No need to explain. You understand it all. Sprout me green From this soil of… Continue reading Tilled
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
I read, “Surely God is my help;the Lord is the one who sustains me.Let evil recoil on those who slander me;in your faithfulness destroy them,” Psalm 54:4-5. Wait.Not that last part, God. Not destroy.Redeem my enemy and me. Swallow our strife. Open blind eyes.Like the centurion, who saw Jesus and believed,while at his post,doing business.… Continue reading Seeing
I’ve been lying in front of this window in our foyer for so long, I’m beginning to see faces in the tree trunks and branches. One face smiles broadly while shielding its eyes, looking out from under its leafy mask, no doubt an identity disguise. Tree trunk faces are piled up one on top of… Continue reading A Bluebird Sky
The wind is roaring outside this morning. I love the drama of March weather--sometimes winter, sometimes spring. It's mostly still cold where I am in the north Georgia mountains, but some days there’s a breakthrough to warm. It was wild rain and wind, tornadoes and school closings last week, and it was a balmy day… Continue reading March Madness
Our “baby” of five kids is just two short weeks away from being 21. It occurs to me that even though he’s living with us temporarily and working, he’s for all intents and purposes grown, though maybe not entirely gone. It also occurs to me that it’s the first time since I became a mother… Continue reading The Kids Are Grown and (Mostly) Gone, so Who Am I and What Do I Do Now?
I was the family gift wrapper, the child asked to wrap even her own Christmas gifts. My mother would give me a taped box with an unseen gift inside. I liked nothing better than a stack of boxes, a bag of bows, and rolls and rolls of patterned paper. I loved the sounds of wrapping—the… Continue reading The Unwrapped Gift
One True Love 