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

The Room

Journal entry... 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 The Room

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

Sifting

It's late.  Probably most of you are in your beds, cozy and comfortable, sifting through the day's events as you drift off to sleep.  That's where I'm heading after I hit send. But before I do, I want to sift through the events that happened here, and tell you about the day I had with… Continue reading Sifting

For Anyone Who Bleats

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