I’ll pray for you anyway
“I just got back from Walgreens where I bought boxes of band aids, Neosporin, and hydrocortisone cream.” This was my response to Sister’s Margaret’s inquiry into the summer activities of my children. I try to visit her Benedictine monastery once a month for spiritual direction. “The kids are doing great,” I said. “But Isaac came…
Love is always reaching for more
In his book, My Bright Abyss, Christian Wiman writes: “In any true love—a mother’s for her child, a husband’s for his wife, a friend’s for a friend—there is an excess energy that always wants to be in motion. Moreover, it seems to move not simply from one person to another but through them, toward something…
Hippocampus Magazine just published a flash essay of mine called “Newborn Sparrow.” I’m a fan of this online literary magazine, so I was thrilled when they accepted my essay for publication in their March issue. Read Newborn Sparrow here!
A couple of years ago my kids and I made a frightening discovery in our backyard. I wrote the story up as a flash essay and am excited that Mamalode decided to publish it. Follow the link to read, It’s the Yard that Makes our House a Home.
A Virtual Placeholder
Last night I ransacked my recently cleaned home office in search of a poem I wrote two years ago about a sweet moment with my daughter. During a week when I am trying to write a sermon, a wedding homily and a first draft of my new essay, I thought it would be the perfect,…
Writing to Discover
In an essay I am writing about my son I am discovering just how much I love my children. This feels odd to write because of course I already know that I love my children. But as I challenge myself to go deeper in this essay, to be more truthful, to choose words that resonate…
The Practice of Doing Nothing: How I Stopped Fueling my Stress
I caught myself getting overwhelmed tonight. I’d been distracting myself from my stress all day long—running from meeting to meeting, answering emails, sending emails, moving from one uncompleted task on my desk to the next. When I finally got home and needed to focus on my children, though, I no longer had the energy to…
Holding each Moment
I am growing accustomed to an annual end-of-the-summer episode of the blues. I am wallowing in this place now, grieving the passage of time. Mourning the loss of the summer’s long days when I read and write and giggle with my children. All this and the summer isn’t even over yet. No stranger to anxiety…
The Practice of Doing Nothing: Sitting with my Suffering (Part 2)
On a bright summer morning, I dropped my 5-year-old daughter off at day camp placing her in the care of counselors who all appeared to be in high school. Looking at Ella’s counselors I remembered myself at their age, and the parents who entrusted their children to me. I didn’t take the same precautions with…