January – The Inner Critic

For the month of January the women of Red Tent Living will be considering the theme: The Inner Critic. Join us by reading or hosting a Red Tent Dinner at your own table to explore stories with women in your circle.

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Womaneering 2021

Phew! We made it to the end of 2020.  As a mental health practitioner, I know that every human psyche subconsciously exhaled a little when they woke up this morning. New Year’s Day is here…welcome to this n-e-w year! My friend Leah says her favorite day is the first day of the month because she…

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A Gracious Pace

Eighth graders at my former middle school were asked to memorize Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening” in English class. To be honest, I wondered why. Why was this poem required instead of Frost’s popular, oft-quoted “The Road Not Taken”? However, I didn’t create the syllabus, so I held my…

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The Road of Forgiveness

It was my senior year of college, and I was one month into my walk with God. I had a fresh sense of awe and gratitude tangled with curiosity. I retreated to a coffee shop where I snuggled into some pillows on a stoop in front of a large window. Next to me was my…

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Watching and Waiting

I remember using a black felt tip marker, writing the words, “baby due” and circling March 9th on the calendar that lay by the phone on our kitchen counter. There is nothing quite like the first time you see those two pink lines.

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Turning Away

I grew up in the paradox of an abusive Christian home. It’s a surprise, then, that my siblings and I each clung to Jesus in our own ways. We were desperate for stability and truth.  When I became a mother, I reinvented the parenting wheel. I prayed for inspiration, for wisdom, for the ability to…

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When I Can’t Feel Christmas

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.” — Pierre Teilhard de Chardin 5:34 p.m. on Black Friday and everything was right on schedule. The tree was set up, lights lit, and boxes of ornaments ready for unpacking. Jim Carrey’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas played in the background, as was tradition, and Mom had just slid the…

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Rewriting the Story of “Too Much”

I heard him wailing, as he ran down the street toward home. Him, looking for comfort and someone to notice his small-but-big pain; me, rolling my eyes a little with a sigh in my breath. Still, I ready my arms to wrap around his three-year-old body, and, as the door bursts open, all the cries…

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Blame Shifting

The world’s intoleranceTo bear witnessTo the great sufferingWithin her sphereIncreasingly weighs upon meFor I have much to tellAnd no one who will hear

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