reframing femininity
Hairy kneecaps. The first time my body became “my body”—a thing separate from me—was at 6thgrade lunch period when Hannah Wiessgarber informed me Paul Ferris would never date me because I had hairy kneecaps. She’d asked him about me, and his answer, given in the presence of the other 7thgrade boys, had been, according to…
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Back from an elongated, dreamy time of rest, colleagues want the highlight reel and the curious want the story.Typically, I’m challenged to distill epic into bullet points, but not this time. There is a story to tell even as it still works out meaning in my heart.
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As I sit in stillness in the sweet little oasis that I call my backyard, I am filled with joy to share the stirrings of my tender, grateful heart. Being outside in God’s creation has a magical way of calling forth the deepest parts of my being. It’s as if I truly come alive. It’s…
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“97, 98, 99, 100.” I pull my exhausted, 8-year-old body out of the pool, and collapse onto the warm concrete patio. Through the haze of chlorine fumes and low blood sugar, pride at my accomplishment revives me. Later I speak to my father, who is on a business trip, “I swam 100 laps”, I declare.…
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That little red house on the hill was the home of my babysitter and her family of many children. Adding two more little girls to the daily mix seemed the perfect solution to the need my mom had for someone to watch my sister and me. It appeared to be a place to play with…
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These words sound otherworldly, carrying the sense of the sacred. Many of us were raised in traditions which include the eucharist, or communion. Some folks enter that space every month, some every week. For some, it is a shared table, some approach one by one, some wait for a plate to be passed, others wait…
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It was her heart that was the first to leave. She was only six yet her wise heart knew that this was not love, even while the mind did whatever it could to soothe and to make believe that it was.
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Since I was sixteen years old, I have felt betrayed by my body. Most of the battles I have fought with my body have been underneath my own skin. Potent diagnoses, mostly invisible to strangers, acquaintances, and loved ones alike.
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I awoke just before 5 a.m. with the heart crushing anxiety I have become acquainted with in this season. I used to curse it and fight against it, but I am learning to embrace it. I put my hand on my racing heart and gently said “welcome.” As I sat in meditation my heart continued…
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The arms of my oversized chocolate brown chair hold my tired body as I bring the face of my discontented daughter towards me. Her quivering lips latch on and her squawks slow to a grave whimper as she suckles the milk from my breast with a sweet hum of contentment. Oxytocin forges through my body…
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