Into The Unknown

Blue fades seamlessly into blue as water and sky meet. The sun sets over the Puget Sound, and my time here sets too. I sit in a candlelit room filled with buzzing conversations. The thick of happy hour surrounds the liminal space I hold. I have just completed two years of training in narrative focused…

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The Bully

At family gatherings as a child, I did not lack for cousins to play with as five of us “baby boomer” cousins were born in the same year. My father used to tell the story of a family gathering where all of the cousins were present. One of my same-aged cousins was being a bully…

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Advocate

I was reading a story in John 9 recently. As I read, I noticed that I was becoming irritated and gradually enraged with the characters in the story. You see, there was a blind man who had been blind his entire life. Suddenly a charismatic new leader, the rumored Messiah, entered the city and came…

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The Evidence Is In

I am done proving me. My life is not one prolonged job interview, a permanent Olympic trial, an ongoing all-state music audition. I am not a college application for admissions officials to peruse, an employee scrutinized for business acumen or her annual performance review, an associate striving to make partner. I refuse to be

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Trees, Hope, Justice And Waiting For Sunday

I sometimes want to be a tree. I want to blow in the breeze, feel the rain on my branches, shelter birds and squirrels, and grow roots deep and wide so that I am strong and resilient to whatever might want to take me down. I want to bend and grow without to-do lists and…

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Look At Me Go

Every year on Independence Day, the little subdivision that held the yellow house I grew up in would shut down the loop of streets lined with houses that looked just like my yellow one. All the kids would decorate their bikes with streamers and balloons, and we would have a bike parade around the subdivision.…

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Love In A Time Of Vomit

Three years ago, I awoke to the sound of my Dad’s voice at the bedroom door, asking if he could make me anything for breakfast. I registered his inquiry amongst the pasty sweat cementing my postpartum body to the bedsheets. I willed myself to turn on my side, but nothing happened. What is wrong with…

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1-800-273-8255

Hushed voices from across the room piqued my curiosity, so I listened discreetly. Overhearing something about a man who had died, I considered shifting my attention, but their voices became more distinguishable. “He committed suicide.”

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