It’s a Fact of Life

Some days are hard, and I long for them to end. I just want tomorrow to come and start over. It’s a fact of life.   Some days are easy, and I hope they last. I want tomorrow to never come and today to stay. It’s a fact of life.

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The God of Postpartum

I’m not entirely sure how I’m functioning right now. Four weeks ago I could barely carry on a cohesive conversation because my mouth literally could not make words based on what was happening in my brain. This morning I am sitting with a mug of lactation hot chocolate in hand, listening to the baby monitor…

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Bloody Noses

Angst, religion,           the entire system.  Last week a friend adding something  challenge to that system.     My anger and rage;            God knows me by name.  Surges of words             rush  forth, and lips smack them back.

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Look Closely

There is a book I love entitled, In the Sanctuary of Women: A Companion for Reflection and Prayer. The entry, “Learning to See” (p. 191), reminds me: “God is everywhere present in the world, suffusing creation with the being of God. Once in a while, if we keep our eyes open, if we look closely…

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Breath of Life

“Take a deep breath and fill your belly with air, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Ally gently guides us through a trauma-informed yoga practice. I notice the rubber mat beneath me and the earth holding me. I am gathered with eight women fighting to find goodness in our bodies, vessels that…

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The Story of Not Knowing

In early autumn, I board a plane with my daughter to tour my alma mater. We walk beneath the famous arch, down the path to the heart of campus. Flooded with memories, I try to focus on her and fail. Because it is here we camped out to claim rights to paint the rock. Here…

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The Wounded Healer

The wounded healer arrives on the scene not a moment too soon or too late. She is ready and anchored in the flow of love to lean into the other’s deep pain. She heals with her eyes, her heart, and her hands, using words of comfort and care. She knows how it feels to be…

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Turning Words

I walked through the grocery store, loading my cart as if it were a normal day. The white paper cup in the cart cup holder was stained with dribbles of coffee that had seeped from underneath the white plastic lid. Ruby lipstick residue garishly proclaimed the cup mine. I had just set it down when…

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An End to Bitterness

Lately, I feel like I did as a child, when I would spin and spin in circles until I fell to the ground with dizziness. As a little girl this was fun. As an adult, not so much. In the past five years I can’t seem to find a single thing that I haven’t examined.…

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An Ending of Sorts

I stepped on the downtown pavement for the first time in months, surrounded by masked bodies holding make-shift cardboard signs with words written in paint or permanent marker, saying things like, “I CAN’T BREATHE,” or “NO JUSTICE NO PEACE,” or “SAY HIS NAME—GEORGE FLOYD.” 

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