cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
For many years my value and self-worth felt inextricably tied to others. I felt this inner need, this constant pull, to do and help and support and to prove, constantly prove, that I was good, and of service, and selfless; that I was not needy, but needed. I learned the art of bending and contorting…
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I lean against the wall of the standing-room-only church, immediately regretting my choice of heels. A funeral is always hard, and one honoring a mom in her 40s with young kids especially so. Fans twirl slowly from the ceiling of this small town church. I hold the program and fan myself as vigorously and quietly…
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I was 26 when my then fiancé called off our wedding five days prior to the big day. In the immediate aftermath, my thoughts were a numbed haze, disbelief serving as a kind of thick bubble wrap that initially insulated me from the pain I would befriend in coming months.
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There are facets of my being that love to stretch out and take up space. It feels real and raw. It feels free—I can be me. For most of my life, the bliss of this hasn’t lasted very long. Oftentimes, opportunities to stretch out to my full stature provoke internal conflict in the depth of…
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I want to be the sanctuary. I want to be Rivendell, where wanderers heal. I want to be Narnia, where everything sad comes untrue. I want to be the riverside, where you study war no more. I want to be the mirror, where you see yourself beloved. I am a human woman, and my latitude…
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Decades ago, I went grocery shopping after the funeral of a dear friend who had died much too young and way too swiftly. His tragic death left one of my closest friends without a partner and their young children without a father. Arriving home after the funeral, I was anxious, emotionally untethered, and in need…
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I’ve spent my life surrounded by people telling me the word “gospel” means “God’s good news.” Yet Jesus’ first words as he began his gospel ministry—“Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand”—didn’t prompt the kind of comfort and joy my friends described. For as long as I can remember, I understood Christ’s words to…
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I love a big entrance. Boisterous hellos, tight hugs, chatter on top of chatter. I’m great with an enthusiastic greeting. But I’ve also been quick to look for the back door. I haven’t always given quite as much drama to the goodbye as I do with the hello. In fact, I’ve been known to slip…
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I am familiar with goodbyes. I said goodbye to my innocence at 4-years-old. From ages 4 to 12, I buried my voice in an effort to extinguish the ongoing abuse and survive. By age 13 I had learned that my sadness engendered pity and my sexuality, attention. Male parents for whom I babysat groped for…
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I always thought I was going to die young. My death was probably going to be the result of something dramatic and tragic, like a major car accident or a freak plane crash. I simply could not (or would not) imagine myself getting old. I turn 40 this month. Four decades of living. How did…
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