That Brown Boy

News of the shooting of Trayvon Martin broke the day after my husband and I were married. We were catching our flight to the Bahamas while our home-state was becoming embroiled in one of the most controversial cases of racial injustice in recent memory.

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Comfort Zone of Grace

The first time I heard the words ”comfort zone”  was in my Sunday school class back in the late 1970’s. It was presented to me in the context that if I was living in that zone I was most likely not risking for Jesus. I remember feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable just sitting there as those…

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The Tweens You Don’t Hear About

I was called a tween this week: the in-between years of parenting your own kids while taking care of your own parents. It sucks every bit as much as middle school. The night before, we received a phone call at 2am. It was not the first time. My mother-in-law woke disoriented, fearful of the man…

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Familiar

This season feels familiar. I find myself repeating these words often. When this happens, I have learned to take notice. It is the start of a new school year. The four children who live at home range in age from 15-10. These are my (not so) littles who are now the ages of the “bigs”…

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My Grandmother’s Hands

Twenty years ago, Chris and I moved our family back to Michigan, where we both grew up and where most of our family lived. I was glad we took the opportunity after getting married to leave and experience other places and people, and I was also glad to return when we did. By then, we…

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My Stroke

I stared at the round objects I cradled in my hand.  Now, what were they?  Why was I holding them?  They looked so familiar – but what was I to do with them? Still in my pj’s, I wondered, maybe John would know. I’ll just ask him.  I looked around for John, the still dashing Naval…

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Maternal Line

“I wish I had more to tell of my grandmothers. It is terrible how much has been forgotten, which is why, I suppose, remembering seems a holy thing.” —The Red Tent, Anita Diamant As a lifelong Southerner and book lover, I am captivated by the works of Southern writers. My dream course in college was…

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Being Brave

I remember the first time I took a pregnancy test and the two pink lines appeared letting me know I was a mother; a baby was growing inside of me. We told everyone, and I began imagining and dreaming for what that coming little person would be like. It was pure joy, until the morning not…

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Confusion

A child’s mind is a mystery to me. It captures every experience and locks it in as the basis to build truth, to define normal, to create expectations. Is this still true when the normal is twisted with tainted experiences? This question spotlights my reality.  I liken it to the time my husband went to…

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The Civil Wars

We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. –Louise Glück A few months ago, my husband and I lay under our down comforter, which felt far too heavy for a mild Florida winter. I felt empty and bored after a long day with the kids, so I roused an argument with…

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