reframing femininity
I lie still, my back pressed into the blankets on the summer sheets, arms clasped across my chest, eyes closed. I cross my feet. Sinking, sinking, not drowning. Gravity compels the air to form to my body, enclosing me, swaddling me. As my body floats, the bed disappears.
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Bagpipes resounded “Amazing Grace” as the June rain pounded the roof of St. Paul’s Presbyterian Church. After the bridesmaids processed in pale pink tea dresses to the tune of “Canon in D,” the large wooden doors shut. Thunder clapped, marking the redemption of this day, the many dark chapters of our stories now expanding and…
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Listen to your body. I have heard this phrase in many settings over the last few years but gave minimal attention to its meaning and even less effort to its implied demand. Bessel van der Kolk writes of it extensively (The Body Keeps the Score, 2014). I have read the book seven times. Resmaa Menake…
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My weary body quietly walks down the stairs after successfully getting two cranky toddlers into bed for their afternoon nap. I ache for sleep, but I also want to spend the next hour enjoying something that brings me joy. Not sure what to do, I mindlessly scroll through the options in our various streaming services…
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I heard the tires on the gravel driveway and called Dan to hurry! We rushed out the door and we greeted four year-old Grace and I swiftly rushed to the other side of the car and unbuckled five-week old Parker Anne for the first time! I gently held her in my arms and helped Grace…
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There is a war that rages in my heart between life and death, right and wrong, sorrow and joy, good and bad, faith and fear. I have learned, through prayer and meditation, to love and honor both sides of the war and to rest in the middle ground, where peace is always awaiting my return.…
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I will never forget the based-on-a-true-story movie, The Impossible, about a family who, while vacationing in a paradise resort in Thailand, was hit by the 2004 tsunami. The scene that grips me most is when Naomi Watts is reading on a lounge chair and suddenly sensing something is not right. That something terribly powerful is…
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“Aren’t you afraid they’ll expose you to the virus?” “Are you crazy?” The phone calls from friends and family were kind and filled with concern for our wellbeing. My answers at the time? “Sometimes,” and “No.” Riding in the waves of news of the pandemic, I felt assured in my decision to offer two young…
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I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.
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I had run out of ideas of how to get through the chaos that was building so that we could help the children learn. I wanted to quit and felt like a complete failure. My principal, though, was wise and kind. She listened intently, saw both my despair and my goodness, and simply responded,
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